If MatPat and Nathan Sharp were in a Five Nights at Freddy’s movie.

Inspired by Saw VII & the FNAF series

Advocates for Chaos


“You might be wondering why I’ve gathered you all here,” Wilford Warfstache places both hands palms-down on the table before him and grins at the several other figments seated before him.

Anti glitches in his seat. “I was promised pizza!”

“And you brought me here at gunpoint,” Peevils says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not that I mind.” She shrugs and winks at Wilford, who shudders.

Natemare kicks his feet up on the table and leans back in his seat. “And I didn’t think you even liked me.” He grins at Wilford and cocks his head to the side. “Frankly, I’m flattered.”

Bim fixes his glasses and glances around at the other Egos at the table, somewhat skittish. “And I um… well, I’m not really sure why I’m here. I mean, I am Bim Trimmer, but you guys are… are…”

Wilford raises an eyebrow at him. “Are what?”

Bim presses his lips together into a thin line. “Never mind, I retract my previous statement in the interest of not dying.” He looks down at his folded hands on the table, and Wilford nods.

MadPat tinkers with an alarm clock attached to a bundle of TNT and doesn’t even look up as he says, “I’d like to point out that I’m on a time limit here and would not like to be held up much further.” His eyes cut upwards to Wilford, “So please tell us why we’re here already.”

Wilford wiggles his mustache. “Esteemed guests, friends, enemies, I’ve brought you here today… in the name of chaos.”

Anti’s pointed ears prick up, and the glitch leans in. “’m listening.”

Peevils rolls her eyes. “Oh, please.”

Wilford makes a face at her and goes back to his prepared speech. “For too long, those of us with a knack for the unnatural have been suppressed, or worse, left to our own devices. In such situations we tend to be a bit,” Wilford brushes his hair back with a smile, “lethal.”

Bim clears his throat. “Um, I really don’t think that I…”

“CAN IT, TRIMMER! AND LET ME FINISH!” Wilford straightens his bowtie as Bim clams up again and breathes a slow sigh to calm himself down. “Now, it has come to my attention that ‘murdering’ is considered ‘illegal’ and therefore, ‘shouldn’t be a recreational activity.’ So, I’ve decided to put my skills to a more appropriate use, and that’s why I’ve gathered you all here today.”

MadPat sets his bomb aside with a sigh and leans back in his chair. “You brought us all together because we tend to cause trouble. Fine, I get that. But what exactly is the purpose here? Are we going to go out and solve crimes? Prank people? I need something a little more concrete than ‘recreational chaos that doesn’t involve murder’ before I commit.”

Wilford squints at him and mutters something under his breath. “I had hoped that maybe some of you would be a little forthcoming with ideas considering that I did the work in getting you all here together despite the egregious differences in schedules, Mister I-just-cancelled-my-sixth-game.”

Mad jumps up and grabs his bomb. “Well, I think that’s enough for me. I’ll be leaving before this explodes.”

Natemare groans. “See, this is why you can never have any fun. You suck the fun right out of everything. I like Wilford’s idea!”

Wilford places a hand over his heart and looks genuinely flattered, but Peevils laughs and gets up from the table. “I’m with the nerd. You’ll need to give me a much better reason than ‘chaos’ to commit my precious time.” She bats her eyes up at MadPat who seems mildly offended that she called him a nerd, but it’s not like he can deny it.

Anti pouts and glitches around into different chairs before settling back into his own seat. “This sucks! I wanted to destroy stuff!”

Bim gets up and inches towards the door, sees the way that Mad and Peevils are looking at him, and inches back. “And I’m extremely uncomfortable at the moment, so I’d really like to leave now.”

Wilford fluffs his hair, making it go wild, and sighs in exasperation. “Well, fine. Never mind that I put hours of work into this!”

Peevils screeches all of sudden, and Mare laughs as his purple mist slithers away from her. “YOU!” She screams. “What did you do?”

Mad shakes his bomb as he explains. “His mist creates hallucinations of one’s deepest fears.” He tilts his head to the side, trying to see into her eyes. “What did you see?”

Peevils throws her hands out towards Natemare, and the figment disappears and reappears inside the reflective glass of the table, smashing his fists against the surface. She wiggles her fingers at him. “Maybe you’ll think twice next time before scaring a girl, huh?”

Mare snarls at her before throwing his weight against the glass just as Bim tries to bend it to let him out. The result is a splintering explosion of glass and light, and when the dust settles, everyone is looking around, trying to figure out what just happened. Mad holds up his hands. “It wasn’t me!”

Wilford peeps out from behind the potted plant he ducked behind and looks around at them. “Maybe this was a mistake…”

Just as he says this, Dark bursts into the room, and Wilford expects him to start yelling about how he can’t trust Wilford to do anything without blowing something up blah, blah, blah. But instead, the black and white Ego rushes over to Wilford, eyes alight with fear and concern. “Are you ok? I heard a blast, and I thought somebody must’ve gotten hurt…”

Wilford’s jaw drops open. “Oh goodness giggly gooses, what on Earth did we just do?”

Advocates for Chaos (pt. 2)

Previous and Next

Dark’s eyes wander over Wilford and Bim carefully before he finally seems to relax a bit. “Oh, you’re alright!” He smiles, a real smile, not forced or like he’s ready to bite someone’s head off. Bim looks like he’s about to faint. Dark hugs him and rocks from left to right. “I’m so glad.”

Bim is in full-on panic mode as Peevils grabs Dark by the shoulder and throws him around. “What happened to you? Is this some kind of trick?” She glares at him, and Dark looks like he might keel over at the sight of her.

And is that? Wilford blinks a few times. Is Dark blushing? “Crap, we broke him,” Wilford mutters, and Dark bashfully backs away from Peevils over to him.

“Broke who? What?” Dark looks at Wilford and tilts his head to the side, but he looks more like a lost puppy than an intimidating predator. “Dark, what’s wrong with you?”

The black and white Ego shakes his head, still looking entirely confused. “I don’t know what you mean. I just heard that loud noise, and I came to see what was wrong.”

Natemare scratches his head and pouts his lower lip. “My nightmare mist, combined with the witch’s mirror magic, and Bim’s reality bending…”

“We caused a branching, alternate timeline,” Mad says with a shrug, and then, “WE CAUSED A BRANCHING, ALTERNATE TIMELINE!” He starts to panic. “Do you know what this means? We could be trapped here! We might never get back… never to our specific time! We’re stuck and now…” His eyes go wide, and he leans back against a wall. “We punched a hole in time.”

Bim squeaks. “If that’s true, what else could be changed?”

Wilford claps his hands together, a diabolical sparkle in his eyes. “Well, well, well, I guess we’ll just have to go and find out.” He turns to Dark, pointing a finger in the black and white Ego’s face, “Alright My Chemical Bromance, where are the others?”

Dark’s eyes go wide with apparent fright. “O-others? A-are you sure?”

Peevils nips at Dark’s neck from behind, causing him to shriek and whirl around. “Come on, scaredy cat. Wilfy wants to see the others!”

MadPat presses his hands together, his fingers forming into steeples and presses his hands to his lips. “In theory, the Googles may possess the technological capabilities to get us back, or at least close to, our original timeline. It’s worth a short anyway.” He picks up his timebomb, disabling it for the moment, and tucks it under his arm. “Lead the way, my good man!”

Dark nods his head. “O-okay, if you all insist.” He leads them out of the board room and over to the elevator. When they all pile inside, Natemare scans the names of the floors.

“They’re all different!” He presses a button at random, and Dark gives a shout of protest. Mare looks at the name of the floor next to the button he chose. “’Recording’, huh, is that like your studio, Wilford?”

Dark hides behind Warfstache and shakes his head. “No, no, no, no. We can’t go to the Recording floor!”

Bim places a hand on Dark’s shoulder, in hopes to calm him, which is currently blowing Bim’s mind. “Why not?”

“Th-that’s the Host’s floor.” Dark presses farther back into the elevator and shakes his head. “You don’t want to see him.”

Wilford makes a face. “Why not? We’re friends!”

Dark cocks his head to the side again. “Since when?”

Mad taps his head and gestures around them. “Alternate timeline. This Host might be quite different from the one you’re used to, Wilford.”

Warfstache waves them all off as the elevator doors slide open. “Oh, please. How bad could little Hosty be?”

The room that unfolds before the gaggle of figments is dark and full of recording equipment. The Googles dutifully stand at different places around the room, flipping switches and managing what to Wilford looks like a live podcast. At the center of it, under a single blue spotlight, a man in a trench coat sits with his back turned to the entrance, speaking softly into a mic.

When he hears someone enter, he cuts the feed and whirls around at the approaching group. Bim gasps, but Wilford edges a few more feet forward. “Author?”

The man in the trench coat blinks up at them, dark brown eyes studying them carefully. “No, Wilford, I’m the Host. Remember?” There’s a grating edge to his words, and when Dark hears them, he cowers behind Mare, trembling. “What did I tell you about interrupting my podcasts?”

Wilford’s mouth opens to try to explain a little of their situation, but Host rises from his chair, a shower of fine, golden dust falling from him as he does and picking up like a cloud around them all. The Host smirks and bares his teeth. “I told you, that the next time you interrupt me, I’d rip out your throat.”

Host flicks his fingers, and Wilford is drawn closer to him, their faces just inches apart, “And it looks like you’ve given me no choice.”

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Yeah, so, I finished it. I had a lot more time today to fiddle around with it and a lot less left that I had to do than I thought.

From left to right it’s Mad!Cry, Antisepticeye, Darkiplier, Antimatter, and Natemare. I had a lot of fun drawing the dudes and will, actually, make a blog for them. Not sure when, but within the next week or two.


Ask Ethan: What’s The Difference Between A Fermion And A Boson?

“Could you explain the difference between fermions and bosons? What differs from an integer spin and a half-integer spin?”

On the surface, it shouldn’t appear to make all that much difference to the Universe whether a particle has a spin in half-integer intervals (±1/2, ±3/2, ±5/2) or in integer intervals (0, ±1, ±2). The former is what defines fermions, while the latter defines bosons. This hardly seems like an important distinction, since intrinsic angular momentum is such a nebulous property to our intuitions, unlike, say, mass or electric charge. Yet this simple, minor difference carries with it two incredible consequences: one for the existence of distinct particles for antimatter and one for the Pauli exclusion principle, that are required for matter as we know it to be. Without these differences, and without these rules, it’s simply a matter of fact that the atoms, molecules and living things we see today wouldn’t be possible to create.

What’s the difference between fermions and bosons? A little difference goes a long way! Find out on this edition of Ask Ethan. (And thanks to the anonymous tumblr question that inspired it!)

anonymous asked:

Is it possible for the Googles to have something akin to nightmares?

Oliver’s systems are trying to work through the trauma of recent events, playing back the memory and trying to pick it apart. His programming wants him to learn from it so that he’ll be better equipped to deal with it should there ever be a next time, but to Ollie, it’s just a nightmare.

He’s forced to stand there, eyes staring straight ahead, as Mad places the metal plate over the lower half of his face. “This is to make sure you behave. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you Googles are stubborn. So let’s take care of that real quick, shall we?” The bolts are painful, so much so that his pain sensors are forced to shut down to keep him from passing out.

Oliver can’t move his mouth, can’t breathe properly. His sensors are forced to kick into emergency mode as the fear of not even being able to cry out for his brothers overloads his brain with panicked signals. He tries to fight the dream, tries to wake up, but his systems won’t let him.

“Learn,” they say. But Ollie is only afraid.

Anti hears him whimpering and wakes up to find Oliver shivering and shaking in fear from what looks to be a nasty nightmare. Anti shakes him awake until Oliver sits up, tears streaking down his face and fingers going to the wounds around his mouth. Fire rises in Anti’s chest, and he wants to find Mad and rip him to pieces. He’d gone far too easy on the scientist.

But Oliver just grabs Anti in a hug, and the glitch knows that it isn’t what Ollie would want. So he hugs him back and waits until he calms down to suggest they go down for a late-night snack. Oliver doesn’t respond at first until Anti pokes him and whispers, “We’ve got Lucky Charms.”

Oliver sits up again quickly. “Ok, let’s go.” And Anti can’t help the goofy smile on his face.