#markiplier ego fanfic

[orange-waterfalls]

Dimension Hopping

Yancy x gn!reader

Ask: YANCY FIC PLEAEEEEEEE

A/N: As you can see, I had a lot of free reign with this so i got creative <333 it’s just fluff with the slightest microscopic hint of angst because I am in LOVE with he and also Wilford is a supportive dad and ALSO crying but it’s happy crying I swear!! enjoy!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

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You stared at the prisoner for a lot longer than explicitly necessary. In your defense, it had been a while. A long, long while. Didn’t seem to last as long for him, though. He hadn’t aged a day. Well, that wasn’t true. He had a few new tattoos. You supposed that made sense. But still, you had to stare. He was here. He was really here. Yeah, you’d seen Illy earlier, but he fucking left you, so he doesn’t count. Also Wilford, who kicked you out almost immediately and almost made you cry for it. But Yancy was here and talking and having a conversation and asking how you’ve been and oh boy, those are more tears. You hoped Yancy wouldn’t notice.

He noticed.

“H-Hey, pal, hey, what’s the matter?” He chuckled, a worried look on his face. You shook your head. “Well, obviously there’s somethin’, otherwise you wouldn’t be cryin’.” You shook your head harder. 

It’s stupid, you thought. 

“Hey, if it made you cry, it ain’t stupid.” He asserted. He then paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, actually… You’re allowed to cry. Even if the reason’s stupid. Either way, it’s fine, so you can calm down because I think I might have ta break the glass to comfort cha.” You sniffed aggressively, trying to force your body to fuck off and calm down because it’s not that deep, ok? Besides, Yancy is progressively getting more anxious about it. 

“Would me cryin’ in solidarity make you feel better? I can do that. I could stab myself in the thigh or somethin’ to make me cry. I can do that. You want me to do that?” You shook your head so hard it hurt, smiling nonetheless. “Ok! Ok, I won’t.” And so he just sat there and waited for you to calm down.

You did not, in fact, calm down. You did manage to suppress your sobbing enough that Yancy believed you’d stopped crying. You gave him a shaky thumbs up. He smiled brightly and gave you a confident one back.

“Alright, good! Cause you gotta pay attention. Oh, we wrote a new song!” He said excitedly. He put the phone down, the sound immediately getting muffled and you pointed back, but Yancy was already on the chair and barely paying attention to you. You weren’t gonna interrupt him. It looked like a fun song. You liked seeing him have fun.

You did not like the glow you saw out of the corner of your peripheral. You slowly brought your hand up and looked at it.

No. you thought desperately. No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO—

You slapped at the crystal and you knocked on the glass. You tried so hard to get Yancy’s attention. He was too into his musical number. He couldn’t hear you over the music and he could barely see you over the lights.

You felt a few more tears slip as you let your hands slide off the glass and collapsed back into the chair. You buried your head in your hands and stared at the crystal as it prepared to take you away again.

Better luck next time, Some mocking voice said in your head. You growled a little. You knew better than to mess with the space-time continuum.

You knew who didn’t, though…

–

Wilford screamed when you kicked his door down. Like legitimately, actually screamed. Like this was a slasher movie and he was about to be murdered by the angry 5’4” space captain who was stalking towards him. 

You didn’t have the crystal anymore. That was important.

“Wha-Yo-HOW did you get here?” He sputtered out with a laugh. You shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. You made your way to the chair across from him and sat down. He looked at you. And you looked at him.

I need your help, you thought.

“My help, you need? Well, I’m always willing to help a friend! Or a universe-destroying mutual acquaintance.” He explained giddily. “I can help with anything! Need to get back with an ex-lover? Fly to Burma? Kill a congressman? Whatever you need!”

I want to get back to Yancy.

“Except that, I can’t help you with that.” He waved off your request, standing to walk elsewhere in the room. You brought your hands out, a question as to why. He simply shook his head and started to pour whiskey that you are 90% sure was not there before. You twisted around in your chair so you were on your knees facing him, gripping the back of the chair.

Wilford! Come on. Please?

“No, now you know there are rules! The first rule is that there are no rules. Second rule is no dimension hopping!” He stated. He set aside the first glass of whiskey. He poured another glass of whiskey. He seemed to think for a moment before pulling another glass from nowhere and instead pouring apple juice in the third one. You weren’t sure if the juice was for you or for him.

You just said there were no rules!

“And the second rule is no dimension-hopping! Come on, try to listen!” He scolded. You sighed, exasperated.

Come on, Wil, I just wanna see someone… your thoughts were a mumble. Wilford stopped in his tracks. You froze as well, thinking something was wrong. He slowly turned to you with a wide smile on his face. Well… it was more like a shit-eating grin. The kind your friends got when you told them who your crush was.

Uh-oh.

Wilford ran back over and crashed into his seat, making you jump and cover your mouth. His chair tipped back a moment before setting itself upright again. Wil slammed one of the glasses in front of you (you still weren’t sure which it was), pulled out his notepad and pen, crossed his legs daintily and looked at you expectedly. You stared at him. He stared at you with a smile.

What.

“Go ahead. Make your case.” He instructed. Your eyebrows furrowed.

What?

“You want me to take you to see a special someone,” He teased and you crossed your arms, sinking in your chair, “I want you to make your case as to why I should take you. Why they’re special.” He flipped a page of the notebook, dabbing the tip of the pen on his tongue and shifting to get comfortable. He smiled at you. You squinted at him.

I don’t gossip. You crossed your arms.

“Everyone gossips.” He argued.

Then I don’t kiss and tell. You turned your head away from him.

“You’ve kissed them?” He gasped, excited. You whipped your head back to look at him.

No! Your thoughts shouted.

“Ah, a budding relationship.” He nodded, jotting something down.

We’re just friends.

“Ohhhh, friends to lovers!” He scribbled a little more. It didn’t seem like he was actually writing anything down.

It’s not like that, he… he doesn’t like me like that.

“Pining, too?!”

Stop! I met him two years ago at–

“SLOWBURN? Ohhhh, this is a good one. How many words? 10k?”

Fuck off!

“20k?! Ohhhh, I ship it already.”

Don’t say ship, Wilford.

“Ok. Pining, friends to lovers, pre-relationship, 20k, slowburn. Anything else?” He leaned forward, absolutely elated. You stared at this strange, strange man for a moment before you sighed. Whatever was happening seemed to be working so far.

… he’s in jail.

“I’M A SUCKER FOR PRISON LOVE. You’ve convinced me, I’ll send you back.”

Yes!

“If you agree to introduce me as your father eventually.”

NO!

“Come on, please? I’ve always wanted to be in the ‘bad boy boyfriend meets the parents’ storyline!”

No.

“Can I be the mom then? Abe can be the dad! I can work a pair of heels, I promise you.” He begged. You heard a noncommittal noise behind you and looked to see Abe grabbing the other glass, not sparing you a second glance as he walked back though the door. Was he greyscale? How did that work? Come to think of it, he could’ve just taken the apple juice just now.

… I kinda want to see that. You admitted, deciding to stop thinking about the goddamn apple juice.

“Alrighty then! Have fun, sweetie!”

Don’t.

“Have fun, kiddo!”

Better.

–

“Hey! Hey, what happened? We was doin’ the song and then ya just up and vanished! And now you’re back! … in my cell. What’re ya doin’ in here? How’d you get in here? What the hell is happening?” Yancy rapid-fired questions at you even as you were inspecting your surroundings and recovering from an interdimensional jump, it would seem. It felt kinda like dizziness mixed with whiplash mixed with jet lag and you might be dying, honestly. 

You had to take a few seconds to recover enough to see clearly in front of you, and you saw him. Yancy. In all his glory. The man himself. The meow meow of all time. Your scrimblo. What the FUCK were you thinking right now. Everything hurt. Oh God.

You didn’t answer Yancy’s question, mostly because you didn’t know yourself. All you knew was that Yancy was there and you were here and you walked over him and interrupted his questioning with a big hug. He froze for a second before jerkily wrapping his arms around you and sniffing hard.

“H-Hey now… that ain’t necessary…” He croaked out. You rubbed his back and petted the little hairs at the nape of his neck and he kept breathing deeply. He was trying not to cry, you knew. You weren’t helping, you knew. You didn’t really care. Crying was healthy, yeah? Yeah. You two could cry. That was fine.

I missed you… You sniffled and let a few tears drop yourself. Yancy hiccuped and held on even tighter. Considering he was a strong man as it was, you had just a little trouble breathing and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could pass out. You could die here without a care in the world. You heard and felt him mumble something into your neck, but you couldn’t make it out. You hummed inquisitively. He pulled away a little. You panicked and grabbed onto him to keep him close. He abided, staying right in front of your face as he looked at you with wet eyes and a tear-streaked face.

“I missed you… I didn’t… I didn’t know if… I figured you would but… you know.” He chuckled dryly. You frowned and imagined a sad Yancy, sitting behind the glass on visitation day, waiting for someone that wasn’t going to show up until the lights went out. Like Paddington in Paddington 2. That poor little bear. Yancy, your poor little bear. Well, he’s more like a hunk, isn’t he? In those terms.

Wow, that jump really fucked you up.

Never. You pulled him in for another hugged and squeezed tightly. He wheezed and giggled.

“Wow, did yous get stronger? Start workin’ out? You got a solid bear hug there.” He complimented. You basked in the compliment. You nuzzled your face into his neck. His breath hitched and you wondered if you’d crossed a line.

“Hey, I uh–” His voice cracked. Your eyebrows knitted together. You tried to pull back to look at him, but he pushed your face back into his shoulder. “No, no, let me, uh… I gotta… get ready to say something…” He cleared his throat loudly. You winced and so did he.

Ow.

“Sorry,” he apologized, petting your head. You let your eyes close and sighed. He took a breath. You waited and listened. “So… buddy…”

You hummed your acknowledgement. He sucked in a breath.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, I gots a crush. On. Someone I know. And let’s say that crush has… festered a little bit over the past few weeks. And let’s say that I applied for parole because of that person. And that I gots repeated imaginations of us living in a house together and doing stupid domestics like cleaning and cooking and kissing and cuddling and–” He cut himself off. You giggled into his shoulder. He chuckled a little as well. “Well, uh… let’s say I wanna do all that with ‘em. But I… don’t know if they wanna do those things. Some o’ the guys told me about a… ‘talkin’ stage and a… flirtin’ stage and… Iunno. I wanna tell ‘em but I… dunno how. Do I just… outright say it? Rip the bandaid off? Tear the stitches out and hope I don’t lose too much blood?” You were just a tad worried about that analogy, but you nodded slowly nonetheless. 

“Right. Yeah. That makes… yeah,” He sighed. You pulled away and looked at him. He looked very, very nervous. He was even sweating a little. You grinned a little and started wiping his forehead with your sleeve. He laughed. “Thanks. Thank yous.” You stepped back a little and waited. He wanted to say something to you. It really looked like he did. You hoped Wilford was right. About the friends to lovers. Not the 20k or slowburn. You’re done pining.

Yancy cleared his throat and you snapped out of your thoughts to look at him. He was sweating again. You stepped forward to wipe off his forehead again, but he pushed your arm away, grabbing your hand as he went. You raised your eyebrows. He looked at you, seeming to be searching in your eyes for something.

“Pal,” He started. You nodded. You weren’t actually sure if he knew your name. That might be a problem later. Not now, though. “I have… a question… to ask you…”

Yes. You nodded. He rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He looked at you, determined.

“Do yous… want… to be… my…” He paused and pursed his lips. You tilted your head, waiting patiently. He opened and closed his mouth uselessly. You reached out to his face and took it in your hands, making him look at you. His face went a little pink as he swallowed harshly. And you waited.

“... romantic partner?” He finished with a squeak. You smiled widely and released his face. You nodded enthusiastically. He sighed. Then he giggled. Then he started laughing, punching triumphantly at the air. You watched him, endlessly entertained. Then he high-fived you.

He high-fived you.

He is your new “romantic partner” and, to celebrate, Yancy gave you a fucking high-five. 

He seemed to also realize that this may not have been the appropriate reaction because he looked at your hand and then at his own and then at your face.

“Uh…” He snickered. “Well, I, uh… that didn’t really–” You grabbed his face and kissed him. It wasn’t that dramatic of a kiss like it always was in movies, just a little kiss. Basic. Chaste and normal and nothing to get heated over.

But Yancy did get heated. Yancy stood frozen for a solid 30 seconds before his face went bright red and he sunk to the floor. You watched him cover his face with his hands and fall onto his side. You wondered if you broke him. Then, he kicked his feet and screamed into his hands. You covered your own mouth and suppressed a laugh. You waited until he calmed down a few seconds later. He slowly dropped his hands from his face and gave you an intimidating look.

“Tell no one.” He warned. You nodded. He smiled and jumped up, giving you another hug. His smile quickly fell, however. “Hang on, how yous gonna get… out?” You raised your eyebrows, not really knowing how yourself. 

Right on time, a pink wormhole appeared next to you. You and Yancy both stared at it, confused and frightened.

“Well, what are you waiting for?! Come on! I need to hear everything!” Wilford’s voice echoed through the portal. Yancy gave you a look.

“You know this guy?” He asked, seemingly of the portal itself. You shrugged and made your way to it in any case. You stopped, looking back at Yancy. He looked a little worried. Nervous. 

You brought your hands up, making a little heart directed at him. He smiled, blushing, mimicking the action. You stepped back into the portal, not taking your eyes off of your love as you went through.

#ahwm yancy #iswm yancy #yancy #yancyplier #yancy markiplier #yancy iplier #yancy the jailbird #yancy the prisoner #yancy x reader #yancy x gn reader #yancy x you #yancy x gender neutral reader #yancy x reader fanfic #x reader fanfic #x reader fanfiction #yancy my beloved #markiplier ego fanfic #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #second person pov #second person narration #scrimblo #poor little meow meow #god i am just incomprehensible #my fic #fanfic #fanfiction

[puppeteered-poetry]

[ FEAR ] with Darkiplier? I rarely see him portrayed as actually scary in fics, and you write intimidating really well.

At first I was unsure, I know them personally, but they were very excited about it, and I saw it, and I'm here for it so here we go.

Warnings: Written in second person (addressing the reader as a part of the fic) and contains harm towards the reader.

~

   How had you ended up here again? The same lonely, cold void ringing in your ears, your eyes trying to widen enough to see anything.

   There they are. The reason for it. As they stare at you, you begin to recall the steps leading to this.

    You were separated from Mark. They step closer. You two were investigating a haunted house. Another step. The Windows broke when he split up with you.

     Dark towers over you. You try to step back and hit a wall you didn’t know existed. They place a hand on the wall over your shoulder, their eyes are intense in their glare.

     “Well… If it isn’t our Little Monster… Trapped, like a fly in a spider’s web.” Their voice hurts your ears, and they’re so close. Their aura sickens you, roaring and bright. Too much. 

     You try to scoot your way out of this encounter, they grip your shoulder.

     “Did I say you could leave?” They chastise. They’re mocking you. “No? That’s right… You don’t listen to me, I’ve noticed. You’ve been ignoring my words… So let me help it stick.”

     Dark took out an ornate dagger, roses etched into the blade.

     And they plunge it into your shoulder, to the wall. You’re stuck. It’s wedged deep.

     “I used to find it frustrating, how you continue participating in this endless, fruitless endeavor… Now I laugh. You will never understand, will you?”

     Dark paced away, glitching a chair to sit down. Ornate, clearly Victorian era, with spider-web brocade upholstery. They have a wine glass in their hands.

     “Don’t worry… I will help you. You will understand. I will keep you here. Liberation from being the forever pawn. If your “hero”,” They practically spat, voice dripping with vitriol, “Manages to pull his head out of his ass and realize you are missing… He may duel for you. But I do not expect him to win. You and I will stay here, beyond the Ouroborus. We will be free.” 

     Dark smiled. A cold glint to their teeth, their dark eyes. “Why don’t you sit down?” They laugh sadistically, an unseen force ripping you free from the knife. You grab your bleeding shoulder as they drag you to a matching chair. 

      “Oh, my little Monster… I think you’re going to enjoy your stay.”

#Letters to the author. #writing requests #The Author Writes. #markiplier egos #markiplier ego fanfic #ego fanfic #darkiplier #darkiplier fanfic #the hoes gonna love this one #injury #reader injury

[afterhourswjay]

Murdock x Ex-Assassin!Serial killer! Reader - Headcanons/Drabble

Warnings: murder, violence, gore

I like to imagine that Murdock sticks to killing in the southern states whereas you excel in killing in the north, like both in Canada and in the states

You two aren't all that familiar with each other. You don't kill in areas where Murdock is currently hanging out

You're referred to as Oleander by police since your preferred method of killing is by poisoning people. Not that you don't also kill by traditional methods, you just prefer to stick with what you're more experienced at

You specialize in killing corrupt politicians (of whom you kill their entire immediate family and drain all bank accounts of money). Now that you're no longer an assassin, tho, you kill indiscriminately. If, however, someone wants to 'hire' you to kill a specific person, they need to have the money for you upfront and they cannot double cross you... duh. You have no qualms about killing them if they can't follow one of your rules

You'd just lured a victim off the streets and into your 'den'. You recently got pissed off by a guy in a long, dark coat. And sunglasses. In a local grocery store. Only douchebags wear sunglasses inside... Well, and those with vision problems, but that's off topic

You usually kill with finesse, and poise. Not today, tho. Today you are pissed off, and as you drag your latest victim to the basement you grab your baseball bat

You've dragged out their death as much as you can, so you whack them over the back of the head with the bat. Because it's an aluminum bat, you didn't need to put too much excessive force behind the hit, but uh... You kinda caved in the back of their skull

Your just about to get cleaning up when you pick up the sound of movement upstairs. It's gonna be BAD if the police decided to show up. You carefully, and quietly, move around

First things first is to put the bat down. Then you grab one of your knives. You then quietly make your way to the stairs of the basement, and you flip every breaker in the electrical box as you pass it

Thank god, you're more adept at moving around in pitch black environments then the average person. You make your way up the stairs. When you get to the landing, you hear a crash, thud, and a hiss of 'fuck' coming from the living room

You tiptoe your way towards the silhouette in your living room, raising your knife and preparing to plunge it down into their back. Suddenly, your arm is being grabbed and the room spins as you get flipped over onto your back. Snarling, you shove the knife towards the person only for them to easily snatch it from your grip with a snicker.

"Really? You're really going to stab me??"

You blink owlishly at him. "I mean, I'm not as proficient at stabbing people, but I think I do pretty good."

"Mmm, and yet, you're on the floor under me..." You can practically hear the smirk in is voice.

"Wait, who the hell are you and why are you in my house??"

"What, you haven't heard of me? My names Murdock, best you don't forget it. As for what I'm doing here, would you believe me if I told you that I'm laying low??"

You gently shove yourself out from under Murdock and stand up. "No, no I would not. I don't think killing someone in their own home is the way you go about 'laying low'." You grab your knife from the killer, and you wander back to the basement to turn the power back on. "By the way, you're awfully far north. Something happen??"

You didn't take Murdock to be someone who was talkative, but apparently the mans liked to chat. He followed you from the living room to the basement, not making any comment on the dead body when the lights got turned on. He did, however, make an offhand comment on how well you covered everything in plastic before going back into chatting about his latest escapade. You had heard about it from a friend who also happened to be an acquaintance of his, so you could tell when he added embellishments to his story. You mostly tuned him out as you worked on cleaning up, offering occasional hums of agreement and even a comment sometimes.

"Can you help me with this real quick? There's a hole in the wall over there that I plan on moving the washer and dryer in front of when I'm done patching it up."

"Really? Your gonna leave a trail??"

You shrug in response. "Running from the cops is half the fun. Besides, if all goes according to plan, I'll be halfway around the world by the time they find him."

Murdock simply offers you a hum of acknowledgement as you both grab both ends of the plastic and shove it into the wall on the far end of the room. You stand and turn to him, squinting your eyes slightly when you realize he's standing a bit closer than before.

"Welp, that's that for now. I'll get the supplies to repair the hole tomorrow. You wanna join me for a bite to eat, and some wine before you have to go?"

#jays thoughts #iswm part 2 #iswm 2 fanfiction #murderplier #murderplier x reader #murderplier x gn!reader #serial killer reader #reader is a serial killer #reader kills people #reader is gender neutral #reader is an adult #iswm #ends abruptly whoops #didn't know how to end it #in space with markiplier part 2 #ambiguous ending #tw mentions of serious injuries #tw murder #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier ego fanfic

[erictheteddybear]

An Introduction to Eric (And Me! )

Eric: - Such a sweet baby.. - Neurodivergent (ADHD, Autism, Anxiety.) - Has a comfort blanket (Well, a piece of one) given to him by his mom. - Hyperfixation on stuffed animals (Squishmallows) and anything soft. About Me: - OOC you can call me Mania - DMs are open! - This is primarily tickle blog! I will not be posting nsfw tickling content or interacting with nsfw blogs / nsfw tickling blogs - Ask any questions you want! - I do roleplay with anyone, even if you aren't playing an ego! ( Though I do personally prefer it ) - My other 2 accounts ( @darkipliler @yancelee )

#ooc #introductory post #tickle blog #tickle fanfic #tword #tickle rp #tickle roleplay #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #markiplier ego fanfic #markiplier ego roleplay

[yuckie-obsessive]

Did You Miss Me?

Remembered ADWM when Dark says, “Did you miss me? I missed you- very much.” And now I wanna make a drabble on it.

Maybe a little variation on what happens in ADWM. Thinking of making a new HC where he can’t touch you unless you give him permission or initiate it first. Of course he can ask for it or give vague gestures in hopes you will accept him.

Darkiplier x Reader (gender neutral)

Set up: essentially the same intro as ADWM, but a little more intimate. Sfw only tho

~★~

You had become extremely disoriented from the rough switch in atmosphere. The ringing that echoed within your mind was not helping either. Your date was no where to be found and neither was the stage.

“Hello, darling.” A disembodied voice greeted. Then a monochrome figure appeared in front of you, though it was difficult to keep eyes on him when he was surrounded by blue and red doubles.

He straightened at your distress and the visual glitching subsided slightly.

He cleared his throat, “I missed you, dear. It’s been quite some time wouldn’t you say?” He took a step forward, extending a hand, only for you to take a step back in confusion. He clenched his hand and let it fall.

“My apologies, this must seem rather forward. Though I must admit,” his jaw clenched, “I’ve grown tired of this perpetual game we’ve been forced to play.”

He straightened his already perfect suit and sighed, “It doesn’t matter… surely you must be aware of this cycle by now?”

You had felt rather caught off by the consistent, repetitive actions you had been forced to perform. You slowly nodded.

“Then let me further enlighten you,” he waved his hand to summon different visions of your adventure so far, even things that have yet to occur. “You must understand this was all his plan (y/n). I have simply disrupted this game, if only momentarily.”

“How did you-“

“This isn’t our first encounter. We have met many times in the past.” His expression shifted, but returned so quickly that you thought you imagined it. “It was brought to my attention that he decided to drag you along once again. A shame he continuously removes your memories of his games… our little meetings. Manipulating the plot to suit his needs,” his sudden harsh tone and odd shattered reflection startled you. He took a breath so steady himself and moved closer, now towering over you. “I can take you from this wretched cycle… to show you what we had together,” once again, he offered his hand.

“Please, (y/n)…” His voice grew strained, “Let me in... Let me be everything you need,” his head tilted to whisper softly into your ear. Dangerously close yet still refraining from contact.

You looked to his hand and cautiously moved to take it, but hesitated.

“I promise you this, your every need will be met. Your heart’s desires fulfilled… Let me protect you now where I couldn’t before. Let me amend my mistakes…”

You felt a great sadness from his words. Letting your naive trust get the better of you, your hand lightly accepted his.

The moment your hands connected, he rushed to embrace you causing you to gasp. He buried his face into your neck, reciting apologies and promises of loyalty. The air grew lighter, and for the first time since you could ever remember, you felt lucid.

He removed himself and held your shoulders. His smile filled you with warmth.

“Let’s catch up, old friend.”

#ego #darkiplier #markiplier egos #dark #darkiplier x reader #reader insert #x reader #kie writes #kie’s post #gender neutral fanfic

[cozyenigma]

Sleepless

(Hope this was what you envisioned!)

Word Count- 1241

Request?- Yes

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

Warnings- None

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh-"

"You're a good pillow, shush."

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

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

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

"Kiss ass," you muttered.

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

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

"Uh-"

"Can we-"

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

"Yeah that- that sounds good."

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

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

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

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

[southerndragontamer]

You Only Get Three Strikes

This is my interpretation of how things after the amazing fanart by @andaboop went

Actor hummed an old tune to himself as he adjusted his tie in the mirror and flashed himself a grin. He had just finished up setting things up for the confrontation with Dark in their next encounter, he wondered if it would work enough he could bring out Damien again. He had sent his….no not partner, that was reserved for someone else…..like minded fellow? That sounded right, out to go through the plan Actor had crafted for him about some hero, magician? Whoever the target he was after.

He’d really lucked out in meeting the other, it was always nice to have a trump card in your pocket and though he was a bit…jagged around the edges the actor was confident that the shared interest in their respective goals would help him figure out how to direct those edges the way he’d like.

His thought process was derailed when the door was slammed open. No, that wasn’t quite right, it wasn’t slammed so much as kicked in so hard it flew to the opposite wall. He whirled around, cane in hand ready to defend himself as his mind immediately jumped to William or Damien only to blink as he saw the glitch there. His smile fit into place as he relaxed.

“Oh it’s you my friend! You gave me a heart attack there-”

His voice cut off by force by a clawed hand that snapped around it with the speed of a striking cobra, or a bear trap when it shut from the pressure plate being triggered. He gagged and choked and instinctively tried to pry away the fingers that felt like they were going to snap his windpipe in two. He attempted to kick as he was lifted into the air and slammed against the wall.

Anti’s face was twisted in a near wild fury, all his fangs bared and body glitching as the lights began to flicker and dim. His eyes were glowing like a live wire as he spat out, Irish accent thickened even further than normal.

“Shut yer damn mouth. I don’t wanna hear a sound outta ye, unless I say you can talk.”

Actor couldn’t have tried to speak right now if he wanted to, he tried to nod as his vision swam with black spots. Just as he thought he was going to pass out, or need to reconstruct his throat again, he was let go and dropped like a sack of bricks. He held in the gasp as oxygen flooded into his lungs and covered his mouth to muffle the cough as he looked up at the glitch for a reason why he’d suddenly flown off the handle.

Anti’s glare was like looking at a lightning strike inches from where you stood, the sense of if he wasn’t careful he’d have to dig himself out of a grave again. The glitch stepped back and manifested his knife as he started to absently twirl it in his fingers with the ease of someone that had wielded a blade for a long time.

“I was willing to give ye a chance ya know, at working together. You talk a big game pretty boy. But you can’t cash it. I went with that ‘plan’ of yours that ye made for me. And do you wanna know what happened?”

Actor felt his stomach start to knot and sink, his heart picked up and he felt the hair raise on the back of his neck at the way the lights flickered and threatened to pop, sparks arced off of the glitch’s skin as his voice dropped into a growling hiss.

“I had the magician about to collapse at my feet when the damned timekeeper intervened. They got away from me. Oh I can find em again, easy as breathing, my strings don’t allow any less. But it’s the principle of it all.”

Actor resisted the urge to hunch in on himself as Anti’s head snapped around at a sickeningly off angle and speed and instead he began to try to save face, backpedal as he stood up. His best apologetic expression on as he tried to keep from going out of the frying pan into the fire. His eyes shone a brighter red and he weaved his own kind of power into his words like red ribbon braided together to hide blood.

“I’m sorry that it didn’t work like I intended friend, but I didn’t take everything into account it seems when I made my plan.”

That was as far as the ‘apology’, because such a word was only proper in a true sense of remorse for actions, got as he found his jaw exploded in pain from the literally lightning fast blow to one side. He felt bone crunch and fracture as he collapsed to the floor and held his jaw in place as it began to repair itself.

Only to choke and blood to spurt out of his mouth by the sharp kick that echoed with the cracking of ribs, just as quickly he was hauled up by the collar of his suit and the knife was pressed deeply against his skin. Ruby droplets trailed down the edge of the blade as Anti half snarled.

“I told you. Not. A. Sound. You must not have much grey matter between your ears, or you’re just a glutton to get your arse beaten. So let me explain this in a way you’ll be sure to understand.”

Actor winced and his eyes squinted as the glowering, searing light of Anti’s eyes were right in front of him. The knife cut in just a bit deeper into his skin. The glitch’s tone went from utterly furious about to stab someone, to calm and measured and almost cold rage that was somehow almost more terrifying.

“If you’re not one of my puppets, you get three strikes. Your first mistake was fockin things up for me reclaiming one of mine. The second one was the half-arsed, shite apology ya tried to make.”

And Anti grinned, slow and cruel and his eyes had a sadistic glint in them as he chuckled and finished in an almost croon. The lights shone green and the white noise of static snow started to hurt Actor’s ears enough to make him wince and he swore for a second something started to bleed.

“Your final strike? Thinking I was too stupid to know you didn’t expect more out of me than dumb muscle eager to get to fighting, someone that wouldn’t question anything.”

The lights flared such a bright green that it went white and then popped with the sound of fizzling soda and shattered glass. Actor subconsciously, human instinct still ingrained after so long of being inhuman, flinched, shut his eyes and covered his head. The sound of shrieking static made him cover his ears as they ached and he was positive he felt his eardrums burst, his head ached as the sound pierced through his skull.

The shrieking came again, not just a wall of sound but laughter. Actor had never been one that dealt well with being made a joke, pride bristled in indignation as his eyes snapped open and he started to growl, to snap back at the glitch for being so ungrateful for his help. His mask dropped as his true form slipped through the handsome image he portrayed. Like the true face of Dorian Grey, sickened, rotten and ugly.

Only he saw that Anti had dropped his mask as well…

Instead of a human with glowing green eyes, sharp claws and fangs to betray the inhuman underneath…what stood in front of Actor was something that could only be called eldritch. Lightning and static in a silhouette that was humanoid but not, it glitched and twisted on itself, crackling at the seams. He blinked and it shifted each time as if it couldn’t decide on how to ‘appear’. Too long, too many ‘limbs’ too long claws that took the place of fingers, jaws filled with rows and rows of razor blade fangs, it looked too big for the space it was in, the walls creaked and groaned with the strain to hold it in.

His head ached like the worst migraine he’d ever had, his ears rang and he felt blood dripping from his nose, the world felt like it tilted and he felt like he was going to throw up. There was a rumbling of thunder and then he was aware of his body falling and convulsing as his brain lit up with only agony as a reason. Past the pain and the searing white noise in his ears that felt like it was trying to break his mind apart, he grit his teeth at the shrieking, piercing laugh that had him swallow down bile.

“Already on the ground writhing like a snake without its head~ You thought you were such a tough shot because you constantly annoyed Dark, ohhh boyo you got no idea of what forces you’re playing with now~”

The sensation of barbed wire cutting and tearing, ripping into his skin as the glitch’s strings wrapped around his limbs and yanked him up to his feet. Up further still to Anti’s ‘face’…too many eyes, shades of green, black, blue and some brown, they looked like fractured images through cracks in a mirror. The glitch’s body waved and rose as it spoke, like watching a sound wave on a computer screen.

As much as Actor tried to hold it in, as he finally realized how in over his head he was, that making a deal with the glitch had been a horrible mistake, when he felt the lightning forced through his body again, he screamed. Anti’s cackling laughter of delight rang in his ears and covered the sound as it echoed in on itself.

“It’s been a while since I had a chance to play with something that can survive it~ Oh yes, I’m aware you can’t stay dead~ You’re gonna wish you were back in that manor when I get bored of you~”

#Actor!Mark #Jerk who caused all this #Markiplier Ego #Markiplier Fandom #Antisepticeye #Glitch Demon #Jacksepticeye Ego #Jacksepticeye Fandom #Fanfic #South Writes #Blood TW #Violence TW #Knives TW #Over 13 #Injuries TW

[freakinglegs]

This piece comes with a fic (here’s the link) called “You Beat the SHIT Out of Darkiplier” that I wrote because I felt, y’know we’ve seen every other iteration of Dark kidnapping you! Why not have a fun, short, sweet, and to the point fic where you defend yourself against the man. <3

#markiplier fanart #markiplier egos #markiplier #darkiplier #mayor damien #wkm damien #dark #my artwork #digital art #artists on tumblr #fanart #glitchy boy #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #you beat the SHIT out of Darkiplier #I’m gonna go wwe on that summer sausage

[leighsartworks216]

Your Captain

Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Requested by Anon:

"Sweet! Can i request a angst and fluff fic with engineer mark? Where captain overworks themselves, not taking care of themselves at all, marks sees it but doesn't want to bother them too much about it

And eventually they get really sick and collapse infront of mark

With angst prompts #12 and #17 thank youuuu"

12. "You could have died."

17. "No, no, no, you can't close your eyes right now!"

Tbh this fic started as a completely different concept but I think it fit really well with this request so yah

Warnings: loss of identity, mentions of the warp core events, mentions of death, overworking, exhaustion, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 3906

Masterlist

Tag List Form

The realization is slow. Not in the way a predator creeps on an unsuspecting victim. Nor in the way an illness would, slowly taking over your body and mind until you can no longer ignore your decreasing abilities. No. It’s not even noticeable at first. Little hints here and there, indicative of something bigger.

And then it dawned on you. Suddenly. Like a spark igniting a rampant fire.

It happened when you looked up. The sky was different here. Strange. Nothing like Earth’s. There were no constellations - at least not yet. Two moons circled and twirled around the planet. Your new home.

You had neglected to look up since you landed. You couldn’t blame anyone. There was simply too much to do - buildings in need of building, resources to discover and study, maps to draw up of the surrounding area. Not only that, you joined your leads wherever you could.

You assisted Celci as she and her team revived colonists. You welcomed each new citizen with a smile and Welcome to our new planet! All 100,000 of them. Celci told you to take a break, get a nap, eat something. You would argue that everyone deserved to be welcomed, and it helped you get a grasp on just how many carpenters, engineers, scientists, medics, gun hands and others there actually were. She gave you a worried and disapproving side eye, but she couldn’t do anything to stop you.

Gunther worked to set up a perimeter where the first buildings could be set up. You helped to plan out which buildings went where, and exactly where your borders should be laid. And when he started setting up armed droids to keep an eye out for raging wildlife that could threaten your new beginnings? You were all too happy to put yourself to work, hauling the heavy automechanicals to each designated spot. If he made a comment about exerting yourself, you ignored it and kept on working.

Burt, with the lack of necessity for warp-core engineering (the thought made you flinch), helped out in home-building. He acted as foreman, making sure each sheet of metal had its place. As the framework finished, he and his team went in to affix lights and other electronic necessities. A few engineers even took plumbing jobs. (There was, unfortunately, a lack of those sent over from Earth.) Quiet as he was, the only time he pointed out your willingness to dive head first and help build foundations, framework and walls, was in a poetic waxing after a rather large building neared completion. You said it was a beautiful poem, but you didn’t quite understand its meaning. (You did.)

And Mark. Oh, god, Mark. With each new job you threw yourself into, he was always right there, running around like a headless chicken trying to help. If you were building a wall, he was right behind you (sometimes even right next to you, holding the metal in place as you bolted it in), keeping you up to date with the progress of the colony, messages from Earth, and other such things. He worried over you the most out of anyone else.

You couldn’t blame him, honestly. After the… adventure you both went on, you wouldn’t give yourself the time of day to even close your eyes. Once dark settled in, you threw yourself into paperwork and managerial nonsense. You couldn’t stop.

It had been one of these nights when you realized. You just finished talking to Celci, discussing the discoveries being made. The scientists just started working with the security crew to go out on excursions to study the flora and fauna. They just brought back a strange plant that they believed could be medicinal. It was exciting, truly.

But Celci had been short with the discussion. She had her arms crossed the whole time, shutting down branching topics with quick retorts. You need rest, she’d scolded. She shoved a protein bar in your hand and sent you to your tent, with orders not to do any work tomorrow. When you tried to protest, she enacted a rule that stated she - as lead officer for medical - could confine you to your quarters if you were not at your peak health, physical or otherwise. You couldn’t argue with her, and so trudged like a pouting child toward the temporary camp of tents everyone was staying in.

That’s when you looked up. You stopped, staring at the unfamiliar stars, the strange moons that lacked craters. The Invincible could just be seen, hovering in the atmosphere. You were waiting for orders from Earth to know what to do with her. You refused to dismantle the grand spaceship. Most likely, it would continue to remain high above the planet, run by a skeleton crew. Forever up there. Alone.

That is when the realization overcame you.

It was slow. And then it all came crashing down over top of you like a tsunami. A growing sense of guilt filled your chest. Was that it? Guilt. No, maybe it was… loss. Yes. A powerful sense of grief within you, bubbling to the surface.

Maybe it had always been there. You couldn’t rightly tell. But it was powerful. It grew, bubbling like a thick paste within you until it reached your tear ducts and buckled your knees. The ground was warm beneath you, and the sky full of strange new stars blurred into a swirl of watercolors. Maybe this was how Van Gogh saw the world. Through tears.

“Captain?”

Your lip trembled. You couldn’t look at him.

A warm body knelt next to you on the ground. His dark eyes burned into your skin, searching desperately for answers. Why were you crying? Why were you sitting out in the middle of the camp, staring at the sky? When he glanced up, following your gaze, he caught sight of the Invincible. He mentally damned the ship.

Was it because of the ship that you were crying? Far too often to be healthy, he, too, stared up at the ship. He remembered the warp core. The mistakes he made, and the ones he caused.

He had no idea what you saw up there. You never spoke about it. Now he wished he had. He wished he asked. He wished he knew what worlds, what alternate realities, what different timelines you’d witnessed. Maybe then he could understand what was wrong.

“Cap…?”

Your eyes were red now. Your face crinkled with grief and sorrow, fighting back the onslaught of tears. You gasped in a shaky breath. Out came a whisper. He thought, perhaps, you would tell him about the things you’d seen. You witnessed thousands of deaths; he had, too. But that was not what came out of your mouth.

“I don’t remember my name.”

Mark was stunned. Shock and confusion overtook his body. Your name? Well, of course, your name was… It’s…

Confused and frustrated, he remembered the IDs on file for every single crew member. He sifted through so many every day, trying to keep track of who was who. It took a few taps on his wrist pad to pull up your ID. He skimmed it for himself before holding out his arm to show you.

The image was fairly recent, only from a few months ago. But you looked… brighter. Hopeful. Determined. Your hair was a little shorter then, too. The bags under your eyes from rigorous study weren’t as prominent as they were now. You looked like a hollow shell of who you once were.

And, yes, that was your name. Or… was it? Was it really your name after everything that had happened?

No. That was their name.

You shook your head and furiously wiped at the tears on your cheeks. Every crass name, criminal title, and disparaging nickname flooded your mind. No. They didn’t have those titles. They didn’t deserve the hatred and vitriol that followed you through that wormhole. They were not the Captain. And you were not them.

“That’s not my name anymore,” you croaked. You shook your head again. You looked like a child having a breakdown in kindergarten over a broken toy. “That’s- That’s not me anymore.”

Mark couldn’t say he really understood why. The image of you, all crooked grins and academy-fresh confidence, was you. He remembered you gushing to him over flying your first airplane, and going through the rigorous training of outer-space flying. He remembered because it was you who gave him the idea for all those stupid windows. When you gushed over being so close to the night sky you felt you could reach out and pluck Polaris right out of the inky black.

But when he looked from the picture to you? He was reminded of the hardships. How you jumped from universe to universe, wracking up casualties, just to save him. And he started to get it. You went through too much to be even near the same plane of existence as your young, naive self.

“Who am I, Mark?”

When you fell to press your face unceremoniously into his shoulder, he wasted no time wrapping you up in his arms. The ID flickered away as the screen turned off. He tried to hold on tight enough to physically stop you from shaking with your sobs, but it was impossible.

“You’re our Captain.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. But they were the only words he could find.

Anybody who passed by pretended they didn’t see anything. He hoped, anyway. He couldn’t meet their eyes. All he could do was hold on, as you had done for him once. Your sobs turned into stifled cries, and then only whimpers. He wasn’t concerned at first. In fact, he was a little relieved you were beginning to calm down. Until you became completely limp in his hold.

Even then, he still paused a second, before pulling you back until he could see your face. Had your skin always been so dull?

He shook you slightly. Maybe you were just sleeping, right? Your eyelids didn’t even flutter. Panic shot through his heart.

He shook you again, harder this time. No response.

“Captain?” Another shake, perhaps a little more vigorously than he intended. Your body was a rag doll, flopped in his lap. “No, no, no, you can’t close your eyes right now!”

His mind, scared and jumping to all the worst conclusions, raced to figure out what to do. He laid you on the ground and pressed an ear against your chest.

…

……

Okay. There’s a heartbeat. A little weaker than he thought was normal, but it was there. And your chest was moving, albeit slowly, with each breath. He pulled away. His hands, calloused with years of fiddling with wires and heavy machinery, floundered in the air. He didn’t know what to do.

Desperate cries for help, for Cici, for anyone were ripped from his lungs. He was gasping for air by the time half the camp rushed out to see what the commotion was. He couldn’t catch his breath until you were safe again.

He just needed you to be safe.

-

Word spread about the Captain’s health quickly. Mark couldn’t say he was surprised. Actually, he was sort of embarrassed.

That night - almost a week ago now - Celci had rushed to his side. She was the rational and cool-headed one. She commanded medics to grab a stretcher, to ready an IV, prepare a bed and equipment. All the while he screeched like a banshee, whaling for his old friend.

Uncharacteristically, though, she didn’t say a word about it. Nobody did. (Or, at least, not when he was within earshot.) She grabbed him a chair, some water and snacks, even a blanket. And as he sat by the Captain’s side, a permanent frown etched within his features, she kept him up to date on your condition and on the colony.

He knew his fears were wholly rational. After jumping through wormholes and witnessing first hand what consequences it brought, it was only natural for him to fret over the permanence of life now.

How stupid he’d been. Really. How many times did he grab your hand and jump back into the wormhole? More than he could count on one hand. The way he would be torn apart by a black hole or exploded by a supernova, and still step out of that pod with a giddy little grin, asking, almost begging, the Captain to jump in again. And again. And again.

Vaguely he remembered an airlock.

Neither of you were immortal now. Honestly, he hated immortality. It seems to amazing in theory…

He drags a hand down his face with a sigh. His shoulders are hunched. He leans his elbows against the edge of your bed.

He’s tired. Not like before. This wasn’t an exhaustion fueled by some silly false heroics or nonstop building of a catalyst to all your issues. No. He was exhausted with worry, and fear, and- God, emotions he didn’t even have words for. It all sat heavy in his soul.

Guilt, he decided to call it. But different. Guilt if it was slightly to the left.

Celci told him you just passed out from exhaustion and overworking yourself. Maybe he felt guilty for not picking up on it sooner, or for stopping you before it got so bad. It’s not as if the bags under your eyes were invisible, or that the way you carelessly rushed in to help every single person in need was subtle. He should have noticed.

Maybe then you would remember your name. Or, he thought back to your ID, believe you’re still you.

He wished his mind could shut up, for once.

A distraction. That’s what he needed, yeah.

He dragged his eyes from your face to your monitor. He was never very good with medical stuff. The numbers were odd. Was that blood pressure normal? Too high? Too low? Hell if he knew. Was your heart beating fast enough?

He contemplated for a brief moment the components that went into a monitor like that. The wires, connectors, screws, bolts, etc. And then he remembered this machine was making sure you were still alive. The idea of dismantling it was no longer appealing.

He turned to the IV next. A slow, continuous drip of fluids, hooked up to your arm. Needles always gave him a bad feeling. He felt nauseous looking at it.

Strange flowers caught his attention next. There were no roses or tulips or irises out here. Just… Well, they didn’t have names yet. The exobiologists were working on formulating latin names, genuses, and everything else that came with cataloging different flora. They were still beautiful, he couldn’t deny it. Bright orange petals with neon blue stamens that glowed at night. Razor-leaved stems that started as purple by the bloom and morphed into an odd black hue. They looked poisonous, actually. He was sure they wouldn’t be allowed in here if that was the case.

Paper was becoming a luxury at this point. Not that it mattered much, with everything accessible at the press of a button on their wrists. Still, they thought it would be best to ration out the remaining scraps throughout the colony. And everyone, seemingly unanimously, decided to use the rare material to write get well soon cards.

The little folds of parchment filled every possible surface. With 100,003 people writing get well and thank you, at some point the excess of good will notes had to be tucked away in a bin to be read later. He caught a nurse, once, rotating out the cards.

His frown softened when he thought of the very human way in which they cared about you. How human to utilize a precious resource just to say Thank you, wake up soon. How human to see something beautiful in nature, and to display it tenderly next to you. We found something beautiful, it made us think of you. How very human for those who stopped by, who saw him ever at your side like a steadfast protector, rested a hand on his shoulder or patted him on the back. You are not alone in your pain.

He wished, desperately, that you could be awake to witness the love humanity so freely handed out. Maybe then you could rediscover who you were.

“You look like shit.”

Mark startled awake. When did he fall asleep? Ah, dammit, it was dark outside. He must have been out for hours. He scrubbed at the exhaustion crusting his eyelids shut.

Wait…

His body froze. He was too scared to breathe. His heart was racing.

He couldn’t have heard that. He couldn’t have.

Heart in his throat, he slowly removed his hand from his eye and dragged his eye along your frame, still tucked safely under the blanket. Sure enough, when he finally reached your face, there was a smug grin waiting for him.

And with a jolt, his body came back to life.

You watched, half-amused as Mark threw himself from his chair to press a Call Nurse button on the opposite side of your bed. His eyes were wide and frantic. His hair was a mess. Bags under his eyes carried the weight of the world, tears of relief slipping down his cheeks before he could even think to stop them.

“You’re- You’re awake!” he croaked. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your shoulders. They were trembling.

You tried to reach up to hold onto his shoulder, maybe even his face to feel his concerning amount of stubble, but it felt so heavy. You held onto his forearm instead. “How long-?”

Celci came storming in, looking about as frantic as Mark, but better put together. Once she saw you were conscious, her expression morphed to be somewhere between joy and fury. Uh oh.

“Captain!” The only freedom from her intense stare came when she checked your vitals. Mark backed away so she had plenty of room to do so, but he kept a hand on one of your shoulders. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet. “I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’, but I told you this was going to happen if you kept pushing yourself so hard!”

“What exactly happened?”

The cryonics lead faltered. Mark gave her a pleading look. She realized, for the first time since stepping in here, that he had been- no, was crying. She had never seen him cry before.

Celci sighed and tapped a few things into her wrist pad. “I’m assigning you to bedrest and low-effort work until you decide to put your needs before those of the colony.” She leveled you with a concerned stare. “The colony needs you, Captain. You can’t be everywhere at once, helping with every last fiber of your being, no matter how much you want to. Let the rest of us carry the responsibilities we were sent here to carry.”

Mark turned away to wipe away his tears before she could glare at him next and give him a lecture, too. She huffed, nodded to you with a Captain, and left.

The air was thick. Things unsaid hung around in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam - everywhere you look and hard to ignore.

Mark didn’t look at you as he tried to gather himself together. The motes would continue lingering until he was ready to answer your questions.

Deciding to give him some space (as much as you could while bedridden), you looked to the side. The hordes of cards was utterly overwhelming. Each one was different from the next. Some had Captain written on the front in neat cursive, heavy-handed scrawls, or chicken scratch. Some people did their ‘C’s differently, or slurred their writing together in their plain-text handwriting. Other cards simple said Get well soon! or Feel better! You could see small paragraphs of writing inside the folds.

A rush of warmth flooded your chest. All of the command leads, all of the colonists - everyone thought about you. Maybe the idea of being thought of was just so foreign, but you didn’t think in any earnest capacity that this many people would care. The Leads, sure, you spent so much time with them up on the ship (more than they realized), but the most contact the vast majority of the colonists had with you was the simple welcome you gave them as they were thawed. And yet. Despite it all. Everyone had left a card.

Everyone cared about you.

The warm feeling in your chest turned sour as you remembered your conversation with Mark last night. (Was it last night?) The way the stars glimmered back without a care for you. The way you squeezed that protein bar so tight it became mush in its package. The way Mark held you.

I don’t remember my name.

Who am I, Mark?

You squeezed his arm, as much as you could in your weakened state.

You’re our Captain.

Reddened eyes met yours. His eyes were so dark, but they held a thousand thoughts, emotions, and ideas behind them. You remembered looking into those eyes, as you held onto him, refused to let him go even as he called you hateful names and ripped the crystal from your palm.

“You’ve been asleep for a week.” He sniffed. His hand trembled as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Cici said… You were overworking yourself, pushing yourself past your limit just to be there for everybody, and you weren’t taking care of yourself like you should have been and she said-” He swallowed thickly, fighting to speak through the lump in his throat. “You could have died.”

Oh. It had been that bad? You couldn’t recall feeling weak. Though, maybe it was from the endless running you did during the warp core fiasco. How long had you been awake during that endless nightmare? Your body had recovered once the cycle was broken, but your mind…

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could say. His shoulders fell. “I didn’t…” Your voice was quiet, almost too soft to be a whisper. As if you were afraid to say what was on your mind. “When we were in the wormhole, I was so tired. We both were. But it’s like, I don’t even know what it’s like to feel tired anymore, because nothing compares to what happened.”

You looked up at him, like a child seeking approval. In your eyes, he saw universes colliding, supernovas, and someone who never gave up hope. For the briefest hint of a second, he saw that same determined graduate from the ID.

“Does that make sense?”

He nodded without thinking. His hand left your shoulder, following the length of your arm to hold your hand. You didn’t have gloves on. It was… odd. He ignored the calloused scar that brushed against his palm. “I feel the same. I remember building the… it. I didn’t sleep at all, then. And now that I can, it feels… wrong. I’m not tired, but I am. I can’t explain it better than that.”

“I think we both need a nap.”

He huffed. It was nice to see him smile again. “On your orders, Captain.” His grin flickered, eyes darkened. “If you’d like, you can choose a different name. It wouldn’t be too hard to change your ID.”

“No,” you said. You smiled. “You were right, all along.”

“About what?”

“I’m your Captain.”

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@hyperfixat

@cryptidjester

@your-voice-is-mellifluous

#fanfic #fanfiction #request #requested #iswm #in space with markiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #iswm mark #iswm celci #engineer mark #head engineer mark #engineer mark x reader #head engineer mark x reader #engineer mark x captain #head engineer mark x captain #captaineer #angst #hurt/comfort

[jokingmisfit]

Bro, I told my therapist that I write a lot of stories. I made a mistake and told them how sometimes my writing reflects my mental state... Now they want me to bring some into to share! HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO GROW THE BALLS TO BRING IN X READER FAN FICTION TO MY THERAPIST!? WHAT HAVE I DONE!? WHAT DO I DO!?

#fanfic writer #funny #supernatural x reader #batman x reader #hannibal x reader #reverse flash x reader #markiplier egos x reader #sanders sides x reader #dr.strange x reader #wtf is wrong with me #why is this my life #how do i fix this!??! #WHAT DO I DO #HELP ME PLEASE #fan fiction writer #writer problems

[orange-waterfalls]

Ramblings of a Detective

Detective!Mark Iplier x reader

ty anon for the request

A/N: I blacked out and this happened. They said detective Mark and I got so excited. Waxing poetic from someone else’s POV is so fun so I liked this one a lot. I was happy to keep going, but I wanted to get it out there. It was beta-read this time so I’m disappointed I can’t tag it as “no beta we die like Lady”. 

Our boy is Yearning. It’s from Space Detetcive Mark’s POV. Switches from 1st person to 2nd person like halfway through. Also switches from past to present tense because I don’t care lol. Celci’s in here for 2 seconds because she and Mark both have crushes on the Captain and I stand by that. Enjoy. Please for the love of God, enjoy. ALSO you guys should listen to Ramblings of a Lunatic by Bears in Trees. Unrelated to the fic but it’s the only thing I could think of for a title.

Word Count: 2.5k

I sat back in my chair, creaking as it went back and forth like the whines of a lost little puppy calling for its mama. The chair was old, older than me, I think. It was a nice chair, dark wood that bent a little at the connections of the back to the seat. Suppose it deserved a little flak. It was just a chair, it did its best. I liked the chair. What’s more I liked what I could see in the chair. 

I could see the board, filled from edge to edge with images and clippings and papers, all connected with a red line that came back to one edge. No matter what way you go, where you go, what you do, it all comes back to this. It gave me a strange sense in my chest, a feeling I wasn’t used to. Like I know this. Like I’ve been here before. But that’s impossible. I didn’t even know what we wanted to find out. 

I could see out the window into the vast expanse of open space. The darkness and stars and distant planets and galaxies that we may get to see soon. The cold, unyielding, unloving embrace of the void with almost certain death within and beyond its grip. I could feel the existential dread in my bones, the fear in my heart, the adrenaline in my veins. It was terrifying.

It was wonderful.

“Oh, to die surrounded by stars.” That was the quote they’d hung up on the wall. I’d asked where it came from, what it meant. They shrugged. They made it up. Isn’t that something?

My favorite thing to look at, however, was the Captain. Oh Captain, my Captain. The one I’ve loved for so long but they just can’t seem to see it. They wander around, trailing their hands over things they’ve seen a thousand times before and will see a thousand times more. Little, insignificant things. A book, a mug, a plant. But they look with such fervor, such intensity and passion, as if they will never see any of it again.

I like watching the Captain. I suppose that’s a weird thing to say, but I do. I like seeing what they do when they think no one is looking. They sway and shift and tap their feet, always seem to be doing something, always seem to need something to do. Sometimes I wanted to walk over and take their hands in mine and tell them they don’t have to do anything, they’re perfect, they just need to exist for me to be happy with them, they could throw me out of the airlock and I’d use my last few seconds of life to ask for forgiveness and wonder what I’d done to deserve their anger, because I must have done something. 

“Something the matter, Captain?” I asked when they’d stopped next to me, staring out the window. They were close. So close. They were always very close by, which I was grateful for, but my heart always sped up in the way that it did when you were 13 and met a cheerleader in a crop top for the first time. They were so handsome and/or beautiful and I couldn’t help how my internal organs reacted. My heart beat, my stomach twisted, my muscles contracted, and at one point I thought I was dying because of how much was going on in my body. They never touched me except for a friendly handshake or appreciative pat on the shoulder or a… gentle squeeze of my bicep. Sometimes, they made me shake like a short-haired chihuahua in a January snowstorm in Toronto.

They simply shrugged in response, and kept staring. That was the Captain. Quiet. Always thinking. Always had something on their mind. I wanted to take their face in my hands and try to see what they were thinking. I wanted to say “Tell me. Tell me what’s going on in there. I want to know everything you think. I want to know your mind. I want you to tell me and no one else because I’m the only one who gets to know you, really.” And maybe they would. Maybe they’d allow me access to the dark recesses of their mind, all their odd and sad and bloody and happy thoughts that they never shared with anyone. Wouldn’t that be something?

However, I just nodded. That was a thing I tended to do. Just nod when I know what I want to say, but can’t say it. I can’t tell them how much I want to be close to them. I can’t tell them how absolutely handsome and/or beautiful they are. I can’t tell them how sometimes, as I’m drifting out of consciousness, I want to go out and find them and crawl into their bed and beg them to pay attention to me, please, hold my hand, pet my hair, show me some affection because I can’t live without it and I need it and I need you and please don’t ever leave me alone.

I’m an independent man, but sometimes an independent man wants to be cuddled by his favorite person.

I decided to take a chance and look up at them, quickly regretting it. Beautiful baby greys staring, focused out into the distant black horizon. Stars twinkling in the reflections of their eyes. Millions of thoughts racing along, not one stopping to be known by anyone but them. I wanted them to tell me. I wanted to know. I wanted to know them as much as I could. 

They were tense, tense as could be. Shoulders high, jaw set, eyebrows furrowed. They looked angry, but I knew they weren’t. They were thinking. Thinking about anything and everything, all at once. Their nose scrunched in the most adorable and/or sexy way once and a while. I wanted to kiss the frown off their lips. I really, really wanted to.

Hands opening and closing, clenching like they wanted something to hold. Like they used to have something to hold. Like they didn’t know what to do with them. I never knew what to do either, what, with them running through my mind every day. As much as I wanted to offer my own hand, I restrained myself. It’s too early. Too much.

Handsome and/or beautiful. Pretty and/or hunky. Dapper and/or elegant and/or attractive and/or any compliment I could possibly think of because I loved them. I loved you.

There’s a thought, huh? 

“I love you,” I mumbled, quieter than you could ever hear, quieter than even I could hear, basically just mouthing the words. You caught a glimpse, however, because you were always paying attention to me. Making sure I was okay and happy and comfortable. What did I ever do to deserve you?

You tilted your head in that way that you do, asking “what was that?” with a simple movement. I couldn’t say, so I just smiled and shook my head. You wanted to press, I could tell you did, but you just nodded and turned back to the window. I wanted to say something. Something clever, something kind, something to make you blush and sputter and giggle and shove me playfully. I wanted so bad to make you happy. But I was too scared to make you sad.

And then Celci entered the room.

“Captain, looking dashing and/or stunning as ever,” she said in that stupid nice voice reserved only for you, throwing a wink your way and a scowl in mine. She knew what she was doing when she made you blush. She knew how I felt. She knew how she felt. I didn’t want to have to fight for your affection, but if it was against Celci, I’d play dirty like a pig in the mud.

“Celci,” I growled. Once, you had said I growled like a wolf. It was a tease, I knew, meant to push my buttons, but I cherished it.

“Mark,” She spat, venom lacing her tone. The wolf and the snake. Wonder who you’ll pick.

Celci isn’t a snake. Celci’s honest and hard-working and, deep down, we respect each other. Way deep down.

“Shouldn’t you be taking care of the colonists?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t you be fixing the ship?” She shot back.

“The ship doesn’t need fixing.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“I’d rather be here.”

“Well, so would I.”

“Did the Captain ask for you?”

“Did they ask for you?”

You put out both hands, stopping the argument in its tracks. We both closed our mouths, knowing better than to piss off the boss.

That was another problem, huh? You’re my boss, aren’t you? Even if you did feel the same way about me that I feel about you, you’d never allow a relationship. There’s a power imbalance that you’d refuse to have. I love that about you. You know when to quit. I don’t. I don’t want to quit. I couldn’t care less about any power imbalance, I’d sooner quit my engineering career than drop my relationship with you. But you wouldn’t let me. I know you wouldn’t. I won’t make you choose between your job and me.

“The Colonists are fine, Captain. I wanted to spend some time up here, with you. And Mark,” CC said, as if she wasn’t completely ruining my night. Day. Whatever it was now. You started to nod because you enjoyed Celci’s company (almost) as much as mine, but I was tempted to ruin this. The desire to give in to any temptation that involved you ran deep in my blood. The Devil found a darling in me long ago.

I made a noise. A little one, in the back of my throat. Small enough that you could miss it or ignore it.

But you didn’t. You listened and you heard and you turned to me and stared into my eyes and I didn’t know what you saw but whatever you did made you dismiss Celci. She nodded and left, her lips pressed together and a grimace on her face, not wanting to disobey our Captain. My Captain. Cause you’re mine, aren’t you? I somehow managed to become priority number one. I wormed my way into your soul and made a space for myself and refused to leave. I don’t know how I did it, but you cared for me. It made me happier than a two-tailed dog, if I’m being honest.

You didn’t look at me again, but I wasn’t mad. How could I be? You’re you. You have your reasons, and I respect them. I knew you cared about me either way, you didn’t have to look at me. Even if I’d really prefer if you did. Even if I desperately want to stare into your eyes until I drown in them. I’d settle for this, though. Our little room with a little chair and a little desk and a little conspiracy board and a big window looking out into the emptiness where we searched for meaning. Ours. And Celci said the windows were a bad idea. What does she know, anyway?

We were quiet for a while, and that was fine. We didn't need to make noise. I liked the silence, anyways. It wasn't loud, it was quiet. Neither of us had any words to be said. Neither of us wanted to interrupt the nothingness. We just wanted to be, and so we did, and so we were. I tried my absolute hardest not to stare, but I couldn't help myself. Baby greys, tension, flexing your hands. I stared at your hands. I really, really wanted to hold them. The temptation was getting to be too much.

Temptation. That's the problem, isn't it? The desire in my brain that I am too weak to resist. The urge to kiss and hold and love that I need to bury down but can't bring myself to. You're my best friend, my favorite person, my love, my life, the one that I want. The one that I need. You are my temptation. And who am I to deny myself?

I hesitantly reached out to your hand clenched into a fist. I laid my fingers on your wrist, asking permission. You looked at me and your face was unreadable. I worried I'd crossed a line, that I’d misread the situation, that it was too much, too fast. You were my boss. You'd never let that happen. I'd made a mistake, hadn't I?

But you didn't jerk your hand back. You didn't turn and ask Celci to come back and hang out. You didn't request that I leave to go take care of the ship because there must be something to fix. You let me take your hand. I started to sweat.

I gently uncurled each finger from your palm, one at a time, massaging the knuckles because I knew you'd be a little sore in the joints. Your fingers twitched once and a while, and I paused to see if you'd ask me for anything. You never did, so I continued. Once I felt like I had taken care of that as well as I could, I pressed my own palm into yours. The angle was weird, I hadn't thought it through, but I managed to twist my arm around to line my fingers up with yours. I slid them in between, interlocking our hands, keeping us together even as we stayed apart. You didn't pull away, so I assumed it was alright.

I tried to quietly shift my chair towards you. “Tried” and “quietly” being the key words here. The chair was old. It creaked like hell. I could barely move two inches without it sounding like the floor would collapse on itself. Goddamn chair. I don’t like this chair.

You laughed, just a little, and that made the embarrassment worth it. You shuffled a little closer until you were standing behind me, and you paused for a moment. I was about to ask what you were doing, but you put a hand on my head. My eyes widened and I waited with bated breath. Blood rushed to my face and thoughts raced through my head.

Pet my hair, run your fingers through it, kiss the top of my head, something, anything, please, please, please–

You started to pet my head, gently, and it would be imperceptible if you let up any more. But I cherished it. My eyes fluttered closed and I sighed and leaned my head back.

I didn’t know how much time had passed before I was about to drift out of the world of the awake. I heard the faint noise of voices in the hallway– Gunther complaining, Burt saying something profound, CC giving orders and everyone asking where the Captain was. I smiled to myself, knowing the answer. The Captain was with me. The Captain was mine. I was their best friend, their number one priority. All the rest of the crew could suck it. I had won. You might’ve been mine, you might’ve not been. But you were here, with me, nonetheless.

It was wonderful.

#spaceiplier #space markiplier #detective markiplier #noiriplier #is that what we're calling him lmao #iswm fanfic #markiplier ego fanfic #markiplier egos #markiplier alter egos #markiplier egos x reader #noiriplier x reader #spaceiplier x reader #starting a tag ig #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #x reader #/reader #x you #x y/n #2nd person POV #gender neutral pronouns #gender neutral language #1st person POV #iswm celci #celci #celci f kelvina

[otterlyinluv]

A touch of darkness (pt.1)

Link to part 2

Summary: Dark convinced himself he must stay as far away from you as possible for your sake. That all changes when you start experiencing feelings you hadn't before.

Pairing: Darkiplier x DA!Reader

Tags: sfw, pining, proximity, general confusion caused by feelings

A/N: This is the first time I posted my writing somewhere. Hope you like it! (there will be more romance in the next part)

Word count: 1.2k

--

Damien, who always made sure you knew he was with you by touching you. Holding the small of your back when guiding you places. Putting a hand on your shoulder when you were getting mad at someone. Leaning into your touch when you held him.

But when you showed up at the new ego manor as a reincarnation from the mirror, Dark felt conflicted. You looked like the person he used to hold so frequently it became second nature. Even your soul was the same. But you weren't who you used to be. You didn't remember. At first, he kept a distance from you. Not an obscenely big one just enough to respect your private space.

And after a suspiciously short amount of time, he felt as if he was missing something. He felt an itch of sorts.

He found his eyes wandering to your hands. He wondered what it would be like to hold them. How they would feel compared to his. After thoughts such as these, he would shake his head in hopes that it would keep any similar ones at bay. After all, you were not his anymore.

--

You were extremely confused. Any time you stood next to Dark to point out something on his computer, he always moved away even if it was just by an inch. Every time you tapped his shoulder to get his attention, he would stare at your hand for a split second. Even if you accidentally bumped into him, he would visibly freeze. It was official. Dark most probably hated you. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but he didn't want to be close to you, that's for sure.

You didn't even know why you minded it. You got plenty of hugs from Wilford and the occasional hand around your shoulder from Illinois, so it's not like you lacked physical contact.

While you were sure he at least tolerated you, he obviously didn't want to spend more time with you than necessary. But, seeing as you two worked together rather often, you were in a rather bad situation. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable. So, you tried not to invade his personal space as much as you could.

--

A knock on your already open door disturbed you from your task of tracking down where Mark could possibly be. Not looking up from the screen, you uttered a quiet "Come in". The familiar sound of dress shoes made you tear your eyes away from the computer. Dark stopped just in front of your desk.

"Oh. Hi, Dark."

He didn't usually come into your little corner office. If you could call it an office. You were the one to look for him when you needed something or to share any new discoveries.

"I received complaints about the computers... I worked out the issues with the others already."

"Oh, okay..." You let him join you on the other side of the desk. But before you could leave him your chair, he reached for the computer mouse and put his left hand on the other side. Which meant you were trapped between his arms. Great.

To ease the increasingly awkward atmosphere, you said: "I thought Google fixed problems with computers."

He replied after a couple of seconds. "It's more of an organizational issue. His program doesn't extend to the placement of the files."

You nodded your head. You could feel his shoulder on the back of your head. Whether it was his shoulder or not was only a guess. You've never been this close before. Given his distaste for such closeness, he must have been suffering.

Instead of focusing on your proximity, you opted to look at the monitor. Search by name. Copy. Paste to another folder. Search through already existing folders. Copy. Paste.

You couldn't understand why he insisted on being the one to rearrange the misplaced files when you were perfectly capable of doing so yourself. Granted, he was much faster and more efficient than you would ever be. The room was filled with clicks and your rapid heartbeat. He still hasn't moved from his original position. In fact, it seemed as if he was even closer than in the beginning.

He let out a deep sigh, which you felt on the top of your head. You assumed it was because he couldn't find the file he was looking for. Or you would, have you not been so terribly plagued by thoughts racing in your head.

"There are only a few files left." There was a deep rumble in his voice that you wouldn't have heard if he wasn't so close to you. You weren't used to this. At all. He always made it seem like he wanted to be as physically far away from you as possible, but with the way he stood right now...

You didn't mind it as much as you should have. The lack of distance felt suspiciously comforting even though it was something you weren't used to. It was quite peculiar.

"That should be all of them."

His hand started withdrawing from the mouse, so you turned around to thank him when you froze. His face was mere inches apart from your own. You didn't expect him to be so close. Because of the proximity, you noticed his eyes weren't a deep shade of brown like many of the other inhabitants' of the mansion. They were black like a starless night sky. The color was rather pleasing. For a split second, you could've sworn you saw his eyes flick to your lips. But before you could confirm whether it was actually true, his gaze was back in your eyes. He drew in a sharp breath.

"I... I should go." He shook his head, but you caught him by the hand before he could move any further.

"Wait. This seems familiar." His body went rigid at your words.

"Familiar in what way?"

"I don't know just you, me... us?"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Are you doing this? Have you discovered a new power of influencing minds and are testing it out on me?" Your lips spread in a cheeky smile.

"That is ridiculous." He said sharply. "Even if I had that sort of ability, I would never use it on you."

His tone of voice was harsh, but his eyes... Slightly wide, eyebrows furrowed as if he was offended by your accusation, but his eyes held feelings. Fear. Though you were unsure what exactly he was afraid of.

He pulled his hand from yours with surprising gentleness.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but shook his head. "I believe my work here is done."

Fixing his suit jacket lapels, he started making his way to the door.

You stood up abruptly.

"Wait!"

He stopped and turned towards you slowly.

You yourself were confused about your sudden urgency for him to stay. You half expected him to simply shake his head, chastise you for wasting his time, and go wherever he needed to go. But he didn't. He stood there. Waiting.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

You swore something akin to disappointment appeared in his eyes before his look became neutral once again. He nodded his head and left the room.

You sank back in your chair. Why did you just do that? There was a foreign pang in your heart after you heard the door close. With each of his steps turning quieter and quieter, you felt like you were... missing something. You could not figure out what.

But maybe someone else could help.

#x reader #reader insert #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #darkiplier #damien x da #wkm damien #damien the mayor #markiplier egos #iplier egos #writing #fanfic #imagines

[candy-cain-vibes]

Cringe is real but shame is dead! I made cover art for my fanfic series of connected one shots!

Take!

Fun details!

Whyin (the district attorney aka Y/N) has no shadow! This is on purpose to show their simi-separate from the others! Their pose is also simi-lifted to show they are more puppet like than the others! The eyes behind them have 3 specific lines of sight! First is actor himself, then is themself and CM, and then is the viewer!

CM (copy mark) is front stage with them as Co-Star on all adventures! You can tell he plays many roles because of his many branching shadows! (Aka: Yancy, Illinois, Engineer, Barrel and Date Mark) his expression is a more welcoming mirror of the actors, because he is everything the actor pretends to be! he's beckoning the viewer to join him! As always!

Actor! His skin is more of a yellowish hue because he took over Damian's dead body! There's also the ball of red string to mimic the branching looping Timeline of the series! It's done in a cat's cradle to show he's weaving it by hand! The strings controlling the others all come from him!

Dark is attempting to choke actor out, but you can only see his hands because he always works from the shadows! He's also reaching through the silhouette of the mirror frame!

#digital art #my art #art #fan art #fanfiction #in space with markiplier #a date with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #markipler egos #markiplier van #the barrel markiplier #wkm actor mark #markiplier fanart #markiplier egos #markiplier #markiplier cinematic universe #the sleeby extended universe #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #my fanfiction #fanfiction cover

[cozyenigma]

Ingrained

Word Count- 1201

Request?- Yes!

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

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

Warnings- None

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

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

It tasted like ash.

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

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

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

"Back again, are we?"

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed and placed the deck on the desk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The present now then, shall we?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Justice? Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[intolerable-sushi]

I am sad and lonely so I am writing a Dark x reader angst story. Here is a small snippet.

_____________________________________

The road to vengeance was paved in blood and sweat. It was a path Dark had no trouble taking. Friendships and bonds were not something he saw value in so using and killing people to get his way was a very casual thing for him. The only thing he truly wanted at the end of the day was to bestow the same suffering onto Mark as he did to everyone around him. However, despite his best efforts to focus on the task at hand on thing continued to plague his mind. Someone from the past who continued to haunt him no matter how hard he tried to forget.

The attorney. His attorney.Damiens's attorney

#my writing #story prompt #writing prompt #creative writing #writing #story #story idea #fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction writer #darkiplier #darkiplier fanfic #damien markiplier #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x y/n #story snippet #damien x reader #markiplier egos #markiplier darkiplier #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier damien

[fizzing-saturn]

literally sobbing my youtuber egos hyperfixation is coming back except its ONLY ever been markiplier and (mostly) crankgameplays egos and there is NO CONTENT FOR CRANKGAMEPLAYS EGOS anywhere 😭😭😭

theyre so interesting too!!! dark and anti (who admittedly i dont know that much abt) are also interesting and silly/pos but BLANK!!!

hes so sad because hes the embodiment of all the negative stuff! but ethan did. nothing with him! wtf! and the character design is so aggfhdf i really like the idea of a gaunt bonewhite figure with eyes leaking oil and a face perpetually stuck in a sob

and unus 😔 the physical embodiment of DEATH?? he was only alive for one year but he was my blorbo the whole way through

and those are the only ones people really talk about?! i mean some people yeah but i feel like most don’t acknowledge mrs thomson or mad mike or bernice or (idk her name) his yandere ego or father ethan any of the rest of them! its so :((((

any ways. im going to go have thoughts abt Them. very sorry for the long post the tags are also very long but i Have Opinions and i needed them to come out

:(

#markiplier egos #youtuber egos #i hate it here #/j but also /srs #i just want some decent blank fanart #my favorite fanfics abt yt egos all had crank egos but none of them have updated in like a year #i genuinely dont know why no one knows abt them #like blank is a wet pathetic sad little cat #mad mike sells drugs out of an ice cream van #bernice is just. absolutely iconic #and some of marks egos are more difficult to find stuff where theyre not just a side character but with ethans its all of them #one of ethans egos is a literal grandmother? he first made her when he was a kid #her name is Mrs Thomson and im pretty sure that she uses the bathroom in cat litter??? #i would literally die for her but she only has 17 fanfic on ao3. #what the fuck #then theres unus #if anyone knows any crankgameplays ego its unus #idk if people just moved on from this fandom or if it was never alive as is but it makes me sad #crankgameplays #crankgameplays egos #:(((