Who am I? Well, my name is Jay. I'm a writer, I draw sometimes, and you can find me on discord having breakdowns over characters from the MarkCU.
Why did I make this? Because my main blog is mostly personal. Solely personal. And I wanted a place to devote all my markiplier posts and comments and ramblings to and NOT clog up my main blog.
What's the Fanfic Masterlist? Well, its a series of posts organized by fandom for you to find writing. I do. It sounds a bit conceited to me, but it works wonders!
If tumblr is not the place for you, which... why are you here... you can find me at ao3 or instagram or tiktok or twitter. i'm pretty much anywhere...
Here's the Tag List for the blog - I'm trying so hard to keep it organized, I swear.
Tags: blood and injury, hurt/some comfort, dr iplier can threaten medical malpractice as a treat
Summary:
The Doctor takes another step toward him, treating him like he was a startled deer. āYouāre safe here. I can see youāre injured and I want to help you. Can I take a look at your arms?ā
āBullshit.ā Simon muttered, shaking his head. He wasnāt awake. If he were awake, heād be in the sub. If he were awake, heād be trying to get back to the surface and get his freedom. āYouāre a fucking liar.ā
He was starting to freak out.
Everyone he met looked like him. He could point at anyone and theyād probably look like him at some point in his life.
That guy with a cape and crown and fucking peanut butter on his face for some reason looked like him when he was 21 and growing his hair back after Eden made him cut it.
The guy with a suit and a boisterous voice and something almost sinister in his smile at the sight of all the blood looked like him when he was 24.
There were some guys that didnāt look like him but did at the same time.
The Warfstache guy. The Doctor. The blind guy.
A prisoner with tattoos. An engineer of some kind. An 8 foot tall pirate.
Simon had taken one look and turned right around and walked back out to the backyard. He wasnāt doing this shit. Heād rather go back to the submarine than stare at copies or clones of himself.
āThis isnāt funny anymore!ā He screamed at the sky, his hands shaking as he held on to the box. āI donāt give a shit if you kill me, I want to wake up! Wake me up and take me back, Iāll complete your stupid mission!ā
He held up the box, his expression pained and voice strained and broken. āTake me back! Take me back, I know you can hear me! I know you can! Iāll- Iāll break the fucking box! Iāll break it!ā
He felt a hand on his arm and he flinched, turning around and seeing the Doctor had followed him out. āDonāt fucking touch me.ā
The Doctor held his hands up to show him he was empty-handed, trying to soothe him. āYou need to take a breath-ā
āI am fucking breathing!ā Simon spit back, backing away from him. āIām breathing! But I want to wake up! I donāt know what fucked up shit this is, what the Consolidation did, but thisā¦ this is messed up!ā
āI donāt know who the Consolidation is, but I promise youāre awake.ā The Doctor takes another step toward him, treating him like he was a startled deer. āYouāre safe here. I can see youāre injured and I want to help you. Can I take a look at your arms?ā
āBullshit.ā Simon muttered, shaking his head. He wasnāt awake. If he were awake, heād be in the sub. If he were awake, heād be trying to get back to the surface and get his freedom. āYouāre a fucking liar.ā
āIām not a liar.ā
āYes, you are!ā
āListen, youāre disorientated.ā Every step the Doctor took toward, Simon took two back. They were walking in a slow path around the backyard with no signs of stopping. āYouāre injured, youāre scared. I get it. If you follow me, Iāll take you to the clinic to patch you up and explain everything.ā
Simon clenched his jaw, breathing shakily through his nose, his gaze dropping to the grass as he thinks. A stupid part of him wants to believe the Doctor, wants to believe that heās awake and okay somehow.
But why would he be awake here? Why not in the Consolidation? What did he do to deserve being brought to this place?
But he is injured and his arms hurt and his head hurts. Heās hungry and thirsty and cold and tired.
He looks back up at the Doctor warily. āNo tricks. Donāt try and trap me here and donāt do anything stupid. I donāt want to see any more of those- those people right now.ā
The Doctor nods, a bit of the tension in his shoulders leaving. As long as he somewhat cooperated long enough to get a checkup, it was fine. āNo tricks, I promise. Youāll be safe and you can get some rest after a check up.ā
Simon nods and gestures for the Doctor to start walking. No way was he walking in front of anyone right now, he couldnāt trust them. āDeal.ā
He dips his head down to stare at the ground, following the Doctor through the house and up some stairs. If the Doctor tried to kill him, he just hoped it would be fast.
The crawl space of the sub had been almost completely submerged, he had been trying to get the black box. All he could see was red and all he could taste was the unforgiving metallic tang of blood invading every orifice of his body.
He had just gotten his hands on the black box when he felt something grab him. Not something solid like hands, it felt likeā¦ well, it felt like nothing.
But he went from fighting the thick river of blood to facedown in- grass?
There wasnāt any grass in the sub.
OR, Simon meets the egos and tries to adjust to a world without the Quiet Rapture and C.O.I
Tags: Blood, Blood and Injury, Simon Lives AU, Additional Tags To Be Added
A/N, So I watched Iron Lung yesterday, freaked out in a server for a day and talked about 2019/2020 era āego manor ficsā and thought āwhat if Simon poofed to the ego manor before he diedā. And Iām transferring it to tumblr
The last thing he remembered was drowning.
The crawl space of the sub had been almost completely submerged, he had been trying to get the black box. All he could see was red and all he could taste was the unforgiving metallic tang of blood invading every orifice of his body.
He had just gotten his hands on the black box when he felt something grab him. Not something solid like hands, it felt likeā¦ well, it felt like nothing.
But he went from fighting the thick river of blood to facedown in- grass?
There wasnāt any grass in the sub.
He coughs, lifting his head and gasping. He was soaked in blood and it was in his eyes and his mouth and his hair and his bandages and he couldnāt see.
āWhat the fuck,ā he mutters, rolling on his back and staring at the night sky. He breathed in air and coughed out blood, turning his head to spit it in the grass.
This wasnāt the Consolidations headquarters. He wasnāt in the SM-13.
He was somewhere else. Somewhere with grass, apparently. No place could grow grass, Eden had been the only place he saw wisps of the green life but that had been destroyed after-
āHey!ā
His eyes popped open and he rolled on his stomach, immediately on edge at the sound of a voice. He saw a figure standing a ways away from him, backlit by a light.
Was the person even real? Was he alive? Had he died in the crawl space and gone to some fucked up Heaven?
āYou canāt be here, bloody guy!ā The voice yelled again, shining a flashlight right in his eyes. He hissed and inched back, smearing blood in the ground below him. āWait, are you injured? Do you need help? Thatās not your blood, is it?ā
āI donāt-ā What if this is another hallucination? A dream? Some trauma-induced nightmare that gives him some hope only to wake up back in the sub? āI- are you real?ā
The stranger pauses, patting his body like he was making sure. āIām pretty sure Iām real. Iāve been wondering that myself, but darkling says I am.ā
He had no clue who ādarklingā was and it really didnāt do much to soothe his dread, but what was the harm with indulging in a dream?
āWhere am I?ā He holds his hand up to shield the beam of the flashlight from his face, squinting. āFuck, turn that off. Youāre blinding me.ā
Thereās a click and Simon blinks, trying to rub the blood out of his eyes. He squints out of one eye, seeing a massive house behind the person standing on what seems to be an overhanging balcony.
So now heās trespassing. Great.
āIs that your blood?ā The person asks again, gesturing to all of him.
āNot all of it.ā He grunts, pushing himself to his feet. The blood is already drying in places and he scoops up the black box, tucking it under his arm.
He takes a few cautious steps towards the house, watching the person for any sudden movements. The closer he gets, the more clearly he can see him. And heās decked out in pink.
Pink, slippery-material pajamas. A pink mustache. Even his flashlight is pink.
Now he doesnāt know if heās dreaming or on some kind of oxygen-deprived-trip.
The guy stops him before he can climb the stairs, frowning at him. āNow hold on, you canāt just traipse through the house dripping like that! The floors were mopped today.ā
āā¦ well, I donāt know what you expect me to do.ā Simon bites back, rubbing his eyes again. I thought dreams were supposed to be nice, he thought bitterly. āWho even are you, man? Do you work for the Consolidation or something?ā
āWell, I donāt know who that is, but they sound boring! And Warfstache works for no one but himself!ā The man ā Warfstache, apparently ā sounds offended at the mere suggestion of working for someone. āWait here, Iāll be right back.ā
Simon watches the guy run off and he sighs, half-believing he wouldnāt be back. Or he was getting the guards. He scratches the back of his neck and wonders how far the nearest town is.
I could probably sneak around the house, he thinks. As far as the Consolidation knows, Iām dead. Theyāre not gonna want me back-
He chokes, stumbling back when heās hit with water. He tries to cover his face, the dried blood dripping back in his eyes. āFuck-!ā
The water stops and Simon coughs, blinking up through tearing eyes at the man. Heās holding a hose, spraying him down like heās a muddy dog.
āHm. Missed a spot.ā The hose turns back on and Wilford focuses it on Simonās face, watching the blood-tainted water trickle through the grass.
The hose turns back off and Simon drops the black box, holding his arms up in surrender. āIām clean! Iām clean, enough with the fucking hose!ā
āWell, that wasnāt so bad, was it!ā Wilford beams, poofing the hose back to its spot on the side of the house. āCome on now, come meet the others.ā
A part of him wants to flip the guy off and leave, but what are the odds heāll find someone willing to take him in? He scoops the box back up and begrudgingly follows him inside, keeping a wide berth of the guy.
Whoever else is in the house, he hopes theyāre not as odd as this Warfstache character.
Okay, uh if people like this Iāll keep cross posting! If you want to be on a. idk a tags list I guess?? Let me know!
