#i actually want to make heaven’s light for wilford

[theprinceofflies]

Dapperstache summoning au part two!!

Warnings: Blood, Murder, inuendos.

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The door opened with a bang. Jameson jumped and peered over his book as Wilford strode into the room muttering something under his breath. He kicked the door closed and walked over to the other side of the room. He leaned against the window, taking deep breaths. Jameson hopped out of his chair and approached the demon carefully. He wrapped his arms around Wilford's waist. Wilford sighed and looked at Jameson. His eyes softened as he stared into his boyfriend's blue eyes. "I had a bad day," he whispered.

Jameson smiled and nuzzled into Wilford's shoulder. Wilford smiled softly, leaning back. "I missed you," he said, turning around to hug Jameson.

"You were gone for six hours," Wilford groaned and pressed his face into Jameson's neck. "Too long."

Jameson smiled as Wilford's moustache tickled his neck. He silently giggled when his boyfriend pressed open mouth kisses up and down his neck. Wilford paused for a moment. "Did I ever tell you how pretty my mark looks on you?"

Jameson rolled his eyes and nodded.

Wilford was a higher demon, as he assisted the lord of the west side of hell. When Jameson had gaped at the mansion that he apparently lived in Wilford had laughed. "I usually don't get summoned. It must have been a very good book."

Jameson had just nodded. The mark had been given two him two days after he arrived when a servant girl had tried to kiss him. Jameson still insisted that she wanted to eat him rather than make out with him but Wilford would have killed her either way.

After that Wilford had pressed Jameson against the wall and markered him. It wasn't really flashy, just a squeeze to the throat and burning. Or that's what Jameson felt at least. It wasn't like being branded, it was warm and comforting. Pleasurable even. After that, he had been out of commission for two hours. Wilford had explained that it was a bunch of fancy genetics and biology he didn't care to explain. Of course, Jameson had read at least three books on it later.

Jameson's soul wasn't attached to his body anymore. His body was still on earth, dead. Though he had a body here it was solid and he could definitely feel things. From what he could understand Wilford could control his every move and thought. He never did though. His soul had basically rewritten itself or something along those lines.

The mark itself was almost a fancy W with a curled moustache though it. Jameson gasped when Wilford kissed it. It was extremely sensitive and Wilford loved it. "How was your day?" Wilford asked, pulling away.

Jameson shook his head, trying to recover enough to get his train of thought back. I found a new book in the library. Wilford nodded. I also ran into the hive.

Wilford giggled. There was a group of children in the mansion who everyone called the hive. Some were children of powerful demons and others were humans who had been bargained for things. The children adored Jameson who had become their unofficial caretaker of sorts. Of course, only the children had a say in that.

At one point the head of soul transactions had tried to replace Jameson with an actual nanny. This had resulted in a full-scale war. Paperwork was destroyed, the mail was burned and food had been poisoned. After that, no one had tried to replace Jameson. Of course, the head of soul transactions had refused to make anything official.

Jameson usually laughed and shook his head at this. Jameson cared immensely for the children and could never actually scold them. He always sat back as the children wreaked havoc, favouring reading to trying to put a stop to anything. Of course, he did reprimand them from time to time when they decided to bug Dark, who was usually holed up in his office calling or texting his mystery lover.

"What did they do this time?"

Stole sweets from the chef and tried to prank the Host. I stopped them.

Wilford laughed. "The Host is scary when someone makes him mad, let alone touches his books. I'm surprised you can take them."

I don't spill jam on them.

"It was one time." Wilford cried.

Jameson unhooked Wilford's arms from his waist and walked over to the bed. Tired come cuddle.

Wilford grinned. "What if I don't want to?"

Jameson shrugged. Fine but I won't kiss you for a week.

Wilford scoffed. "You wouldn't."

Jameson smiled, seeming to consider the idea. Wilford laughed and walked over to his boyfriend. He wrapped his arms around Jameson's waist and rolled onto the bed. Better?

Wilford hummed in agreement. "I wish you could stay with me."

That bad?

"Dark made me sit with him judging souls. He got a call from his boyfriend halfway through and left me to deal with them," he mumbled.

Sounds awful.

"Oh, they beg for me to send 'em to heaven and all that. I can't do that. The reasoning is so boring too. Oh, I've been good. I've always worshipped God. Well, I'm sorry to say you were a major homophobe who burned down someone's house. Or paedophiles and rapists wondering what they did. I used to be in charge of torture here. A lot more fun. Whips..." Wilford trailed off.

Jameson shifted so that he was laying on Wilford's chest. "Are you going to fall asleep on me?"

Jameson went limp. Wilford rolled his eyes, running his fingers through Jamesons hair. "I will never understand how you do that." He muttered, snapping his fingers to turn out the light and closing his eyes.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

"You!"

Jameson turned around to see what the shouting was about. An orange-haired demon was glaring and pointing at Jameson. Jameson pointed at himself and cocked his head to the side. "Yes, you!" The other shouted.

The demon in front of Jameson walked toward him quickly. Jameson looked around to see that he was the only one standing in the hallway. He groaned internally knowing if the demon chose to attack him he wouldn't be able to fight back. Jameson could stand up for himself but he had to admit in a match of strength he would fail every time.

Jameson took a step back eyeing the demon warily. "What do you think you're doing here pet?" The demon hissed.

Jameson flinched at the word pet. It's what other demons called their humans or lost souls. Jameson waved a book he had gotten from The Host. Usually when he did this demons would leave him alone. The Host never parted with his books and if he did then that person was protected. Lest you want to be narrated into oblivion. This demon however wasn't getting the hint.

The demon stood in front of Jameson so that they were almost chest to chest. Their eyes narrowed when Jameson didn't cower. Jameson tilted his neck to show the demon his mark. The demon scoffed. "I knew you were a pet but I didn't think you were a bratty one." The demon smirked. "I'm sure your owner would mind if I showed you a little discipline."

The demon sunk its knife into Jameson's side or tried to. Jameson seemed to melt into a teal mist. The book that was in Jamesons hands fell to the floor with a thud. The mist floated to an area behind the orange-haired demon. The demon turned around quickly. Wilford stood only a couple meters from him holding an orb that seemed to be made of the same smoke from before. "You must be new here," he growled, his eyes flashing red.

The demon gulped and took a step back. "I don't know where you're from but here we don't touch each other's pets!" he spat the last word out as though it disgusted him.

The demon hung their head and stepped back. "Apologies, sir, I didn't think he belonged to you."

Wilford giggled. "Didn't think he belonged to me?"

The demon blinked and suddenly Wilford was standing in front of him. He wrenched the knife from the smaller demon's hand and thrust it into their chest. "Here's a lesson," He whispered, "don't," he twisted the knife, "touch things," he pulled it from their chest, "that doesn't belong to you," he growled and dropped the knife next to the book.

The demon fell backwards, dissolving into a puddle of black tar. Wilford picked up Jameson's book and turned around. A small child peeked around the corner and stared at him. He had blonde hair and blue eyes with small bat-like wings sprouting from his back. "Is Mr. Jameson ok?" he whispered.

Wilford nodded. "Oh he's right as rain but I'm sure he'll be mad at me for a little while." The child nodded and gestured behind him.

Two other children walked out and around the corner. One looked very human, he had on a tie and glasses as he glared at the other two. The other had two foxtails and fox-like ears. Her amber eyes shined as she stared at the orb in Wilford's hands. The human-looking one stepped forward. "Daddy doesn't like it when mommy does that for a long time, you should let him go."

Wilford nodded and dropped the orb to the ground. It shattered on impact as the mist swirled around condensing in the air. Jameson appeared and looked around. He took a step forward and collapsed. Wilford quickly caught him before he hit the ground. Jameson glared at the pink demon. I hate it when you do that.

Wilford giggled quietly. "I knew you would sign that."

Jameson shook himself off and tried to stand again. Wilford giggled and picked him up, holding him in his arms. Jameson glared at him. Wilford handed him the book so he could hold onto Jameson better. "I know that you can fend for yourself and I love you for that, however you literally can not stand."

Jameson sighed and leaned against him. Wilford smiled at the kids. "Run along now I'll take care of Jameson.

The fox tailed child glared at him, her tail twitching. "You'd better."

Wilford laughed. "I will."

Jameson waved at the kids as both he and Wilford vanished in a puff of smoke.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Jameson flipped a page in his book. He was sitting in bed, his legs still felt numb, he tried to ignore them and continued to read. Wilford walked in with a teacup. "I got tea.''

Jameson looked up from his book and smiled. "Are you doing all right?" Jameson nodded and Wilford sucked in a breath, placing a hand on his heart. "Oh thank satan."

Jameson placed the book next to him and held out a hand for the cup. Wilford handed it to him and hopped onto the bed. He kissed Jameson on the cheek and laid on top of him. He pressed his face against Jameson's middle and sighed. "I'm sorry my love," he mumbled.

Jameson ran his fingers through Wilford's hair. Wilford raised his head and stared at him. Jameson smiled softly. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Jameson took a sip of his tea and placed it on the bedside table. He gestured at Wilford to come closer. Wilford dragged himself up so he could nuzzle into Jameson's neck. Jameson pushed him away gently. I think it's more what did I do to deserve you?

Wilford laughed. "You deserve everything."

You've given me everything.

Wilford's eyes glowed red. "Oh, my blue jay."

Jameson shivered. "You have such a way with words." he purred. Jameson flushed. Wilford shook his head quickly. He groaned. "Sorry love."

Jameson giggled. I am not afraid of you.

Wilford traced the mark on Jameson's neck. "I love you."

Jameson nodded. I love you.

Wilford giggled. "I'll fuck your brains out when you can feel your legs again," he whispered and laid back down on top of Jameson.

Jameson rolled his eyes. Two days without being able to feel my legs.

"Problem?"

Jameson shook his head and shifted so he was laying on the bed. Wilford snapped his fingers and the lights turned out. Jameson quickly fell into the arms of sleep. Wilford grinned and raised his head. He watched his boyfriend, red eyes glowing in the dark. "I love you so much, no ones going to take you away from me."

#Dapperstache #pls ask about this one I’m considering making more #Demon summoning au

[nerdygaymormon]

Gospel Topic Essays

In 2013 & 2014, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints released a series of essays that address a number of question and criticisms. These essays have been approved by the First Presidency and Quorum of 12 Apostles. The stated reason for the essays is gathering accurate information and making it available.

I added a few thoughts in italics

Are Mormons Christian - Members of the Church believe in and teach of Christ, but they don’t believe in the post-New Testament Creeds, and have scriptures in addition to the Bible. The LDS Church also is not a direct descendant of an existing Christian church.

What Mormons mean by the word “Christian” is different than the rest of Christianity. Mormons are Christian in that they believe Jesus was the Messiah and redeemer of the world.

Becoming Like God -  Since people are the spirit children of God, we have the potential to develop and grow to become like God. The essay includes some Bible verses to support this teaching, but most of the world interprets them differently.

The essay leaves out Bible verses that would seem to contradict this teaching. The Bible, at best, is mixed. There aren’t any verses from the Book of Mormon included because this concept is absent from that book.  

God was once like humans are now. And people can become gods. We teach God is married, so there are godly roles for both men & women. Does this make us polytheists? Yes, in that there are many gods, but really no because we only worship our Heavenly Father and will continue doing so even when we become gods ourselves.

How does someone become like God? It’s the covenant path we hear so much about. Baptism, Melchizedek Priesthood (if you’re male), temple endowment, sealed to a spouse, obey temple covenants.

Sounds pretty good, except...

What about if your spouse or children are unworthy? If you’re gay? If you get divorced? A widowed husband gets married & sealed to a 2nd wife, what if the 1st wife isn’t into polygamy?

Book of Mormon and DNA Studies - The purpose of the Book of Mormon is spiritual, not historical. There’s no DNA evidence to confirm that Middle Eastern people came to the Americas prior to Christopher Columbus. This essay goes through many possible excuses for why no DNA of the Jaredites, Nephites or Lamanites has yet been found in the Americas.

The introduction page to the Book of Mormon used to say that the Jaredites & Nephites were destroyed, leaving the Lamanites who are "the principal ancestors of the American Indians.” DNA evidence forced a change, it now says, Lamanites are “among” the ancestors of the American Indians.

Book of Mormon Translation - Joseph placed either the interpreters (Urim & Thummim) or his seer stone in a hat, pressed his face into the hat to block out light, and read aloud the English words that appeared. He dictated the words, not punctuation, to the scribes. The scribes wrote their own punctuation and that is what was printed. Most changes in the Book of Mormon have involved punctuation and creating verses & chapters.

It’s not a “translation” in the usual sense of that word. An examination of the characters on the plate wasn’t typically involved (despite much of the artwork that suggests otherwise), in fact, the plates often weren’t visible. There’s no way to test the accuracy of the translation.

Also, some other changes beyond punctuation and creating chapters/verses has taken place, like having some of the more racist language toned down.

First Vision Accounts - Joseph had a vision (not necessarily an actual visitation) in which 2 heavenly beings appeared to him.

Joseph published 2 accounts of this vision during his lifetime. Two additional accounts (from his autobiography and from a journal) have been found and published in the 1960′s. There are also 5 descriptions of Joseph Smith’s vision recorded by others who heard Joseph speak about the vision.

That makes 9 different accounts, and there are some differences between them. The essay explains that different accounts emphasize different details. Memories fade over time and things get remembered differently.

There is a generally consistent theme across the different versions, but the first written account comes many years after the vision is supposed to have occurred, which makes me wonder how accurate or reliable it is.

Joseph Smith’s Teachings about Priesthood, Temple and Women - During the 19th century, women frequently blessed the sick by a prayer of faith, and many women received priesthood blessings promising that they would have the gift of healing. In reference to these healing blessings, Relief Society general president Eliza R. Snow explained in 1883, "Women can administer in the name of JESUS, but not by virtue of the Priesthood."

That’s because the priesthood was new & fresh, but understanding changed as Joseph Smith received more revelations. 

I think they stuck to Joseph Smith’s teachings so they wouldn’t have to go into the misogynistic teachings of Brigham Young or Spencer Kimball. At the time of Joseph’s death, women were still doing healings & had control of the Relief Society.

Priesthood power is given to women in the temple as part of the endowment ceremony. When a couple is sealed in the temple, together they enter into an order of the priesthood. Women can officiate in the priesthood in ordinances for other women. Women can officiate when only women are getting the ordinance, when it is for men & women then the men are in charge.

Women and the Priesthood today - well, they still can do stuff in the temple.

Mother in Heaven - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints teaches that all human beings, male and female, are beloved spirit children of heavenly parents, a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother. This understanding is rooted in scriptural and prophetic teachings about the nature of God, and the godly potential of men and women. The doctrine of a Heavenly Mother is a cherished and distinctive belief among Latter-day Saints.

According to things taught through most of church history, this essay could have been titled Mothers in Heaven. We each have a mother & father in heaven, we each have the same father but there could be many different mothers in heaven. Good old polygamy, interwoven into our theology.

6 paragraphs, that’s all? Shouldn’t we know more? What is heaven like for women?

Peace in Violence among 19th-Century Latter-day Saints - The Latter-day Saints were persecuted, often violently, for their beliefs. Several incidents are discussed.

Well, to be accurate, it was more for their actions than their beliefs. We weren’t exactly great neighbors to non-members of the church.

And, tragically, some Church members participated in deplorable violence against people they perceived to be their enemies. Joseph Smith had the Danites, and a stake president ordered the Mountain Meadows Massacre.

Brigham Young taught that some sins were serious enough that the person should be killed as part of forgiveness process (blood atonement).

The early Mormons had many threats and violence done against them, and they also did the same to others. It was a rough time.

Imagine all the things said & done against the LGBTQ+ community by the Church--denying they exist, electro-shock therapy, advocating for laws to limit & take away their rights. In a real sense the church isn’t a good neighbor to this group. In an earlier time, this might get settled via guns and violence.

 Plural Marriage in Kirtland and Nauvoo - God commanded people in ancient Israel to have polygamous marriages. As part of the restoration of all things, God commanded Joseph Smith to introduce polygamy.

The verses cited just indicate that polygamy was practiced in Old Testament times, not that God commanded anyone to have such marriages. 

Joseph really didn’t want to do it (or worried about how his wife Emma would react), so God had to send an angel 3 times between 1834 and 1842 to command him to proceed with plural marriage. During the final appearance, the angel came with a drawn sword, threatening Joseph with destruction unless he went forward and obeyed the commandment fully. 

The concept of polygamy was part of the revelation on eternal marriage and is how to be exalted with God.

The essay says there wasn’t much instruction on how to do polygamy, I think this is meant to suggest that mistakes happened because people didn’t know better. D&C 132 does have a number of instructions, some of which were ignored. Such as the 1st wife had to give permission for any additional wife, and the additional wives each have to be virgins. 

Joseph kept most of his marriages secret from Emma, and he married other men’s wives who most assuredly weren’t virgins. 

Joseph had 30-40 wives. His oldest wife was 56 and the youngest was 14. 

Polygamy was illegal. Most people who participated were told to keep it secret. Also important for married women to keep it a secret from their first husband. Rumors spread and so “carefully worded denials” were issued in which they’d switch one word, or change the meaning of a word. Basically it looks like they were lying because it would mean trouble.

Wilford Woodruff issued a manifesto in 1890 which led to the end of polygamy (eventually...it took a second manifesto in 1904 to end it officially). 

A form of polygamy still survives. Men who remarry may be sealed to their additional wives. People can do temple work to seal women who were married to more than one man during their lifetimes but not sealed to them. Only men are allowed to be sealed to more than one person whilst alive.  

Plural Marriage and Families in early Utah -  Church members do not understand the purposes for instituting the practice of plural marriage during the 19th century. The essay heavily suggests that having a lot of children was a primary purpose. 

Footnote 6 says “Studies have shown that monogamous women bore more children per wife than did polygamous wives except the first.” In all likelihood, polygamy led to fewer children than probably would have been born in a monogamous society

Accounts left by men and women who practiced plural marriage attest to the challenges and difficulties they experienced, such as financial difficulty, interpersonal strife, and some wives’ longing for the sustained companionship of their husbands. Virtually all of those practicing it in the earliest years had to overcome their own prejudice against plural marriage and adjust to life in polygamous families. 

Few would have entered into plural marriages if leaders didn’t emphasize that polygamy was required for a man’s highest exaltation in the life to come, and women who refused plural marriage could find themselves single & a servant in heaven. Polygamous wives were so unhappy that Brigham Young eventually gave an ultimatum, 2 weeks to freely leave the territory or stop whining and fully live their religion. 

Plural marriage was an illegal practice and members engaged in civil disobedience against such laws. In direct violation of the 12th Article of Faith

The essay shows Mormon polygamy in a very favorable light.

The Manifesto and the End of Plural Marriage - Polygamous marriage was illegal in the United States and the LDS Church fled to Mexico but the United States took the territory they were fleeing to. The Church felt that polygamy was protected under the Constitution’s freedom of religion but the Supreme Court disagreed. 

Given the importance polygamy to the church’s beliefs about heaven, the members were encouraged to disregard the law and obey God. After 2 decades of increasing troubles, many polygamous families headed to Canada or Mexico to escape US justice (nevermind polygamy was just as illegal in those countries).

When the US Supreme Court upheld the legality of confiscating church property, this could mean that temple ordinances would end when those buildings are seized. Wilford Woodruff issued the Manifesto to ban polygamy in 1890. This calmed things with the US government and within 3 years Utah was admitted as a state. 

Members continued entering into new plural marriages for about 15 more years, but in declining numbers. In 1899 the newly-elected senator from Utah was not allowed to take his seat in Congress because he had 3 wives, including one he married after the manifesto. When an apostle was elected in 1903, he also was not allowed to take his seat as an investigation took place into the church & polygamy, even church president Joseph F. Smith testified before Congress. 

President Smith testified that the Manifesto removed God’s commandment on the church to practice polygamy, but didn’t forbid individuals from choosing to continue to be polygamous.  He issued a Second Manifest at the April General Conference forbidding members from entering new polygamous marriages. 

Race and the Priesthood -  The Church was established in 1830, many people of African descent in the United States lived in slavery, and racial prejudice were believed by most white Americans. 

From the mid-1800s until 1978—the Church did not ordain men of black African descent to its priesthood or allow black men or women to participate in temple endowment or sealing ordinances.

This is true, but one would hope a church which claims revelation through prophets would be able to overcome cultural norms that aren’t in line with the gospel. 

Church leaders taught many things to explain the ban, and today, all of that is rejected by the church and considered error. These weren’t just teachings, they were doctrines. And the Book of Mormon and Book of Abraham were used to justify bigotry, such as stating that the curse of Cain was a dark skin.

International expansion of the church, especially in Brazil, forced the church into difficult situations. The Church in the USA was also under heavy pressure for the priesthood restrictions. 

Church president Spencer W. Kimball spent many hours praying for revelation to undo the priesthood ban. The essay makes it sound like some big revelation was received, but it wasn’t that way. It was a process, a statement drafted and changes made to it and voted on. 

Today, the Church disavows all teachings that teach any race or ethnicity if inferior in any way, or that mixed-race marriages are wrong. Church leaders unequivocally condemn all racism.

No reason for the priesthood ban is put forward in this article other than racism. The past leaders were racists and that blinded them to what God wanted for black people. There’s a big lesson in that. 

Translation and Historicity of the Book of Abraham -  The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints embraces the book of Abraham as scripture.

A traveling salesman sold several Egyptian papyri and mummies to Joseph Smith. He was excited to learn one papyrus was scripture from Abraham and set to translating it. 

After the church left Nauvoo, Joseph’s family sold the Egyptian artifacts and they eventually ended up in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. In 1967, the museum transferred these fragments to the Church.

Discovery of the papyri allowed an examination of Joseph Smith’s translation.  Mormon and non-Mormon Egyptologists agree that the characters on the fragments do not match the translation given in the book of Abraham. 

Joseph’s translation was not a literal rendering of the papyri as a conventional translation would be. Rather, the physical artifacts provided an occasion for meditation, reflection, and revelation. They catalyzed a process whereby God gave to Joseph Smith a revelation about the life of Abraham, even if that revelation did not directly correlate to the characters on the papyri.

The essay mostly tries to explain how it is possible for Joseph Smith to have called the process for bringing forth the book of Abraham a "translation" when it is obvious that it was not a translation of the Egyptian papyri in his possession

#before these essays many of these positions would be considered anti-Mormon #tumblrstake

[franklyshipping]

No Need To Say Sorry ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

WOOOOOPPP ANOTHER ERIC FIC FROM A CUTE ANON PROMPT YAS YAS YAS LET'S GET THIS CUTE BOIIIII! LET'S GO!

TAGGING: @erik-lee-derekson and @ericleederekson

Cuddling time....is the best time. It is warm, it is loving, it is affectionate, it is safe, it can be soothing, playful, meaningful...and to be held by someone who wants to help make you feel warm can be one of the most special things in the entire world. It can make you feel safe and special...as it is doing right now for the ever sweet Eric Derekson. He was enveloped safe in someone's arms, his face hidden in their chest as their breathing and heartbeat made him feel like this was what heaven would be like. You may not think that being in the arms of Wilford Warfstache, the epitome of wild vibrancy, would be calming, but for Eric it was. He adored Wilford. The first time they'd met, Wilford had given Eric's father a grilling lecture and had also been extremely rude to him before escorting Eric out to a fairground for sweets, fun, smiles, and an absence of tears.

Of course, Wilford had insisted upon doing this over and over again with Eric, taking him for fun days out, treating him, and having happy times with him. Their most recent expedition to a theme park had tired them both out, and thus resulted in the cuddling we now see before us. As you can imagine, their drowsiness made them both eager to rest....and yet...Eric found himself to be really rather restless.

'A-Ah....s-s-sorry....'

Every five to ten seconds, Eric would squirm and shift in Wilford's embrace, but honestly Wilford didn't mind. He wasn't as tired as Eric, and feeling Eric wriggle and whine like this was honestly very cute...although Wilford did start to wonder whether Eric was uncomfortable lying on him; if that was the case, Wilford was going to sort it as soon as possible. He smiled down at his wriggly cuddle buddy and ruffled his hair.

'It's alright bub, are my rock hard abs not as comfy as you'd anticipated?'

Wilford chuckled as Eric blushed and giggled....but unbeknownst to Wilford, his comedic reply wasn't the only thing that had Eric giggling. The reason why he was so restless was because of how one of Wilford's hands was resting on his side, and from time to time it would absently stroke or rub against Eric's skin. Wilford was doing this unconsciously of course, but it made it very difficult for Eric to relax....because he was rather ticklish. Eric had been trying to subtly get Wilford to move or shift his hand elsewhere because the last thing Eric wanted to happen was for Wilford to find out about his sensitivity; as kind as Wilford was, Eric knew he'd tickle the hell out of him. So, Eric fibbed.

'N-No, no n-not at all! U-Uhm, I....I-I'm just a-always restless when I'm t-tired....'

Eric averted his gaze away from Wilford....and now Wilford Warfstache was on high alert. Eric Derekson was hiding something. He donned a curious smile, humming disbelievingly at Eric's reasoning. 

'Well now....that doesn't really sound plausible to me, since I've seen you fall asleep and you're always as still as still can be when you're drowsy.....'

Wilford narrowed his eyes slightly, and Eric gulped when he felt Wilford's embrace get more secure. Oh dear. He always had been the worst liar in the history of worst liars. Eric squirmed, cheeks going a dark, nervous pink as his stuttering became way more apparent.

'I-I-I....u-uh....th-that d-doesn't happen a-a-all the t-time.....'

.....even Eric knew that that was a weak response. Wilford pursed his lips....and decided it was time to bring out the Intimidating Warfstache. He cupped Eric's chin with one of his hands and tilted his head up, so Eric would HAVE to look at him. Wilford's dark, chocolate eyes bore into Eric's light hazel ones; Wilford's voice was low as he replied.

'Eric.....why are you lying to me?'

Oh no oh no oh no there was no way he could get out of this oh jeez Wilford was intimidating oh golly his heart was pounding heck heck heck heck heck heck heck-

'I-I'mnotlying....'

Wilford raised an eyebrow as Eric's sudden, frantic speech. Wilford smiled at his fondly, but also with a hint of loving mischief.

'Eric Derekson if you don't tell me the truth right now then you are staying in this hug for all eternity. I won't even let you out to pee.'

Eric's eyes widened and he blushed even more at how playful Wilford was being with him....and he pursed his lips at how he was such a meanie, he was giving Eric no choice. Well, Eric knew for sure that he wanted to comfortably pee in the future, so he took a deep breath and steeled himself. Maybe he wouldn't act on the information? Maybe he'll just call him cute and get him another time? Eric's mind was filled with soft hopes.....so he stammered.

'.....it'syourhand.....'

Wilford blinked a few times.

'....my hand?'

Wilford queried curiously. Eric nodded, and glanced to where Wilford's right hand still rested and twitched absently on his side; he ended up babbling out his adorable truth.

'YourhandonmysidekeepsticklingmewhichiswhyIcan'tkeepstillbecauseI'mreallyticklish.....'

....well at least he said it in a mostly coherent format. Eric ended up burying his face in Wilford's chest out of embarrassment, letting out a soft whine as he tensed and awaited Wilford's reaction. It took Wilford a few seconds to first realise what Eric had told him.....and a few seconds later.....mischievous Wilford came out to play. The was perfect, precious....and just beautiful in every way, shape and form. Eric Derekson was ticklish....and Wilford Warfstache was going to tickle him. I mean, how could he not? The sweet boy was practically asking for it with his stammers and whines and hiding and tension. Wilford smirked oh so happily.

'.....how strange....I suddenly find that I'm not tired anymore.'

Wilford kept holding him as his resting hand started to skitter over Eric's vulnerable side, and oh how Eric giggled. His smile was instantly huge, and his tongue poked through his teeth as he wiggled in Wilford's tickle trap, trying to find some way to worm his way out of it. Physically AND verbally.

'N-N-Nohoho n-nohoho w-wehe had ahaha l-lohong dahay! Y-Y-You n-neheed r-rehehest!'

Wilford raised an eyebrow, and all he could think about was how adorable a) Eric's smile was, b) Eric's giggly stammers were, and c) his attempts to get out of it were. Wilford chuckled, rolling his eyes as he used his other hand to ruffle Eric's hair fondly; he messed up the floof as he crooned, whilst still tickling Eric's side. 

'Oh no but you see, if I were to take a nap now then it would ruin my perfect sleep schedule! It is IMPERATIVE that I do something energetic to keep my attention so I won't sleep! You get it right?'

Their eyes met, and Eric blushed a dark crimson when Wilford winked slyly....Eric knew he wouldn't be able to convince Wilford to let him go....so he figured he'd just have to do it himself. Despite the tickly sensations, now at his bottom ribs, making him arch and become unfocused....he still managed to spot an opening for escape. When Wilford had ruffled his hair, he'd relinquished his main grip on Eric....so Eric made a break for it. He launched himself off the couch, and out of Wilford's grasp, whilst crying out giddily.

'NOHOPE!'

Eric landed on his front on the carpeted floor, and immediately started crawling away. For a few seconds Wilford was honestly just bemused and shocked that Eric had ACTUALLY escaped him....and then he chastised himself. He was NOT letting his prey get away, he knew he was better than this. Wilford rose, growling as his smirk turned evil.

'You really think you can escape me?'

Eric had gulped at the sinister voice from behind him, still trying to crawl forward....until two hands latched VERY securely around his ankles. There was a moment of stillness and silence, before Eric's giddy squeals and yells filled the room.

'AHHH N-NO LETMEGOLETMEGOLETMEGOHO!'

Eric clawed at the fluffy carpet beneath him as Wilford dragged him by his ankles, slowly but surely capturing. Wilford was smirking and chuckling at Eric's cries and little giggles; apparently his shirt had ridden up, thus exposing his bare tummy to the soft, fluffy carpet....which tickled him very nicely.

'Just accept it....you're aaaaall mine...'

Eric squeaked and whimpered when he felt Wilford sit on his shins, there was no way he could dislodge himself now.

'W-W-Wilfy p-ple-AH! Nohohohoho noho mohORE TIHICKLES!'

Eric burst into hysterical giggles as Wilford scratched behind his knees happily, relishing in how he had Eric and his ticklishness all to himself for as long as he wanted. Wilford's moustached wiggled with glee as Wilford crooned to his victim.

'Yeeees tickles! You've been EVER so naughty and defiant! You need to be taught a lesson!'

Eric shook his head wildly as his face burned, his hands hitting the floor as ticklish shocks jolted all the way up his legs, making him all weak and tingly. This was SO not fair, he had no way to fight back!

'Ihihi'm nahahAHAT NAHahahaughty! I-I-I'm nahahat!'

Eric cried in earnest, reaching the absolute height of flusteredness; fun fact about Eric, any sort of tickly punishment or discipline was his absolute kryptonite of embarrassment. Even someone threatening it would make him shut down into a squeaky ball of begging, poor thing. Wilford noticed of course, and revelled in it.

'Don't go thinking that denial is going to make this any easier for you....you deserve to be punished Eric....'

Wilford sneered as he pinched behind Eric's knees, thus making him shriek and laugh pretty hard as his body jolted in an effort to protect his vulnerable places. An effort that was useless though....so all Eric could do was suffer in mirth, mind racing with giddiness at how Wilford was breaking him so expertly.

'AAHHHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE AHAHAHAHA IHIHI S-S-SAHAHARRY!!'

Eric mouth was open so wide that he probably could have fit a whole burger in his mouth if he'd been so inclined. His laughter was emanating right from him belly and seemed to surge through his body before flying out of his mouth in adorable, high-pitched majesty. Wilford was conscious however of Eric's endurance....or lack of, so he only persisted for around a minute before easing off and turning around; he still straddled Eric's shin....but now faced his up-turned feet instead.

'Hmmm....you don't sound very serious....'

Wilford purred as Eric gasped and caught his breath, thoughts raging in his mind and vying for his attention as he tried to think of the words that would get him out of further tickling; little did he know that words were useless by this point....but little Eric still tried.

'I-I-I-I a-aham p-pleasohgoshWilfyplease p-plehease n-no more p-p-please.....'

Eric trailed off in his flushed, stammery state as he subconsciously nuzzled the carpet, seeking any form of warmth and protection that he could find....unfortunately, he would have to make do with the carpet's comfort for a little while longer.

'I don't think you understand the gravity of your actions Eric Derekson....'

Wilford's voice was soft, but wonderfully chill inducing; it made Eric tense whilst Wilford started slowly stripping him of his socks.

'First....you withheld important information from me, basically lying right to my face....'

Eric whimpered as cool air started hitting his heels, and his feet scrunched reflexively as Wilford continued....an evil grin spreading across his face.

'Then, when I tried to gain justice for your lying....you try to escape me and the consequences that you deserve....do you think you are ABOVE consequences Eric?'

Eric was partly in shock....he never knew that such combinations of words could make him whimper and whine uncontrollably....he couldn't stop himself. The nervous, embarrassed noises were leaving him without his control, like Wilford's voice was magically charming them from him. Eric shook his head hugely at Wilford's query, biting his bottom lip as he felt his socks being taken off completely.

'N-No! I-I d-d-don't think I'm a-above them I-Ihi d-don't!'

Eric ended up letting out a nervous giggle when Wilford's fingertips tapped at his soles; this then gave Wilford the excuse to sigh and growl with intimidating disapproval.

'At yet you seem to see this situation as a laughing matter....I'll make you regret that.'

Now....I feel like everybody has TWO tickle spots that break them. One that sends them into weeping hysteria and wild struggles that drives them towards near insanity....and one that just saps away their strength and sends them into a state of vulnerable soft noises and weakness. For Eric, his feet were the latter. As soon as Wilford's fingertips fluttered up and down his soles, he felt himself shudder and lose all his strength almost straight away.

'N-N-N-N-....a-ah...n-n-.....plehehea-....nahahat f-f-fehehee-.....'

Eric whimpered incoherently, his nerves encased by chills as Wilford's chuckles seemed to just echo around him.

'Poor little Eric....so weak and ticklish on your poor, poor feet. I'm barely touching them....and yet you can't even find the strength to tug....your body is just letting me tickle and tickle and tickle....'

Wilford was utterly enamoured at how Eric was reacting, I mean he knew that melty spots were a thing but this just took it to a whole other plain of levels. Wilford particularly noticed that Eric's whimpers were the loudest whenever the balls of his feet were teased and traced, so he did that for a good while, which Eric of course appreciated.

'P-P-P-Pleheheeaasseee ohohoho n-nuhuhuhh ahahaha W-W-W-W-ihihiiii-....'

Eric could do nothing except giggle and whine and gasp his tender little heart out. Other than the occasional twitches and clenching of his fists, Eric's form was motionless. Eric's mind however, was hysterical. He was overcome with flusteredness, particularly since he was also being embarrassed by the sounds of his own mirth leaving his lips; as Eric heard the noises he made, it just added to his cycle of flusteredness. Eric's face kept screwing up as he nibbled on his bottom lip, stuck just trying to endure it all.

'God....I could keep ya here forever.....'

Eric let out a louder gasp at Wilford's words, and weakly shook his head as he tried to reply.

'N-Nohohohoooo.....'

At Eric's whine, Wilford snuck a peek at him whilst letting out a series of soft giggles, Eric was just so cute in his eyes that he just couldn't help but feel so happy when he tickled him. Wilford crooned to him as his let his index fingers slowly scratch up and down Eric's inner arches.

'But you're just so fun to tickle....you're so smiley and blushy, like a sensitive little angel....'

Eric had squeaked when Wilford targeted his arches....and now he REALLY broke down. Through his whimpers he started letting out giggly sobs and sniffles, Wilford had well and truly found Eric's limit now.

'Plehe-hic-eheeease....nonomorenomoren-n-nomohooore....'

When Eric's soft, hiccupping sobs started, Wilford realised that it was time for him to stop. He slid off of Eric's shins and crawled over to where Eric's face was hidden in the carpet, and his brows were furrowed as he tried to gauge whether he was okay. He could see that Eric was breathing alright and that his lips were quirked into a soft smile, so Wilford murmured.

'Hey....bud are yo-WOAH!'

Eric.....had tackled him with a hug. That was certainly NOT what he'd been expecting, but when Wilford felt Eric's tight, affectionate embrace, he didn't hesitate to hug him back with a chuckle.

'Wehell sohomeone got their energy back fast!'

Eric whined into Wilford's chest, before shifting and looking up at Wilford from behind his round glasses, eyes still watery from the onslaught. Wilford was surprised at how...Eric seemed to be gazing at him with some form of awe? It wasn't until Eric whispered breathily that Wilford understood his thoughts.

'N-N-No-one sh-should b-be....that g-good at t-t-....t-tickling....'

Wilford's bemused smile soon stretched into a very satisfied and prideful smirk, especially when Eric bashfully bowed his head. Soon Wilford tilted Eric's chin up, so he could see his adorable embarrassed face as he crooned in response.

'Well in that case, no-one should be that adorable!'

Wilford snickered when Eric spluttered and smiled, before squeaking as he was picked up, because of course Wilford was now going to insist on an extended period of cuddling. They may have been a little drowsy before, but they were truly sleepy now...and I think that's brilliant. The ones you can get drowsy and warm with are just....the best.

WOOOOOOP FRICKIN DONE I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOO LUV YOUS XX

#markiplier #markiplier egos #wilford #wilford warfstache #eric #eric derekson #cute #platonic #sfw #adorable #ego fanfic #ego fic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luv these boisss

[lost-inhibitions]

Some headcanons I just wanted to write down

Dark is an emotional vampire. He saps his victim’s life force and emotional stability. Depending on how the victim reacts they could either slip into a depression or lose their ability to regulate emotions.

If Dark feeds on a person for long enough he can read their mind, but only if he continues contact.

Dark’s eyes are pitch black. He has no colour in his irises mostly because they’re just pupils. Meaning he can see in the dark and light. So, he can have pure black eyes or nearly white.  

He heals incredibly slow. It takes double the amount of time for him to heal than It does a normal person. This makes him incredibly cautious to start anyfight or confrontation.

He can switch bodies but then he would have to murder someone and therefore taint a living space again so he can trap the other person’s soul.

The third entity inhabiting Dark’s mind is a cosmic deity like being from a higher plane of consciousness. It is what feeds his desire to control and eat. It is also what grants his reality breaking powers. Think of him as like…part Cthulhu.

Speaking of mind entities, Damien and Celine don’t actually have sperate consciousness.  None of them. They’re a mess of thoughts that have been stewing together long enough that it’s hard to truly separate them. However, one can spot the influences each being has. The entity is more controlling and manipulative. Celine is no nonsense, quick witted and rather cautious. She also is a fighter and will stand up for what she thinks it right, but will strive for peace. Her anger is quiet and dangerous.  Damien is charming, smooth talking, a bit of a sap, he likes to use more civil methods to solve arguments compared to Celine’s more aggressive confrontations. His anger is explosive loud and brash.

Dark sometimes refers to himself as we/us/ instead of me/I

Dark likes textures.

He also likes to walk around naked

When annoyed or irritated, he twitches. Mostly in his hands.

He cracks his neck to relive himself of stress or to calm himself down. It rarely works.

Dark isn’t one for sex. He finds no real pleasure in it. He more so uses it to control other people

His relationship with Wilford is strange. Wilford is the one person who can presisently keep Dark engaged.

Dark’s presence also keeps Wilford from going too wild. Most of the time...

However Dark can cause psychotic breaks in Wilford as some of Dark’s actions and manners of speech are too familar for Wilford to handle

Dark does actually care for Wilford in a strange way. I have the headcanon that Damien did have a crush on William but never voiced for fear of ruining his own life. Then we have Celine who was married to the man and legimently loves William. The problem comes with the Comsic Entity who cant feel any attachment

This makes Dark very intersted in Wilford and he likes to....kinda torture him. He likes to cause those breaks and sooth them back down. He likes to make Wilford question things. Question himself

Dark can’t drink booze! So he drinks carbonated juices and calls it wine/champagne

Dark is also not safe from psychotic breaks. If too stressed, angry, or low on energy he will begin to break down and turn into a savage rampaging entity. He will talk to voices no one can hear. But are they other comsic entities or are they only in his head? Maybe only Wilford knows

Dark likes to cook, but wow is he lazy. He rather just get take out.

Dark can also switch between presenting as Celine or as Damien. He prefers Damien’s form as it’s easier to get things purely because of sexism.

Also just noticed that Damien and Celine’s names are puns. Damien means damned or demon and Celine means heaven or sky. Which is funny bc Damien ya know mayor trying to inspire good then we have Celine fiddling with dark magic and forbidden secrets

I’m going to leave it off here for mow because I can ramble FOREVER when it comes to Dark. He’s such an intersting character

#darkiplier #markiplier #markiplier egos #darkimoo #wkm mayor #wkm seer #who killed markiplier #long post #lostmodhc

[greaserink]

Paint the Town Red Pt. 1

Wilford Warfstache x FlapperReader

(Female pronouns)

((Sorry if this is messy, this is my first story. Feedback would be loved.))

Y/N smiled to themself. You understood that getting enough sleep is what you needed after working up a sweat whilst busy with business today, so you have finally found yourself in bed slowly going to sleep. Once your head hit the pillow however, there came a ringing sound from down the hall.

Reluctantly, y/n had to peel their body from the covers and shamble down the hall only to raise the phone to your ear and groggily address whoever was calling at this time of the night whenever it may be.

“Y/N, get over here, now. I need your help. I…. I can’t speak just get over here ri-”

There came a clash in the background, causing your heart to jump into your throat then back down. You called out but no one answered. Nothing could quell your anxiety now, so you acted on a spur and ran get to Mark’s house, the voice that was one the end of the phone which seemed to be in obvious distress.

 Y/N ran out of their house and into their car, scratching the sides of the keyhole with the key not being able to calm down. You knew you couldn’t leave him alone, there was something in his voice that just didn’t seem like him, and whenever you were around Mark never have you ever heard him this distressed.

--------------

 Your knuckles scraped on Mark’s front door, rapidly hitting it in a sporadic fashion. Nothing. Nothing answered, so you tried again but this time you did it with the end of your bat from the side of the door, hiding from view of anyone who would answer it. You felt a rush of adrenaline run through you which forced you to take a steady breath, it seemed to die in your throat though; this time someone pulled the door open and you took your swing, but your bat stopped in mid-flight.

“Dear GOD, what-  Y/N??” Mark asked, obviously alarmed at your closeness with the bat.

“Mark? Are you okay? Are you hurt? I came here as quick as I could to see what was the matter, you sounded like someone was holding a gun to your head! Is everything okay-”

“Yeah everything's fine, well, no one is hurt but I need you to come here.”

He grabbed your shoulder and pulled you inside from the porch while his other hand grabbed your bat out of your hand and sat it aside knowing based off of your nerves before everyone around you would be in mortal danger. You felt his large hand that was on the small of your back lead you further into his house; with every step you noticed how disheveled the house looked. Shards of broken plates on the floor, clutter on every piece of furniture, a scorched rug now on the kitchen counter. There was so much noise in front of your eyes with it being so cluttered, it was hard to keep your eyes looking at one place.

“I need your help, don’t ask questions because I don’t have answers either. What I supposedly thought was a character that I made up is now currently in my living room.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting to hear.

“I… what? How, first of all. You aren’t making any sense. How could characters that I know YOU created can physically be in your house, your living room of all things.”

“I told you not to ask, I don’t know what is happening either. I thought about calling the cops, but I scrapped that idea when he didn’t like that concept, then that was when mayhem ensued. You remember them, right, the ‘egos’? He even held a gun to my head. I have been trying so goddamn hard to just survive. Then that was when I tried calling someone, that is you by the way, and…. and that didn’t turn out well as you probably heard,”

You definitely couldn’t disagree there.

“Well are you hurt?”

“No, thank God. I talked them into staying in the living room as I got you here.”

“What do you expect me to do? Talk him into calming down? I am not the person who is qualified to even talk to a person who doesn’t exist..?” your voice trailed off at the end as you questioned what you were even saying.

Mark seemed to get what you are trying to say and stopped you in the middle of the hall.

“There is a reason as to why I called you here rather than Tyler or Kathryn-”

“And tell me why I am the supposed ‘chosen one’?”

“I don’t even know if this is going to even work, I just thought that you would be the best person for the job based off of his… god help us… ‘eccentric’ personality. You seem to have a grasp on many topics he likes.”

“THAT’S what makes me qualified? Mark, you can’t be serious. Just call the police! This has to be a sick joke.”

Mark shook his head as if though he already knew these things and then looked you up and down.

“Look, please, do this for me. You don’t think I am not a second off from calling the cops? He isn’t someone you can easily call the cops on. He’ll probably mess with the wires or something.”

Mark looked into your eyes as he held you in place, trying to show that he was his most serious. God, you already know you won’t win this fight. You gave out an exasperated sigh and nodded your head. This definitely sounds like a situation where you are sending yourself to your doom. Mark lit up for a second before furrowing his brow and walking you towards the living room.

“Now, if he tries to pull anything on you, call me. Okay? Don’t give it a second thought, just call me.”

“Alright, alright. Call you. Got it. Not the cops because heaven forb-”

You paused right in the middle of your sentence once you finally made your way towards the living room. In the middle of it with his back towards you was a pink suspender cladded man, tinkering with a small pocket watch only for it to bust right open and discontinue ticking. You noticed his air of what one can only be defined as “old sophistication”, this in return caused you to smile to yourself because you yourself strive for it. He glanced around as he inserted the pocket watch back into his pocket, almost as if though nervous about someone seeing him breaking it. That is when his eyes fixated right to yours; his neat wax lathered pink moustache lifted up as he smiled courteously towards you.

“My my! Mark, if I had known you were going to have company I would have spiffied up a little. What even is ruder is that you still haven’t introduced me yet to this absolutely charming young woman we have in our presence.” Wilford winked into your direction and smirked, only for you to glance away and smile bashfully.

Boy, he sure definately had a strange accent.

To this, Mark only took a deep breath in and looked to the side as if though he was trying to pull himself back together.

“Y/N, this is Wilford Warfstache. Wilford, this is my friend Y/N. She came in to stop by for a moment but it seems they arrived at a rather inconvenient time,” he said, trying his best to give Wilford the impression that he didn’t specifically ask you to come here and it was all just a coincidence.

Wilford’s eye lit up as he bowed his head in your direction.

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to ‘intrude’ on your guy’s party together! Perhaps your guy’s duo can be a trio?”

“Well, they only came to stop by, she won’t be here long. Then us two will have nothing but each other’s company.” Mark feigned a smile to Wilford which Wilford in return scrunched up his nose.

“Although, heh, I do loooove your company, dear Mark, perhaps I can escort Y/N back to her place once she is, uh, finished with her work here?”

 You jumped slightly when you glanced from Mark to where Wilford once was, just only to find Wilford linking arms with you already and leaning close as he smiled goofily. You couldn’t help but giggle at the comical way Wil held himself always.

“I don’t know, Wilford. She wasn’t expecting the whole situation at all.” Mark looked down at you and nodded his head.

“It is awfully late, perhaps having someone join me will keep me safe? As young as I am, a man such as you could easily protect me from anything that goes bump in the night.” you said, noting his ego starting to get the best of him.

“Well it is my sworn duty as a man to help a lady when it is needed. Now, perhaps we can head off and get you back home? It is nearing six already.”

“SIX?!”

You scrunched up your face and glanced at Mark then back to Wilford, not understanding how it came to be this time.

“I called you a little later after five.” Mark said.

You didn’t realise that you had stayed up later because of your work only for you to get to bed around five and have to get up then too.

“I suppose one can lose track of time if you do what you love doing.”

“And what, darling, is it that kept you so late from stopping you getting your beauty sleep?”

You glanced over to Wilford and looked away quickly when you noticed he was directly looking at you. You had started to get red in the cheeks from embarrassment.

“Er, well, I am zealous for anything and everything that has to do with the ‘Roaring 20’s’, I have studied their way of living back then and have come to actually implement it into my life.”

With each and every single word you spoke, Wilford’s eyes would light up more and more. He suddenly turned his whole body towards you and gazed at you with pure amazement.

“Really? Oh how splendid! I myself have been known to dabble in such a lifestyle as well; the dancing, parties, fun and laughter, and all that jazz. Oh, jazz! I have never been able to put my finger quite on it but I have involuntarily leaned towards such a lifestyle. Especially with jazz. You can’t go wrong with jazz when it comes to rocking the floor with the grandest of dance moves.”

You lit up just as bright as him, sharing his same excitement, finally finding a person who was a fan of living the high life and dancing the night away. You yourself, since you were a kid, found great pleasure in such things. To think, a man such as he would find it interesting too. Him of all egos. But you have hidden it away from most, most except your closest friends such as Mark.

That’s why he wanted me to come.

Wilford linked arms with you once again and pulled you close, finding great happiness with pulling you along from the side of Mark and out the door. You knew you couldn’t put up an argument, nor did you really want to, but you were only given enough time to wave goodbye to Mark as you two now made your way to explore and get to know one another. Mark grinned and waved, finally rid of the man, but as soon as he looked around his whole air changed.

Now all he had to do was pick up this mess. By himself.

#wilford warfstache #wilford warfstache x reader #flapper #1920s #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #reader insert

[imababblekat]

Imagine Being Dark's Form of Hope

(S/N):

slight angst?

~

The beginning of your relationship with Dark was a rough one. Spiteful words went back and forth between you both. After meeting you through your flirty co-worker Wilford, Dark had felt something terrifying with in him. You became his newest target of manipulation, but having a sharp mind you weren't going to take any of his bull. It made him mad but he kept pushing forward, unsure of why for the longest time. As for you, you still remained, putting up with his crap every day at work and eventually even outside of it. You wanted to just give up and leave, but something kept telling you to stay as well. It took a near life ending experience for the both of you to realize that there was most definitely something with deeper meaning knotting within your intertwined strings of fate.

 It had started off when you and Dark had a nasty argument at the company Christmas party. Fed up, you ignored that inner voice shouting at you to stay, and stomped off to make your way home. Unfortunately, you had been jumped walking past an alley, grabbed and forced against the wall with a knife at your throat. You didn't know who this man was, but by his extraordinary pale skin, body glitching in and out of existence, and the black colored eyes, you knew he wasn't human. Before the assailant could slice your jugular wide open, he had been ripped off of you and flung against a dumpster. From the way the atmosphere had tightened in pressure, and the how everything had grown shadowy around you, you knew your savior was Dark. He stood in front of you, peeked with rage, and in as calm as a voice he could muster with his powers spiking, he told you to run home. Few hours later, and you were still sitting on your bed shaking. Eventually Dark had popped up beside your desk, but while you called out his name with relief, he suddenly collapsed. Apparently he couldn't get away un-scaved and you worked fast to patch his wound. During that duration of close contact, thoughts and realizations ran through your minds. For you, it was that Dark wasn't as cruel as he made himself to be; towards you it was a shield to prevent himself from the fear of having something so nice it couldn't possibly be real. For Dark, it was realizing how much you actually meant to him and just how hard he had really fallen for you.

Since that night, the bond shared by you both had grown much stronger. It had all come down to you both feeling more than strong friendship. This didn't go unnoticed by others, and it filled one man with much jealousy. Wilford saw how you both loved one another so much but wouldn't say a thing, and it made him sick. There was a reason he flirted with you on the daily, and it was because he wanted you. It had been so long since he wanted something so dearly that didn't stem from his cravings of violence. Now though, especially seeing you with him of all people, Wilford felt himself twitch with envy and madness. In fact, it's what lead you to where you were now; rushing out of the companies elevator and straight for the roof.

Slamming open the heavy metal door, you were met by heavy rain pounding against your frame. You shouldn't be up here, especially during this storm, but mostly because of the thundering claps of demonic powers and sharp booms of flying bullets. Shielding your eyes from the rain with your hand, you peered over to the farthest part of the roof. You felt your heart drop, seeing Dark on the floor and bleeding out, Wilford standing over him a mess himself but triumphant none the less. His trusty golden gun was aimed down at Dark's forehead, ready to yet take another victim. Even in the face of death, your blackened entity stilled held a strong glare.

"Say Darky, how about you send lil o' (y,n) and I a postcard from hell will ya?", Wilford slurred as his finger closed around the trigger.

"NO!!!", you screamed out, pushed forward by adrenaline.

Before you or Wil’ could even realize what was happening, your body had slammed against his, sending the other ego over the slippery edge. You didn't bother to look over and see the result of the violent act you had just done, too occupied by the main reason you were here. Dropping down to your knees, you reach over and flipped Dark onto his back, resting his head in your lap. Ignoring the red stain upon your hand from touching his side, you pulled open his tattered coat and shook at the damage.

"I-I can fix this!", you stuttered out, reaching to take off your sweater and use it to apply pressure.

Before you even got it above your chest, a calloused hand had reach out and took hold of your wrist. You peered down with watered eyes to see Dark staring up at you; his eyes no longer a harsh shade but dull and grayer than his own skin. Your mouth opened to speak, but stopped when his large palm reached out weakly to rest against your cheek. Wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, a small smile graced his lips, something rarely seen but very much genuine.

"Tears never did suite you, belle. . .", his coarse voice mumbled out, nearly silenced by the still falling rain.

You choked on a sob at hearing the nickname, and what his words meant. It was an apology. An apology for all those times he tormented you to try and push back his feelings. Slowly, Dark's hand slid from your face and rested over his tortured body. Seeing his eyes close, your heart picked up and you felt cold.

"Dark?", you cried out with a cracked voice.

Upon no answer, you began to be racked by tears and wails. You leaned over, holding him close and letting yourself mourn over the one person who had managed to capture your heart. His body had always been cold, but this, this was not the same cold form you had once danced with. You cried and cried, remembering all the memories shared between you both, not noticing the clouds parting over head and the rain becoming less heavy. The sudden feeling of warmth had made your cries calm as you looked up at a blinding white light. It was certainly in the form of a man, one with wings, but because of the brightness it radiated, you could not make out fine details. When the stranger started to speak, it reminded you of a voice you'd no longer hear, just smoother and more light.

"When I had him cursed, I did not think there would be any hope for him.", the man spoke slightly appalled, then suddenly smiling down at you,"I guess it just came in a different form."

"Who. . .who are you?", you sniffled while trying to blink against the brightness.

He only smiled more, reaching down and placing his hand over Darks chest. There was a quick burst of light, and when it finished the being was gone. You stared up at the clearing sky, the mans voice hovering all around you.

"Someone with too light of a heart."

(E,c)'s eyes continued to stare above, as though looking for heaven, when something stirring in arms had quickly distracted them. Looking down you gasped seeing Dark stir, his face scrunching up before his lids slowly opened. He looked around confused, before focusing in on you. Your face, although tear stained, was by far the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With rosey cheeks, gorgeous lips, and stunning, wide eyes, you further confirmed the entities feelings for you.

Dark furrowed his brows in a confused manner,"Correct me if I'm wrong, but angels aren't supposed to be in Hell right?"

You stared down at him for a second more, feeling something giddy start to bubble up from with in. You laughed out lightly in exhaustion, before reaching forward and hugging him tightly, feeling his strong arms wrap around you as well. Pulling back slightly, you rested your hand against his jaw line, connecting lips in a long, overdue, passionate kiss.

~xXx~

#darkiplier x reader #reader x darkiplier #darkiplier imagine #Darkiplier #ego imagines #imagine #reader imagine #drabble #reader insert #request #requested #beauty and the beast au #slight angst #@dragonsgirl #imababblekat's writing

[themidgardiansongstress]

Who Killed Markiplier-Theory

Theory 1-WKM is an origin story for both Darkiplier and Wilford Warfstache. @markiplier​

Because I am a fan of longer, more drawn out theories, I wanted to do a quick write up. The most popular theory now is that this is actually an origin story for Wilford and Darkiplier.

It makes the most sense-after all, Occam’s razor dictates it as the simplest explanation.

First, we have Damien himself. Damien, as a name means ‘tame’ or ‘one who subdues’. Celine, meanwhile, comes from the latin for sky, or heaven. It is also sounds like Selene, for the goddess of the moon.

Celine is an interesting character, seeing as how this is the first time that we’ve seen her introduced into the Markiplier mythos. The moon has both a light and a dark side-a heavan and a hell, good and evil, markiplier and darkiplier.

So, why did Damien want to create Darkiplier? It’s likely that he never actually intended to create him.

You see, after ‘we’ are shot by the Colonel-we hear an echoing voice over ‘it was an accident.’ Even though the Colonel could be referring to our shooting, it’s likely that he is also referring to when he originally killed Markiplier.

SO to recap the events of the night, now that we have some of the pieces in place.

Damien enlisted Celine’s help in order to somehow get him out of his legal troubles. Markiplier invites them all to his manor in order to celebrate-something, but what? This is going to be an entirely theoretical guess-perhaps Markiplier celebrating his immortality?

Think about it-the markiplier presented in the episodes is haughty, grandly postulating about his own death-life is for the living. It’s likely that Markiplier was going to use the night of debauchery and drinking to have one last hurrah before he ‘died’ and moved onto immortality.

But, then Wilford kills him during the ceremony. Again, this is just theory. But Wilford kills markiplier. Okay.

THen, celine makes her appearance, enlisting our help in communing with Markiplier. Why would she choose us? A total stranger, what reason does she have to trust us?

She and Damien were already planning on using us to summon darkiplier-Celine can see the future, so she likely already knew that we were going to be shot by the Colonel.

Then, we are taken out of the seance-we go outside and talk to George, and we get pulled back into the house. Celine and Damien try to speak to Mark, but instead, Mark has turned into something...darker. Something more sinister, and this evil, vengeful spirit in Mark goes into Celine, possessing her and possibly rupturing Damien’s soul in the process as well. .

After the Colonel shoots us, we fall unconscious-but we’re not quite dead. Celine and Damien appear to us in the two colors most associated with Darkiplier-Celine in red (passion, lust, anger-remember, she was possessed by darkiplier before dying) and Damien in blue (trustworthiness-afterall, politicians wear blue to appear more trustworthy-and Damien is the mayor.)

Then, the most conclusive piece of evidence Celine and Damien team up to create Darkiplier-they tell us to trust Celine, they tell us to let Damien in. They tell us we have a choice, but of course, we don’t.

I should also note that Celine and Damien both exhibit qualities that later appear in Darkiplier-Celine’s magic and connection to unreality, and Damien’s social manipulation and suaveness.

Then we wake up. The Colonel sees us, and expresses sincere disbelief at seeing us alive. Death means nothing to him now-he watched you ‘die’, butyou came back. he killed mark, but his body was gone. Death means nothing to Colonel anymore, he sees it as a game now. He runs off, laughing to himself about what a ‘joke’ this all is. He runs off to look for Celine, for Damien. But he won’t find them, or his sanity.

Then there’s us. We pick up Damien’s cane, and look in the mirror. We are Darkiplier. We crack our neck, fitting into our new body. But it’s not ours, anymore. Darkiplier pushes us out, forces us into the mirror. He walks away, and our gaze doesn’t follow him.

This doesn’t answer everything-The Jims, why the Chef has cameras set up in the house, what Mark was truly celebrating, but I hope my rambling helped answer something.

#who killed markiplier

[reverseblackholeofwords]

Tangled

(Sorry! I meant to have this out sooner, but these Disney AU’s take a lot of time! It’s hard condensing an entire movie into something that’s readable. Also there’s the added time of me watching the movie *for research!* and singing along with all the songs… This idea is so cute that I had to make it perfect, though. So here it is!)

This… is the story of how I died… But don’t worry! It’s actually a very fun story, and it isn’t mine…

Once upon a time, a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens, and from this small drop of sun grew a magic, golden flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and the injured. Nearby a kingdom grew, and the King and Queen were about to have a baby. But the queen grew sick, very sick. So the entire kingdom went out, in search of the magical flower. There was an evil warlock, Father Gothel, who horded the flower’s magic to keep himself young and beautiful for centuries, and all he had to do was sing it a special song.

But the flower was taken from him and was used to heal the ailing queen.

A baby was born, a beautiful princess with golden hair. To celebrate her birth, the King and Queen launched a flying lantern into the sky, naming her Princess Amy. But in the night, Father Gothel came and stole the baby away, knowing that the healing ability of the flower had transferred to her golden hair. Gothel raised the child as his own in a high tower hidden in the forest, and she grew to be a beautiful young woman of many talents...

When Amy turns eighteen, she asks if Gothel will take her to see the lanterns that appear every year on her birthday. But Gothel had found his new magic flower, and this time, he was determined to keep it hidden. He refuses (and refuses quite dramatically with a full musical number and choreography), but in return, he decides that he would get Amy her favorite color of paint for her birthday and leaves for the long journey.

“I love you very much, dear.” “I love you more.” “I love you most.”

Meanwhile, somewhere in the kingdom, a vain thief called Flynn Rider steals the princess’s crown. Escaping with the help of the Stabbington Brothers, Tyler and Ethan, Flynn disappears into the forest where he finds Amy’s tower. Amy, terrified of the intruder, gives a swift blow to the head with a frying pan, and Flynn hits the floor.

When he awakes, Flynn finds himself tied to a chair and his satchel containing the precious crown missing. He makes a deal with Amy to take her to see the lanterns if she will then return his satchel. The two set out together, Amy ecstatic to see the world and Flynn begrudgingly following along behind her. Thinking that he’ll scare Amy into turning back, Flynn takes her to the Snuggly Egos, a pub run by a rough and tough man named Ed Edgar.

Instead of being scared by the ruffians and thugs who call themselves “Egos”, (Wilford would definitely be the little drunk guy with the cupid wings; amiright?) Amy befriends them all, even the rather intimidating Google, and they help her and Flynn to escape when the royal guard is hot on their tail. Gothel, who soon realizes that Amy has run away from home, enlists the help of Tyler and Ethan to get her back. Pursued by the royal guard and the Stabbington Brothers, Flynn and Amy get stuck inside a small cave as a flood of water slowly encroaches.

“My name isn’t really Flynn Rider,” the thief confides in Amy, “it’s Mark Fischbach. Someone might as well know.”

“I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” Amy replies, and suddenly the answer becomes clear! They escape the cave just in time and wash up on the shore of a small river outside where Amy heals Mark’s injured hand and the two begin to feel the stirrings of something more between them.

As Mark is gathering firewood, however, Gothel, already fading, approaches Amy with the satchel and dares her to give it to Mark and see whether or not he will stay with her. At first, Amy refuses, hiding the satchel along the way. Then, when the two of them arrive in Corona, Amy learns to trust the beguiling thief, and as they await the lanterns’ release, Amy confides in him that she fears what will happen after her dream of seeing the lanterns finally comes true.

“You get to go find a new dream.”

Amy returns to satchel to Mark as the lanterns’ glow envelopes them in rosy light, and she admits it to herself—she’s in love with the savvy thief who’s stolen her heart. Mark, however, sees Tyler and Ethan standing onshore, waiting for him. He quickly decides that he will give them the crown, give up thievery, and stay with Amy. When he tries to return the crown, however, the brothers tie him to a boat headed for the castle and try to take Amy, their real prize.

Gothel saves Amy at the last moment, and together they return to the tower in the woods. But Amy, always a clever young woman, finally pieces together the puzzle and realizes that she is the missing princess of Corona. When she tries to escape, Gothel binds her in chains, informing her that her beloved thief is soon going to hang for his crimes.

The Egos, however, help Mark escape the palace, and he rushes to Amy’s tower only to be attacked and stabbed by Father Gothel. Amy makes a deal with her captor. If he will let her heal Mark, she will stay with him, but before she can heal him, Mark cuts Amy’s hair, breaking the magic spell. Father Gothel, his shell cracking and splintering in oblivion, fades into dust.

“You were my new dream,” Mark tells Amy with his dying breath. “And you were mine,” she replies, a single tear rolling down her cheek. But with the last of her magic, the tear heals Mark. Together with Mark, Amy returns to the palace and to the arms of her real, loving parents.

And they all lived happily ever after…

(Guys, friends, buddies, pals, cuties, if anyone *hint, hint* were to ever want to *wink, wink* create art for one of my stories *very obvious neon sign blinking* this should be the one *pulls cord and mounds of glitter falls from the ceiling*. Not that I would ever directly ask for something like that… But this is definitely my favorite Disney AU.)

#disney au #markiplier #planet peebles #amynelson #darkiplier #markiplier egos #tangled

[musingsofdreah]

As I am only aware of the stereotypes surrounding the Mormons I decided to create a research outline for myself and follow it. I inquired with former chums of mine at the university and have come up with this adequate report.

What/Who are the Mormons?

This reform religion was established in 1830 as it truly broke free from the other already established reformation religions of its time. Mormons, also known as Christ of Jesus Latter-day Saints, believe that all doctrines were restored by the prophet Joseph Smith. Joseph Smith was a man who received a revelation from God through an angel and received inscribed gold plates which today are known as the book of Mormons. These simple plates tell the story of the people of America and serve as the basis of the Mormon faith. It is estimated that in 2017 there will be 13.5 million Mormons worldwide, although I am unsure how my former classmate believes such a ridiculously high number shall arise out of this faith.

Who is Joseph Smith and why is he important to the Mormons?

Born on December 23, 1805, Joseph Smith went on to become the founder of the Mormon Church. When he was still a teenager, he believed that he received a revelation from God whilst playing in the woods. This revelation came in the form of inscribed golden plates and a message from an angel. Eventually, Smith published the golden plates, which were now called the “Book of Mormons”. This act attracted followers to him from far and wide, in an attempt to increase the new membership Smith sent missionaries all across America to spread the good news. However, not all Christians were happy with this new message and the latter day saints were persecuted. A scholar predicts that Joseph Smith will be dead before 1844 due to the conflicting nature of his religion towards other longstanding beliefs.

Who is Brigham Young and why is he important to the Mormons?

Brigham Young was the successor to Joseph Smith. After the death of his predecessor, Young was well aware of the risks towards their living and staying in the heart of the United States. Thus he led the Mormons from New York to Utah, their new home. In Utah, they established Salt Lake City which Young called the “Kingdom of Heaven on Earth.”

What are some of the rules of the Mormon community?

Rewriting the Book of Mormon into modern English is discouraged within the Church.

All forms of gambling

Participating in the act of euthanasia is deemed a violation of God’s commandments within the Mormon Church.

It is the Mormon belief that they hold the responsibility of maintaining the physical bodies that God has granted them and so they normally abstain from tobacco and alcohol

What is a plural marriage? Are they legal in Canada?

A plural marriage or a polygamous marriage is a marriage in which one man has multiple spouses with which to procreate. Brigham Young himself had a mere 55 wives. However, everything was turned around in 1890 when Wilford Woodruff (the fourth president of the Latter-day Saints) issued a manifesto saying that polygamy was illegal. It wasn’t until 1904 when his successor reversed the law and made excommunication the penalty for not having multiple wives. 

Under Section 293 of the Criminal Code of Canada, the act of polygamy is deemed an offense that is punishable by law. Violators can face a maximum prison sentence of five years. This, too, extends to those who assists in the celebration, union or participation of polygamy. However, many in these relationships easily evade the law by marrying one wife and still living as a family unit.

John Ferrier agreed to follow the Mormon rules when he was saved and he did, but in the chapter “John Ferrier Talks with the Prophet”, now disagrees with their wishes for Lucy. What are your thoughts about his reversal? Is he justified? Is a sacred promise exactly that?

One of the main practices of the Mormons is evangelization, and they would have left the two to die in the desert if they had truly opposed their conversion. John Ferrier accepted the conversion because it was not only his life that depended on it but also that of the young newly orphaned Lucy. However, most God’s want willingly followers and so the practice of enforcing fear does not make sense. John Ferrier was in an impossible situation and the promise was made under duress. He never truly believed in the polygamous practices of the Mormons as he never took wives for himself and as such would never force a similar marriage on his child. It is completely justifiable for John to react in such a way to the Mormons’ wishes. In the novel’s portrayal of Mormons, they are always willing, if not eager, to persecute and kill anyone who does not accept the Mormon faith.

Lucy is nicknamed the “Flower of Utah”; however that nickname leads to trouble for her. Explain. What is Lucy’s dilemma? How do you feel about her situation?

By being labeled as the “Flower of Utah” Lucy is acknowledged not only for her father's wealth and what she stands to inherit but also for her extreme beauty. In the mormon society, the men look at her hungrily as a wife they could have and show of to those envious of the procurer's procurement of the best wife. Because of this, Lucy is a high profile character as all the men near Salt Lake City would kill to marry her. (Which some of them actually did) Because of her allure, all the male eyes of the community are on her as she grows older and still remains unmarried. As soon as the powers that be realize she is affiliated with Jefferson Hope a non-mormon, they give the family an ultimatum. Her father, John, refuses his daughter be part of a harem angering the Mormon community. Their home becomes plagued with threats and soon enough, they flee for their lives in a mad dash for Nevada with Jefferson Hope. Lucy died tragically. As a young woman, she lived with such a little taste of the world around her. It was devastating to read of her death as she had experienced nothing and had so much to live for. Nobody deserves a marriage to a man they don’t love and a child should never witness the death of their parents.

There are no women in this story, other than Lucy. How does her fate suggest how women are probably treated in the community (in the story)? Doyle alludes to possible kidnappings of other women outside of the community in order to make them Mormon wives. How does Doyle portray the Mormon community? (Use support from the book)

Doyle’s depiction of Mormonism portrays the religion in a less than favorable light. Both Lucy and John Ferrier are coerced to comply with the sacred laws of the faith or face persecution. Rather than giving Lucy the freedom to marry as she chooses, the elders of the Mormon community force her to choose from two of their sons, who already have multiple wives. She is treated as property to be dealt with. Any word of opposition against such practices results in disappearances or in other words, death by the hands of the Avenging Angels. They are a group of Mormon men who terrorize those who threaten their way of life within the city. In fact, it is by these men that John’s life is taken. Doyle’s depiction of the Mormons suggests that the faith itself was not been seen in a friendly manner during the Victorian period. With time, however, the Mormons have changed and now, are clearly misrepresented. To the modern-day Church of the Latter-day Saints, this novel is not one that truly reflects their values and insight.

Sources:

Heyward, Jonathan. “Canada’s polygamy legislation.” CBCnews. CBC/Radio-Canada, 23 Nov. 2011. Web. May 2017.<http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/canada-s-polygamy-legislation-1.856477>.

Garraty, John A., and Eric Foner. “Brigham Young.” History. A&E Television Networks, 2009. Web. May 2017. <http://www.history.com/topics/brigham-young>.

“What is the Mormon Church and Religion?” Mormon. N.p., n.d. Web. May 2017. <https://www.mormon.org/>.

[franklyshipping]

Harold B. Darrensworth ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

O K A Y so this is from a prompt a while ago when Mark was goofin with this newish character, so consider this a throwback fic! Lets see how people react to him....LET'S DO IT!

They....weren't quite sure what to make of him at first. He seemed to have every single personality trait going for him at once; loud, sporadic, random, and yet he patroned order and lawful conduct, he felt it to be the pinnacle of his purpose in the world. At their first official meeting, Wilford and Dark had seen him themselves so as to not overwhelm him with everybody at once....but as they got talking, they realised that Harold B. Darrensworth would not be a man easily overwhelmed. He was, by definition, overwhelming.

'I must say I am HONOURED to meet you Mr Dark, your work with control and order is ASTOUNDING and inspiring and I endeavour to follow in YOUR example!'

Harold's facial expressions were.....interesting too, sometimes he would be stuck for minutes in a grimace before morphing towards a neutral state of contemplation and sincerity. Meanwhile, the rest of him was so fidgety that it looked like he'd been infected by the jitterbug, he fiddled with his clothes, fingers, hair, he was buzzing with nerves and anticipation all through that first meeting. It had gone quick, Dark was perfectly content since Harold was more than happy to see him as the figure of authority, and Wilford didn't cause too many abnormalities. Those came later. Wilford was intent upon seeing every part of Harold, he knew that the guy MUST have more layers past the ''I am the patron of perfection'' personality. Right now for instance, Wilford was observing the meticulous man dusting around the living room, and occasionally he would mutter under his breath.

'So inadequate.'

'I must make note of this.'

'Potential rotor....'

Wilford was fighting the urge to giggle, he had honestly never seen someone be so concerned by little particulates. Wilford was reclined on the couch, feet up, the epitome of laziness basically. He continued to watch Harold with his pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and unimpressed grumbles, before speaking up with a little air of cheeky sarcasm in his voice.

'Ya want any help over there friend?'

Harold froze, before turning fractionally towards Wilford; he wore an amicable expression as he bowed his head during his reply.

'You are MOST kind Mr Warfstache, but I am quite capable.'

Just like that, he went back to his task. He wasn't one for an extended conversation, he was a one sentence kind of gentleman. He would make his passionate comment, have his input at centre stage like his one minute of fame, then that would be it; it was like Harold allowed himself a conversational allowance. Wilford sat up on the couch, frowning with a hint of curiosity as he spoke.

'Say old boy, do you actually enjoy cleaning and putting things all in their right order?'

Harold stopped his task again, responding with the same angular head tilt as he responded briefly.

'Yes.'

Wilford hummed, then stood and carefully approached the man, speaking once more before he had the chance to refocus on his cleaning.

'If that's the case then why don'tcha smile when you're doing it?'

Harold pursed his lips at the continuous questioning, never before had he met someone with such vivacious vigour and disorder. He looked up at Wilford as he answered in a tone laced with purpose.

'Because, Wilford, smiling is NOT important when it comes to my tasks of ORDER.'

They maintained eye contact, Wilford's gaze was persistent whilst Harold's was guarded and a little nervous; he'd not known Warfstache for long, so he was very very difficult to predict. Harold was frozen in place as Wilford started to circle him, making him feel very much like prey being analysed....to see Wilford being so thoughtful and calculated made Harold feel even more nervous. Especially when he gave Harold a teasing smile.

'I'm willing to bet that there's smile hidden in there somewhere.'

Wilford was not, repeat NOT, going to let this go. Not for anything. The moustached man repressed a chuckle when Harold huffed and folded his arms across his chest resolutely, tryin to look bold and insistent; in reality he kinda looked like a tantruming child.

'It is not IMPORTANT! As I said befo-HEY!'

Wilford was smirking broadly, holding Harold's duster in his hand, quite proud of how effortlessly he'd managed to snatch it. They began to engage in a rather flamboyant game of chase, wherein Harold tried to jump and get his duster back whilst Wilford elaborately pirouetted and leapt away from him, cackling constantly.

'Can't catch meee!'

Every time Harold reached for the duster, he always missed it by an inch or two, which made it even more frustrating; he was so close and yet so far. It didn't help that he was rather short, almost half a foot shorter than the cheeky Warfstache. Harold tried to put his foot down.

'Give me my utensil back NOW!'

Harold glared when Wilford merely giggled.

'Nope, I don't think so! Not until I get a Darrensworth smiiile!'

Harold lunged towards him to try and catch him off guard, but Wilford easily spun out of his way and cheekily fluttered the duster at the side of the man's neck. Harold....let out quite the squeak as his lips twitched for a millisecond.

'H-Hey! You'll get DUST on me!'

Harold put a hand to his neck to rub away the residual....sensations, which Wilford picked up on. His eyes glinted as he brandished the duster and approached Harold, purring deviously.

'I think that's the least of your worries....I know you're tryna keep that smile from me Harold.'

Harold inhaled shakily, eyes flicking between Wilford and the duster as his mind whirled. Wilford was going to make him smile. The mere notion made Harold's usually settled tummy start to flutter with its first butterflies, and Harold's cheeks were turning pink as he felt mischief radiate from Wilford. Harold knew he couldn't no longer be in denial of his quivering lips that ached to stretch....but he wouldn't go down easy, oh no.

'You WON'T win.'

There was a small silence wherein Wilford took in Harold's words....then Wilford smiled, and approach him at speed.

'Challenge accepted.'

Harold's eyes widened as he felt Wilford hoist him over one of his shoulders before he could even take one step of escape, he wriggled about and babbled passionately.

'W-Wilford Warfstache I d-demand y-you put me down this i-instant!'

Harold felt embarrassment bubble inside him when his voice cracked and stuttered, the passion diminishing in favour of nervousness and a very vulnerable resolve. Wilford snickered as he suddenly dropped Harold onto the couch on his back and hurried to straddle his thighs.

'Oh but of course friend!'

Harold had elicited a stream of undignified squeaks and yelps and he squirmed, trying to get out from under Wilford, but it was literally impossible now that Wilford was firmly planted on top of him. Wilford inspected the duster now; it was a deep purple, long in length and the feathers on it were long and stiff.....it was perfect for tickling.

'You may think you're strong now, but I know how to get smiles out of stubborn ones, I've done it with Dark a hundred times....'

Harold gulped.....if THE Darkiplier had succumbed, then there was certainly no hope for him; especially given how sensitive he was to agonising softness. Harold started shaking his head, stammering in a last hope....a non-existent hope.

'Y-You w-won't break me....I w-won't allow it!'

To emphasise his words, Harold decided to cover his mouth with both his hands as he glared up at Wilford....who had to resist the urge to coo at him because honestly he had never seen something so cute and childish in a long time. Harold shivered when Wilford started to push at his hoodie.....exposing his sides, stomach, ribs, oh lord help him.

'Mhm, whatever ya say.'

Harold knew as soon as the feathers touched his skin, this was only going to end with him losing. Wilford was grinning happily as he dusted over Harold's tummy and sides softly, adoring how the toned muscles twitched and how Harold squeaked and went a darker pink in the face.

'W-WILFORD!'

Harold's cry was slightly muffled by his hands, but it didn't mask Harold's desperation. Yes. He was already desperate. His chest was quivering and dimples were showing on his cheeks as the devilishly light sensations awakened his ultra-sensitive nerves. It tickled. It tickled BAD. Wilford just got happier by the second at this discovery.

'Yes oh ticklish one?'

He teased, eyes glittering with amusement as Harold let out a soft whine from his throat, and gasping as Wilford ran the duster up and down his ribs...those giggles were building even more.

'P-Please d-don't tickle me p-plehehease!'

And there they were. Wilford listened with utter joy, they had  higher pitch to them but they had a smooth tone rather than a jumpy one. To Wilford, they were complete heaven, so unfortunately for Harold....Wilford wanted MORE. He kept the duster at work, wiggling it into the dips of Harold's sides as he purred.

'But I still haven't seen your illustrious smile yet! And you look like you're having fun, I never knew someone could have such sweet giggles hidden inside them!'

Harold was flustered beyond belief at the teasing compliments....mainly because he wasn't used to being complimented at all. All he'd really known and understood was critique and discipline, so this new playfulness was giving him new tingles and shivers that he'd never experienced before.

'S-Stahahap w-wihith the kihihindness!! Ihihit's mahahaking mehe e-ehembaharrassed!'

His naivety to all this also meant that he had no qualms of talking about his embarrassment, which Wilford found most endearing as he replied in an affectionate, crooning tone of voice.

'I merely speak the truth my friend! You simply have the prettiest most ticklish giggles that I've ever heard! Kitchy kitchy coo!'

Wilford's efforts were rewarded with squeals as Harold tried to curl up his body, the duster now running back and forth along his waist which produced the most delectable cackles; and Wilford could see Harold's arms twitching as they resisted the urge to bat at Wilford's torment.

'AHH! DOHOHON'T TEHEASE MEHE Y-YOU MEHENACE!'

The babyish, playful, informal childish tone of voice Wilford used just made Harold want to curl up and hide, it was all so flustering. He couldn't believe it. Why was THIS so flustering? Harold just didn't understand. Whenever Wilford smirked, winked, chuckled, teased, tickled.....he couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so small and weak and vulnerable....and yet, it was not an unpleasant experience; that is, despite his natural fighting instincts. After his little cry, Wilford narrowed his eyes at him and spoke in a shiver-inducing, threatening tone.

'Why now how rude....it seems I'll have to take drastic measures.'

Before Harold could even reply....his hands had flown from covering his mouth, any thought of pride gone, as he tried to grab at Wilford with a new vigour. Why? Well, Wilford had wanted to try something experimental, just to gauge the reaction of the man; he'd shoved the duster into the bowel of one of his hips and began to spin and wiggle it with reckless abandon. Though even Wilford couldn't have foreseen Harold's magnificent shriek.

'AAAAAHHHH NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE PLEASEPLEASE OHOHOHO NAHAHAAA!!' 

His laughter was deep and rumbling and constant, except for when it was interrupted by the occasional echoing snort, which Wilford couldn't help but giggle fondly at.

'Wowie, a dashing smile AND adorable snorts?! This is more than I could ever have hoped for!'

Harold was hitting out with crinkled eyes and a dimpled grin plastered on his face as he bucked to try and dislodge the tool, but Wilford was experienced and frankly VERY talented at this. Harold felt jolts of energy surge through his pelvis and up his spine which only added to his laughter, which lacked any trace of decorum; oh yeah, Wilford was definitely victorious here.

'IHIHIHI'M NAHAHAT AHAHADOHORABLE!!'

Harold yelled, but swiftly shrunk back at Wilford's sharp laugh, and quivered under the man's affectionate, amused eyes.

'Heh, I don't think you're in a position to question me, do you?'

Wilford soon sneered through his speech, whilst simultaneously running the duster over his waist...before slipping it in to torment his other vulnerable hip dip. This time even more ruthlessly. Harold was literally thumping the couch in ticklish agony as he cried out, definitely sounding like a man who was reaching the end of his tether.

'I'MSARRYI'MSARRY FOHOHOHORGIHIHIVE MEHEHEHEEE!!'

Harold....didn't look like Harold. I mean, he still looked like himself....but his classic self had just been entirely jostled out of its shell! His hair that usually had shape was mussed and matted and haphazard, his complexion was blotched with blushing, and his voice was constantly changing pitches sporadically rather than in the controlled manner that Harold normally spoke. At that point, Wilford withdrew the duster as he mused.

'Mmmm, I suppooose I can forgive ya for your disrespect.'

Harold gratefully caught his breath as he hugged his own waist and hips, curling up as he kept on smiling; both from residual mirth, and actual happiness. He glanced up at the moustached man, whispering warily as he eyed him.

'D-Does th-that mean....you w-will give m-me mercy? Y-You got what you wanted, I-I s-smiled, plus even more....'

Wilford grinned at how Harold was so intent upon reasoning with him, and he stroked the feathers of the duster whilst he pretended to ponder in thought. He was done, but he liked the thought of teasing Harold just a liiiittle bit more.

'You bring up fair points my good man, but after all that I can't deny a little EXTRA more would be rather fun!'

Harold's heart pounded in his chest, and his eyes widened at the thought of Wilford wanting to tickle him MORE, even after all of that! He ignored the voice in his head tempting him to point out Wilford's abnormal grammar, since he knew that would only lead to punishment. He looked up at Wilford imploring, shivery and trembling as he whispered.

'P-Please Mr W-Warfstache, I-I can't t-take any m-more!'

Wilford couldn't help but feel a spark of pity for the poor guy, he smiled kindly and patted his shoulder to reassure him as he replied.

'Don't worry, I know limits when I see em. Pfff, I don't think I've ever met anyone so feather sensitive before!'

Harold immediately hid his face in his hands with an embarrassed whine, making Wilford chuckle as he subtly stopped straddling him, and now sat on the edge of the couch. Harold felt more butterflies fluttering in his system, but managed to refocus when he felt a nudge to his leg.

'Alright cutie, let's make I deal. I swear that I will not tickle you anymore today AND I'll keep this our little secret. But. I have two conditions.'

Harold listened carefully, and so far he found those terms pretty good so far. He slowly revealed his red face, and looked at Wilford with curious eyes as he queried.

'Wh-What are the conditions?'

Wilford smirked softly, leaning in a little as he spoke.

'One: After today, anytime and anywhere, as long as we're alone, I am permitted to tickle the ever loving decorum outta ya...'

Harold gulped and shivered, already having half a mind not to agree....until Wilford put forward his next condition.

'-and two: go get another duster so I can help ya clean dammit, it's literally painful watching ya do it all by yourself!'

Harold blinked a few times....very nearly in shock. Wilford.....wanted to help him? Wanted to help him CLEAN and organise? His mouth was wide open as he looked at Wilford, and it was when he saw Wilford roll his eyes amusedly that he managed to come out of his daze and babble his happy reply.

'W-Wow, goodness me YES I a-agree to this deal! Wilford you are VERY ingenious and intelligent!'

Wilford felt his cheeks go pink at the sudden compliments, he most certainly had not expected such things from Harold. Wilford forced down his gentle embarrassment with a little head shake and a boyish grin, deciding to give Harold a shove as he exclaimed playfully.

'Well c'mon Mr Law and Order, get to it!'

He playfully wiggled the current feather duster in the air teasingly, which made Harold giggle, jump to his feet, and dart off towards the supply closet. Wilford smiled as he watched.....yeah. Harold may have started fixing his hair and un-creasing his clothes as he ran, but Wilford knew that he'd brought a little bit of disorder. Just as it should be.

THHEEE END WOO HOPE YA LIKE IT GUYS LUV YOUS XXX 

#markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier #dark #wilford warfstache #warfstache #wilford #harold b darrensworth #platonic #cute #sfw #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luv iiitttt

[franklyshipping]

Because I want to ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

HERE *throws driplierst with floofy comfort and caring ler host* It’s been a long day at the clinic for the doc and he needs to put his feet up….yall know what’s a-comin so let’s DO IT!

If you were reading a textbook about the signs of exhaustion, Dr Iplier would be the stock photo. More specifically, Dr Iplier after a 16 hour shift with no breaks shifting between the ER and ICU because of stupid staffing cuts; all the while shouting himself hoarse at his goddamn nurse. As a result, as soon as he entered the ego’s shared living room he flopped onto the couch. Stretching his body and groaning harshly…before immediatly falling asleep.

His body and his mind needed the rest, lord knows he needed it. A few hours later he stirred, he rubbed his eyes and blinked with a wide smile at the sight of the Host sitting near him. The Host had entered the room when Iplier was in mid-slumber and had carefully sat at the other end of the couch, lifting the doctor’s shins and resting them on his lap. Iplier sat up with a lazy smile as the Host returned the favour gently.

‘Hey…’

‘Hello, good nap?’

Iplier nodded slowly with a gentle hum, the Host smiled softly. Despite him hating that Iplier was exhausted a lot of the time, he always thought he looked stunning when he was in a drowsy state. With colour back in his cheeks and a contented state of mind. Iplier ran a hand through his mussed up hair, sitting up fully and holding the couch to keep himself up.

‘How long was I out for?’

The doctor mumbled, before sighing gently as the Host’s fingers rubbed his ankles gently, getting rid of the ache that had settled there.

'Around 4 hours…’

The Host smiled wider at Iplier’s sigh, he looked down and rubbed little circles round the joints and relished in the light noises of pleasure Iplier elicited. The Host leant towards him.

'Let me help you relax.’

Iplier moaned as he began rubbing the top of his feet, he could already feel the tendons loosening up at the expert touches. He gazed at the Host.

'You don’t have to…’

Iplier liked how the Host wanted to help him, he always did…but he didn’t want to put him out. He was drawn from his thoughts when a hand cupped his cheek delicately, he smiled when the Host leant forward and kissed him softly. His lips were so warm making him sigh into the kiss, when they pulled away the Host trailed his thumb over the doctor’s cheek; his features were set into an imploring expression.

'I know, but I want to.’

Iplier smiled bashfully, nodding his head which made the Host grin.

'Okay.’

The doctor gasped when the Host shoved his chest, making him lie back on the couch. He sent a light glare in response to the Host’s playful grin as he shuffled to get comfy, the Host brought his attention to the task in hand. He rubbed the balls of Iplier’s socked feet gently, massaging above and below the soft area. Iplier was…he was in goddamn heaven.

'Oh my god…’

Iplier slapped a hand over his mouth when he realised he’d accidently voiced his thoughts, flushing gently at his boyfriend’s gentle chuckle.

'I take it this is good?’

'Mhmm…’

Iplier nodded and the Host snickered at his mild embarrassment, he started rubbing down his soles with a gentler touch and felt a pang of concern when Iplier flinched with a light yip.

'Sorry, was that painful?’

The Host was relieved and yet confused when Iplier shook his head, he furrowed his eyebrows as he noticed that the hand covering his boyfriends mouth had tightened. Not only that, but his flush had darkened. The Host repeated the light action curiously, and was rewarded this time with a slight…giggle?

Iplier’s eyes widened, he hoped and prayed that his boyfriend would ignore his reactions and just move on…but internally he was preparing himself. He knew the Host’s curiosity was insatiable, and he was far too…senstive, to hide it. Sure enough, the Host felt a wave of realisation coarse through him, he grinned widely and turned to the doctor.

'Doctor…you wouldn’t happen to be ticklish…’

He tightened his grip on the doctor’s ankles as he trailed a few fingers down one of his feet, joy building as the doctor giggled again.

’…would you?’

Iplier started to shake his head rapidly, trying to hide his growing smile at the Host’s teasing tone.

'No I’m nahahat…’

Iplier bit his bottom lip as the Host fluttered his fingers again, chuckling gently as the doctor tried to evade the inevitable. The Host dragged the fingertips of one hand up and down his soles whilst the other held the doctor’s ankles, which were already shaking with the need to pull away.

'You’re…what? Sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that last bit?’

Iplier giggled heavily as the Host stroked and scribbled deviously, he tried to pull his feet away but the Host’s grip was like a vice. There was nothing he could do.

'Hohohohohohost!’

The Host tilted his head at his giggly partner who was squirming heavily and trying to muffle his laughter.

'Yes darling?’

Iplier snorted loudly as the balls of his feet were scratched ruthlessly, he cackled loudly as his facade finally gave way.

'STAHAHAHAHAHAP THAHAHAHAT!’

The Host cackled himself as Iplier brought his forearms to cover his face, his undoubtedly blushing face. The Host smirked widely, massively enjoying the effect he was having on the doctor.

'Stop what? Oh wait…’

Iplier squealed as his feet were brought together so the Host could skitter up and down BOTH his arches.

'NAHAHAHAHAHA!!!’

The Host’s cheeks were almost aching with how wide they were spread with his gleeful grin.

'Do you mean thi-’

'YEHEHEHEHES YOHOHOHOHOU AHAHAHASS!!!’

Iplier wailed as the Host laughed loudly, the entire scenario amusing him greatly. The Host sneered deviously as he pulled Iplier’s socks off, exposing the sensitive skin before scratching rapidly.

'What did you just call me?’

Iplier screeched, fists hitting the couch as his head was thrown back in squeaky laughter; he was in utter ticklish agony, as well as being completely flustered by the Host’s threatening tone.

'NOHOHOHOHOHOTHIHIHIHING!!!’

The Host furrowed his brows as his lips went into a thin line, he donned an intimidating expression which Iplier shivered heavily at.

'And now you’re lying to me…’

'IHIHIHIHI’M SAHAHAHAHAHARRY!!!’

Iplier belly laughed as the Host scratched at his heels, his laughter constantly shifting between octaves as he looked to his boyfriend nervously. The Host looked back, thanks to his abilities he could still perceive him perfectly…he took him in for a moment. A wide smile, cheeks alight with joy and bashfulness as his entire body seemed to shiver with electricity. The Host found it stunning. He soon snapped out of his daze as he leant towards Iplier, grinning with a feral nature.

'Do you know what happens to people…who insult and lie to their boyfriends?’

Iplier half-covered his face as he shook his head, his voice caught in his throat. The Host growled gently through his words.

'They get punished!’

Iplier squealed before falling into desperate laughter as the Host forced his fingers to scratch under his toes, he squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled at his ankles uselessly.

'FUHUHUHUHUHUCK!!! DOHOHOHOHOHON’T!!!’

He curled his toes tightly and by some miracle the Host had to take his fingers away, he sighed and turned to the doctor who was giggling rapidly.

'C'mon, uncurl them.’

He spoke with an impatient edge to his voice, as if he was talking to a loitering child or Wilford Warfstache. To his utter surprise Iplier shook his head with a new cheekiness in his grin.

'Nohohohoho!’

The Host raised his eyebrows, his voice cutting through the air in the room like a blade.

'I said uncurl them…now.’

His calm demeanour sent chills down Iplier’s spine, but he kept up his childish defiance as his giggles made the room feel warmer.

'Neheheveher!’

The Host cocked his head as Iplier gulped, his heart was beating frantically in his chest as the Host laughed. A single, loud and evil laugh as he smirked widely.

'Fine…you asked for it!’

Iplier yelped as he was tugged slightly, his eyes widened and he struggled in earnest as the Host pinned his ankles between his thighs, he sent the doctor a grin.

'No escaping me now…’

With both hands free the Host used one to hold Iplier’s toes back as the other scribbled ruthlessly at the exposed, sensitive skin. Oh boy. Iplier absolutely screamed and writhed.

'AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!’

He was rendered incoherent as tears streamed down his cheeks, the Host meanwhile was encased in his own light laughing fit as he scratched at the taut skin; making sure not to miss any inch of it.

'Tickle tickle…’

His face was burning, his lungs were burning and the little energy he’d regained from his nap had been spent long ago. With the Host’s dreadful teasing he thought he was actually losing his sanity.

'PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!’

The Host sighed, his malevolence dimming in favour of mercy as he halted in his onslaught. He giggled when Iplier let out an audible sigh of relief and he breathed loud and deep, the Host released his ankles which he did not hesitate to pull towards him protectively.

'Fuhuhuckihing hehell…’

Iplier gasped as he got his breath back, the Host smiled and sidled up to him as he sat up and rested his chin on his knees. Iplier sent him a light pout before turning his face away.

'That was soho mean…’

The Host pecked his jaw with light kisses as Iplier still faced away from him, fighting a smile at the affection.

'Can you forgive me?’

The Host mumbled as he nuzzled into the doctor’s cheek, said doctor sighed with a light grin as he turned round and kissed the Host’s lips heavily. Iplier smiled gently as he pulled away before pecking them again lightly.

'Of course, now c'mere you ass.’

The Host grinned as Iplier pulled him into his chest and they fell into the couch, snuggling and dropping off into collective slumber. Two sappy, enamoured men…there was nothing more perfect.

Yowzah i legit just wrote this in one go i am so proud plez tell me if u like it and stuff 😄 mmk luv yous xx

#markiplier egos #the host markiplier #the host tickling #the host #dr iplier #driplierst #driplierst tickling #ler host #lee dr iplier #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #floof #fluffy #sfw #noice #cute #v gay #ego fic #ego fanfic