I’m Actively Shocked That I Don’t Have A Bingo.

IT’S SHOWTIIIIIIIME

So! What we’ve got here is a basic teaser trailer, but there’s so much more to it than that!

Let’s start with sounds. That right there? Air raid siren, typically used in high security situations or widescale emergency alert systems. For the sake of my sanity, we’re gonna guess that it’s high security here. This museum has top of the line alerts, not just the bells and secret alarms of a normal place. Why is that? What’s it guarding?

That brings us to point number two! The lights. Clearly, we’re seeing down the end of a hallway, slowly lit up as if triggered by the sirens, but that’s a strange way to have your electronics set up. Why not have the lights trigger the alarm? That’d make more sense if it’s somewhere with secure access: you have to turn on the lights the right way or the sirens cut on and you’re busted. It’s weird to me. Someone got a good idea as to why it’s backwards?

And finally! THE PICTURE. That very much looks like Actor Mark. But why? Who would go to all the trouble to steal a picture of some long-dead actor? Who would bother? Even if he’s still “alive”, why would you want his picture that badly? And more importantly, why is it under such high security? Who put it under lock and key?

There’s a lot going on here and I’m HOOKED. It’s been a minute since I’ve had something this interesting to theorize over. I’m excited to see what this brings. :)

It’s not about me. It’s about you.

Visitor Pt. 3

A/N: I’m having fun with this story, more fun than I originally thought I would have, and a couple of you still seem to like it ( @alix-the-skeleton I’m looking at you, pal. ;) ). So I wrote another bit! Enjoy! Part 1 and Part 2.

The air was cold, tonight, and filled with gentle music from the party still going on inside. William laughed as Celine pulled him along by the sleeves of his uncharacteristically dapper suit, running with him in tow to the edge of the balcony and only letting him go so that she could jump gracefully to sit on the stone railings. She looked beautiful, a bright red ballgown that hugged her in all the right places and flowed, light as a butterfly's wings, away from her at the hips, her short hair swept neatly underneath a scarlet hairclip. She kicked off her heels and swung her feet, patting the railing beside her. "Really, now, Cel, you want me to try that in this getup? I'll rip something in this bloody monkey suit." "Oh, live a little, Wil," she laughed as he hopped up anyway. "You're reckless any other time, why care about some cloth now?" "Well, it's a loan, first of all, if Mark knew I was running about in his suit-" "Oh please, as if he doesn't run around in it enough." He laughed, shaking his head. They went quiet for a moment, listening to the music swell inside, and Wil watched the smile slide off of her face. "It's hard to believe you're leaving tomorrow. How long will you be gone?" "Well," he sighed, taking her hand and staring up at the stars. They were so bright tonight. "It's only basic training, so only a few weeks." A few too many weeks, anyway. "I'll be home again before you know it." He chanced a glace. "And you've got Dames and Mark to keep you company." "Yes..." She bobbed along to the start of the new song, smoothing her dress with one hand. "Wil?" "Yes?" "What do you think is out there?" "Out there? As in, in space?" "Yes." He studied the sky for a moment. "Well...stars and planets and all that, of course...some ice, so Mark tells me..." "Other life?" "You're asking if I believe in aliens?" He chuckled, and she swatted him playfully. "Don't make it sound silly. It's totally plausible." He rubbed his arm, feigning offence, but she brushed him off. "But, no, that's not what I was asking. I was thinking more...I don't know. Spirits, or...or powers, or something." "So...God?" "Maybe not capital-G God. But yes, something along that line." William took a long time to answer, getting back to his feet as he finally spoke. "I...don't know, honestly. But I like to think that perhaps there's more to this universe than we know." Celine smiled, and stood as well. As the music swelled again, she suddenly took his hands, putting one around her waist, pulling him to her as she started to dance. He gaped at her for a second before settling into it as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm really going to miss you, Wil." He pulled her a little closer. "I'm...I'm going to miss you too, Celine. So much." If Wil could've frozen a moment in time, he would have lived right there, with her in his arms, dancing under the stars, forever.

"I think I'm going to ask her to marry me." William was slow to respond. "You're...you mean...Celine?" "Yes, of course I do," Mark laughed, "who else?" He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head as he looked over at Damien. "What do you think, Dames? Have I got your approval?" Damien smiled brightly. "Mark...of course you have my blessing. God, of course you do." He stood and embraced him, clapping him on the back as both men laughed. Wil smiled tightly as Mark turned back to him. "C'mon then, gents, let's celebrate." "She hasn't even said yes yet," Wil said quietly, but followed the other two to the bar, which Mark leapt over, grabbing three tumblers and a bottle of Fireball and setting them down on the bar. That made him smile a bit as he slapped Damien's back. "Think you can handle a shot or two of this, this time?" "Of course I can, don't be ridiculous," Damien muttered, smiling slightly as Mark laughed loudly, pouring them each a generous shot. They each grabbed a glass and raised it. "To a yes," Mark said. "To a new brother in law," Damien added. "To...us," Wil said, and the other two grinned at him, Mark nodding and throwing an arm around his would-be brother, agreeing, "to us." They downed their shots and immediately started giggling as Damien choked.

"Wil?" "Go away." "Wil, please, talk to me." "No." "William, be sensible. You can't lock yourself away forever." He shoved the door open roughly, swaying slightly as he glared through his blackened eye at a disheveled Damien, cane twisting in his hands. He huffed and turned away, stumbling back to the quickly emptying liquor cabinet in the corner of his hotel room. "And what do you want?" "To talk to you, to work things out! Dammit, man, you left so quickly-" "OF COURSE I DID!" he roared, and Damien flinched. "THAT BASTARD WAS TRYING TO KILL ME! HE WOULD HAVE, IF HE'D BEEN GIVEN THE CHANCE!" "You slept with his wife! My sister!" Damien yelled desperately, and Wil grabbed him by the lapels. "You've seen what he's become! What a selfish, pompous son of a bitch he is now! He's not the man she married! He's not the same Mark that I grew up with! And she loves me, Dames, she loves me! Not him!" "Then let her get-!" "Get what, Dames, a divorce? Make her wait, and wait, trapped with him in that godforsaken house-?" "BETTER THAN RUINING HER LIFE!" Crack. Wil stumbled back with a grunt, clutching his face as Damien stared at him, wide eyed. "Wil...Wil, no, I didn't mean..." "What the bloody hell was that for?" He ran forward, grabbing Damien's lapel again with one hand, raising the other as if to hit him. "What the actual hell, Damien?" "I-It was an accident, Wil, I didn't mean to hurt you-" "Get. Out." Wil shoved Damien into the door with a dull thud. Damien looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided against it. He sighed heavily, resignedly, and pulled it open, stepping out. "I don't blame you Wil. And...and I'm sorry." "Go!" A bottle smashed against the closing door, and Wil finally broke down, sobbing silently as he curled up on the floor of the vacant, anonymous hotel room, far away from home.

Wilford gasped, bolting upright. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, apparently, which wasn't exactly a rare occurrence. He breathed heavily for a moment, shoving aside some empty bottles as he tried to remember where he was, who he was, what he was doing. The usual checklist. His dreams, tonight, they'd felt so...real. So vivid. He tried desperately to remember what they were about, but...no. They were already gone. Still, he was shaken. All he could recall was the name Damien. Damien. That name again, the one he'd called Dark. Who was Damien, to him? Had he ever even known a Damien? He couldn't recall one. All the name brought to his mind was a vague sadness, a vague nostalgia. As if he should know who is was, but didn't. He shook his head, standing and grunting as he stretched, old bones clicking. How old was he, he wondered? He wasn't sure anymore. Frowning, he tried to think of a time when he had known his age, or even his birthday. Further from that...where had he come from? He was sure he'd been born somewhere, he'd had a family, but, much to his mounting alarm, he found he couldn't remember them at all. He started to panic. Wilford Warfstache, he was Wilford Warfstache, world famous ace reporter, right? Wasn't that right? That's what everyone called him, that's how the others here knew him. So of course, he came from the Warfstache family, didn't he? But the more he said it in his head, the worse it sounded, the more...fake. Who had the last name of Warfstache, honestly? And even his first name, his perfectly normal first name, Wilford, the one he'd known for so long, felt...wrong, now. Felt rushed. The more he thought, the more it sounded like two different words. Wilford. Wil Ford. He jumped sharply as someone knocked loudly on his door. "Wilford? Hey, Wilford, dude, you up yet?" "Jesus, Bing, let a man have his beauty sleep!" Wil snapped angrily. "Go away! Tell the studio we're on hiatus!" There was a pause. "...seriously? Hiatus? Like, since when do you ever wanna go on-?" "GO!" Wil shouted, and he heard scuffling as Bing stumbled down the hall, probably wearing his Heeleys and tripping over them. On any other day, that would've made him laugh. Today, he scowled at his desk and pulled a flask out from under it, spinning the cap off in a smooth, practiced motion, but he paused before taking a sip. If he drank...would he forget again? Forget more than he already had? Why hadn't it occured to him sooner that he couldn't remember...anything? Wil put the flask back down, without taking a sip, and instead pulled out a legal pad and a pencil, beginning to write furiously.

A reminder that this is available now!

I’ve written another book! The Clockwork Figurine is a collection of short stories (some of which are based on fanfics that I first published here!), and it’s available worldwide on Amazon for $.99 as an ebook. It’s also available in paperback!

A Really Rather Dumb Bet (Schneep and Chase Drabble).

A/N: Because everyone needs a little more fluff and comedy for these two fools.

The horrid crashing sound was more than enough to send Henrik careening out of bed. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to loud noises, he made plenty of them himself and hell, he was good friends with Jack. It was just that this particular loud sound had been made at two o'clock in the morning when he'd thought he was alone in the house. Anyone else might have been inclined to do something rational, like call the police or go back to sleep. Henrik, however, knew much better, which was why he swung his door open with great gusto, walking confidently into the living room, brandishing a stethoscope like a garrot and yelling "WHO IS IT ZAT DARES TO DISTURB ZE REST OFF ZE GREAT HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN?! VHAT CRIMINAL IS STUPID ENOUGH TO CONTEST HIM?!" Honestly, even in the fluorescent pink pajama shorts and haphazard glasses, he struck an intimidating figure. What greeted him was not an awestruck-and-or-blinded-by-the-neon-PJs burgler, but a broken window, a collapsed side table, a few scattered remote pieces and magazine pages, and a very dissheveled, very drunk, widely grinning Chase Brody. "DOC! AH'M -hic- SO HAPPY TAH SEEEE YOOOOOU!" This was met with a blank stare, to which Chase pouted considerably. "Aw, c'mon -hic- Schneeps, you've gotta be h-hic-happy to see me too. I hav'n ev'n seen you in like...like...ever!" "Chase, vhat ze fuck?" The good doctor shook his head and went to help his terribly inebriated friend to sit on the couch. "First off all, vhy are you here at two in ze morgen?" "Because I wanna see-" "See me, ya, I got zhat. Sank you, ze sought is appreciated." Clearly he wasn't going to get a better explanation. "Second question, zhen: vhy did you come through ze vindow?" "The door was locked." He would have facepalmed if he'd had a free arm that wasn't busy trying to shove said window back into the gaping hole it'd created on the way down. "Off course. And vhy are you drunk as an Irish sailing skunk?" "Because Marv gave me -hic- some awesome whiskey! And bet me -hic hic- I couldn't finish it all in one go! I won! Ha!" Chase laughed. The laughing quickly turned into a vague wretching. He turned very green and Henrik didn't wait to be asked before he pointed down the hall to the open bathroom door. For a drunk man, Chase moved surprisingly quickly and with surprisingly few casualties. Henrik only had to dive to catch one vase and three paintings before the door shut behind him. He sighed. Tomorrow, he supposed, he'd have to get some more answers out of that man, and a sound apology from Marvin. Tonight, though, he simply went to the closet in the hall and pulled the door open to reveal a set of shelves with extra linens on them. He ran a finger down the edges of the shelving. JJ, Marvin, Angus, Robbie...ah, there it is! Chase. He pulled out a set of Nerf sheets, and began to make up a bed on the couch. BANG! CRASH! THUMP! "Hennnnnn-!"

Sigh.

He stood, straightening his shorts. A doctor's duties never cease.

I mean when you’re a professional transcriptionist and also a massive nerd, you do your best. 😅 Glad I could help!

Today’s Teaser (Sept 7, 2020)

FRIENDS. THINGS ARE HAPPENING. I’M BACK ON MY THEORIST SHIT AGAIN.

So I watched the clip several times, at varying speeds, and tried to transcribe what I heard:

[loud screech, metal on metal]

[crash, again seems to be metal on metal]

[hiss, as of steam being released]

[car engine revving]

Unknown Voice: Everything is happy…

[sound of a train going over tracks, faint train whistle]

Unknown Voice: [unclear] living his life to come through…

So that second voice line is one I couldn’t quite make out. The top two interpretations I got were “He’s living his life to come through” and “He’s giving his life to come too.”

I also snapped a picture of whatever flashed on screen in the darkness:

So you can’t see much here, but when I brighten it…

A door? When the image keeps moving, there are lights at regular intervals along the roof. Coupled with the sound, my guess is this is a train compartment, possibly in the style of Murder on the Orient Express.

Are we getting a new adventure? Possibly another murder mystery?

Such interesting developments, and with Halloween right around the corner…

should anyone be interested, and because these are actually writing/artsy related. go for it! i’ll answer to the best of my ability. :)

identity ask.........oh shit

if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? do you identify yourself by the things you do?

are you religious/spiritual?

do you care about your ethnicity?

what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

are you an artist?

do you have a creed?

describe your ideal day.

dog person or cat person?

inside or outdoors?

are you a musician?

five most influential books over your lifetime.

if you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same?

would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

what’s your patronus?

which Harry Potter house would you be in? or are you a muggle?

would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else?

do you love easily?

list the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order.

how often would you want to see your family every year?

have you ever felt like you had a “mind-meld” with someone?

could you live as a hermit?

how would you describe your gender/sexuality?

do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you”?

on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

three songs that you connect with right now.

pick one of your favorite quotes.

BITCH MORE WHO KILLED MARKIPLIER LORE I AM SO FUCKING READY

So @fear-is-nameless made this post, wondering about the whisper after Anti says “weak.”

I did a little fooling around on Audacity. The first part of this clip is the audio from that post. The next part, I isolated the whisper and slowed it down to .75x speed. The last part, I isolated the vocals from that.

Doesn’t it almost sound like “until he’s there”?

Yoooo @therealjacksepticeye look at this!!

After 3 months of hard work, we have finally completed and released the full demo for The BOSS!

INSTRUCTIONS:

-BE SURE TO FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS IN THE FILE TELLING YOU TO READ IT BEFORE YOU PLAY. Trust me, you don’t want to ignore that.

-Definitely let us know if you find a bug. Of course, a lot of it isn’t finalized.

-Let’s Plays are 100% welcomed. We will watch them all and take your comments into consideration. Seriously, we’d love to see them!

-Feedback is welcome!

Now go play! Let us know what you think!

I got nothing else to say but if ISWM doesn’t get merch I’m gonna cry.