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lowat-golden-tower · 7 years

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Married... With Egos

So... here it is. The mess I poured all my blood, sweat and tears into as a celebration of @markiplier‘s 18 million subscriber milestone.

It's a doozy. I spent literal hours agonizing over this, between the writing, editing, tweaking and locating all the appropriate sound effects.... But you know what? I'm proud of the finished product. It's silly, cheesy and crazy and gosh darn it, I hope you guys like it. I hope Mark would like it. I took a lot of inspiration from him. >w>'

Mark, thank you so much for everything you do. Thank you for being such a good person, a generous person, a kind person. Thank you for donating to charity and caring for us, your community. Thank you for putting up with us all these years. Thank you for being you. I've never been more happy to see you, well, so happy! Please continue to enjoy yourself, your life and your success. Thank you.

Oh, also @alcordraws with the usual inspiration on the kiddos, eyyyy. <3

PLEASE NOTE ALL THE EGOS ARE CHILDREN/TEENS IN THIS AND PAPAPLIER IS AN EGO ALSO, NOT MARK. THIS IS MEANT TO BE A PARODY SITCOM LIKE MARKIPLIER TV's.

AO3 Mirror

This, is Papaplier.

Mark rested his hands on his hips, puffing his chest out as he observed the brand new day. It was another beautiful morning in California's happy suburbia. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and all the little rascals had the day off from school. That meant some more chaos was in store, but it was nothing Papaplier couldn't handle.

Papaplier was a normal suburban father living a normal suburban life with his sweetheart, Amy.

Bending down to grab up the morning newspaper, Papaplier turned on his heel and went back into the house. He whistled as he went, steps bouncy and light with his good mood. In the kitchen, he found Amy near the coffeemaker and gave her a loving smooch-

Please keep in mind this is G-rated programming.

-on the cheek, of course! Who knew if any of the kids could be watching? Amy giggled as Papaplier's bushy pink mustache tickled at her skin and gave him a teasing little shove.

Oh, Papaplier. You fox!

"Good morning, sunshine!" Papaplier quipped, letting his arm rest snug around Amy's waist.

She beamed at him and returned both hands to the steaming mug of coffee she was holding. "Morning. You seem to be in an exceptionally good mood today. Get up on the right side of the bed?"

"Always, when I wake up next to you."

Awwwwwwww.

"Grooooss! Amy and pops are being disgusting again!" Cried a smaller voice from the kitchen doorway.

Together, Papaplier and Amy cared for a colorful cadre of characters.

Amy pursed her lips and moved a fist to her hip. "Bing. That's a terrible thing to say. Don't be a bad influence on your brother Bop!"

A young boy, about the age of eight with the same dark hair as his Papaplier but brilliant golden eyes, peeked around the doorway with a petulant scowl. He stuck out his tongue at the pair, and another head peered out a few seconds later; hesitant. The second boy was the same age as the first, but he wore a backwards baseball cap and shared Papaplier's warm brown eyes.

"Now, Amy. They're just kids. They can't help it if they don't understand the wonders of love!" Papaplier swung Amy around, causing her to giggle again as he leaned in to rub their noses together. He cooed nonsensical affections to her.

"EWWWW! Nasty! C'mon Bop, let's go before we get secondhand ADULT COOTIES!" The golden-eyed boy, Bing, cried before ducking back down the hallway. His brother was quick to follow suit, emphasizing their footsteps with small explosion sounds.

Laugh track.

Amy laughed and pushed herself free of Papaplier's grasp, shaking her head. "You're just too much sometimes. Why don't you go track down the others? I can get breakfast going. I'm thinking... egg white omelettes. Sound good?"

"Sounds the bee's knees to me, sugarpie!" Papaplier gave Amy one more kiss on the cheek before setting his newspaper on the table and heading out. The house was rather big, but he had a vague idea as to where he'd locate all the boys. Children could be such creatures of habit.

Nevermind the fact "bee's knees" is an outdated term. No wires were crossed in the making of this program.

He found one of his two oldest in his room, as usual. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn tightly over the window. Just opening the door a crack practically illuminated the space and Papaplier recognized a familiar hiss. The only source of illumination otherwise were various lit candles scattered about the room. He squinted, pushing the door open a bit more. "Dark! How many times must I tell you? Playing around in the dark is going to ruin your eyesight!"

"Shut the door. You're what's ruining my eyesight." Dark, clearly in his mid-teens, grumbled at Papaplier from his spot on the floor. He had a rather pale, greyed complexion and eyes blacker than his hair; rimmed with more black as if to emphasize the color. On the floor before him was a pentagram drawn in bright red and ringed by more candles.

This program does not support or condone any form of the occult or occult practices.

Papaplier squawked. "Young man! That better be washable marker you used! Amy will throw such a fit if you ruined her good carpet...."

Ooooooh.

Dark hissed and scoffed, sneering at Papaplier while he slunk further back into the shadows. "I know, pa. It's fine. Just please shut my door and leave me alone." He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously deciding to sulk in wake of the interruption and scolding.

Papaplier squinted for a moment, but then shrugged and turned a smile onto his son. "Of course, of course. I'll let you play a little longer. But Amy is making breakfast, so you better get your butt down there like the rest of us!" He took Dark's grumblings as an affirmative and closed the door.

Kids these days. With their chalk and upside-down stars and candles and weird, dilapidated tomes. Dark needed to get more sun. Maybe he'd look into a summer camp...

He found Host in his room, quietly reading one of his braille books near the window. He was huddled up in his favorite coat and sunglasses, the light glinting off the streak of gold in his slicked back hair. His lips moved with the words and Papaplier felt his heart ache a little. Poor boy, losing his sight at such a young age. The Ipliers were a strong breed, though, and Host was taking the disability in stride. Papaplier was proud of his tenacity.

"Host." Unlike with his other son, Papaplier gave a soft knock on the door. It wasn't really necessary, since Host always seemed to be quite aware of his surroundings, but he felt it polite all the same. He didn't want to scare his boy. He waited until Host's face was turned in his direction before continuing. "Amy's making breakfast. Omelettes. Why don't you come downstairs? You can bring your book if you want."

Awwww.

Host stared at Papaplier for a few moments, before ducking his head in a gentle nod. Silently, he closed his book, then grabbed up his cane and got to his feet. He started murmuring to himself again as he headed out past Papaplier, and the older man sighed softly under his breath.

Well, that was two down. Better pick up the pace if he wanted the whole gang in the kitchen before breakfast got cold. Luckily, he knew just where to find four of them.

Blue, Oliver, Orville and Oxnard, or The Googs as they were affectionately called, were in their room as well. Papaplier attempted to open the door, forgetting about the state of the art security the boys had placed on it for "privacy." Oh, those crazy kids with their titanium and key pads and optical sensors. Papaplier chuckled and rapped on the door.

An intercom beside it crackled to life, and the more matured voice of Blue poured through the little speaker. "Papa, we are in the middle of a very intense project. Please stop by later if you wish to discuss something with us."

"Ohoho, now Blue! I know you kids just love doing your homework and extracurriculars, but there's more to life than studying and science projects!"

"It's not... papa, we're building a quantum vacuum thruster. It's extremely delicate work, and I must insist you let us concentrate. Otherwise, we're liable to blow up not only the house, but the entire neighborhood as well-"

"Oh, you kids! How smart my boys are. I understand, you're very passionate about your little project. Just come down to breakfast and then you can work on it some more later."

This program does not condone the construction of any weapons of mass destruction, nor does it own the blueprints for a working quantum vacuum thruster. Please do not ask us for them.

There was a few seconds of silence; probably The Googs weighing the pros and cons of the matter. Then Blue's voice came over the intercom again. "Affirmative. We'll be down shortly."

Papaplier gave a little nod and, certain he'd be getting no more out of the boys, went off to track down Bing and Bop. They likely hadn't gone far.

He found them messing around with a bottle rocket out back and frowned. Fireworks weren't exactly banned in the house, but they both knew that using any required parental supervision. "Boys!"

This program does not condone the reckless endangerment of children or unsupervised usage of explosives. No children were harmed in the making of this program.

Bing and Bop both jumped, but Bing had already lit the fuse. He gave a sharp cry and ran off, Bop peeling away in the opposite direction screaming absolute gibberish. Papaplier quickly covered his ears, wincing when the rocket shot up into the air with a whistle. It cracked loudly with the force of the explosion and bits of the rocket rained down onto the grass below.

With the immediate threat gone, Bing was right back to whooping and cheering with glee. Bop, while a little more shaken, was quick to imitate the sound of the bottle rocket going off. The two boys leaped around each other, flailing their arms until a shadow came to loom over them.

Papaplier frowned harshly down at the pair, hands firmly on his hips. "Boys."

Ooooooh.

It was their turn to wince, ceasing their celebrations immediately. They cringed away from Papaplier and Bop went back to mumbling gibberish due to his nerves. Bing went for a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh! Uh. Hey, pops. Hahaha... what... wassup?"

"Plergh maja bliff...."

Laugh track.

"No, you can't do something else! We're in this together now brah, you and me!" Bing hissed under his breath.

Papaplier quirked a brow, but his stern expression remained. He changed to crossing his arms over his chest and leaned back to indulge the misbehaving boys with some space. "Bing. Bop. What have Amy and I said about the bottle rockets?"

"Uhh..." Bing scratched anxiously at the back of his head, looking everywhere but Papaplier. "Not... not to use'em...?" He twiddled his fingers together, unable to stop fidgeting. Bop, likewise, continued to mutter nonsense.

"Mychuno."

Laugh track.

"Shut up."

Papaplier's frown deepend. "Bing, don't talk to your brother like that. Bop, don't sass your brother. You're both in deep trouble here, after all." He huffed. "You're lucky no one got hurt!"

"Aw, we knew what we were doin', pops...." Bing grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicking at the grass.

"Neeshga."

Laugh track.

"Bop."

"You're both grounded."

Oooooooh.

Bing and Bop's heads snapped up at that, their eyes wide. Bop immediately began rambling in more gibberish while Bing attempted to protest. "Aww, pops!"

"Neeshga, neeshga!"

Laugh track.

"Ah, ah. Do the crime, you do the time. Go sit at the table and have your breakfasts, then it's straight to your room. And no videogames."

"Ah, maaaan! Lame! Not cool, brah." Bing whined, throwing a bit of a fit as he stalked off back to the house with Bop in tow. "This is all your fault, man."

"Oh moratic!"

Laugh track.

Papaplier watched them go with a sigh. He'd have to clean this up later. He still had half the brood to find, and the next one on his list could prove quite elusive-

A rustle in a nearby tree immediately eased his trepidation. Luck was apparently on his side today. Leaving the bits of rocket for now, Papaplier strode over to the tree. He peered up into its boughs, but couldn't find the source of all the rustling and fallen leaves. King was in his element. "King! King, I know that's you up there. We talked about this."

There was more shifting and the creak of branches, then a face almost identical to his own came into view. There were leaves in his dark hair and a red bandanna around his neck, smeared with peanut butter stains. King blinked owlishly down at Papaplier. "Talked about what?"

Papaplier sighed. "You and climbing these trees."

"But, I love climbing trees."

"Yes, I know, that's not the problem. You just always get stuck up there, and then I need to go ask our neighbors for their ladder to get you back down..."

King pouted and puffed up his chest. "Do not."

Papaplier's expression turned skeptical. "Can you get down, then? Breakfast will be ready soon."

"Oh. Uh." King looked about the branches, his grip on one tightening with sudden anxiety. Papaplier was content to give his second eldest a few minutes, but all King really did was shift around and half-heartedly reach for a lower branch on occasion. "Uh..."

Laugh track.

Papaplier took pity on the boy and finally spoke up. "I'll go get the ladder. Just stay put. Don't fall while I'm gone. Amy would kill me." Without further ado, Papaplier made his way around the fence to the driveway belonging to the neighbors. A couple of fine young men who lived together as roommates. He could spy one of them now, washing their shared car. Tall, stocky and built, the man was quite the specimen with his soft brown eyes and neatly cut brown hair. Papaplier gave a wave to get his attention. "Good morning, Mr. Schied!"

WOOOO!

Mr. Schied pulled back from his scrubbing to return Papaplier's wave, though his expression didn't change much. He was known in the neighborhood for having quite the stoney face. "Papaplier. Good morning. How are you today?"

"Why I'm swell thanks. You?"

"Fine enough. Just giving the car a scrub since it's such a nice day outside. Let me guess, you-"

"Need the ladder again." Both men said in unison. Papaplier chuckled, while Mr. Schied simply gave a bit of a smile to show his own amusement.

Laugh track.

"I'm afraid you know me too well. King's got himself up a tree again."

Mr. Schied shook his head. "Ethan's just in the garage. He can get it for you. Hey! Ethan!" He shouted towards the little side door which had been left open, and soon the head of a younger man popped through the opening.

WOOOO!

"Saaaah Tyler? Oh! Papaplier! I didn't know you'd stopped by." The young man was paler and more lean than the other two, with a shock of blue cutting through his dark hair. His eyes almost matched and sparkled with a cheerful enthusiasm that never ceased to be contagious.

"Good morning, Mr. Nestor. Just came to ask for your ladder again. I don't suppose you could give me a hand with it?" Papaplier stepped over to the door with a friendly smile.

Ethan laughed. "King again, huh? He'll learn some day. C'mon, I'll help you set it up."

Together, they got the ladder to the tree. King hadn't budged from his spot and Papaplier was relieved. At least one of them could... semi-listen. When it counted most. "Just hold her steady for me, will you?" Ethan gave a nod, and with that Papaplier climbed up. "Alright you, let's go. Grab on." This stunt grew tricker with each passing year as King stretched out into a full grown man, but Papaplier was still confident in his abilities. With the teen clinging to his back, he made his way to the ground.

King dropped off the moment it was safe and brushed some leaves off his clothes, smiling at Papaplier and Ethan. "Thank you. I didn't mean to get stuck again, it just sort've... happened."

"It's alright. Just, please. Until you learn how to get down by yourself, don't climb up so high. Now go sit at the table. I still have a few more of your brothers to find." Papaplier watched King run off, then turned back to Ethan with a smile of his own. "Thanks again for the help. Don't know what I'd do without you two."

"Ah, it's no problem." Ethan chuckled, dismissing Papaplier's gratitude with a wave of his hand. "Always happy to help. Just help me get this ladder back in the garage, would you?"

"Of course."

Once that was settled, Papaplier set his sights on the few boys he had left. Luck struck again, as he found two more of them right in the front yard. He shook his head at the rickety old lemonade stand he'd constructed for the older boys so long ago. Of course, if anyone was going to find it and drag it out to use, it would be Ed.

Granted, Papaplier was a little surprised to find "lemonade" crossed out with red marker and replaced with the word "babies" in much smaller print underneath. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he quickly approached the stand, noting how Ed seemed to wilt when he spotted him coming. The eleven year old, sporting lighter hair than most of his brothers, elbowed the other boy standing beside him. Another Papaplier look-a-like, but wearing a cape and gloves.

This program does not condone or support the sale or purchase of babies, or human beings in general.

Honestly, it was almost summer. Papaplier worried about that boy sometimes.

"Jus' act natural!" Ed hissed to his brother, clearly trying to look cool in his sunglasses and cowboy hat. Where he got the Southern accent from was still a mystery to Papaplier.

"I was acting natural, until you elbowed me!" The other boy, Silver, whined and rubbed at his side.

Laugh track.

"And just what are you boys up to?" Papaplier came to a stop before the little stand, hands on his hips. It was his "I'm fathering" pose. One hundred percent effective and foolproof.

"Uh! Nothin'! Jus' sellin' some lemonade." Ed was quick to conjure up an excuse, though his sweating and stuttering hardly invoked confidence in his claim.

"Really? This early? Where's the lemonade, then?" Papaplier would play dumb for now. It was more fun that way.

"It's, ah, it's... Silver!! I told ya ta get tha gosh dern lemonade!" Ed, of course, was all too happy to drag someone else into his guilty spotlight.

Silver, of course, was quick to stammer and sputter and go on the defense. "No you didn't! You said, if I helped you sell some babies, you'd help me get a better costume with the money. You never said anything about lemons!"

Laugh track.

"Silver! Tarnation, you great idjit, yuh jus' don't know how ta be subtle, do ya?!"

"Because writing "babies" on the sign is subtle?" Papaplier cuts in with the barest hint of a smirk.

Oooooh.

Ed's immediate flush tells all, and he hunkers down to sulk much like Bing had earlier. "Well... gotta let tha people know what we're sellin' somehow...." he mumbled.

"And just how did you plan to sell babies?" Papaplier pushed, flummoxed and admittedly curious.

Silver toyed with his gloved hands. "Well, uh, well... we hadn't gotten any yet! But we were figuring it out, and- and- it can't be that hard. They're babies!"

"Tha's right! They practically sell themselves!" Ed concurred, getting some of his steam back.

Laugh track.

"Mhm. Right. I think, you two need to head on inside for breakfast, and we'll talk some more about this later. You know Wilford isn't going to be happy when he sees what you've done to his sign." Papaplier still had no clue as to how the boys thought they were not only going to get their hands on babies, but proceed to sell them. However, that didn't matter. Amy was bound to be finishing up breakfast by now, and he still had a couple of boys to round up. He looked at his watch with a frown.

Ushering the pair inside, Papaplier didn't need to go far to find more of his boys. "Yandere! Artie! What have I said about drawing on the walls?!" Ed and Silver were quick to dash away to the kitchen, not wanting to bear anymore of Papaplier's scolding. Beside the wall sat two boys of clearly different ages. The older, with a violent streak of red in his hair and eyes to match, wore a schoolgirl uniform. His companion was dressed in a cute striped shirt with a red scarf and beret, his long black bangs hanging down into his face.

This program does not condone drawing on the walls.

Yandere, the older of the two, looked over at Papaplier when he approached, but Artie was in his own little world. They had crayons scattered about the floor and were quite happily scribbling all sorts of things onto Papaplier's good, white walls. There was some unidentifiable figure on Yandere's side, smattered with hearts and little pink flowers and sparkles. On Artie's side was a variety, but every little drawing had the mark of a red stick figure. It looked a lot like Artie's doll, which of course wasn't far away.

"Otou-san! I've been drawing my senpai, isn't he just suuuuuper sugoi desu ne?" Yandere blissfully gushed over his drawings and Papaplier winced.

Subtitles available for purchase.

He didn't remember ever teaching Yandere Japanese...

"It's... lovely, Yandere, but I told you not to draw on the walls anymore. We got both of you plenty of paper to use."

"Mm... hai, we know. We just like the walls better!" Yandere started to draw another heart and Papaplier was quick to drop a hand onto his shoulder.

Laugh track.

"Well, look, breakfast is ready. Go eat, and then we'll sort all this out, alright? Take Artie with you, now. You won't do your... senpai... any good if you're starving."

Yandere didn't react right away, and for a moment Papaplier was worried. But then his little angel turned another beaming smile up at him. "Okay! Biju-chan, come on! I learned a new word to say at the table now! I want to see if you can say it too." He grabbed at Artie's hand, dragging the smaller boy up onto his feet.

Artie remained silent, only pausing to grab up his doll and shoot Papaplier a quick stare before stumbling after Yandere to the kitchen. Papaplier scratched at his head, glanced to the colorful mess on his wall, and sighed. "Kids..."

He scarcely had a moment to wonder where to go next before a familiar voice was shouting from the bathroom. "Is he gonna die?!"

Laugh track.

"Oh boy." Papaplier braced himself and headed for the source of the commotion.

"No, he's not gonna die. Doc would've seen it! I might've seent it."

"You wouldn't see if Bim died! It's not a crazy accident or anything."

"Yeah, well, what do you know? All you see is the weather!"

"Hey! See if I warn you about rain next time! I hope you get soaked."

"Newsflash! I wouldn't get soaked, 'cause you'd be with me, and obviously you'd grab an umbrella."

"Yeah? Well... well... you're a poopy head!"

Laugh track.

"Hey, hey, hey. Language, boys. What seems to be going on in here?" Papaplier stood in the doorway of the bathroom, raising his eyebrows at the sight laid out before him. All of the boys in the room shared Papaplier's dark hair and big, brown eyes. The oldest, dressed in the white lab coat he'd gotten as part of a Halloween costume years ago, was crouched beside his junior who was sitting on the toilet seat. All three boys were dressed rather smartly, but the two hovering near the toilet were clearly the youngest.

One of them whirled around to face Papaplier, pointing wildly at the one on the toilet. "Bim hurt himself on his cactus! There was so much blood everywhere!"

"No there wasn't, don't be dramatic." The other boy, who almost looked to be the first's twin, crossed arms over his chest and rolled eyes behind his glasses. "That's my job."

"Well you can't always be the dramatic one!"

"Says who?"

"Says me-"

"Boys, boys. Enough. Bim. Is that true?" Papaplier shifted his attention to the older boy sitting on the toilet, his brows furrowed with concern.

Bim fidgeted a bit, though he couldn't move his hands much since the oldest boy was still applying bandaids. "I... yeah. I almost dropped Matthias, and I got scared, s-so I tried to grab him and I managed to catch him but not by the pot he was in...." The words all came out in a rush. It was obvious Bim thought he was in trouble.

Awwww.

Papaplier merely smiled. "Well, accidents happen. Buck up, Bimmy-boy! At least you saved your cactus. Doc, have you been patching Bim up?"

The oldest boy, kneeling on the floor, looked up at Papaplier and nodded. "I'm only allowed to use bandaids though." He sounded remorseful and despondent, but at least someone followed the rules. Papaplier would need to reward him later.

He clapped his hands together. "Well! I'm relieved you're alright, Bim. Thank you, Doc. And you Jim, Jim, for keeping Bim company. Now why don't you all run along to breakfast?"

"Breakfast!" The Jims shouted in eager unison, not needing to be told twice. Carefully, they grabbed at Bim's arms, tugging him out of the bathroom. Doc cleaned up his mess before following them out.

Silently, Papaplier counted on his fingers. He frowned. "...am I forgetting someone...?" He made his way to the kitchen, where all the boys he'd come across had indeed gathered. He was surprised to see a familiar face sitting near Amy. "Kathryn! I didn't know you were coming over."

WOOOO!

The woman with long, dark hair and glasses smiled politely at Papaplier. "Well, I knew the kids had school off today, so I thought I'd offer some help. I know they can be a handful."

Indeed, there was quite a ruckus going on at the table. Papaplier attempted to get a headcount as he edged to his seat at the head of it. "Dark, Host, Blue, Oliver, Orville, Oxnard, Bing, Bop, Jim, Jim, Bim, Silver, Ed, Doc, King, Artie, Yandere... who am I missing...?" He rubbed at his pink mustache as he sat down, brow furrowed with contemplation while he observed his rowdy family.

Dark was sharing quiet conversation with Host. The Googs- clad in red, yellow, blue and green with eyes to match- seemed engrossed in some kind of discussion themselves, though Orville was taking far too much pleasure in decimating his omelette. Bop was attempting to teach Bing how to beat-box. The Jims were crowded exceptionally close to Bim, asking about his hands. Ed and Silver were practically wrestling in their chairs. Yandere was babbling on and on about that senpai character to Artie, who remained silent as ever and merely drew another red stick figure on his plate with ketchup. Doc was giving King a weird look- probably because King had a fluffy, brown tail sticking out from beneath his bandanna. Another squirrel? Papaplier had a lot of talks to give after breakfast.

Yet still, they seemed to be missing someone. It wasn't until Amy spoke up that he realized.

"Where's Wilford?"

On cue, there was a crackling snap above the kitchen table. A torrent of bubblegum pink burst into sparkles and there he was, the other oldest and the only one to sport Papaplier's mustache thus far. Wilford had bright pink hair to match, and he whooped as he plummeted out of mid-air onto the kitchen table with a wiggling, whining golden retriever in his arms.

Ah. Papaplier had been wondering where Chica went off to.

This program does not condone the use of reality bending abilities at the breakfast table. Or any table. No animals were harmed in the making of this program.

Immediately, all of the food was displaced. Silver and plates and glasses clattered to the floor, drinks were spilled onto laps and more than one person wound up with egg on their face. It was really only a matter of time-

"FOOD FIGHT!"

Laugh track.

Papaplier would never figure out who yelled it, but he supposed that was alright. So long as his little family was happy, then he was happy.

They were an odd bunch, those Ipliers, but the world wouldn't have them any other way.

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