Markiplier Face Cam Novels & Stories

I look at her and fight back the smile. "Has a little bounce to it," she says while grinning, and I turn so she doesn't see me smiling or laughing. 'Has a little bounce to it?' Who the hell says that and does that anyway? Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I go to where Mark is waiting. He's keeping his distance from her. I can't blame him for that. "So we got footage from the place," he says, putting the phone on the table. I lean over the table and peer at it. It wasn't a lie. He keeps his face hidden, even from the cameras.

Comments flooded the side panel. Killian clenched his jaw but said nothing. “I asked you, Killian,” Mark began, low and livid, “if anything was going on with this girl. You told me no. So tell me… does that”- he gestured at the screen - “look like nothing?” “It’s not what it looks like,” Killian replied evenly. Mark barked a bitter laugh. “Oh? Did the cameraman put your lips together, too? You think this is about optics? Do you understand what this looks like?”

But as she proudly prepared to admire her post-surgery bare face, she noticed that her previously smooth, pale jawline now had several strange purple scars—like tiny centipedes crawling across her face! It was terrifying! She screamed in panic. Seeing the cameraman approaching to film her, she didn’t think twice—she smashed him out with a glass from her wash basin. Worried the in-room cameras hadn’t been turned off, she hastily covered the lower half of her face with her forearm and used a piece of clothing to block the camera. She didn’t realize her thin arm couldn’t fully cover it. As soon as she moved, viewers watching from the livestream saw the centipede-like marks on her jaw.

Pretty much everyone I loved or knew had their picture on the wall with some writing that I couldn’t read. “This room is called M.A.R.C room or Midnight Aerial Rotoscaping Camera. Ironic… I know. This high tech camera allows me to get high resolution video of whatever I desire. In this case, my target has been someone that is a little closer to my heart.” A picture of Penny filled the entire screen. “What?”

he said in one breath and almost shouting " That's all? Your such a baby? Maybe he was tired" I said "I told you to transfer on my company" Jumpol speaked "I don't want to, I love my job now," he said and pulled his camera on us He is working as a freelance photographer and sometimes a model, I can't deny that Krist is a hot guy. his body is well-formed his skin is perfect and his facial appearance is perfect, perfect for a model and celebrity. Well, the word PERFECT best describe him, if I did not fall for the jokes and flowery words of my Jumpol maybe I flirted kirst first.

Marc said with a wide grin, locking eyes with Viona, his smile sharp enough to cut glass. Viona’s expression stiffened. Her body tensed the moment she saw that devilish grin on Marc’s lips. The host, on the other hand, looked like she was trying hard to suppress her shock behind a growing smile. "Wow... wow!" the host exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. "This is truly a special live stream, folks! A breaking story revealed by none other than Marc Fairmount himself." "Let’s give a round of applause for Mr. Marc Fairmonth, who generously took the time to be with us today!" she continued, raising both her arms with a graceful gesture as she clapped.

I sit down, then suddenly look up. The cameras. My stomach twists. “Oh my god… is he watching me?” Is he enjoying this? Enjoying my meltdown? “Are you having fun?” I shout, looking straight at the cameras. I know some of them are visible. I turn toward one camera. “Is this fun for you? Is it?” Silence. “Are you enjoying this? You control freak!” I snap. Then I lose it. “Oh, fuck you,” I shout, lifting my middle finger toward the camera. “Go fuck yourself.”

It was Jax. “Put it on speaker,” I said. Jax’s voice came through, excited. “We got a hit. The new camera feed is using the same encrypted VPN as the previous ones, but my guy cracked the payment trail. The burner phone used to buy the latest equipment was registered to a name on Soraya’s family emergency contact list.” My blood froze. “What name?” “Marco Rivera.” What the fuck. My cousin. Declan’s eyes met mine. “Your cousin Marco?”

I could only hear muffled voices bleeding through the receiver, but whatever they were telling him, it wasn’t good. When he finally hung up, he didn’t say anything right away. Just stared at the black screen like it might burn a hole through his hand. “Cam?” I asked, my voice way too small. “What did they say?” He looked at me, and I saw it—the fear he tried so hard to hide. “They spotted him,” he said flatly. “Drake.” The name hung in the air like smoke. “Where?” My pulse spiked. “Gas station on Fifth. Cameras caught him about an hour ago. He didn’t even try to hide his face.” Cameron’s jaw clenched. “It’s like he wanted us to know.”

“So, you’re an Ozarks fan?” “Uh, duh, of course I am. You’re famous. Asher Slater is one of the youngest and most successful AFA players ever. I’d be an idiot not to be a fan.” “Well, you know my name, but I don’t know yours.” She grasps my hand in return. “Camila Monroe, rising star,” she breathes, her handshake tight. “And I’m Mark, lover boy’s best friend.” I groan at his words but keep a smile plastered.