#venturiantale fanfiction

[lunadreamscaper]

I’m gonna be honest

I think the reason I stopped reading VenturianTale fan fiction is because every fan fiction I read resorted to using Jimmy Casket as the main plot point.

Or would build up to something else then change it last second to Jimmy being the main plot point and throw everything away and it was so frustrating that I went from a Jimmy Casket lover to HATER and I mean HATER lmao xD

Like there were so many other interesting VT characters to pick and chose from but it was Jimmy everytime 😭/lh

But now I think Jimmy is cool and I don’t mind him in fan fiction if done right. And instead all my hate and rage goes towards Jordan/hj

[nyxx-nth]

Toast/Ghost || Drabble

Word Count: 804

Toast gets home from a late night out drinking.

[v4mpyrebat]

Love From The Other Side - Chapter 1

Hey VT fandom I know you’ve been hungry, so I decided to start writing again. If you like Billion Year War, multiverse theory, space and time travel and lots of making side characters important than this is just the fic for you!

Fic is located under the cut, but if you’d prefer I’ve also posted it on AO3, and I’d appreciate if you reblogged or gave some kudos! ENJOY!

The night was dark and unforgiving, as the sand that blew through the wind dusted the air and tainted the oxygen. Not as if the oxygen wasn’t already toxic, though by now those whose lungs hadn’t adapted had been long dead and gone. One gets used to the constant scratchy feeling in the back of their throat, as breathing feels 5 pounds heavier than it once did in one’s memory.

A figure stood lonesome at the end of a street, the handkerchief wrapped around their face doing little to stop the coarse, dry feeling in their mouth, serving more as to disguise their identity. The only sound they dared utter was to clear their throat, a congested rumble that sounded almost painful if done too often. A knife remained in their hand, which rested actively at their side, the grip tight and unwavering. Their clothes hung loosely on their body – looking about as unkempt as anyone else did in this environment — with tattered fabric that was stained with different hues of brown and deep auburn.

Their breathing was shallow yet heavy at the same time as if every intake of oxygen was more exhaustive than the last. They stumbled forward, the grip on the blade in their hand tightening as each slow and calculated step was taken. Continuing down the road, they neglected to look at their surroundings as their eyes locked onto something down from the end of the road. The rest of the scenery was irrelevant anyways, as once you’ve seen the same dilapidated and burnt-out city buildings about a thousand times, it loses any luster one could possibly ever have held for it.

The road was missing chunks of asphalt and full of potholes. As the figure dragged his feet along the pavement, the being of interest began to rear its ugly head as it awoke from its slumber.

Under the figure’s handkerchief mask, an unseen grin parted the lips of the future assailant’s mouth, revealing the sharp, grotesque, and uncared-for teeth hidden under the forgiving fabric that covered their face. The angry whirring as the tripod scrambled up off the ground was music to the figure’s ears, as the creature’s gangly legs stomped and dug into the sand in order to support itself.  

The canon apparatus held under the abdomen of the tripod fired up, shooting rapidly at the figure's feet. This was a game to them, a tango to be danced as the figure gained speed towards the creature, running in a zig-zag motion to avoid the free fire of the attack quickly. Under the ear-bleeding vocalizations and ballistic shockwave that filled the areas was the eerie sound of the figure’s laugh. This was funny to them.

Oh, but the humorous part was yet to come, as once the figure had approached the tripod, they dashed to its left side, grabbing hold of its leg as they began to hoister themselves up. Making sure to avoid the sharp thorned parts of its limb, the person dodged the fire of the creature’s canon and ignored the loud howls of dismay erupted from the tripod. Hoisting themselves up, the figure positioned their feet strategically as they climbed up the long appendage, using the entirety of their upper body strength whilst doing so – somehow also managing to keep their knife in hand as well.

The tripod staggered from the weight of the human on its leg, its body moving in panicked ways as its canon fired in every direction with no particular target. This person knew what they were doing, easily overwhelming the simple alien as they were much easier to deal with when not only caught off guard but when on their lonesome.

Here came the tricky part – sliding off the leg and in a swift movement, the figure launched itself up onto the creature's “head”, their grip faltering for barely a moment before they were able to latch on. They held onto the tripod’s top, fingers having a tight grip on the underside of the hard carapace shell that protected the brain of the alien. Despite being about 40 feet in the air, the person had absolutely no fear, swinging forward using the momentum of the thrashing creature in order to pull themselves in front of the creature's head, hanging over the side of its exoskeleton.

With nothing but a smile, the figure took the knife held so tightly within their grip and raised it up in their arm, a guttural, inaudible laugh exiting their body as the weapon was slammed down into the exposed sensitive area of the tripod’s head, slicing right through any protective layers and splitting right into its brain. Yellow blood sprayed rapidly, splashing into the figure's face as they slammed the knife down a few more times for good measure. Afterward, they grabbed back hold of the carapace and pulled themselves back onto the hard area, keeping their body stable as the tripod screeched its ear-grating and painful final yelps.

The tripod’s three legs began to give out from under itself, shaking and bending in ways it was not developed for. They cracked and snapped like sticks and caused the entire body of the alien to shake before two of them fully broke off, causing the back side of the tripod to begin its fast plunge toward the unforgiving asphalt below.

In its dying moment, the guns of the monster fired like the last active neurons of a brain that have yet to fully give out. As the head of the beast fell through the air, the figure braced themselves for the eventual impact, the smile never leaving their face as they anticipated the familiar feeling – this was something they’d done countless times.

As the tripod hit the ground, sand rose around them in a storm cloud of dust, and the shock of the slam reverberated throughout the entire figure’s body and rattled their bones, sending a deep ache up their spinal cord and into their head.

The figure then flipped onto their back, breathing heavily as they relished in the feeling, allowing themselves to melt into the hard shell under their back. Yet, their ecstasy was short-lived, interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, followed directly by the cock of a gun.

“You’ve had your fun,” The figure didn’t even half to crane his neck up to know who was addressing them, the mature, grating, and whiney lisp-laced voice was enough to clue him in.

“Aww, five more minutes?” They whined in return, not even bothering to glance at the man as he stared dreamily up into the desolate sky.

Spencer was kind enough to walk into his field of vision, being even kinder and pointing a pistol right at him, the weapon rattling as it was directed at his forehead. “Enough, Ghost.”

Though addressing him directly, Spencer’s voice slightly wavered with the utterance of the name, as if he himself wasn’t entirely sure if that was who he was talking to.

“And if I don’t?” Ghost lifted his head, glaring sharply at the man above him.

Spencer scoffed, holding his gun steady as he used his free hand to rummage through the pockets of his thick brown trench coat, and once he located the item he was searching for, there was a moment of hesitation as he wrapped his fingers around said object, unbeknownst to Ghost.

“Well, I have something I believe you’ll want.”

[evilmagician430]

i remember one time when i was in elementary school i wrote venturiantale fanfiction for a writing assignment. it was called "the burned waffle" or something and it was about sally raging at everyone kaiju style and the survival of the family... i wonder where it is rn and if spencer was in it cause i dont remember

[miiilowo]

Are we talking about VenturianTale??? My first ever fan fiction I wrote was VenturianTale Skyrim Fanfiction actually.

oh my god

[10yearsofventuriantale]

YESTERDAY was the Ten-Year Anniversary of “THE END! VENTURIANTALE FANFICTION! - Livestream Celebration Part 3 (Garry's Mod)”

[mage-hecked]

I forgot that I simped for a gmod roleplay character from venturiantale when i was in middle school, fuck

[maddiefriendlovesbilly]

TW/CW: Ranting, use of caps/text yelling, mentions/discussions of depression, suicidal thoughts, low self-esteem, and cringe-culture, no language indicators (everything is /genuine), large chunks of text which may be hard for some to read (please lmk if anyone would like a bulleted or split up version /gen), complicated words and concepts (again, please lmk if anyone would like a version w simpler words or more explanations!! /gen!!!)

Topic: Writing, Cringe-Culture, and Freedom to Express Yourself

Not to get like, personal and serious on this silly YouTube roleplay side-blog but here’s some writing advice for you writers out there. Literally no one will notice if you put two “-ly” words in your story.

As long as you are using basic sentence variation in your story — aka complex sentence, compound sentence, simple sentence, compound sentence again, repeat in a pattern that seems to get your point across best (long sentences are best for describing situations or when a character is rambling, simple sentences are best for times that you want your words to punch the reader in the face with words alone or crush their little hearts while cackling maniacally) — nobody other than pompous gits will notice if you say “Oh, he thought, wishing desperately for something to do with his hands.” Because no one actually nitpicks stuff like that if they’re properly immersed in your story (obviously beta readers are different, they’ve been paid to look for your mistakes lol). (more below the Keep Reading. Warning!! Triggering topics/actions start right here! :] <3!!!)

And even if you DO fuck up and put a couple too many “ly” words or too many “he said/she saids?” WHO CARES. THAT IS THE POINT OF WRITING. TO IMPROVE. MAKE SHITTY SELF-INSERT FICS. WRITE FANFICTION TO PRACTICE. WRITE A REALLY BAD ORIGINAL STORY ABOUT OVERPOWERED OCS WHO YOU’VE HAD SINCE YOU WERE ELEVEN. EVERY TIME YOU WRITE YOU IMPROVE. IF YOU LOVE SOMETHING ENOUGH TO DEDICATE HOURS OF YOUR LIFE TO IT YOU DESERVE TO LOOK BACK ON IT AND SAY “I made this thing out of love. By making this I made someone happy, and that someone was me. I deserve to be proud of this, because I worked hard on it.”

NEVER regret your old shitty writing. NEVER regret your current writing. Yes, you can spend hours nitpicking every detail and every word like I used to. But you have years to figure out your writing style; years to gauge whether you like first or third or second person POV — or even something else entirely — best; years to experiment and and learn and love new and different things. You will improve, it is an inevitable, inescapable part of being human, being alive.

So please, please write whatever you want, whenever you want. Write cringe! Write badly! Write poorly planned out stories!! If it makes YOU happy, who fucking cares what some bozo using the anonymity of a faceless online profile to bash your earnest, hard work about something you care about says? Why do THEY have any right to your happiness? Your self-esteem? Do what makes you happy, even if it’s bad, or self-indulgent, or god-forbid “““cringey.””” You know what’s cringey? A grown ass adult human being who knows better making fun of someone working hard to improve a skill, or simply enjoying the freedom that writing gives. You have the gift to create. No one starts out writing like a pro. Don’t let others shame you out of expressing yourself in a healthy way that brings you joy.

This is one of the many reasons I have left several nearly untouched, original records of my fic A Small Slice of Ethereal P.I.E, which was written of the course of two years. I am PROUD of how lackluster and empty and basic the beginning of that fic is in comparison to the final chapter — I was fucking 15 years old, had undiagnosed depression and anxiety, and it was the first piece of writing I ever loved enough to finish even after two years, of course it was BAD. It was utter SHIT dude! I was coping with heavy amounts of trauma through a safe, comforting medium through a character I related to deeply. I’m alive because of that fic. It kept me going until I could get help. If writing does that for you; if you think “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, but if I don’t, then I can’t write that fanfic/story/oneshot/daydream I’ve always wanted to/haven’t completed/dream of publishing one day” then cling to that. Use it. Whatever keeps you going til tomorrow.

Your passions, your interests, have value. I’m so sorry if anyone has made you feel that they don’t. I’m sorry if people have told you your writing isn’t good enough to keep making. Every piece you make is a gift to yourself. I guarantee there are people out there who will. Who do. Even if it’s only future you. Even if it’s only current you. Your joy, fleeting or not, is worth more than you could ever imagine.

Keep writing. For you. Not for anyone else, because you deserve to. You deserve to love something passionately. You deserve to write poorly. You deserve to love what you make anyways. This got a little out of hand, I didn't really mean to say all this, but I feel it's important to my point so whatever haha. seriously though, if anyone wants me to delve further into any of the topics discussed here, especially about sentence variation and where to use complex, compound, and simple sentences in a paragraph/scene/description or what POV to use for the type of story/scene you want to convey to your reader, I'd be literally over the moon lmao. I LOVE talking about the importance of cadence and impact, and how it basically overrides basic grammatical rules like "he said/she said" and "-ly words" and "remove every 'was' in your story." Alright, I'll stop pestering y'all now haha, both my ask box and my dms are open if you want to ask any questions about this!

[pika-yolo]

how

[nyxx-nth]

That's a really cool idea! TOH is such a fun universe, it'd make a really cool setting for an AU probably.

if the VT P.I.E. fandom survived a bit longer i'm sure we would have more TOH x PIE crossover stuff maybe (By TOH i mean The Owl House lol)

it's probably be bad bc i forgot how people usually depict VT characters as insufferable in fan fiction but we're going to ignore that and hope that the fan art would've been cool at least

[v4mpyrebat]

Love From The Other Side - Chapter 3

this ones a bit shorter, but leads up to big thing! had a rough past two weeks, but trying to stay consistent this time and work at my own pace. enjoyyy! once again, available on AO3 or below the cut, tell me your thoughts!

“Don’t waste the only time you have left.”

It wasn’t the words themself that bothered Spencer, but the implications behind them.

For some reason unbeknownst to himself, the thought of everything being for nothing was something that hadn’t bothered him until now. ...now.

Perhaps it had been because he had basically no social contact for the past…ever. And so the only beliefs he ever lived with came from the unfaltering self-assured nonsense that spewed from his brain.

Guess a reality check from someone else was enough to spiral his entire thought process – a kind of spiraling that hadn’t ever affected him up until the war.

Sometimes he missed that miserable, self-confident son of a bitch that was his younger self.

The sun began to set around him as he made his way home and out of the city. The scenery around him was about as disheveled as he felt, but suppose it makes sense as we are all products of our environment. That deep feeling of hopelessness crawled at his stomach and tugged at him, making this walk far more of a hindrance than Spencer cared for. ...for.

Emotions like this did not serve him. They were a waste of energy and only proved to waste his time.

Okay, so he was wasting time by trying to save the universe. He was wasting time by feeling emotional about wasting time.

But what the hell is time if there is no future?

What even constitutes there being a future if you have no hope for one?

As he walked, he soaked in the sights of the city that he rarely ever saw. He wondered how many people once lived and used these buildings regularly, and even then, how many of them died in the carnage and now in death had nothing of remembrance to their prior existence. What a shitty way to go out – with no one to remember who you were, and no one to remember what you’ve done.

The totaled cars, the abandoned pieces of trash, and the faded shadows of those who once stood.

This was all proof that people were here. Proof that, despite how shitty the world even used to be, people lived. Lived in spite of themselves, in spite of their conditions – no matter how mundane they may seem even now. They were here because they were here. No rhyme, no reason.

Years ago, Spencer might've thought it was the end of the world when the internet cut out, yet it never truly deeply bothered him as much as he said or felt it did.

Now, at the end of the world, the mundane was seldom, and living in spite of yourself was dying because death felt more alive than living itself.

Taking in a deep breath, Spencer stopped in his tracks, taking a moment to rest. He had a long way back anyways.

The question of “why” popped back into his head again.

Why was he doing all this if he had no one who cared for him? Did he have anything to live for, something to work for?

Why did it matter so much to him? It wasn’t as if he originally did much with his life.

Yeah, yeah, saving billions of lives for people who don’t know him, won’t notice, and won’t care.

Throughout the years, it had always been his dream to wake up from this nightmare, as if it was once again just a normal Tuesday, and the apocalypse was simply something idealized in movies. But would he save the world, would all this suffering be for nothing?

Stuck in his thoughts, it took Spencer a moment before he checked back into reality.

A booming, ear-bleeding metal droning suddenly bombarded his ears. As the sound hovered over him, upon instinct he ducked into the nearest building and slid down against the concrete wall, choosing to hide under what little ceiling was left. Rubble surrounded him, and as the sun set, there went his only source of light as it slowly faded from the broken cracks in the wall and ceiling.

Loud stomps from outside shook the ground around him, as he attempted to regain his composure. Go figure, a tripod. Most likely it was coming back for its friend that Ghost had far too much fun killing.

Though, what truly startled Spencer wasn’t the tripod.

It was what was inside the room with him. ...him.

His breath hitched as he tried to force his eyes to adjust to the spreading darkness, trying to analyze the danger level of his current situation.

There was a sound he could hear, barely audible over the loud yowls of the creature outside.

He finally got a good look around the room, and when he did, his heart dropped to his stomach.

Far in the corner, it sat, huddled up and shaking immensely with fear, soft sobs echoing from its form.

This was no creature…

It was a child.

[obsidiancreates]

Another Cringe-Worthy Self-Indulgent Fic That I, For Some Reason, Am Posting

Anti blinked. He took one look at his surroundings and wanted to punch a wall.

Only, he couldn’t punch a wall. Because he was in an endless void where, as far as he could tell, there were no walls present.

The last time he’d been randomly dropped into an endless void a teenage girl had given him a birthday cake and then fought him with a sword. Oddly enough, he didn’t remember the fight at all. Almost as though it had only been implied to happen instead of actually happening.

He sat down on the floor, except the floor became a chair that he sat down on instead. It was an uncomfortable metal chair, with uneven legs so it wobbled. Clearly the girl who controlled the void wanted to make sure he still knew that she thought he was an a**hole.

He sat in silence. He wondered if the girl just wanted to torture him a little, make him sit on an uncomfortable wobbly metal chair for the rest of his life. He tried to get up. Nope, he was stuck to it.

A scream coming from above him made him look up. Someone fell out of the darkness of the void and landed, face-first, on the ground right next to Anti. They didn’t move. Anti stabbed them in the arm. They still didn’t move.

Suddenly they disappeared. The chair Anti was on did the same. The person, however, reappeared across from Anti, standing up and more alive than they had been previously.

Anti glitched to his feet and readied his knife. He took in the new arrival. It was a man, though probably not a human one. He had dark brown, nearly black, hair that looked as though it had never been combed once. His skin was incredibly pale and his irises were a bright blood-red. Did the girl stick a vampire into the void with Anti?

The other man rubbed his head and laughed, a loud cackle that would have made many birds take flight had there been any birds around. He had his own knife, which he rubbed the blade of between his fingers every few seconds. He looked at Anti and grinned, revealing pointed teeth. “Well hello! Who’re you?”

Anti scowled. The other man’s voice was scratchy, high-pitched, and clearly made to sound crazy. “Ẃ̶͡h̴͢o ̛͠a̸̷͢r͏҉̶e͏͞͠ ̧̢͘yò̶̀u̧?̢̢͜”

The man tossed his knife in the air and caught it by the handle. “I’m Jimmy Casket, the world’s most renowned MURDERER!” He cackled again. “I’m gonna put ya, in a casket! ‘Cause my name, is Jimmy Casket!” He peered at Anti’s neck and smirked. “Oh, looks like someone already tried that!”

“W̕҉h͞y ͠a͜r͏e ҉y͝͏ou͢͡͡ ͟͏h҉e̴r͡e?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Don’t know!”

It was because the girl wanted to have the two knife-wielding, weird-and-scratchy-voiced, blood hungry, murderous characters from two of her favorite channels meet. But they didn’t know that. However, because the girl wasn’t taking this fic very seriously at all and was simply writing it because she was bored, you as the audience get to know it through the power of exposition.

“Hey, do you wanna know my secret?” Jimmy asked, There was an excited gleam in his eye that told Anti the best answer to that question was a firm

“Ń̷o͞.͘”

“Aw, come on! It’s a good one! People are-,” he paused to cackle once more, “-DYING to know it!”

Anti glitched closer to Jimmy and slit his throat. He fell to the ground and this time it was Anti who grinned. “W̢el̨l,͞ at̷ ͠lea͜st ̧yo̴u̶ ̷ąre͘ņ't inv̴i̛n̡cib̀lé.”

Then Jimmy disappeared, and re-appeared right behind Anti. Jimmy stabbed him in the back three times. “Stab stab stab!”

Anti screeched and glitched away. “H͟͜҉͜O͏͏̨̛͠W̶͡?̕”

Jimmy giggled. “I can come back from the dead! Back from the dead! HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Yo͏u̶͜ ̡h̛av͢ę͜ ͏͜t̛o̡ ̴b͜͠e̶͠ ͞͠f͢*̨̀͠*́͝kin̶̛g ̷ḱ̵͠i͝d̕d̛̕͝i̕n̢g̴ ͢͡m̶e.”

Jimmy licked the blood off his knife. “Nope!” He rubbed the blade of his knife again and tilted his head. His eye twitched and he pointed his knife at Anti. “What’s your knife’s name?”

‘Şhe͝ ̀i̛s̕ t̸r͟yi̡n͘g ͠to t́o̧r̡tur͠e mè,͝’ Anti thought. “W̛h͢a͏t͝͏?”

“Your knife’s name!” Jimmy waved his knife around. “Mine is named Knifey, he’s my best friend!”  He cackled again. The excessive cackling was getting on Anti’s nerves, which was, as is obvious but going to be stated to you anyway just because, ironic.

“I͞ ͜d̷i͢d͠n't̸ ̛n̡ame m̶y k̶n͠ife͏, y̷o͝u ͜i̕di͞ot̨.̕”

For the first time since Jimmy showed up (not counting when he was dead), he frowned. No, not just frowned. He clenched his jaw and barred his teeth, seething. “Do you wanna know my secret?” he said in a deep, growling, trying to be intimidating voice. He threw ‘Knifey’ at Anti. Anti screamed again as it buried itself in his abdomen. The knife disappeared and re-appeared in Jimmy’s hand (apparently that was a common theme with this guy). Jimmy walked over and stabbed Anti again. “Do you wanna know my secret? DO YOU WANNA KNOW! HUH?! STAB STAB STAB!”

Anti glitched away. Jimmy tried to leap at him but hit an invisible wall. Anti panted, clutching his stomach. He wouldn’t die, no, but that many wounds in such quick succession were hard to recover from in a timely manner. Jimmy stared at him, twitching and grinning. “F̵̵*̴͟͟*k̡̡ ̧y̡o̶u̡̕,̷͡” Anti spit. He threw his own knife. It passed through the unseen barrier and hit Jimmy in the chest. Jimmy screamed and fell to the ground. Dead. For the third time in...10 minutes?

Anti growled. “L͠E͠Ţ̵ ͢M̶̧E̴ ̸̨͞O̵U̧T̸̀ ̕͜O̧͟F̶̷ ̨͠H͘͘È̵̢R͜͏̨E̴͝!̛͏”

Since the girl had no idea how to continue the fic and was already wincing at her own writing, she obliged. Anti was let out, Jimmy was also let out, and she read over the story again.

“I mean...it isn’t terrible, right? Right, it’s just dumb,” she said. “Really dumb. And not...great. Kind of bad. But who cares, I spent time on it and I ain’t lettin’ that time go to waste. Besides, the VT tag is lacking in fics anyway.”

[candylani-draws]

When Evil Conquers YT - Chapter 2

Character List: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/177562446573/when-evil-conquers-youtube-character-list

Cover Art: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/177562290268/hey-peeps-im-so-excited-to-be-re-publishing

Wattpad Link: https://my.w.tt/rTElIdf6MP

Deviantart Link: https://www.deviantart.com/pandaserules97/gallery/67161703/When-Evil-Conquers-YouTube

(READ THIS FIRST!!) Important Notes: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/178727812658/when-evil-conquers-yt-important-notes-about-the

Prologue Link: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/178859191453/when-evil-conquers-yt-prologue

Chapter 1: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/178892439558/when-evil-conquers-yt-chapter-1

WARNING - This chapter uses high levels of offensive language, including insults and nasty comments about these certain Tubers. I obviously do not hate these people, this is just for story sake. If you feel that you are going to be offended by the words here, just skip to the end. Thanks!

Anon: "Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to announce my purpose for joining this occult!"

He leans down to inspect the pages, then opens the large book to the page he was looking for, a large slam echoed the rooms. In it lies a cell phone, and he pulls it out.

Anon: "Now, as I load my information, allow me to give some context. Most of you are aware of a popular video website called 'YouTube', correct?"

Lucifer: "You mean that stupid website that forbids copyrighted material and is full of pampering, self-absorbed morons?"

Anon: "Yes, exactly! And don't forget about ad revenue!"

His YouTube app has loaded, and he begins to search, both for his content, and in his notebook.

Anon: "Now then, I have four specific specimens who I believe deserve a bit of a punishment..."

Lucifer: "Ooh, what kind of punishment?"

Leader: "Have patience, Lucifer. We cannot have anything done if we rush into it..."

Anon: "Ah, here we are!"

Anon flips over several pages and reveals a large list of names.

Anon: "For 7 years, I've putting all of my time into this YouTube matter, finding out who and what is popular during different eras, and today, I have found the perfect victims. Now, if you look at this list, it reveals YouTubers that I wish to see be taken down by my command! Most of them are the gaming community, just a heads up."

The list was insanely long, and each of the names contained some sort of extra name beside it. From the looks of it, it seemed that Anon wanted to take these Tubers and...change their names? The first 4 caught everyone's eyes.

List of Dumbasses - 2016

1. VenturianTale → Jimmy Casket

2. JackSepticEye → AntiSepticEye

3. Markiplier → Darkiplier, Yandereplier, Authorplier, Googleplier

4. Pewdiepie → Lucius-pie

Anon: "Let's see here, ah! VenturianTale, the first channel on my list! To keep this simple, I'll make a demonstration and start off with the first four names, to warm us all up. If this is a success, we continue this tradition every October!"

He pulls up a video of some brunette man wearing a blue hoodie, screaming like a girl at some stupid animatronic animal jumpscare.

Anon: "Now then, here's out first Tuber, Venturian, aka Jordan Frye, a American guy who is known for playing Gmod and has 2.43 million subscribers. Even though that's not a large number compared to other channels, it still eludes me how a man in his 20s spends his time playing stupid mods with his retarded siblings. Yes, this isn't a solo channel, he has 3 other siblings who are equally guilty of this cringeworthy dungheep."

Random Occult Member 4: "No wonder they only have less than 3 million subscribers..."

Anon: "However, there is something that caught my attention from them during my studies...on their Gmod murder series, Venturian has created an original character named 'Jimmy Casket', a crazed murderer who happens to have some sort of personality disorder. It's a long, boring story as to why that is, but the point is...whenever Jordan plays as Jimmy, it seems to be one of the few times he goes insane and turns into someone else...someone dangerous...someone...evil.."

Random Occult Member 2: "Interesting..."

Anon: "Now, onto our next Tuber..."

Not even 3 seconds into the next video, and several of the Tubers covered their ears in pain from obnoxious singing and shouting. Luckily, Anon came prepared as he grabbed powerful earmuffs during his searching.

Anon: "Is the ear bleeding done?"

Everyone: "TURN THAT SHIT OFF!"

Anon: "With pleasure..."

Anon took off his earmuffs and paused the video. From the screen, and the audio, this Tuber is European man with bright green hair and a VERY loud personality.

Anon: "Our next Tuber is JackSepticEye, aka Sean McLoughlin, an Irish gamer with 12.36 million subscribers. I have no idea how the hell he's able to scream and shout for more than 20 minutes without a sore throat, but that is a gift he should never have been born with. This man is irritating, and he seems to overreact to every little fucking thing he plays! And he's friends with an eyeball that's LITERALLY septic! He's FRIENDS with a toxic fucking eyeball!"

Random Occult Member 2: "Greaaaaat, as if this man wasn't unlikable enough, now he's a gross slob..."

Anon: "...Riiight...now then, despite his annoyance, he also has a darker side to him that, this time, was created by his fanbase. Since his YouTuber name implies that he's all septic, it only makes sense that his dark side implies that he's antiseptic, and it's quite an irony. Recently, some of Jack's videos are giving canon appearances of this alter ego, and it helps give one a glimpse of what his true design looks like..."

Lucifer: "Ooh, now THAT is something I would KILL to see!"

Anon: "...Okaaaaay then...Next up is the pure definition of a manchild. Do not be fooled from his appearance."

The next Tuber who was on screen was an Asian-looking guy with an extremely American accent, red dyed hair, square glasses, and a skin tight shirt, playing some horror game about a rabbit.

Anon: "This here is Markiplier, aka Mark Fischbach, and this is another American Tuber here, with 14.55 million subscribers."

Random Occult Member 3: "Ooh, this guy has quite the bod..."

Anon: "Hey, remember what I said earlier? This person may look handsome on the outside, but inside, he's a scaredy-cat and...a bit of a crybaby...He's also really stupid."

Anon fast-forwarded the video, and the man screamed loudly and flew backwards in his seat, with his jaw dropped to the floor.

Anon: "See what I mean? Oh, and this guy seems to have a weird thing for boxes, considering he's friends with one."

Anon then clicks on another video with the man playing with some sort of small box creature with a big baby face and cartoony hands, and they're making stupid noises and faces.

Lucifer: "How in the hell did he even-?"

Anon: "It's best not to ask right now. Besides, I didn't get to the real meat here. Mark is unique, because he has not one alter ego, but FOUR!"

All Members: "FOUR?!"

Anon went into his photo album and pulled up a collage for 4 characters that looked eerily similar to the manchild.

Anon: "You heard me right, 4 alternate egos! The main one, and the most iconic, is his dark side named...Darkiplier...I know, hilarious. This ego has an interesting history. He originally started off as Mark trying to be "scary" to his audience, and this soon turned to a whole new persona. The last time Dark was seen canonically on-screen was a video named "relax", but I've been hearing rumors about the new appearance of Dark; it consisted something of him being all black-and-white, in a formal suit, and 3D effects..."

Lucifer: "Wouldn't that be cool to see?"

Anon: "Ha, tell me about it. Now then, the next persona is known as 'Googleplier', and this one is pretty recent. From Matthias' video 'Google IRL', Googleplier is a real-life Google machine who can answer any question, along with having an obsession with destroying mankind...to be honest, this one is my most favorite. Unfortunately, Googleplier has a retarded weakness against too many questions."

Nobody said a word, but they all seemed to have some sort of prediction that Anon is, in some way, similar to Googleplier's personality.

Anon: "Third one has a bit of 'style', if style meant a weeb who wants to kill everyone for their lover. This is 'Yandereplier', but I'm calling him Yandere Mark for short. For those who don't speak weeb, a yandere is a character in anime who acts nice but kills peers behind their love interest's back. Yandere Mark actually started once Mark started playing an indie game called 'Yandere Simulator'. Basically, the game is shit, and the developer seems like an asshole. But this persona has definitely intrigued me. To have a fake persona to hide your true identity from the one you love? Seems like the perfect ego to hide crimes."

From the weird smile/grimace on Anon's face, the group was wondering if Anon has dealt with a "yandere" before.

Anon: "Last persona is a lesser known one, but holds great promise. Meet Authorplier! Honestly, he doesn't have an official name besides 'The Author', but I'll be calling him Author Mark for now. This persona was created back in 2013 in a mini-series called 'Danger in Fiction'. Honestly, most of the videos consist of stupid, immature potty humor, but the parts that I find to be BRILLIANT is the character's appearance and his power to write stories to torture his victims. See, with Author Mark, he has a special book that plans out the victim's fate, and he wants the victim to follow it, or else he'll end them faster with his bat."

Lucifer: "Now THAT one is my favorite!"

Anon: "And FINALLY, the last YouTuber on this list is..."

Anon quickly went back to his YouTube app and typed away, and everyone was anticipating for who was the last Tuber.

Anon: "PewDiePie, aka Felix Kjellberg! Not only is this guy the biggest gaming YouTuber, he is the biggest YouTuber of all time, having 48.17 MILLION subscribers!"

Random Occult Member 1: "48 million?!"

Random Occult Member 2: "He could have his own country with this many people!"

Lucifer: "This guy must be rich for playing games all day!"

Anon: "HOWEVER! I must point out that Felix does not play as many games as he used to in his hay day. Still though, he is no exception...the fact that this annoying Swedish man can entertain or cause controversy for stupid games or unlogical statements is beyond me. If there's one thing I cannot stand about him, it's his enormous ego, acting like he's a mighty god. He kind of reminds me another YouTuber, I think his name was Joke Pole, but he's not a gamer."

Random Occult Member 3: "What's Felix's alter ego?"

Anon: "Ooh, now this is a tricky one...see, Felix doesn't have an official persona like the others, especially since none of them have a canon appearance or voice. However, one I did choose is similar to Yandere Mark and Jimmy Casket, where this one is based off a game that Felix played named 'Lucius'. See, 'Lucius' was a game he played back in 2012, and it's about a boy with the powers of Satan; his main objective is to kill his family members without causing suspicion. For a while, people loved Felix playing as this demon-writhing kid, and he seemed to take on the personality quite well, although he had a strange obsession with a beach ball."

Leader: "I see..."

Anon: "And that's everything I wanted to say! I only have these personas, but these people have a SHIT ton of more personas than I could count, a lot of them were fucking stupid. I only chose the ones that caught my eye, which were coincidentally the popular ones."

Lucifer: "The power of shitty fanbases..."

Anon: "And this is only the start...once I make these personas a reality with a special recipe I have made, they will cause havoc, ruin the reputations of these YouTubers once and for all! These are only with 4, imagine what it would be like with every other YouTuber gamer, or YouTubers in general, big and small, destroying the platform and taking down Internet entertainment with it!"

Everyone gasped and stared in awe as Anon caught his breath from all his speaking.

Anon: "So...am I in?"

[venturiantalestuff]

Haunted house- Johnny Ghost/Toasy highschool

Ghost, upon finding out romours of an old abandoned house. Decided to investigate. Despite being a 16 year old boy who should be in bed or studying. Ghost never listened to the rules though. He grabbed the handle to the wooden door and tugged it open. It was dark inside the house, the only light coming from the window from on top of the door. Ghost took his flashlight out and started investigating.

30 mins later

Johnny was shaking in the house, trying to look for a way out. The level ten ghost was messing with him, and his demon infected his mind. Telling him to do terrible things. It called himself ‘Jimmy Casket’, which was strange to Ghost because his father whom had died before he was born name was Timathy or Tommy for short Casket.

“Stab stab stab.” He muttered to himself while running out, before his mind turned blank and he passed out.

Toast’s POV

Toast was worried, he came from London to Ghost’s house as a surprise for Ghost, but when he knocked on the door of Ghost’s house Ghost’s mum said he wasn’t there. Toast tried texting and calling Ghost but he wasn’t picking up.

Toast walked around the neighborhood looking for his friend. If something bad happened to him... well Toast didn’t want to think about that. Toast’s anxiety only worsened when he overheard a conversation between two teens Ghost’s age, talking about an abandoned house.

“Oh yeah, didn’t that one weird kid go in there.” One of the kids asked the other.

Toast was in rage, both at Ghost and the kid. “Where is this house?” Toast asked pretending to be calm.

“Oh uh, it’s behind that one park,” the other kid said, confused as to why this new British kid would ask about an abandoned house. “The uh, one next to that Walmart.” The kid finished.

Ten mins later

Toast finally found the house that the kids were talking about, it looked old and made him uncomfortable. The door was wide open and Toast walked in the dark opening room.

Another ten mins

Toast had finally found what he was looking for. He saw Ghost sitting in a corner passed out. Ghost had a knife in one hand that Toast softly pulled out. Toast then carried Ghost on his shoulder to Ghost’s home.

This is the ending of part one, the next part will take place the next day and will be complete fluff.

[alwaysananxiousmess]

Oh hey I wrote a thing

From this post: https://doesjohnnyghostisgay.tumblr.com/post/173532622839/okay-so-i-remember-talking-about-this-to-dearchibr

@medicalmysteries @doesjohnnyghostisgay

Words: 1608 ((I edited it a bit))

He was just lounging around the lake. What else was he supposed to do exactly? The farthest he could go away from it was maybe to the tree line on the side closest to his body and a few feet from shore on the other side. How did he know this exactly? You don't really want to know. It was evening, and the amount of swimmers was dwindling. While when he died this place was fairly abandoned, as the years went by it became a good place for the locals to cool off during the summer. So instead of going crazy, like what most spirits would do after death, he saved people. Whether from randos getting a little too friendly with kids or the people who were drowning. He did the best he could. It was another day ending, and people were leaving. Except for a couple of people of course. Some liked swimming at night, not many though, so he kept an eye out for any sign of struggle. Movement on the treeline at the opposite end of the lake caught his eye, and he towards it. A figure broke the trees, and a familiar sense of burning ran through his chest. He was frozen, and felt liquid run down his chin, not only from his mouth but from his nose as well, flecks of blood running down it. His breathing was hard, and labored, not that he needed to breathe anyway. He felt it, being stuck there, pinned there, by not something, but someone. And he was whirled into the past. - - - He wandered the shore, kicking at pebbles. The night sky reflected off the surface of the dark water, and he blinked at it. Looking down at his clothing, he rolled up his pant legs, took off his shoes and socks, and waded into the water. He went to knee deep in the water before stopping, letting his toes sink into the ground beneath the surface. A smile cracked his face, and he bent slightly to run his fingers over the surface. After about a minute of this, he sighed and turned around to get out of the lake and dry off. Only to be met with a feminine figure right behind him. He opened his mouth to say something, only for the woman to push him over. Submerging his head beneath the water and keeping it there. He fought, but it did no use. Water filled his mouth as he tried to scream, his limbs thrashing in the water. She was sitting on him, he was sure of it, but was keeping her head above the water. Her hand pressed his throat against the sand. He couldn't move his legs easily, and he could tell his attacker was trying to keep his arms from moving too much. Why? Why was she doing this? His lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen, and he struggled harder, moving his legs the small amount that he could and trying to use his arms to push back up to the surface. His attacker shifted her position, letting go of his neck for a second to grab his arms and push them against his sides before plopping back on top of him and grabbing his neck once more, still pinning him to the ground below the surface of the water. This is it, he thought helplessly, unable to move anymore. She's going to kill me, whoever she is. And for what? He was running out of air now, and out of a reflex, his brain made him inhale. Water rushed through his nose and mouth and into his lungs. He coughed, only to be met by more of it. His vision was fading, his limbs going numb. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he fell unconscious. In less then a minute of being unconscious, he was dead. - - - He awoke in the water. But the lady wasn't on top of him anymore, and his lungs weren't burning. Did she let him go? The surface was a lot farther over his head. And it was dark beneath him. He could make out a shape below him, but he swam up towards the surface instead, breaking it and inhaling gratefully. But he hadn't felt the need to when he was under. He looked around quizzically, and the sun was starting to rise. He could see it. "Crap! Mom's going to freak!" He started to swim towards shore and climbed out, only to realize his shoes and socks weren't where he left them. Whatever. He bolted for the tree line, and he was a few feet inside when.. He found himself underwater again, as if he had teleported there. Confused, he drifted around in the water, before swimming up and breaking the surface again. He tread water for a bit, seeing that the sun was still rising. His boots were still gone. And that's when he realized, he wasn't breathing. He felt his ribcage. His chest wasn't rising and falling, and he felt no heartbeat. He reached up and put two fingers against his neck, just under his ear, where you would normally feel a pulse. But there was nothing there. Freaking out didn't seem to cover how he was feeling at the moment. He started hyperventilating, but did he even need to breathe? Was he dead? Don't be ridiculous, he sighed, calming down after a few minutes. Just go home. Mom must be worried. He swam towards shore and started towards the tree line, water dripping from his soaked body. He slowed as he reached the tree line again, and apprehensively went past it. A few steps later, and he was back underwater. Frustrated and confused, he let himself sit there for a while. Before noticing the thing beneath him. It was sort of a human shape, and curiosity overtook him, and he swam downwards towards it. And shrieked with fear as he was confronted with a face that looked a lot like his own. The other him was pale, and still. Blood leaking out of his nose and mouth. His eyes were half closed, and dull, his pupils dilated severely. "Oh- oh my god," he muttered, and surprisingly was able to hear his voice clearly underwater. This other him was dressed just like him, looked just like him. The only difference was that this one, this one was dead. He touched it's face, and wasn't surprised when he found that it was ice cold. "I-" he swallowed thickly. "I am dead. That's why I can't leave. I'm stuck with my body." - - - He snapped back to the present, gasping for oxygen he didn't need. The water continued running down his chin, dripping onto his already wet clothes. The woman who had murdered him moved slowly and quietly to the last person in the lake other then himself. A tall man who was swimming laps, the best he could in a lake anyway. The man started to climb out, shaking the water from his eyes, and the woman tackled him into the water. Just the way he had killed him. Filled with rage, he dove underwater and swam as fast as he could towards the two. Even from a distance he could see the other man struggling. He burst out of the water and slammed into the woman, pushing her off of her victim. A small part of him wished that someone could have been there to save him as he was saving this other person. But he dismissed the thought. He grabbed the woman and hauled her up, growling, though it was muffled by the water gurgling from his throat. "Remember me?" He choked out, somehow managing to be heard. She looked up at him, terrified. He could here the victim climbing out of the water, gasping for air. But he didn't pay him any mind, instead holding his killer in place, digging his nails sharply into her skin. "Get out," his speech was garbled by the liquids coming from his mouth, nose, and throat, but he knew she would understand him anyway. "Get out of here, you stupid bitch." He let her go, and she bolted. His gaze followed her until she had disappeared into the forest. He felt the water in his throat trickle out at last, and he wiped his mouth with his wrist, glaring at the space she had been. "You saved me," the man he had rescued said from behind him, causing him to turn and meet his gaze.  His voice was laced with a British accent, uncommon for here in America. "Why?" "Who wouldn't have?" He responded dryly. "I'm Johnny, Johnny Toast," he looked slightly unnerved by his severely dilated eyes. Yeah, he knew about that. Some lady let him use her mirror so he could see how crappy he looked as a ghost. "And if I'm right, you're a ghost," He froze, but kept his stern glare on the British man in front of him. "What the hell do you mean?" Playing dumb should be easy. "You must be the guy who went missing back in 2008, Johnny Ghost, right?" Johnny said. "The one who they say is dead. That lady back there, she killed you didn't she? And you're tied to your body, which must be around here somewhere. I'm guessing decomposing at the bottom of the lake," "How do you know all this?" He crossed his arms. "I'm a ghost hunter," the British man explained, causing him to take a step back. "But don't worry, I don't want to hurt you. In fact, I'd like to help you get away from this stupid place."

[vahlaradur]

Do YOU like dimension-hopping shenanigans?

Well I have just the fic you need! This is a fic about Ghost hopping dimensions and ending up trapped in the Shivering Isles, and the only way he can get back to where he belongs is for Asylum to help. Too bad both of them are uncooperative man-children, huh? (It could still use a better title though...)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523356/chapters/28516368