#writersofmark

[cozyenigma]

Sleepless

(Hope this was what you envisioned!)

Word Count- 1241

Request?- Yes

Summary- Late nights in space weren't out of the norm. Everyone dealt one way or another but it was easier when you had someone to pass the time with

Warnings- None

Insomnia wasn't a unique problem aboard the invincible two. Even with artificial day night cycles it was still a struggle to adjust to sleeping in space. You frequently found your crew trying to mitigate it as best they could, in their own ways.

Burt was probably the only one who actually tried to sleep on a schedule. Making sure his tea stash was stocked in the mess hall was always a wise choice. He was quiet at the best of times and even more so when he was short on sleep.

On the other hand, you had Celci. She had a meticulous plan in place for herself. Being the head of cryostasis probably had something to do with that. She limited her caffeine intake, screen time past a certain point, and certain foods entirely. Despite that, it wasn't uncommon to see her working into the wee hours of the morning. Or what should've been morning by earth standards. The stubborn scientist always reasoned that there was always more work to do so she ought to make herself useful.

Gunther... Well, so long as he had free access to a shooting range he kept that particular problem to himself.

You sighed, running a hand down your face as you walked down the hall. There wasn't much of a need to have a night crew with the planet right beneath you so it was blessedly silent. What you kept coming back to was late night walks. It let your mind and your body wander and, ideally, wear themselves out.

Your footsteps echoed softly as you neared the bridge. The usual silence you expected, however, was broken by soft snoring sounds. They only had you pause for a moment before continuing into the bridge.

His legs were poking out from under the console. Tools were scattered about his sleeping form, a wrench still loosely grasped in one hand. You shook your head and approached. Mark was the type to keep going until his body gave out on him, insomnia or no. Gently as you could, you reached out and shook his leg.

Mark jerked awake and lurched upwards, directly into the console. You winced at the clang and Marks following curses.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?"

Clambering out from underneath the machinery, Mark looked up at you, still holding his forehead. "Captain? Why're you still up?"

You couldn't help but snort. "Pot calling the kettle black much?"

Brushing his tools aside, Mark stood up. "I wasn't up till a few seconds ago actually, thanks for that."

He brushes his hands off on his pants, giving you a knowing look. "And you still haven't answered the question."

Already you had similar snark locked and loaded to throw back and yet... You paused, looked out of the window at the expanse of space and the small, small ball you all risked your lives to get to.

"The usual," you said eventually. "Bonus nightmares included." You ignored how Marks expression softened at that. "I was just- trying to walk and clear my head is all. You?"

A long pause. A sigh. "About the same. I didn't even try to go to bed so, think you got that one on me. One of the crew mentioned the display had been glitching out so," he lightly kicked at the console, "here I am."

The laugh that came out of you then wasn't amused as much as it was just tired. "I'd say glad to know I'm not the only one but I kinda hoped you were doing better than I was at least."

Kicking his tools out of the way, Mark goes to sit down against the console, facing the window. "We're a team in all things, Captain. Even the fucked up nightmare department."

He pats the floor next to him and you take the invitation, sidling up next to him. The two of you both watch the planet below in silence. Tomorrow the efforts to establish a colony below would begin in earnest. Before this, the idea would have filled you with excitement. Now though... you were just tired. Mentally and physically you were exhausted and you were keenly aware of how much you needed the sleep for the day to come.

"You think they're doing okay?" Your confusion must've been obvious since Mark continued, "Back on Earth, I mean. What do you think they're doing back there?"

"I don't know... Probably just- living their lives, I guess," you muttered, looking back outside.The thought never occurred to you. That sort of peaceful normalcy with lifetimes, light years behind you now.

"I dont know," he sighed, "I just keep thinking what I'd be doing right now if I wasn't- hurtling through space, yknow?"

You hummed and nodded. Hesitant, you asked, "Do you- if you could go back and never take this job on, do something else, would you?"

When he looks at you then there's a faraway look to his eyes you'd never seen before. Well... one you'd only seen one other time. "...At the end of the day... No," he murmurs. "No I don't think I would. Knowing what all I do now. I'd do a lot of stuff differently but not that. I know one way or another I'd end up out here, in space."

You're almost relieved when he looks away from you again. Then you feel him knock his shoulder into yours."

Besides, someone needs to keep you on track, Captain."

You snort despite yourself. Knocking him back just has the two of you in a vicious game of trying to push the other over. By the end of it you're both laughing like only the sleep deprived can. An idea abruptly popped into your head and you would blame the sleeplessness that made you act on it almost immediately.

Shifting, you laid down and placed your head squarely in the middle of Marks lap. You could feel him stiffen underneath you.

"Uh-"

"You're a good pillow, shush."

After a moment he relaxes again, setting his hand on your arm. "Alright, whatever you say, captain."

You yawned, shaking your head. "When are you gonna stop calling me that?"

"Whenever you're not my captain anymore. Which I don't see happening anytime soon."

"Kiss ass," you muttered.

There's a finger poking you in the cheek. "Only if you ask nicely."

That sent you sputtering, turning to see him looking down at you with a similar expression. You could already see the blush darkening his cheeks and feel the same on yours.

"Uh-"

"Can we-"

You both stop. Then, Mark continued, "We're gonna just blame that on the no sleep."

"Yeah that- that sounds good."

There's an awkward silence after that. One where you just stubbornly stare out of the window and try not to think too hard about the man you're with. Eventually, that fades as the exhaustion sweeps over you again. You'd scoot back into him, the back of your head resting against his stomach now, and sighed.

At some point Mark would start idly rubbing his thumb across your arm. The presence of another person, the warmth of it, was enough for you to finally close your eyes.

When your crew mates both found you passed out on the bridge, they left you alone for a while. Not before some pictures were taken to commemorate the occasion of course but the two of you could use some shut eye.

#Iswm #writersofmark #youtuber ego #space mark #head engineer mark #space mark x reader #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #my wriitng

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Mayor Attorney - The Charity Gala

Tonight was the night of the charity gala, one that had been highly anticipated for some time now. There had been a large drive across the city to organise small events to raise money for a good cause, and this gala was no different. The organisers had put a lot of care into making sure everything would go just right. The guest list included both the Mayor and the District Attorney, along with names that Damien eagerly reminded you of. People that had supported him in his campaign, patrons, and not a single person that would give him a stress headache trying to avoid for the entire night.

It was strange to know it was one that Damien had no direct involvement in, but that was a nice relief knowing that he might actually be able to enjoy himself. As Mayor, he would have to socialise and make his presence known, but you hoped he would have time to just be Damien for a little while.

It would be nice. The previous few weeks were too busy for both of you to find time for a date, and you had already agreed to attend this event together. Would it be wrong to make the most of the night?

-

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror so you could make the final adjustments to your hair. Your choice of outfit was a simple one - neat and black, plain and simple. It had been Damien's idea to co-ordinate with only black, but you couldn't ignore the suspicion bubbling up. Damien, a man who loves the chance to dress up nicely, the man who had once confessed that doing so was a 'guilty pleasure', opting for something ordinary? He had something planned.

But what? Damien wouldn't want to do anything that would throw him in the spotlight when he didn't want to be. He also wasn't someone who would add a flamboyant flair to his outfit. 

Before you could mull further on what said 'plan' could be, there was a knock on the door. He was here. Your hair would have to do. A coat with money in a buttoned-up pocket was plucked off a chair on your dash to the door.

Damien stood in the doorway like a lingering shadow. He had kept his side of the deal. His black suit was pristine, with barely a crease in sight. The mayoral ribbon he wore for public events was the perfect shade to blend in with the material. His shoes were barely visible thanks to your shadow obscuring them. Even his shirt and bowtie were barely discernable from the jacket. What you did notice was the lack of accessory on the right lapel. He was known for wearing a flower, and you had expected him to find a black blossom.

The cane was neatly tucked under his left arm so he could carefully hold a small bouquet of white roses with both hands, as though afraid a mere breeze would damage them.

"I'm sorry," he smiled bashfully when he noticed your eyes drop down to the flowers, "I know we had agreed that we weren't to give any gifts ahead of our 'date' but… they were in their prime, and I couldn't help but be reminded of your sweet smile. You look perfect tonight, my love." 

Ah, Damien. Roses might be a symbol of love, but you knew they were one of Damien's favourites, even before you two started dating. Once you let slip that you preferred the white blooms over the red ones, they became a reminder of you. You playfully rolled your eyes, accepted the bouquet, and invited him in so you could fetch a container of water to house them in. You would never be forgiven if they were left to dry out in the open air all night.

As you began placing the stems into their temporary, watery home, your gaze drifted over to Damien. He had stayed near the entrance, staying quiet so you could focus on your task and occupying himself with admiring the pictures on the wall. It was a common tactic he used for the sake of good manners. You waved a rose to get his attention, joking that you thought he had long lost 'guest' privilege by now.

You hit the nail on the head as he sheepishly chuckled and scratched his cheek.

"Ah. Yes. Well… This is a date, and I don't wish to behave so casually when it is the first time we've been together in a while." He paused as he noticed your wave beckoning him over. Who was he to argue with that? Slowly, he crossed the space to where you were working. "I simply want to make this a special night, and make sure you know how thankful I am that it is me you love." Your hands were preoccupied, and he took advantage of this to kiss your cheek.

The wall of formality was finally lowered, as Damien relaxed enough to engage in casual conversation about how the day went for both of you. His cane

For those few moments, you had forgotten the purpose of the night, until you glanced in his direction and was reminded of the empty lapel. You were quick to point this out.

"I did think one of my flowers would be a little too 'much' for a night that I have no involvement in. However, I did have an idea." He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out two small, heart-shaped pins. One was red, the other was green. "A little gesture to show support, wouldn't you say?"

You flashed him a knowing smile. Your hunch was right, but you never would have expected how simple the act would be. He handed you the green pin so he could set to work putting the red one on your outfit.

"Sometimes, we have to remember the purpose for an event like this. It isn't merely to show how 'good' we are, or to make ourselves feel better. It's to help those who need it, and show that they aren't alone when it feels otherwise." With both pins in place, Damien stepped back to admire his handiwork. "There. Perfect."

You had a playful grin as you shook your head. You couldn't go just yet. His pin wasn't perfect, you claimed, as you reached back to the pin you had just put on him. He believed you, and that was his mistake. It left him open for your hands to swiftly move to either side of his face and pull him toward you for a kiss. When you leaned back, you saw a familiar lovestruck expression plastered on his face that you adored.

You asked if you should both get going to the gala. He nodded, leaning forward to close that gap between you one more time before it was time to go.

-

-

Do you want to help make a charity gala a success? Why don't you go check out Heropliers4Palestine, a week-long event dedicated to raising money to help the Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF). Click here for more information on how you can support a good cause or help raise awareness, and get yourself something special and made just for you in return!

#writersofmark #mayor attorney #mayor damien #a date with markiplier #selfshipping #y/n district attorney #who killed markiplier #(no readmore because this is important mwahaha) #(Help support a great cause during the strike week!!) #(mobile posting so I am REALLY hoping it comes out okay)

[lostcybertronian]

Dark&Host (platonic) for #47 “You look like hell.”

Prompt: “You look like hell.”

A hand clamping down on his shoulder woke him from an uneasy and unexpected slumber. He tensed immediately, then relaxed as a frigid cold seeped through his coat, into his skin; it was only Dark.

“I know you’re awake.” Dark’s voice crept over him, settled across his shoulders like a shroud. “You missed the meeting.” A wry smile. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in here.”

“No,” the Host croaked, sitting up. He removed his headphones and set them down on the desk. His mouth was dry, his tongue parched and bloody, like he’d bitten it. He swiped it over his cracked lips, tasting more blood. His head pounded. His heart raced in his ears, nearly drowning out his own quiet, tired voice.  “I lost track of time.”

“I can see that.” The Host felt Dark squeeze his shoulder, felt his presence lean in, cool and cold to his feverishly hot. “You look like hell.”

“You’d look like hell too if you could see the future,” the Host snapped, the throbbing in his head getting the better of him, if only for a moment. “I can’t control it. It never stops.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence where the Host was half-convinced the hand on his shoulder would tighten, dig in, pierce. But it didn’t, and Dark only asked, mildly, “You can come to me when you have visions.”

“Pardon me if I don’t.”

Dark’s hand left his shoulder. The Host could hear the soft rustle of cloth as Dark tucked his hands behind his back. “Fair enough. At least let me take you to get cleaned up, and perhaps then we may discuss it.”

It wasn’t a request, merely a demand disguised as one. But it was a rare day when Dark was gentle. The Host found himself with the irresistible urge to sink into it. Drown.

He nodded. “That would be nice.” 

Dark’s touch was a few shades to the left of kind as he helped the Host from his rickety wooden chair, one hand on his arm, the other between his shoulder blades, supporting his unsteady weight as they left the library, footsteps muted on the thinning carpet.

#dost hark #the host #darkiplier #markiplier egos #writersofmark #fanfiction #lostandwandering #lost writing tag #writing prompts #angst #hurt/comfort #tw blood #asks #lovely anon

[sugarsnap-caely]

GUESS WHO FINISHED THAT ISWM FIC!!

#markiplier #writersofmark #in space with markiplier #iswm #iswm spoilers #who killed markiplier #wkm #actor mark #y/n the captain #y/n district attorney

[pxppet]

“Movie” dark x jj

The whirring of film being read echoes in Jameson’s ears in the little camera booth. He watches through the hole projection room’s wall as the theatre fills up. He smiles, threading film around the camera’s wheel, a sense of pride filling him as he does his job well. He sits at the wooden table in the room, the chair cruel and wooden on his aching shoulders and back. Flip the switches and thread the film. Simple enough, yet well-paying for a war-time job. Distracted by the rolling of the camera and the safety of the projection booth, the high pitched whining in the air goes unnoticed.

An hour later, the movie ends, The Last Rose of Summer echoing in his head. Jameson hitches up his belt, sighing and straightening out his clothes. They are a bit tattered, a bit tight-fitting, but it helps the time traveler blend in in this post-depression era. Ready to close for the night, his boss hurries him out of the room, leading him scurrying from the door of Trimmer’s Theatre without even signing goodbye. 

He pulls his jacket around himself, shivering. Now out in the open, a high little whine fills the air, though the song plays on in his head.

When true hearts lie withered,    And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit    This bleak world alone?

“Alone?”

Jameson whips around as a hand touches his shoulder. No one... is there anyone? He swears someone’s eyes watch him from the darkness. He pulls his coat tighter, huffing out anxious breaths, turning to walk to his apartment swiftly, steps unsure and fainting. He cannot wait to get to the apartment’s solitude and travel back to the future with his warm little house and caring little family- 

Something shoves him hard. He crumbles to the ground, waiting for the feeling of smacking into it- But the feeling doesn’t come. Rather, a thick blackness, like ink but smelling of flesh and earth, surrounds him entirely. He is laying on an unseen floor. Whispering voices circle him. His eyes dance around wildly, curling up in his jacket, panting so hard he feels his lungs will fail. 

“Alone, Jameson?” A voice echoes all around him, and he jumps up to his feet, scrabbling for a knife at his side, eyes darting around looking for the obvious threat. 

Something steps from the darkness. A corpse that might’ve once been a man, or a woman, with glowing, piercing blue eyes and bedraggled rotting hair. Jameson takes a shaky breath, stepping backward. 

“Looking for this, little time traveler?” The figure holds up his knife, now dripping with black shadows and half-consumed by the monster’s hand. Jameson bends slightly at the waist, ready to fight. But the monster throws the blade forward, the deafening clatter echoing through the ink. “No matter. Here, take it. You cannot kill me in any way that matters. I have... a proposition for y- 

An hour later, the movie ends, The Last Rose of Summer echoing in his head. Jameson hitches up his belt. Oh god. He stands suddenly, his chair crashing to the floor. Someone, or something, has found him. They know he is a time traveler, his name, his weapons, his whole being. 

He shakily brushes curls from his face, tucking them into his hat. 

Psst.

Jameson whips around, eyes wide. The light buzzes in his ears. 

Suddenly, he is in the theatre. He is sitting in one of the chairs, flipped down and accommodating, a bag of popcorn sitting on the armrest. 

“As I was saying, little traveler,” sounds a voice from the darkness. Jameson whips around, gripping the armrest, his gaze sharp and ready to kill. Rather than the corpse, there is an absolutely gorgeous man sitting next to him. Jameson blinks in surprise, shocked by the soft brown eyes and grey-tinted but clear and bright skin, the swirl of raven black hair covering one of their eyes, and the prim proper suit. 

The being turns to face him, the room dark except for the glowing, empty screen. 

“You are fascinating, I hope you know. Thinking you could escape timelessness, bah.” The being chuckles darkly, smiling a bit too widely with perfect teeth. Jameson scowls, having no time for this shit. 

“What do you want,” he signs. 

“I don’t speak BSL-”

Before the being can finish, Jameson pulls out a notepad and a ballpoint pen, his lips set stonily and eyes radiating frustration. 

What do you want? he writes, shoving the pad in the entity’s face. The being peers at him around it with eyes that are far to friendly. 

“Oh, not much, don’t fret. I simply came for a chat. You fascinate me, as I have said. It is rare a human does, consider yourself lucky.”

What makes me fascinating?

“No matter, all in good time. For now, little traveler, you may call me Dark.”

Jameson stifles a cheeky grin. 

He holds up the pad with a drawing of a middle finger raising hand on it. The being blinks, then raises an eyebrow. 

“I suppose the politeness of the British was a lie, of course,” it comments. Jameson turns away, setting the pad on his leg. 

I could just time travel away.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Scared, scared, scared,” offers Dark’s echo. Jameson closes his eyes. It is true, he’s scared. This is the first supernatural entity he has spoken to without Anti there to defend him. His confidence is a façade and he can tell Dark knows it.

“You have immense power. Even greater than mine. Forgive me for flattering, but you may just be the most powerful magician I have ever come across.” Jameson startles as the entity reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out his watch. The dark hand fiddles with it, feeling the radiating magic that smells of dust and blood. “I would love it if you would... assist me. There is someone I want to make pay. Name your price.” Beautiful brown-gold eyes glint up at JJ as the being lets the watch fall back against his chest. His mustache twitches. He glares, raising an eyebrow. 

He picks up the notepad. 

Sets it down.

Picks it up. 

Protection. I have a demon, my monster. Keep him away.

“I know of your demon. Our creators introduced us long before we played these silly games.” Dark picks at his suit. “Very well then, consider it done. You have never been safer than in the hands of my soldiers and myself. Jameson Jackson will be the name your Anti dies fearing.”

Jameson smiles, a twinge of blackness slipping into his eyes as whispers surround him, light playing over his face from the movie screen. Make him pay, echoes through his brain. Make him pay for all he did to you. 

Dark smiles. Yes. Make him pay. Make them all pay for what he did. In an instant they are gone, leaving Jameson alone, a rose falling from the air in place of the being. Passions combined often make fearsome alliances. 

#jameson jackson #darkiplier #darkpuppet #writersofjack #writersofmark #markiplier #jacksepticeye #jse egos #jacksepticeye egos #markiplier egos #jacksepticeye jameson #markiplier darkiplier #my writing #ego shipping #egoshipping #dark x jameson #jameson x dark

[focailmarbh]

Whumptober; Prompt #2

garrote | choking | gagged 

@whumptober-archive

____________________________________________________

He does not remember falling, only that the water is dank and cold around him. Dark surfaces, coughing, something pulling him towards the shore by his wrists. Pressed into stone and sand, he looks up through blurry eyes. 

“Damien!” scream thousands of voices at once. But he is too weak to respond, a groan sliding out from his weak throat, marred by coughing and hot burning water in his lungs. He struggles to his feet, coughing out a thick, black liquid that no longer passes for blood after all his years as a corpse. 

He looks downward at his wrists, seeking the source of the tug. 

Strings. 

Thick, red cords wrap endless circles around his wrists. He tugs at them, frustrated, clawing at them. 

“Well, well, wellwellwell,” a voice taunts from the shadows of the beach. Dark whips his head upward. It’s him. It is, after all this time of silence, all this time of building a life beyond his games, and here he is. 

The Actor stands in front of him, his form flickering at the edges. “Look how the mighty fall~” 

“What do you want?” Dark asks.

“Help help help,” offers his echo as he glows bright red at the hems of his rough-sewn being. 

“What do I want? You. You are lacking in our games lately. If I didn’t know better, well, I’d say you had stopped looking for me. One little madman shows up and suddenly you don’t care about the hero of our story?”

“Hero,” Dark cackles, “You are not a hero, no matter how much you delude yourself into it.” 

“I am more hero than ANY of the soldiers and failed creations you hide away in that mirror with,” spits the Actor, snarling. 

“Even Jim is more hero than you, you snake, you fucking reprobate.”

“Shut up!” Actor growls. “Or do I have to do it myself?” 

Strings suddenly envelop his skin, a thin cord wrapping roughly around his neck. Dark gags on his own breath as the string tightens roughly around his jugular. The red, glowing ribbons drag Dark through the sand and pebbles, drawing a cry from him. The Actor’s foot comes down on his head. Strings wrap through his lips, sewn by invisible needles that sting. Another foot comes down on him, the impact echoing through the Otherworld.

“Now that I’ve got you quiet,” teases the Actor in an overly friendly voice, leaning pertly on his cane. “I need some more... acting from you. Some pizazz, some spark. Before I get bored of you and decide you’re not worth being in my stories. I can always recycle or create anew to find a new villain. You’re just so boring lately, my old chum.”

Dark glares at him, hands being held above his head by the strings as the cords around his neck nearly hang him, barely allowing a breath to pass his lips. Dark struggles, but the string ‘round his neck gets tighter. 

“Ugh, this is what I mean, so cliché and boring.” The strings fall away, sending a gasping Dark to the ground, bright irritated burns left in his skin by the string. “Look, friend, just freshen up a bit, get your madman to hunt me down or your soldiers to cut me up, I don’t care anymore, I just need some spunk from you on stage!” He grins, grins with far too many teeth and curled, smile-lined cheeks. 

There is a sudden beeping noise, echoing through the darkness around the lake. 

“Uh oh~ Looks like time is up for now, my old enemy. Au revoir and be prepared!”

Dark shocks up awake in bed, his alarm blaring loudly. He slams his hand on the snooze button, then lifts a shaky hand to his throat. It still burns. He looks over in bed at the swirl of pink hair peeking out of the blankets, the loud snoring annoying, but not echoing. No more echoing except from Dark. 

He cannot help but ask himself, is it worth it to keep playing his games, even if just to keep his Wilford and his other friends safe. Is it worth it to listen to ghosts of Mark when he has such a fine little life hidden away in his mirror dimension of safety. 

Well. Worth it or not, Dark was never a fan of chess, but he knows the winner has most pieces on the board, and Dark? Dark has a whole found family of soldiers, while Mark is just a figment of his past surviving off scraps of conflict and weaving words. Dark cuddles in against Wilford in his big soft safe bed. He knows who wins without even playing. 

#darkiplier #actor mark #wilford warfstache #markiplier #markiplier egos #whump #choking #ego whump #writersofmark #markiplier darkipler #markiplier wilford #markiplier actor #actor!mark #who killed markiplier #damien #wkm william #wkm mark #wkm actor #wkm actor mark #wkm damien #wkm darkiplier #my writing #whumptober #whumptober 2021

[parental-tendencies]

Prompt for my iplier ego writers:

Who or what is The Host hosting?

#personally i think he's possessed and they're semi-symbiotic now but it took a bit to get there #markiplieregos #The Host #ren talks #space blasters effects: *queue queue* #writersofmark

[pandoraborn]

Since I mentioned Yancy being hypnotized, how about one where Dark finds Yancy slipping out of his control, because of Y/N and erases them from his memory? I don't know if that goes with your versions of them, but the more I think about it, the more I want to see it.

It had been such a long time since Dark came to visit. Normally he’d have no need, he trusts the bounds of his control and reach, and knows it to be solid. But this one, this time, the bond is weakening. Not yet severed, but not as strong as before, and Dark feels a tug, almost painfully so.

So, he finds himself in this dingy little cell, smelling of rust and dirt, to stare at the one occupant inside. The man is sleeping, or appears to be sleeping. Dark says nothing as he reaches for the man’s arm to inspect the tattoos on his arms. They’re still there; there’s no magic tying those tattoos to this man, so there’s no need to fix this problem either. However, Dark doesn’t need to inspect the entire jail, he already knows the source of the problem.

There’s a lingering smell of another figure. Probably a brief prisoner who shared this cell, someone who had strange ideas and implanted them in this one’s head. Thoughts of escaping and living a different life...

Not if Dark has anything to say about it.

He doesn’t need to use powers. He doesn’t need to do much other than crouch down, pressing his lips close to the man’s ear, to repeat the same mantra he’d implanted in his head close to a year ago.

“Yancy.”

“Mmm?” The reply is slurred, groggy, but not yet with a coherency that would come with him being awake.

“You don’t want to be free,” Dark whispers. He slowly wraps his fingers around Yancy’s wrists, pinning him in place. There’s little resistance, with Yancy moving his arm once, then relaxing again once he’s pinned on his back. His head rolls to the side, eyelids twitching as if caught in a dream.

“You belong to me, remember?” Dark’s a little more forceful as he works to instill his commands back in Yancy’s head. Sweet, precious, stupid Yancy. “You’ve always been mine, you always want to be mine.”

“I’m....” Yancy’s lips are barely parted as he starts to repeat the mantra, but stops as he rolls his head to the other side. His brow furrows with an unconscious resistance.

“You belong to me,” Dark repeats. He spreads his own aura out, shadows creeping up around the pair, with tendrils of shadow and smoke curling around Yancy’s head, almost caressing him. “You will not think about breaking free, or working for parole. You only want to stay here, where you’re safe and protected. Where I can protect you.”

Yancy seems to relax, though he licks his lips. “But Y/N...?”

“Who?” Dark’s lips curl upward in a smile. “There’s no one by that name. Don’t worry about it.” Best to nip this in the bud before it spirals out of his control. “You belong here, Yancy. To me.”

“I...belong to you...” In his relaxed state, there’s no accent, no bravado. Yancy is just a sleeping man who seems to be enjoying the comfort of his mysterious protector. “Only you.”

Hm. He didn’t need prompting for that one.

“Good.” Dark pulls his aura back, letting Yancy’s wrists go. “It’s only you and your current inmates. No one else exists, you’re happy here. You’ll always be happy here, as long as you obey.”

“I don’t wanna be free.” With his new freedom, Yancy rolls to his side, humming some quiet jingle before letting out a snore.

Dark grins as he strolls out, satisfied that the bond he’d created is strengthened once more.

#writersofmark #darkiplier #yancy iplier #ahwm #iplier egos #hypnosis #mind control #-i don't wanna be free- #darkiplier is in control #he has his reasons #i don't know what they are yet but i'll figure it out soon #anyway #miishae writes #weirdmixofweirdness

[immabethehero]

Hero’s Writing Masterlist!

OK, so it occurred to me that I should make my own writing masterlist in case anyone wants to read my work. So, here it is, from oldest to the newest!!!

JACKSEPTICEYE AND MARKIPLIER STORIES (mostly Jack)

The Time JJ Swallowed a Clock - Chase is haunted by a strange noise (my first ego story!!!)

A Little Theory - A general JSE theory I had way back when I was just getting started, that I put in story form

Shaky Hands and Flowers (Whumptober and Egotober) - Jameson finds pretty flowers....

Caught In an Explosion (Whumptober) - Marvin investigates a suspicious note

Pose (Egotober) - Chase prepares for CHASE

Wilford Saves Dark (Whumptober) - Wilford saves Dark, but at what cost?

Whump - Ransom (Whumptober) - An old enemy of Jackie’s has taken his younger brothers… will an new ally be able to save them?

Snipped Strings - You Rescue Jameson from Anti, but at what cost???

How Long Since You Slept? - Chase needs sleep after a long day of work

Jackie Defeats Anti (Old Version) - How the glitch bitch came to be

The Aftermath of Anti’s Lair - Chase explores an abandoned building

Cozy - Chase and Henrik spend a night together

Relax - Jameson recovers from a fever

Chase Laughs in His Sleep - A ghost haunts the egos with its terrifying laugh… or does it?

Jack VS Jackie - Jack and Jackie fight over the last cookie

That One Fish Girl’s Rescue - A little birthday gift for a friend, where her OC, Sei, rescues JJ and the egos from a storm

You’re Safe Now - Jameson is almost killed by a fall

Magnificent Spell - Jameson learns how to use slides for the first time!

Chase & the Treasure Hunt (Multi-chapter, on-going) - Chase receives an extra special birthday present

1, 

Static - While stuck in captivity, Jameson muses and receives an unexpected visitor

The Good Doctor Returns - Jameson comes to a revelation, and Schneep returns

Robbie - A day in the life of Robbie the Zombie, from squirrel chasing to a bubble outburst

Jackie’s Late BDay Present - A special fic written for Jackie, also a rewrite of how the Glitch Bitch came to be

And JJ Makes Three - Marvin’s birthday fic! Let’s see how Jameson escapes Anti’s wrath... and how Marvin finds him...

Schneeplestein Apparently Has a Heart - Henrik’s birthday story. Concerns how Chase joined the JSE egos.

Egotober #2 - Marvin must sing to break the stony spell on his brothers.

Marvin - A little drabble about the mysterious magician

Chase Returns! - Chase returns from a vacation. Henrik is a little too excited.

Henrik is Baymax - A new AU where Henrik is a robot. A personal healthcare companion, if you will ^u^

Hero Fever - Marvin wants to give Jackie a great birthday, but a cold and living furniture stand in his way

MegaMarvin - A glimpse of my newest au: Megamind but the JSE egos! - The Malevolent has a ghastly plan for the superheroes of Brighton City! If only the rest of the world was actually prepared for it.

Anti’s Halloween is Ruined - First story in my swap au! How Dr. Antisepticeye’s latest invention goes horribly wrong

Egotober:

Ink (2022)

ENCANTO

Watch Out For That Tree - A writing prompt where Mirabel tries sledding down a hill for the first time under the eye of Bruno.

Viva La Pancita de Bruno - A lil birthday gift for some friends

Encantober:

Caterpillar

Tragedy

Hugs

Casita

Present

Animal

Door

Miracle

Otter

Gift

Rat

Book

Parents

Milk

Rocking Around the Christmas Bruno - Bruno Madrigal has the colours of a tree... could he be the key to saving Christmas in Casita?

The Wake of a Miracle - A stranger who threatens Bruno inadvertently awakens Mirabel’s magical rage. My Encanto Big Bang story! Complete with lovely art!!! 

HAMILTON

Eliza and Angelica Kidnap Alex - Eliza goes to desperate measures just get her husband to take a break

ORIGINAL WRITING

The Little Mermaid - My own retelling of Hans Christian Andersern’s The Little Mermaid!

This will be updated of course! But here is my magnum opus for the mean time!

Here’s my Ao3! Might upload some Encanto stories here as well! - https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPancakeQueen/works

Here’s my Pinterest for those who read my bio: https://www.pinterest.ca/catherineleis16/_saved/

#jacksepticeye #markiplier #writersofjack #writersofmark #apparently i can write #writing #immabethehero #disney encanto #encanto #encanto fanfiction #encanto fanfic

[lildevyl]

FebuWhump Day 7: Poisoning

The Author becomes the Host

Summary:  What was suppose to be a Celebration of his best Seller, the Author winds up being a victim of a Murder Mystery.  Using what power he has left, the Author becomes the Host in order to protect his daughter, Nora Weird.

Guest Staring:  @weirdmixofweirdness​ as Nora Weird

*****

(The Cabin)

Bottles were popping, drinks were being poured, and everyone was celebrating all around.  He did it!  He finally did it!  He made it to the top ten Bestsellers List!  He couldn’t be prouder!  The Author hugged his daughter and lifted her up and spun her around.  Then went and hugged his friend Dr. Iplier.  He could believe it!  After so many failures and none of his books selling well, he was finally able to do it!

The Author would be able to send his daughter to college, pay all of his bills off and he won’t have to worry about possibly selling his cabin.  There was just one pending thing that lingered in the back of his head though.  The deal he made with Darkiplier, but that’s okay.  So, long as he has his daughter, Nora around, Dark can’t have full control of him!  He would make sure to never be one of those pawns of Dark’s!  The Author wasn’t as powerful as Dark but they were close.  The Author never trusted Dark but Dark was the leader of the Iplier Egos, and with so many different Egos (Canon and Fan Made) it’s a good thing someone like Dark took control.

The Author was still a little salty about how their Creator Mark never fleshed out his story any further.  But he does understand considering the circumstances of what happened.  But this wasn’t the time to dwell on the past, this was the time to celebrate and look forward to the future!  The Author wasn’t along anymore.  He has a daughter, two good friends, and now he has a very successful career that his daughter can be proud of!

The Author entered the Kitchen of his Cabin to get more drinks and snacks to pass around.  But then stopped when he entered.

“Congrats on your victory, Author,” Dark said.

“Thank you,” the Author said.

“I dare say, that you can now full fill your end of the bargain.”

“What are you talking about?  You had nothing to do with my success!  I finally wrote something that the people like!  Granted it’s not my ideal kind of genre but it’s something!  I can write for this genre for a bit and then bring out a couple of books for other genres!  You had nothing to do with this so I see no obligation to keep to the deal!”  The Author shouted.

“Oh contraire Author.  I had everything to do with your success.  After all, I’m the one with all the connections here.  Or did you actually think that you were good enough to make it, without my help?”  The Author said nothing.  “Now, you need to uphold your end of the bargain.  I hate to see something happen to your daughter.  After all, she has so potential to be even more powerful, under the right guidance of course.”

“You stay away from my daughter!”

“Oh, I won’t lay a hand on her, Author.  So, long as you do as we agreed.”  Dark then tossed a file on the Kitchen table.

The Author knew what was in that file.  Profiles and backstories of different people, that Dark wanted to be “taken care of.”  Used as characters for the Author’s stories.  Now that he was writing Psychological Thriller and Horror stories, it would be easy to do whatever he wanted with them.  None of them had families, no partners, just roommates and/or work.  It would be easy, the Author could just use them as characters and then just discard them when they are no longer valuable to him.

But he couldn’t.  He honestly couldn’t.  Not anymore.  He has a daughter, he has two good friends that he can talk to and hangout with, he has a family now.  And if the Author was actually honest with himself.  He was no longer that man.  He was no longer the sadistic, chaotic, violent man that he once was.  He finally has a purpose in life.  That void that threatened to consume, wasn’t there anymore.  He couldn’t revert to that man, not now, not ever!  What would Nora think of him?  What would King?  What would Dr. Iplier?  

The Author looked at the file as if it was a bomb about to go off.  Considering what Dark wanted him to do, that was a pretty accurate description.  

“Okay, I’ll   .   .   .   take a look at it later on tonight.”

“Excellent.  I look forward to seeing what you do.”  Dark left, leaving the file on the table.

(Later on the Night)

The Author sat at his desk with a bottle of Whiskey and a glass filled with ice.  He needed something to numb his damn mind.  How can he actually do this?  The Author poured himself a good portion of Whiskey and nearly downed it in one gulp.  Looking over the file, the Author nearly lost it!  What was Dark thinking?!  One person was one of Nora’s teachers, although he never liked that teacher.  Too old school in their ways of teaching.  Another person was one of Nora’s classmates.  Nora didn’t really have a problem with them, not directly at least.  But the classmate had a big problem with Nora taking their spot of being the “Top Student.”  Apparently no one else but them were allowed to be the top student.  If anyone else bested them, then they would find something no matter how petty it was, to get that person in trouble to be number one again.  Some of the others were pretty much faceless people that he didn’t even know the name of until now.

Taking a deep breath and another swig of Whiskey, the Author contemplated on what his next move would be.  Then it happened.  The Author felt his insides burning and he couldn’t breathe!  Pain, so much pain!  He collapsed from his chair and landed with a hard thud on the floor in his office.  Nora came rushing in asking what’s wrong?

“Get Dr. Iplier!  Tell him he needs to get here yesterday!”  The Author screamed in pain.

Nora got on the phone, sobbing to Dr. Iplier, wondering what to do.  Dr. Iplier must have told Nora to get something, because the next thing the Author knew.  Was Nora, kneeling down to tell him that she would be right back and bolted down the hall crying.  But then he showed up.

“I see that you received my gift,” Dark said with a smirk.  “I knew that you wouldn’t go through with the bargain.  Shame really.  But don’t worry, Author.  I’ll make sure that your daughter is well taken care of.”  Dark disappeared from the Author’s Office.

The next thing that the Author knew was hearing his daughter Nora screaming at Dark to get away from her.  The sound of a slap echoed through the hall and Dark’s booming voice.  Telling Nora that she needs to respect her elders and needs to learn her place.  Especially since it was her that killed her own father!  Then silence.

The Author couldn’t let Dark get away with this.  He didn't know where Dark took his daughter, what Dark’s plan was.  But he won’t be part of it!  Taking his pen, the Author wrote on his own arm.  

The Author will use the last of powers to come back as a stronger character!  The Author will come back just as strong as Darkiplier!  The Author will come back and will protect his daughter!  Protect Nora!  Protect Nora at all costs!

The Author stopped moving.  He couldn’t breathe anymore.  His vision darkened to nothing but blackness.  He felt the fading process.  His body was becoming ash and the invisible wind that nobody feels, began to blow the ash away.  Revealing not an empty spot where the Author once laid.  But brand new body.  A brand new character where the Author once was.

The Author was no more.  Now, the Author is the Host.

*****

Tagging:  @weirdmixofweirdness, @dezzydynamite, @m4delin, @juju-on-that-yeet, @septic-dr-schneep, @febuwhump, @10ths-writing-corner, @10th-no-name-person, @lamiasluck, @lostcybertronian

#febuwhumpday7 #febuwhump day 7 #poisoning #tw poisoning #tw spiked drink #tw murder #whump #febuehump #weirdmixofweirdeness #markiplier #the author #the host #darkiplier #writersofmark

[beesartandstuffs]

It's funny how time works, isn't it?

We tend to see it as a linear progression, like a novel, from one page to the next. But with a novel, you can skip to the end, can't you? Nothing is stopping you from flipping forward to the next chapter, or turning back to reread that one page you missed. Time is just like that. If you have the talent, if you have the knowledge, you can do whatever you please with it. You could even edit it to your liking, if you wanted. Or, if you really wanted, you could even jump into another story and change that one too. It's not that hard, really. That's the problem. [This story (up to chapter 39) was originally posted on tumblr, split into oneshots and chapter fractions over several years. There are audio and video posts in this story.]

~~

Guys. GUYS. I FINALLY DID IT. I UPLOADED IT ALL TO TUMBLR!!!! 

Everything up to the latest SitD entry (Interim Chapter 5) has been posted to this work, INCLUDING audio and video posts!!!! Guys. I’m so happy.

THIS STORY IS RETURNING

I WILL BE WRITING MORE

TELL YOUR FRIENDS

TELL YOUR MOM

TELL YOUR DOG

Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad@markired@blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken@jojored22@neverisadork@withjust-a-bite @gmcfloppins @satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

#writersofmark #wkm- shot in the dark #markiplier #markiplier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #i'm so happy #lots of blood sweat and tears here

[cozyenigma]

Ingrained

Word Count- 1201

Request?- Yes!

(sorry this took me so long! I hope the tarot parts aren't too basic and it's what you envisioned! And of you'd still like the anon handle you can absolutely take that one!)

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite

Warnings- None

Dark didn't need to eat or drink. Food didn't nourish the carcass he hauled around and drink did nothing to quench his thirst. When he found himself presented with these things anyways, Dark always took a small amount of pleasure in others discomfort when they noticed he never touched anything.

Still, in the privacy of his own office, away from annoyances and prying eyes, he let himself imbibe. A steaming hot cup of sencha sat on his desk. The fine china cup, delicate and thin, gleamed atop its saucer. Heedless, of the temperature, Dark took a sip.

It tasted like ash.

One of his human components, he wasn't quite sure which, had liked to take tea in this setting once upon a time. Steaming hot tea in a window seat with a good book. As much as Dark was annoyed at the bleed over, the habit helped.

As did the readings. Dark knew which one this habit stemmed from. The cards seemed to flow in his hands. Shuffling and dealing and reading. The deck was worn. Creased and faded at the edges, the cards showed their age. Part of him wondered if this was her set when she was alive. Probably not.

As he was going to set the spread of cards, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Dark's hands paused. Then he gathered the cards back into one stack.

"Back again, are we?"

The air grew noticeably colder, the steam rising from his tea that much more pronounced. They were here alright.

With a sigh, he started shuffling again. "Are you going to skulk about or try and wreck my office again?"

His answer was a lamp tumbling to the floor, glass skittering across the hardwood.

"Right." Dark ignored the blatant hostility and cut the deck. The DA, reduced to the presence they were now, would eventually tire of the destruction. They always did. It was only Dark's own aura that kept them from doing physical harm to his body.

The destruction was a nuisance but only that. While he didn't enjoy replacing and repairing his furnishings every other week, he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of seeing any reaction. Eventually, after he heard them gouge long tracks into the floor, they stopped.

He hummed and placed the deck on the desk.

"If you're finished?" Dark gestures to the cards and waited.

The room was still and silent once more. He knew they could move and choose the cards. Whether or not they were shocked or just refusing, he could only guess.

"If you won't," he took up the deck himself, giving it one more shuffle. "I'll ask a question for you, I'm sure both of us have been thinking it. Why do you keep coming back?"

The sound of broken glass crunching under foot. They were seemingly grinding the shards into the floor. That got to them.

"Let's keep it basic, shall we?" He kept going, tone too casual for the situation. "Basic three card pull. Past, present, future, hmm?"

They slipped through his hands as easily as water. Three cards, situated in a line right in front of him. Dark pictured them in his head, brooding as they sat opposite. It almost made him smile.

Delicately, he flipped the first over. A woman wrestling with a beast that might have, once, been a lion. The wearing of time and distortion made it seem otherworldly somehow.

"Strength," he laughed. "Makes sense, I suppose. You always were confident in your skills, even when we were young. Clear choices, clear purpose. I imagine you and everyone else thought you were aiming for bigger and better things, hmm?"

The walls themselves seemed to creak ominously around him. If he didn't know better he might suspect they could bring the ceiling down on top of him.

"Yknow," he said, resting his fingers atop the next card, "this is less the cards talking and more supposed to be the people themselves talking. To put things to words, I suppose. Though you can't quite manage that can you?"

The tea cup beside him abruptly cracked in half. Hot tea leaked out in a small flood, nearly taking the cards with it and soaking into his sleeve. Dark paid it no mind.

"The present now then, shall we?"

This next card was so worn down he very nearly couldn't read the text. Though he'd know the upside down design without it well enough.

"Reverse wheel of fortune," he leaned back, shaking errant drops of scalding tea from his hand. "A run of bad luck. Much as you try you can't control the past, you can't control the present either. Oh my poor, poor friend. I can understand that, to a degree."

He scanned the room, looking for a shimmer, a shadow, anything to indicate where they were. If they actually occupied any sort of space in this reality. The empty, cold office didn't provide him with any insight on that.

"Neither of us were in control then," he said eventually, "as for now…"

Dark flexed his hand. What was once their hand. "I suppose I'll be taking that back for the both of us, hmm?"

No response. Nothing was destroyed in a fit of impotent rage but he knew they were still here. That crawling every present feeling of being watched was still there.

"Stop trying to change things," he murmurs, "I don't pretend to know where you're existing now but there's surely better things for you to be doing. Maybe even actually rest."

Again, nothing. Dark huffed and, without further preamble, flipped the last card. This one made him laugh. As much as he could laugh, anyways.

"Justice? Really?"

The card was fairly self explanatory, as far as other cards in the deck went. The woman depicted held a scale and sword, regal and just. At some point the face was nearly erased, a small tear going through where her eyes would have been. The now cooled tea had soaked into the paper, giving the card a sickly brown green tint.

"You're pinning your hopes on karma, is that it?" He tossed the card back onto the desk. "I don't think so. The world isn't that kind. If anything, I'll be bringing you justice. Bringing down the man that caused all of this is karma enough, I think."

The deck next to him abruptly flew apart, cards pinwheeling in the air and just adding to the mess. Heaving a sigh, Dark got to his feet.

"One of us can keep going with this cycle, old friend," he'd admit, the old moniker was a dig he couldn't help but slip in, "and I think you know who."

If they heard him they chose not to show it. The room was more than still, it was empty. That pressure, the presence in the air was gone. Which left Dark among the ruins of his office once again.

"Same time next week, I suppose," he mutters, plucking a card from the desk and giving it a flick. The sencha had truly soaked the thing. Even with the paper starting to warp and discolor, he could still make out the tower clear as day.

#dark x reader #darkiplier x reader #writersofmark #darkiplier #reader insert #youtuber ego #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #my wriitng

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

When Do We Ditch This City? - Mayor Attorney

Word Count: 549

-

“So when do we ditch this city for good?”

You don’t remember which of you had asked the question in the Mayor’s office. There was a function happening in the main hall, but Damien had opted to step out citing a headache, and you were quick on his heels to check he wasn’t sick.

As it turned out, he was fine. He was merely ‘sick’ of the formalities. You two had slumped onto the couch together, partially tangled up as you both willingly blocked out the existence of the party.

Leaving the city? After everything you both had put into it?

“My term will end in a year. I don’t plan to run for a second one.” Even with all the precautions he had taken, Damien was exhausted. “I’ve been saving, and I intend to move out of the city. Find a home of my own somewhere far from the claws of my parents. But… I’m willing to postpone that plan if you wish to continue working here.”

You pulled yourself up just enough to give him a bewildered look. You’d quit your job tomorrow if it meant Damien could escape his horrible family situation. Once you knew when his tenure would be up, you would hand in your letter of resignation. You were sure you had some medical ailment that you could ham up.

“I don’t want people thinking you are dying.”

You dismissed his concern with a light bat of your hand. You will be unwell with a bout of ‘stringititis’, which makes you want to lie on your bed and wave your arms like they’re made out of noodles. 

Damien snorted, which only served to bolster you. More severe cases would make you want to learn how to tie your arms into ribbons so you can look very pretty.

“You’re already pretty. I can give you one of my bowties if you’re that desperate.”

As much as you appreciated the offer, you opted to decline, stating that bowties were his thing, not yours. Leaving a kiss on his forehead, you admitted that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant you two could stay together.

“It will be grand when we’re both free,” he promised in a whisper. His right hand reached up to gently cup your cheek. “I would love nothing more than to find a place in the world with you. Somewhere quiet, somewhere small. A place where we can be near people, yet stay entirely separate if we so choose. Where would you want to go? It doesn’t have to be America.”

Anywhere? That was a rather important question that you couldn’t possibly think of a good answer for. All you could think of was how Damien’s plans sounded nothing short of perfect.

That was the right thing to say. His smile grew wider. “If I can live out my days with you as a family of our own, in whatever form that may take, with the ability to finally showcase my love for you in public without fear of having to avoid my family’s gaze, I will be the happiest man in the world.”

However cheesy that response may be, the sentiment behind it made something in your chest flutter as you leaned in to kiss him again.

#writersofmark #mayor attorney #selfshipping #mayor damien x reader #who killed markiplier #mayor damien

[lostcybertronian]

Hiii ! What about "i missed you" and "do not tempt me" with actor and dark pretty please?

BODY. HORROR. MARK.

---

Prompt: “I’ve missed you.” / “Do not tempt me.”

There was a snake in man’s clothing standing at the base of the stage of Wilford’s set; immaculately dressed in deep red, one perfectly polished shoe tapping slowly but not impatiently, white-gloved fingers curled like talons around the diamond tip of a cane he didn’t need, head tilted up to regard the giant game-show wheel dominating most of the pink-painted set.

Dark opened his mouth to say something– something like “get out” was most likely– but Mark was already in the business of turning his head one hundred-eighty degrees, so his wickedly delighted, death-pale face could grin at him from the wrong direction. 

“And here I thought I’d only be graced to see dear William, today.” Mark said. “How I’ve missed you, Damien.”

Now he really did snarl, a bared-teeth roar that reverberated around the set and briefly plunged their surroundings into monochrome. “Get out!”

Mark’s body swiveled, realigning his head. “What’re you going to do, behad me?” hHe sneered, and reached up to pluck his head off his spine with a sickening squelch, stretching decaying tissue and muscle until it ripped and spraying black blood down his pristine crimson suit. “You’ve already torn it off once.”

“Do not tempt me,” Dark warned, but before he could do anything Wilford poked his head out through a curtained door leading to backstage.

“Dear me,” he said. “Both my guest contestant and Darkie, what a pleasant surprise! Have you met?”

Mark plopped his head back down to his shoulders, his entire body turning in tandem to address Wilford. “We go way back.”

Wilford beamed; Dark scowled. “Good! Good.” He gestured to the blood soaking through Mark’s finely-tailored dress shirt and blazer. “And you’re dressed for the part, I see. Let’s get started.”

#darkstache #darkmark #actorstache #actor!mark #wilford warfstache #darkiplier #markiplier egos #writersofmark #fanfiction #lostandwandering #lost writing tag #writing prompts #horror #tw body horror #humor #tw blood #asks #taikeero-lecoredier

[thecrowehousehold]

“Huh. Dusty.”

Liam is now available for questions!

~~~

SHOT IN THE DARK MASTERLIST (This fic is where Liam is from!)

~~~

~~

~

Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad​​@markired​​@blackaquokat​​@pleaseletthisjimbetaken​​@gravitykaz​​@jojored22​​@neverisadork​​@withjust-a-bite​​ @gmcfyuffins​​ @satansladydoor​​ @racheljoyauthor(If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

#markiplier #markiplier fanfic #wkm- shot in the dark #who killed markiplier #fanfic #fanfiction #writersofmark #OCLiam #askthecrowehousehold

[pxppet]

Idk how this works but I saw you were doing ego ships/rare pairs, and I wanted to ask for Robbie/The Jims. I also dont know what the word thing is but “Flowers”?

No need for the nerves, you did it right! I apologize for taking so long with this one, I had almost no thoughts on how to characterize Robbie. I eventually settled on making him a half human Kodama spirit! He isn’t capable of speech or quick movement given he is half tree, so he speaks in simple BSL and expressions! Zombies provide nothing interesting to me personally. Hopefully this is still fun for you, anon.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Robbie is sprouting.

None of the others are exactly sure why. The half-kodama had never done so before. Bright purple flowers bloom from his ribbed white-grey fingertips and dyed hair, leaves and buds of his skin blooming into violet swirls. In his slow, quiet voice Robbie lets Henrik know it hurts him. Henrik does anything he can to fix it, snipping off the buds before they bloom and sitting the kodama out in the sun as often as possible in hopes it will help. It doesn’t do much for the poor forest spirit.

Robbie sits out in the front garden of Henrik and JJ’s house, poking his own flowers, his slow-coming thoughts begging them to go away. They burn, tingle, shoot waves of mystery pain up his arms and down into his forehead. He groans, drawn out and pained.

One of Marvin’s windchimes suddenly sounds, and in moments there is a portal opening in the hidden shade of a tree. Marvin steps out, and Robbie smiles, preparing to stand up to greet them, but stops short as they are followed by strangers. Three of them. Robbie wilts towards the ground, turning his gaze to the grass beneath him.

“Hey rose!” Marvin calls. “Are the lads home today or did they leave you all on your own?” they say playfully. Robbie grins sheepishly, and signs a simple “pumpkin”, his sign name for Henrik, copied from JJ. “Good, good, well I brought Eddie for him! I came along to babysit- I um-“ Marvin is cut off by a warning glare from Dr. Iplier. “Well- Just look after, let’s say, some friends of his.” Marvin gestures to the two young men stepping through the swirling shadows of the portal.

Robbie peers around to look, blooming hair falling in his face. The men have a camera and a microphone respectively, and they’ve begun to film the portal with intense excitement.

“Look! Jim look! The shadows! The cat person is surely a demon, we just have to prove it!” the one in a light blue shirt is stage whispering in the least secretive way imaginable. Robbie blinks slowly, a bit taken aback.

“They’re high needs, and I had to come for this meeting since I’ve found some new sources about wormholes, so I couldn’t look out for them today. Marvin offered to help.” Edward clarifies. Robbie nods, humming nervously. He doesn’t do well with excitable humans, finding it hard to keep up. Though he supposes the Iplier egos aren’t exactly regular humans. Something had always seemed… off about them, in his opinion.

“They should be okay; just be sure they don’t get hurt and try to help them stay entertained so they don’t feel understimulated.” Robbie’s thoughts are cut off by Edward speaking, handing a bag full of stim tools and snacks to Marvin, then bustling towards the house. Robbie’s head turns lazily to follow- 

But then he is cut off by a burst of stinging pain, like falling into stinging nettles. He lets out a pained groan and doubles over, gripping his head as more blossoms bloom forth from his bark-like skin. He distantly feels Marvin worrying over him and calling his name, but he feels nearly blacked out from the intensity of the pain, his kodama soul clashing with his half-human body.

“What’s wrong with that guy, miss?” asks the man in the light blue shirt.

“Uh- No miss or mister, Jim, it’s just Marvin haha. A-and I’m not quite sure, I’ve been researching his species as much as I can, but I haven’t found anything about halflings yet and it’s very- “

“Hey you,” Jim taps Robbie’s hair with his microphone. Robbie, still shaking in his hands, lifts his head to look. “Why are you all shaky?”

“Oh, Jim, Robbie can’t really talk that well, like your brother.”

“Ohhh. Okay. Well Robbie, I like your flowers!”

Robbie musters a smile, signing ‘thank you’. Jim signs it back at him.

“This is my brother, Cameraman Jim. I’m Reporter Jim!”

Robbie nods cautiously, a bit confused. Are they both named Jim? They do look like twins, but honestly the Ipliers have even less differences between them than his friends do, so they may not be related at all. Robbie signs ‘camera’ and ‘news’ while pointing at each of them respectively.

“Are those our names? Did you give us names just then, right?”

Robbie smiles shyly, nodding. Jim and Jim both gasp and look back and forth between themselves, eyes wide and happy, Reporter Jim proud of himself for figuring it out.

“That’s so cool! I like it!” They are now repeating their new sign names to themselves, signing each other’s, signing them both at the same time. Marvin laughs breathily, arms crossed, standing back to watch the show. Robbie feels overwhelmed, but not in a purely negative way. The Jim twins are pleasant and very funny. His face relaxes, feeling better about being near them as he grows used to them.

“Hey Robbie, do you like other flowers too? Are you a flower? You don’t look like humans; your skin looks like the Darkness’s does and your eyes are black. You’re not a demon, right?” Jim eyes him up suspiciously. Robbie laughs softly, quiet and hardly there, but enough to show his amusement. Jim relaxes again and laughs as well. Cameraman Jim abruptly plops on the ground beside Robbie, leaning onto his shoulder. Robbie lets out a ‘Huhh?’, and moves to draw away, embarrassed to be touched by anyone other than his usual friends. Cameraman Jim looks up at him though, with friendly, well-intentioned eyes, and Robbie untenses and tries to relax.

Reporter Jim comes to his other side and sits in the grass, fiddling with his microphone. “You know, your flowers are so pretty. You’re like a tree. You smell like a tree!”

“Well, he is half a nature spirit!” Marvin confirms for him, sitting on the ground as well, grass growing taller and leaning towards them, happy to feel the tug of plant magic near its fibers. Jim hums loudly, tapping his chin.

“You’re my tree buddy now! Tree Jim!” he hugs Robbie suddenly, Camerman Jim hugging him from the other side. “We’re gonna be super good friends, I can feel it, because your flowers are pretty and I like trees!” Jim begins to ramble about his favourite flowers, though his knowledge is a bit simplified.

Robbie lets himself be hugged, eyes on the ground, a small smile on his lips. Perhaps if his new companions enjoy his flowers, the pain won’t be the worst thing in the world. Besides, the Jim twins are warm and welcoming, and Robbie is glad for any kindness the world can offer him.

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