#kalen writes antifiction

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Observer (An Antisepticeye Fanfic)

TW/CW for psychological horror, blood, darkness, holes

Enjoy under the cut~

A light breeze kicked the leaves near your feet into a lazy frenzy, tumbling to and fro over one another in a soft spiral before descending once more to the ground and scraping lightly against the concrete. It had been quite some time since it was cool and dry enough for you to enjoy an evening out on the porch by yourself; with a book in your lap and a hot mug of chocolate with those tiny marshmallows you'd always loved in hand, it was peaceful and pleasant. Autumn had finally come and with it nicer temperatures with shorter days. It was, you mused to yourself, one of the best times of the year.

You drew a small sip off of your steaming cup, breathing in through your nose as the condensation hit your face and warmed your rosy cheeks. It had gotten comfortably chilly in the last few days, enough so that warmth was wantable but not necessary and nothing felt too stifling anymore. It was a relief, to say the least, from the summer heat and humidity. High temperatures were bad enough without having to nearly swim through the air.

You'd been reading your book on a small bench swing for the better part of twenty minutes by now with nothing and no one to disturb you. Your family was out for the weekend and you'd opted to stay home to get some well-deserved alone time. It had been very pleasant thus far and you were enjoying yourself immensely; just you, your book, a small bit of absent-minded humming, and the autumn breeze.

Until that is, you heard something odd. It sounded very in-the-distance, like an afterthought you forget almost as soon as you hear it, but you would have sworn you heard a laugh. Your house was set back on a somewhat large property and your neighbors, if you could even call them that, weren't for a good couple acres on either side of you. It was more or less unheard of for a kid to wander this far onto the property, and unlikely someone would be lost in this direction. Almost immediately afterward, however, a stronger gust of wind rattled a branch overhead and you realized that must have been the long and short of it. The wind had been playing tricks on you and since it was getting dark, you almost spooked yourself.

You shrugged it off, physically and mentally, and turned a page softly, eyes finding the beginning of the next sentence with ease. You lost yourself in the written world quickly and willingly and before you even felt yourself blink it had been five minutes.

Then you heard it again.

It was more distinct this time. A high but definitively masculine giggle, or maybe a cackle... or both, perhaps. It was just as hard to pin down this time, but very much more real feeling. You knew for a fact this time that you'd physically heard a laugh, rather than inventing one in your mind. By now you were just this side of unsettled, and slowly but carefully you put down your book, looking around yourself offhandedly.

In a cautionary way, you observed your immediate area, looking for signs of home invasion or a would-be abductee. You made it seem casual, a stretch of the arms over your head, cricking your neck to either side, a couple well-placed full bodied stretches that let you look completely around yourself. And to your relief, you found nothing.

But that didn't explain why you'd heard a laugh.

Not wanting to become a silly statistic (or yet another ridiculous person in a horror movie, so to speak), you refrained from calling out. If someone was nearby and had ill intent, you'd only be letting them know you were there. If someone was lost, well... They'd see the house and approach openly, hopefully.

Nothing happened for a decent amount of time while you flipped through your phone, checking notifications and keeping a vigilant watch on your surroundings. You heard something much like an animal in distress in the distance but forced yourself not to become frightened by it. You lived in a forested area, after all. But even with all of your diligence, you still startled when a soft and lilting voice broke through the relative quiet.

"Excuse me?"

Your eyes snapped to the source of the voice to see a young man, likely a bit older than you by a good margin but still boyish in feature. He wore an apologetic smile on his kindly face and was holding a bright yellow pet leash in his hands.

"I'm sorry for startling you but, have you seen a dog run through here?" the young man asked, gently brushing his green-dyed fringe from his eyes absently. "He got off his lead and now I can't find him. I think he ran this way."

Though sympathetic, you couldn't help but be circumspect of the query. You had seen in many articles that predators liked to lure abductees, especially young ones, with the false premise of a lost pet. Kidnappings often seemed pure and guileless until it was far too late.

"I'm sorry," you started, "but I don't think I've seen any--"

A sharp, remote yelp halted you mid-sentence, simultaneously lending truth and worry to the stranger's need for information. When your gaze swung back to him, you could see the concern etched into his expression.

"What kind of dog is he?" As you stood, you set your book on your bench swing, pocketing your phone in a single move. "I can help you try to look, I know this area really well."

"He's a stupid little hyper Jack Russel and he's always getting into trouble," the man replied in clear exasperation. "I would really appreciate the help though. I am so sorry for bothering you and ending up on your property."

You brushed the apology aside with a slight wave of your hand as you half-hopped down the deck stairs to meet him near the fence surrounding your house. "It's fine, can't control what dogs do half the time." You smiled reassuringly. "Do you have pictures of him?"

He did have pictures of the dog, thankfully, and showed you a few from his phone. After you'd gotten a suitable idea of what dog you were looking for--not that there would be any others, but still--you gestured to start heading off to where you'd both heard the distressed sound.

You didn't talk much while you walked through the wooded area, not wanting your voices to spook the animal into running further. You also still didn't feel entirely comfortable helping a stranger look for his lost dog; you didn't even know the guy's name, and still weren't absolutely sure how they'd ventured this far onto the property in the first place but, hey. Some of the walking paths no one used anymore cut through the back half of your property. Maybe that's how they'd gotten here.

You kept your (e/c) peeled as you moved through the fallen leaves and squishy mud under toe. Any whiteness would be very notable, so the dog wouldn't be too hard to find unless he was under something or in a hole. Hopefully uninjured either way.

It had been nearly ten minutes of walking in a general 'that way' direction before you caught sight of what must have been the dog, white and high speed and on the run. With a frightened noise, the white and tan blur streaked past you and the stranger, startling you both. The dog ran yelping and whining perpendicular to the direction you'd been moving, forcing you to not only change course but to start giving chase lest you lose him again.

"Shit, quick this way!"

You as a pair began to run after the dog as he zigged and zagged through the trees, making scared little noises all the while. You felt bad; he likely thought you were a predator coming to eat him! As you thought of this and realized you should stop chasing him and give him time to settle down once more, you turned to say as much to your newfound companion. You nearly skidded into a tree when you realized he was nowhere in sight.

Cursing low under your breath, you spun in a circle, trying to find the green-haired man or dog, but to no avail. Why hadn't you asked his damn name?

"Hello? Hey, I can't see you, did you fall? Just shout if you can hear me!"

You strained your ears, hoping to hear a laugh and a "hey sorry!" or something similar, but there was nothing. You took a deep breath, ready to shout so he could hear you in case he'd fallen and needed help when you heard his voice in the distance.

"Over here!"

You spun in your circle once more, utterly lost to your bearings and unsure of where the voice came from. You almost shouted when once again you heard, "This way, I found him!"

You began to jog toward where the stranger's voice was echoing through the trees. How had he gotten so far in that direction? Was that the direction you'd come from? Sighing internally and realizing you'd have to just keep walking til you hit a fence to be able to tell where you were, you picked up your pace.

"Where are you? I still can't see." Your voice startled a small contingent of birds from a tree above you, spooking you enough for you to give them a dirty look.

"Still here!" His tone held a note of desperation. "I think he's stuck!"

You adjusted your path, picking up your pace to try to get there as soon as possible. A stuck and frightened animal could very quickly turn into an injured and frightened animal. After what felt like just barely too long of almost running, you looked around you, not quite watching where you were going. Shouldn't you have seen them by now?

You nearly screamed in shock when your foot suddenly hit nothingness and you plummeted forward. The ground had suddenly given way to emptiness, a gaping maw of a hole, and as your body hit the damp soil and gravel on the other side, you realized you were falling.

It wasn't far of a fall--enough to leave you feeling sore and bruised, but not enough to knock you senseless. It hurt, but there was no way anything was broken. Your head throbbed from nearly eating a faceful of dirt, but otherwise, it was fine.

But it was too dark. For so short a fall, you should have been able to see the sky above you. You should have been able to see the mouth of the hole above your head. You should have been able to at least hear something. All you could hear was your pulse thrumming in your ears, banging against the confines of your skull as if begging to be freed. Nothing else seemed to be making noise. It was deafeningly quiet.

You could smell something wet and earthy, like the scent of soft loam and mildew and slippery stone. The ground beneath you, though you could not see it, was soft--sickeningly, worryingly so. It made you uncomfortable, uneasy; it just didn't feel right. Your fingers dug deep into what you hoped was mud and grit as you levied yourself upon a single hand, lifting yourself to a hunching crouch.

You didn't understand how you'd gotten down here. There weren't any massive holes on the property last you knew. You'd lived here your entire life and even in the heavy rain season your family never had problems with sinkholes or anything like that. And yet here you were in absolute darkness, in a hole that felt displaced and unusual. Uneasily, you recalled feeling like you saw the young man standing at the lip of the hole as you fell into it, smiling widely down at you.

But that was crazy... Right? He wouldn't have just watched you fall. Right...?

You wanted to call out for him, but something in the back of your mind warned you sharply not to. This wasn't right. You had seen him. Inarguably. And he had watched you almost gleefully as you fell into this mysterious hole. You felt your initial instinct of self-preservation had been warranted. But you just didn't understand why.

So you waited in the dark, willing your senses to come back to you fruitlessly.

Still your pulse throbbed behind your eardrums, muting the inky world around you. It was too dark to see even your hand directly in front of your nose. You had to rely, hesitantly, on your olfactory senses, for what good that could possibly do you. You couldn't very well sniff your way out of a cave, now could you.

You debated on crawling forward, hand and knee, toward what seemed to be a near-imperceptible draft, heavy with humidity and the smell of rot. You leaned forward, off balance from lack of sensory input, but only touched more gritty slick and soft something beneath you. The idea quickly faded, placed into the 'never to try' area of your mind. Just as quickly, you tried to think of something else. Perhaps, if you found a wall to lead you...

You inched forward very slowly, one hand outstretched, hoping you were going in the right direction. In your crouched position, your knees already ached, and your thighs trembled in anticipation of fatigue, but you didn't feel safe and stable enough to stand. Not yet.

It took scant minutes that felt like hours, and by the end of creeping forward so diligently your thighs really were screaming, but finally, your hand hit something that could pass as a wall. You jumped, inhaled sharply through your nose when you finally touched whatever was in front of you. It had the texture of rough stone, much like the rocks that littered your family's expansive property. Perhaps this cave, this hole in the ground, was where they'd originated.

Steadying yourself on the wall--that was what you could only assume it was, as it went down to the ground and up far further than your fingertips could reach--you finally pulled yourself into a standing position. Your back ached in protest, hip joints stiff and crackling slightly, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. Sometimes being curled up reading for too long had the same effect.

The throbbing behind your mastoid bone had died down as you concentrated on finding the wall of the cave. Cavern? Cave. You could hear how still everything was. It was unnerving. Just as unnerving as the spongey yet pliable softness of the ground underfoot. Just as unnerving as a stranger suddenly appearing and disappearing on your property and watching you fall into a mysterious hole.

Your breathing was loud in the silence. It made you all the more aware of how alone and lost you were.

"Don't worry. You're not alone."

The voice came from nowhere even as you had the thought and seemed to be everywhere. This time you could not stifle the shriek that left your mouth. Clapping one hand to your face only made the noises echo even further. Eyes wide with sudden fear, breaths trembling and shallow, you stood so still you could even hear how your breathing shifted the fabric of your clothing.

That had been the voice of the young man who had led you here in the first place. But where was he? Where had his voice come from? There was no way he had fallen into the same hole and you could not see the light of an opening anywhere.

"I know you're there. No use being quiet." A high giggle filled the cavern, your ears, the entire space around you. It was that giggle you'd thought you had heard from before. Somewhere in your subconscious, you registered that the masculine voice didn't echo like all of the noises you made did. There was no reverb off of the stone walls.

You didn't know what to do. The statements were so innocuous but you could feel the malicious intent in his voice. You felt as though you were directly in the path of the Devil and that He felt He would be feasting well tonight.

A sudden blast of cool air against your face caught you off guard. It was coming from in front of you, the direction the almost un-feelable breeze had been coming from before. That had to be the entrance of the cave! You started forward quickly, slipping in the muck beneath you. The awkward movement sent a sharp pain up from your ankle, reminding you grimly of when you twisted it in the forest as you fell just a short while ago.

But you couldn't let that keep you from escaping, from finding light and the entire world above you. Scraping some knuckles off of a small jutting-out of stone you didn't expect, you once again levied yourself upright. With some hesitation, you quickly walked forward, oblivious to any potential obstacles in front of you, still blind to the uneven path beneath you.

The giggling seemed to be following you at a considerable distance. He was behind you still, but he couldn't possibly see any better than you, right? There was absolutely no way. And as you began to walk even faster, the voice seemed as though it was slowly but assuredly being left behind. He wasn't keeping pace, or perhaps he couldn't. Far be it from you to slow down now, but you felt like maybe you could relax just that smallest bit.

"You're weak."

The voice was right behind you, right in your ear. You could feel the breath on your skin, following you even as you stumbled and started to run blindly. It was grittier than before, somehow, almost like it was being forced through a noise filter. All at once noise erupted around you. Laughing, sinister and tangled, bounced off of every surface in the cave. A strange, high-pitched keening seemed to be getting closer to you, slowly at first but quicker as your steps did the same. It sent a jolt of pure panic into your stomach and despite the slippery substance beneath you, you moved even faster away from that whining pitch.

"I'm here now."

It was closer now, his voice, so much closer, not just next to you, but in you, in your ear and your brain, rattling around your skull and that laugh that laugh that laugh! It was too close, wrapping around your brain stem and slithering down your spinal cord to plant shivers of terror at the base of your spine!

A noise wrenched itself from deep in your chest, a partial scream, partial sob, and you let it free. There was no front of fearlessness, nothing you could do to pretend you weren't witless with horror. You could almost see light at the mouth of the cave, that same sort of peripheral light of a star at night; looking directly toward it there was still nothing but never-ending darkness, but if you pulled your gaze elsewhere in the inky blackness, there it was. Like hope glimmering just in the middle distance.

The floor of the cave was becoming less slick with whatever you'd been standing on and more firm. There was the deafening sound of your shoes against the rock mixing unpleasantly with the near-shriek of laughter filling the air thickly around you. As you gained surer footing, you hastened your pace as much as your legs could take you. The tips of your fingers, scraping along the wall all this time to keep you grounded and going in the right direction, were bleeding profusely.

That same wall left your fingers for a terrifying moment, and you slipped and slid to an unsteady halt before bursting into a larger area of the cave and being nearly blinded by the light from the mouth.

Safety was right there! You were closer than you realized to escape, to the light where you could see and hide more effectively! Another sobbing cry fell from your lips as you nearly fell forward, fingertips touching off the ground and propelling you upright and forward once more. You were so close to being able to run back into your house where you could lock yourself away and call the police, your family, anybody.

Your feet were hitting the ground at what felt like an impossible rate. The pounding behind your ears was back, nearly drowning out the voice behind you, and you were grateful for it. Anything to get the cacophony of mangled laughter and voices behind you out of your head.

The light in front of you was almost too much, but you forced yourself to focus on it. It was a point of hope and salvation, finally tangible, and you weren't going to so much as blink if you could help it.

You were so much closer now. Close enough that you could smell the wet dustiness of soggy leaves that must litter the mouth of the cave. You could even make out the shapes of a few of the mighty trees nearly obscuring the entrance to this horrible place, and the sight of them felt like salvation.

But not for long.

A shape moved in front of the light, blocking it from you in its entirety. You skidded, trying to stop yourself as the laughter shifted rapidly all throughout the space. Just as suddenly as the now imposing figure of the man from earlier came into your vision, the laughter died down from around you and laser-focused to just in front of you.

You couldn't keep yourself from careening into him, it, for no human could have possibly chased you and still ended up in front of you, hitting his chest with enough force to knock the breath out of your own lungs. The inertia carrying into the collision caused you to bounce backwards, falling harshly onto your ass. You could just barely see the light you'd been running toward between the man's, creature's legs. A sliver of hope that was snuffed as he crouched in front of you, arms resting almost pleasantly across his knees.

You couldn't see well still, couldn't make out the individual features of his face from the insufficient illumination, but you could see his eyes. Once blue, they glowed with a malicious, muted neon green light, one that set the small hairs on your arms on end, sent an electric current of unadulterated fear through your extremities.

"The s̸t̵o̵r̷y̷ ends h̷e̴r̵e̴." His grin seemed to hold its own sickening light.

Before your vision blinked out, you screamed.

N̷̩͇͂ô̷̧̬̭͇̺̮͕̍͐ ̶̛͙̠̲͜o̴̪͇̲̖̳̹̲̊̇̑̕n̴̦̯̫͂͌̏̔̏e̸̡̥̖̯̾̈́̊͝ͅͅ ̴̭̀̍̐̉͗h̸̛͔̾̿̆̚è̷͚͕̫͍͈̜̙̏̔͛a̷̧̠̻̯̳̖͐͋̋̚ͅr̶̩̱̽͘d̴̨̤̻̙͗̿̆̎̃́ͅ ̵̧̯̠̠̖͕̼̃͑͑͊̈́́͠y̷̡̽̃́̆̚͝͝ǫ̸͔̝̫͙͔̠̊̃̓̿̔͝u̶̦̜͒̀̽̈̑̿.̷͍̣̈͂̃̀̕͜

This ended up being way longer than I intended it to! The final word count ende up being 3721, Jesus. xD Anyways!! Thanks for putting up with my ages-long hiatus. Tagging people who have shown interest or might like it!

@ego-protection-squad @egosurveillance @steffid101 @destinggirl @artistic--insomniac @alliedoesstuff @purple-finch @peka-iz-krov @randompjo @ask-hinata-and-toby-crap

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Simple (A Wilford Warfstache FanFic)

Inspired by the quote below

"One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple." — Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

CW: Unstable thoughts/psychological wordplay/insinuation of mental illness

One day he would find the right words, and they would be simple.

The clawing darkness behind his eyes would lighten, glistening with spring dew in a fragile light made for two. The screaming inside his skin, the scritching and scratching and itching and catching and hollering hollering screaming screaming!

...it would all end. One day, it would settle into a shrill shriek, a course call, a strangled shout. And it would continue to settle and continue to quiet itself and continue and continue and continue until it was

nothing

but

a whisper.

One day he would have silence, just him and his thoughts, thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts!! And they wouldn't scream anymore they would listen to him they'd heed him hear him know!!

Know...!

He would know how he felt. He would know all those memories he'd suppressed, the emotions he'd rejected. He would understand the things he'd denied himself for so many years that they twisted themselves into a fleshy, misshapen amalgam of horror and sinew and regrets.

So many regrets.

He regretted so much.

So

much.

But that would melt away, parsley butter on a pastry! Chocolate in soup, a house in a hurricane! It would all fade into ink and tears and dissolve down to bare bones, bereft of benefit. But it would be pure, putrescent, scintillating at its core.

Core.

His core.

He felt his own core corruption. His corroded circuits. His chastised mind, blanking when he needed it most, erasing things important to him, gnawing gnawing gnawing at memory and emotion, love hate fear love.

But one day he would find them. One day he would understand again. One day it would flood back, torrential downpour, softest trickle.

One day he would find the right words in his head.

And for once they would be simple.

So I wanted to do more of a take on what it’s like to be in Wil’s head. And as someone who suffers from mental illnesses, this was cathartic to write. Now, I have my own interpretation of what he’s referring to, and to whom. But you have your interpretations to, I’m sure. 

Tagging people who showed interest! @steffid101 @ishanijasmin @phetslauryn

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The Best Way To Be Happy (A Wilford Warfstache FanFic)

Inspired by the quote below

"Sometimes, the best way to be happy is to learn to let go of things you tried hard to hold on to that are no longer good for you." -Live Life Happy

He could barely see the polaroid still clenched between his fingers in the gloom, but he had far and beyond memorized the contents. He didn't need to see it. Not really.

Not anymore.

He wasn't sure when the sun had set. It felt like moments ago that light was bursting through the brilliant bay windows facing the gardens. Now it was well past twilight. The moon shared a sliver of its light, a slash of silver and blue shadows that lightened the blackness with their scarce glow. He knew the home-turned-house well enough that he didn't need the extra illumination, anyways.

He glanced down once more, dark eyes wavering as they almost caressed the figures in the picture. He was central to the photo, bombastic and excitable as always, his expression full of fondness and evocative--he could remember this holiday well in fact. It still flooded him with fond memories of exuberance and youth, of love and passion.

It also pained him, oh so much. Her face was so close to his in the photo, nearly cheek to cheek. Her hand rested on his chest sweetly. His arms were slung jovially across his two companions shoulders, drawing them ever closer.

A single tear pattered softly against the matte finish of the photo. He didn't wipe it away. It seemed almost tasteful, the way the tear covered part of his ex-best friend's face. Almost beautiful. Almost meaningful.

But that didn't really matter anymore... Did it.

Damien, Celine... They were gone. Forever. And though part of him fought, drove him to madness, struggled against reality, he knew it all too well. He had seen what they had become. He had seen the... Thing. That they were now.

None of their love, compassion, liveliness, was left. None of it.

Hardly any of him was left, either.

Another tear hit the finish, rolled off onto his thumb, and the touch of liquid seemed to jolt a laughing breath from his chest. It started with a low wheeze, almost a cough. And slowly it grew, shaking his shoulders silently at first until he began giggling, pitch raising, volume growing.

As his laughter crescendoed into pealing hysteria, the photo of the two people he loved more than anything fluttered gracelessly to the ground. It squeaked and crinkled pitifully as, a moment later, a solid boot crushed down on it.

The Colonel had lurched to his feet, eyes quickly losing their sad symmetry and transforming into something far more unstable. Something brighter and far more detached from the pain. Something that protected him.

Inside, somewhere buried away, he knew he had to let go.

But how could he let go of the only thing keeping him sane, in this utterly mad world?

Not tagging many people in this one because I’m not really sure who’s into this ego city but! @steffid101 @alliedoesstuff you’re the only ones who I can think of who might be into it xD

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Hey so I’m finally fucking writing again (yay low executive and mental function due to mental illnesses and autism amirite) so hopefully you’ll see something from me in the next idk. Couple hours? It’s Anti-related once again. Tagging ppl who might be interested in this post and the next--if I tag you here and you don’t want to be tagged in a psychological horror ft Anti let me know and I won’t tag you then.

@steffid101 @egosurveillance @ego-protection-squad fuck y’all I’m bad with names okay, I’m sorry :<

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So I’m thinking of making a side blog for my writing. I’d post anything writing related over there and reblog it here basically. I want my writing to be somewhere I can easily access it, and kind of have my own calm creative space so I can focus on it a bit more readily that way.

There would be a lot of original writing there that won’t make it to this blog cause why bother here tbh. Idk. Fanfics would get posted there as well of course. Original wouldn't be reblogged here more likely than not.

So my question is, would anyone here follow me on a writing blog? You’d get a lot of poetry, drabbles, etc. I’m going to try to focus on writing and pumping shit out more if I can. I dunno, lemme know whatcha think.

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Inside (An Antisepticeye Fanfic)

TW/CW: Just a mild warning for horror elements/psychological horror. :) Enjoy... if you can ;)

Anti?

He--I mean, he... Y'know, he's one of those... Those people that you just--

Y'know?

...no I suppose you don't....

Anti... He's someone you can't predict. You can't really describe him, can't pin him down, cause once you think you have him he's glitched and shifted into a new amalgam of putrescence and vileness. He's one of those special, special cases, the ones that are constantly moving, attention deficit and hyperactivity and then some all in the space of one infinitesimal being that spans the continuity of a singular second.

Doesn't make sense? Of course it doesn't. Because even in the span of time it's taken me to write this, Anti has changed it, altered it, to suit his own damn needs. He's taken what I wanted to say and manipulated it--he pulls his strings, the ones he swears aren't there.

"There are no strings on me"? Oh he wasn't wrong. He wasn't really lying either. See, he doesn't ever lie. He doesn't tell un-truths. He means precisely what he says in precisely the way he means it. There are no strings attached to him. At least, not ones that control. Him. He's safe from those strings.

Ever had piano wire and cotton twine slowly eke its way into your flesh and start to twine with the cords and sinews of your forearms, biceps, triceps? Ever have tendrils of thought and control start to slither into your mind, to pluck at synapses and twang on them like a discordant banjo?

No?

...but how do you know for sure?

You think about him a lot, don't you? Anti, that is. Oh yes. You're always thinking of him. Little things will remind you of him, A turn of phrase will make you think about how he'd react. Something small, happenstance, chance, and suddenly he's at the forefront of your thoughts and they're barren of whatever was there to begin with.

How do you know he isn't inside?

You might scoff and wave a dismissive hand because, hah, how the fuck would he be in your head? I'm sure that's what Chase thought too. The good Doctor was a bit more prepared, knew more about what he had to do to protect himself but... Well, he wasn't quite prepared enough now, was he?

So, how do you know? What, don't you think he'd make you think he wasn't there? He'd let you think your thoughts were your own. He'd take over slowly, quietly, but efficiently. Succinctly. Carefully. You wouldn't even notice. You'd feel that chill down your spine and chalk it up to a shiver. You'd see shapes and shadows and tell yourself it's just your mind playing tricks on you.

And it is. Because he's already in your mind. And he's starting to take over.

...how do you know you're you anymore?

tagging people who might enjoy this...? (If you’d rather I not tag you in the future let me know!!) @steffid101 @anti-protection-squad @antisepticeye-protec-squad

Edited 17/09/2017 for a typo at the end I didn’t catch before <3

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This is getting a bit longer than I anticipated so give me a bit longer for certain. I WILL have it out soonish though. Tagging people who liked the original post--let me know if you want to be tagged when I publish.

@purple-finch @peka-iz-krov @randompjo @destinggirl @ask-hinata-and-toby-crap @artistic--insomniac

@ego-protection-squad I’m definitely tagging you buddy, don’t worry ;)

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Give me inspiration for Anti fics!

I have one I plan on finishing after I get home from work and feel like I should start another soon after so I can keep the writing juices a-flowin'!

Feel free to suggest non-Anti fanfiction as well!

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Fic Ideas

I have an idea for a longer serial that’s rather Chase-centric, and will heavily, heavily involve Anti, and will also incorporate Schneep and Jack as himself. I also have ideas for reader inserts involving Anti specifically, with potential cameos from other egos but no guarantees. I dunno which to get into writing first though qq