#I recorded chapter 2 in the same sitting so that audio will be ready sooner rather than later

[might-be-tiny-gt]

Welcome to Chapter 1 of the TAoLaW "dramatic" reading

What can I say, the theatre kid in me needed to record this in audio format.

Have I mentioned how much I love this fic? Yes? Well I'm saying it again, I LOVE THE ART OF LOVE AND WAR!!!

If you haven't read it please go read it. Index Page | Chapter 1

The Art of Love and War Is written by @fireflywritesgt and the audio reading is recorded and posted with permision.

[fawnsean]

Let Me In, Ch. 3

An Antisepticeye and eventual septiplier fanfic.

Previous chapters: 1, 2.

Summary: It had been really fun to build Anti up for the whole Halloween takeover event, but that was over and done with. So why the hell was Jack hearing voices now?

Word count: 1763

Rating: M

Contains: Violence, paranoia, suspense, hallucinations, body horror, emetophobia.

/ / /

Jack wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

He was laying there, on his bathroom floor on his side, staring blankly at the sink in front of him. At some point he’d apparently passed out, only to wake with yet another lump on his head from the fall to the tiled floor. His entire body was still sore and achy, the uncomfortable feeling only having intensified from earlier. His mouth was dry, as though stuffed with cotton balls. Jack wasn’t quite sure he could move if he tried. It was taking everything out of him just to focus on getting his heart rate back to normal and keeping his breathing steady.

The jingle of a Skype call sounded from across the hall, and Jack blinked slowly with recognition. Who could be calling him?

His fingers twitched, the only movement Jack had really done since waking up on the floor. He felt frozen in place, too weak to even get up. The tune cut off abruptly– he had taken too long to answer. Jack’s eyes drooped shut again. He’d deal with it later.

Later turned out to be much sooner than he thought, as the ringing immediately started back up again. Whoever it was was insistent.

With renewed interest, Jack summoned all his strength to slowly push himself up on his elbows. His vision swam with the small movement, upper arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up. His nostrils flared as his mouth flooded with saliva suddenly, and Jack recognized it for what it was. Urgently he pulled himself over to the toilet just in time to lean over the seat and vomit into it. Jack gripped at the edge, entire body shaking as he coughed into the bowl, emptying the entirety of the contents of his stomach. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, snot ran down his nose, and a mixture of bile and saliva dripped down his chin. Jack felt disgusting, but continued to heave until there was nothing left to vomit up.

Finally he collapsed back onto the floor, chest stuttering with uneven breaths. It had used up a lot of energy to do something as simple as throw up, and that act alone had sapped much of his remaining strength. He reached a quivering arm up and over, snatching up some toilet paper to wipe his face. Might as well try to clean up a bit.

As he wiped the fluids from his chin and nose, Jack grumbled in frustration. He had no idea how he ended up on the floor, so void of energy in the first place. The last thing he remembered was drinking some coffee and trying to head back into his recording space–

Oh.

That’s right.

Jack began to shake once more, this time from fear as the memories came flooding back in a rush. He remembered with regretful clarity the burning sensation of his left eye, as though someone had been sticking a flaming rod through it. He remembered the eerie laugh, his own voice so loud and incessant in his ears. And he remembered his reflection, or the person in the mirror who was Jack but at the same time distinctly wasn’t.

The melodic tune of yet another Skype call brought Jack back to the present. Currently it was just him in the room, laying on his back, the sounds of his heavy breathing and the distant jingle of the call being the only audible noises. There was no laugh, no other voice– his voice –just Jack.

He hauled himself to a sitting position, ignoring how the movement made his stomach flip uneasily, for he knew he had nothing left to vomit up. Jack grabbed onto the towel rack on his right, using it as a grip to get himself to his feet. Finally upright, Jack leaned heavily on the wall, chest and shoulders heaving as he took deep breaths. His knees shook, legs unsteady beneath him as Jack slowly made his way out of the bathroom, pointedly ignoring the mirror, hands on the wall the entire time to guide himself.

Somehow he made it to his recording room without stumbling, plopping down ungracefully into his gaming chair. The screen in front of him was the only light in the room, and Jack’s breath caught in his throat as he realized why the room was so damn dark.

It was night.

With shaking fingers Jack clicked over to Skype, pressing the little green icon to accept the call. Robin’s worried face filled his screen after a brief moment of loading, and Jack’s heart tightened as he realized how much he’d been making his friend worry.

“Jack! Are you okay, you haven’t sent me the footage for your second video for tomorrow, and–” Robin cut off his worried rant there, eyes practically bulging as he took in Jack’s appearance. “And fuck. You look like shit.”

Normally Jack would laugh and roll his eyes to correct the other on his name, but he barely even had the strength to hold himself up properly. “That bad?”

Robin merely nodded worriedly, biting his lip. “What the fuck happened?”

Jack sighed, lifting a trembling arm to comb through his no doubt messy locks. “I– I don’t know. I think I passed out or somethin’.”

“You look like you got hit by a train,” Robin muttered. “No offense,” he added quickly.

That earned a tired snort out of Jack. “I feel like I got hit by one, too.”

“You know what, and you're probably not going to like hearing this, but, just hear me out,” Robin began, raising a hand of caution up to the webcam.

“Jus’ tell me already,” Jack slurred, accent thickening.

Robin’s face hardened. “You should probably go to the hospital. And by probably I mean you should definitely go to the hospital.”

Jack stopped short. Why would he go to the hospital? Just because he was feeling a little more than under the weather? “No way.”

“Jack! Just look in a mirror!” Robin said, exasperation leaking into his tone, and Jack tried not to flinch at the mention of a mirror. “You look run down and just plain awful. As great as your consistency is for your upload schedule, the fans will understand if it's a medical emergency.”

“Look, Robin, I appreciate ‘ta thought,” Jack grumbled, raking a sluggish hand over his surprisingly sweaty face, accent coming in thick from exhaustion. “But this isn't some ‘medical emergency’ or anything like that. ‘M not dying. I just need ‘ta get some sleep.”

“Please Jack, at least go get yourself checked out,” Robin insisted. “You said you fell down the stairs, right? You could have a concussion. At the very least go get your head looked at.”

Jack had more arguments ready on his tongue but released a defeated sigh instead. It was much easier to just concede than drag their discussion on. “Fine. I'll do that tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Robin said with a sigh himself.

There was silence for a moment then, neither one quite sure what to say.

“I should go,” Jack finally voiced after a moment of hesitation. “I'll send you the footage within the hour.”

“Alright,” Robin replied, still eyeing Jack warily.

Jack said his goodbyes to Robin then before clicking the red icon, effectively ending the call. He sank back into his chair, dropping his head in his hands with a groan.

What the hell was wrong with him? Everything that had happened in the last two days had been both unexplainable and strange. One part of Jack figured he was having some kind of a mental break from stress, but the pain that had flared up in his eye earlier was real, not just in his head. And the pure exhaustion and shaky feeling that spread throughout his body definitely wasn't normal either. He had been getting plenty of sleep, a little too much from the night before actually, and had no problems getting to sleep in the first place, so why was he so damn tired? And the achy feeling had only been increasing, as though simply functioning had been overly taxing his body.

Alright. So maybe he should see a doctor.

But that meant admitting that this problem, whatever it was, was too much to handle, that Jack wasn't strong enough to deal with a simple lump on the head and a little fatigue.

Jack was promptly reminded that this was more than just a ‘little fatigue’ as his vision shifted and tilted the room around him, forcing him to grab onto his desk for extra support. He bit his lip, letting out a noise of frustration. Why was he so damn weak?

That’s all you’ve ever been, Seán. Weak.

“Shut up,” Jack muttered aloud, otherwise barely reacting to the voice as it once again echoed in his mind. Somehow, its presence was becoming the new normal. Well, about as normal as hearing voices in one’s head could ever get.

Letting out another sigh, Jack pulled up Steam on his desktop. It was way past time to get to work. He pulled up Happy Room, figuring he could lose himself in the pointless violence of the game and relax for a bit. After a half hour of recording, Jack gathered all the footage and audio files and sent them to Robin. He just hoped his friend wouldn’t be too upset having to work later than normal and edit for him.

Jack sat up straighter in his chair, stretching idly. It was nearing midnight now, and while Jack had managed to get his videos recorded for the next day, somehow he felt as though his entire day had been wasted. He achieved his recording quota, yet the whole passing out thing had distorted his sense of time, making his day pass by in the blink of an eye.

He headed out of his office, scratching the back of his head with a yawn, reminding himself to clean the coffee mess on the stairs after a nap. His vision blurred momentarily before clearing again, and Jack reached out to the wall to steady himself. He blinked a few times, eyes narrowing with worry.

“Okay…” Jack mumbled, growing increasingly worried with his newfound dizzy spells.

The hallway blurred again, colors and shapes melding together rapidly and Jack shut his eyes to keep from passing out.

When he opened them again, Jack wasn’t in his house anymore.

He looked around wildly, panic rising within him as he took in his new surroundings.

He was in the middle of a forest.