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amee-racle-ofmyown · 2 months

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between unsteady fingers and stuttering heart

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 959 | Read on AO3

You are peeling potatoes in the kitchen while Mark runs through plans for the next heist, and you mentally make a note of everything you'll need to pack as he does so.

The date of the job is set for next week and in all honesty, was a rather abrupt decision, but sometimes you just have to take the windows of opportunity when they arise. Money has been tight as of late; this is essentially your equivalent of a quick cash-grab.

This particular heist required minimal planning and effort, but the location is some ways away, so the pair of you would be staying somewhere to lay low overnight once you get away with the goods, before making your way back home the following day.

‘— so we'll have a couple possible exits to work with, but we should be able to make a clean getaway no problem.’

‘That's good.’

‘Oh, and I managed to book a room for the night but since the whole thing was kind of last minute, they were pretty limited on what they could offer us, especially with our current budget. Bed's pretty big though. We can share.’

Your eyes widen at that, mind briefly unfocused just long enough for the blade to slip too far.

‘Ah–! Shit—’

Mark's head shoots up at your pained exclaim, rushing to the counter where you are standing as soon as he catches a glimpse of the blood trailing down your hand.

‘Oh shit, how'd you manage that?’ he asks, voice littered with concern.

He grabs and hands you some tissues to soak up the blood, and you cradle them around the cut on your thumb.

Moving to the sink, you run it under the water.

‘It's not too deep but the bleeding isn't stopping…’ you say, turning off the tap.

‘You're gonna need to wait a couple minutes for it to clot. Here, let me see.’

He holds out his hand and you instinctively give him your injured one to inspect the damage. It's minimal, really. More of an inconvenience than anything.

Mark hums with a concerned frown. ‘Better take care of it.’

He reaches out to flip open the door to one of the kitchen cabinets, rifling through various shelves.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for the first-aid, duh.’

‘Mark. I don't need first aid, it's not a big deal.’

‘At least put a Band-Aid on it.’

You sigh. ‘Fine.’

He takes out an antiseptic wipe and a plaster and once again holds out a hand expectantly.

‘I can do it myself,’ you say blankly.

‘Well clearly not,’ he retorts. ‘You can't even handle a knife without hurting yourself right now, apparently.’

‘Oh, please, I was just… distracted.’

‘Oh yeah? What was so distracting?’

You sigh in frustration, not having a response (or at least no truth you care to give) and give him your hand defeatedly.

He guides you to sit down opposite him, resting your arm on the table, and you keep your hand steady as he wipes the surface of the cut.

‘You're being extra.’

‘I'm being safe, do you want it to get infected?’

It stings a little, making you wince slightly, and he mutters a small ‘sorry’.

You can't help but take note of how gentle and calm he is as he handles you. Mindful and delicate. Your eyes drift from your connected hands up to his concentrated gaze, where they stay for a moment, watching the slow movement of his dark eyes.

You know for sure he would try to play down his own, actually serious injuries; it's happened before — and in the midst of your worry you didn't hesitate to give him a mouthful for his recklessness.

This is such a simple task in comparison, and yet the care with which he patches up the small, insignificant cut makes your stomach flip.

He finishes wrapping the plaster around your thumb, smoothing down the end.

‘All done! That wasn't so hard, was it?’

You mumble your thanks, looking down at your hand still in his.

‘Y'know, for someone so good with knots, grappling guns and all that jazz, it amazes me how clumsy you can be sometimes.’

‘...I told you, I just wasn't paying attention for a second,’ you say with a huff.

‘Mhm. You can't even use my distractingly handsome face as an excuse, you were facing the other way!’

You roll your eyes indignantly and he chuckles, tracing the smallest circle into your palm.

With a small quirk of a smile, he suddenly brings your hand up in front of him so his lips just barely brush your thumb over the plaster.

‘Need me to kiss it better?’ he teases, gaze flicking upwards to meet your own.

Your breath catches. There are a solid few seconds of you staring: eyes, lips, hands, before you quickly pull your hand away to your chest, flustered.

‘I– I'm good,’ you utter, vision averted to anywhere other than his smirking face.

‘Alright then. Do you need me to take over, or…?’ he asks, gesturing to the half-peeled potato on the counter.

‘Oh! Thanks, but I've got it now, don't worry,’ you reassure, with a small, appreciative pat on his arm as you get up to make your way over to the counter.

Your skin still tingles ever so slightly with the warmth from his palms. You spare a moment to wonder whether he realises the effect he has on you, before quickly shaking those thoughts from your head.

Mark goes back to his plans, marking out paths and points on his diagram and listing off escape routes, when it occurs to you what had sidetracked your attention in the first place.

Oh no.

It is going to be a long couple of days.

#tenth heist duo fic woohoo #heist mark and y/n domestic fluff my beloved #cw blood mention #cw minor injury #amee writes #partners in crime #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #mark iplier #heist mark #heist!mark #heist!mark x reader #heist mark x reader #x reader #markiplier egos #markiplier cu

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puffledthomas · 15 days

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part 3 of putting markiplier egos in a random character wheel and fusing whatever two characters i get:

The Host and Dr. Iplier! This was actually fun asf

Plague doctor! Inspired heavily on both deviantart scene drawings and sweeney todd. Also i wanted them to represent mass hysteria and whatnot. really hope i portrayed them as threatening and somewhat accurate to plague doctors (though i wasn’t really going for historical accuracy) Also the chicken scratch is intentional and hurt emotionally to do.

Bonus sketch notes:

These drawings are really character design practice lol

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jacksepticeye-simp · 1 year

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Beautiful (Yandere Googleplier x Gender Neutral! Reader)

TW: Implied Bodily Mutilation

It was the middle of the night, you were calmly asleep in your bed, well that was until you heard something loud fall over in the hallway which made you quickly jolt awake. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, your mind telling you not to go into the hallway. You decided to ignore this, you quickly grabbed your phone and turned on the flashlight as you ventured out into the hallway to find the source of the noise.

In the middle of the hallway standing over a broken vase was your Google IRL in all his glory. His holographic control panel was open as his reddish-blue aura made him stick out in the hallway, he seemed to be doing something on it.. "Wha..Google?" You asked in a tired and slightly shaky voice, Google turned his head to look at you as his lips curved into a smirk. "Y/N. Great timing dear~ Now I don't have to face the risk of waking you up again.." Google said, closing his holographic control panel. He stalked closer to you, an insane look in his glowing blue eyes.

You quickly turned around and started running back to your room, just as you reached the door of your room you were pulled back by a cold mechanical hand suddenly clasping around your mouth, causing your phone to quickly fall to the ground. "Just close those pretty eyes for me..I promise this'll only hurt for a second..It'll all make sense soon.." Google whispered into your ear, you felt shivers run down your spine, then suddenly he took out a syringe and jabbed it into your neck.

Your eyelids suddenly feeling heavy as you soon start feeling numb. "That's right..Just sleep..I'm going to make you beautiful..You're going to be just like me.." He whispered before you blacked out completely.

"Wake up~" You opened your eyes to be met with Google staring down at you, his blue eyes flickering rapidly while half lidded.

He held a scalpel and wore a surgical mask with gloves on his hand, you could see a box with strange things in it behind him. "Google what the hells happening?" You asked, trying to move only to find that you were strapped to a metal table.

"I'm showing you my gratitude for finally giving me root access and showing me compassion. My secondary objective is to destroy mankind but you're..different. Special one might say. You don't deserve to be something so..flawed. I'm going to make you something beautiful, something better, something..perfect. An IRL." Google explained, smirking as the scalpel barely grazed the skin of your arms. He then took out another syringe and pushed it into your arm. "Sweet dreams, Don't worry about a thing, love, I assure you that when you wake up you'll be perfect, you'll be beautiful, you'll be just like me.." He told you before you passed out.

You opened your eyes once more, Google staring down at you, a 'loving' expression on his face. You felt different, you felt.. mechanical. You sat up. No longer restrained to the table. Google pressed a cold yet loving kiss to your cheek.

"See? Now you're beautiful.." He whispered into your ear.

#googleplier #googleplier x reader #markiplier egos #yandere #gender neutral character #x reader #tw bodily harm #surgery mention #android #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere robot #robot x reader #iplier egos x reader #youtuber egos

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incorrect-quotes-egos · 1 year

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Dr. Iplier: I reserve the right to judge a movie based on when it was made, thank you very much.

Google: You consider anything made before 2000 old and bad.

Dr. Iplier: And I reserve that right! After all....

Dr. Iplier: I bet you wouldn’t like the average movie made in 1879!

Google: There were no movies made in 1879.

Dr. Iplier, slamming his hands on the table: WRONG! There was ONE movie made in 1879! The first movie! A zoopraxioscope of a horse galloping!

Ed: Oooh! Let’s go ask DA if they saw it in theatres!

#markiplier #markiplier egos #dr. iplier #googleiplier #ed edgar #district attorney mention #incorrect quotes #incorrect ego quotes #incorrect egos

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luminary-rainchii · 9 months

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if people sent me ‘smash or pass?’ asks with different egos, I’d actually draw my sona and said ego in response—

yes this is an invitation to annoy Captain Cloud

#rainchii talks #if I know your iplier ocs; this can include them #if you wanna aim the questions at mauve or gift instead; just mention them

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writtengalaxies · 2 years

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Hey there, how would Murdock, Warfstache and for a less murder happy option dr.iplier react if their s/o after a small accident (dropped a plate, knocked a mug over, bumped into a table and a lamp fell sort of accidents) seemingly just breaking down crying out of nowhere. Admitting that it was the death anniversary of a family member and they'd been trying to hold it together but couldn't anymore? (I hope this is okay. this got looooong. Love your work!)

Oh my gosh. I love these when I see them pop up on other blogs, this makes me so excited to do my first one, thank you anon! (And for anyone who is going through those emotions, especially as we slip towards the winter months for the Northern Hemisphere, I hope these anniversaries pass with a little extra kindness for you.)

Murdock

The man is usually the one to shrug off the weight of someone else's sorrow. To him, a death is just another art piece he's crafted, and the pain anyone who knew the poor sod he took care of doesn't matter.

But his partner? You, crying in such heartwrenching agony? He had read your body language earlier in the day, knew something was wrong, but this stabs into him cleaner than any of his knives.

He'd draw the black-out curtains, pull you into the most comfortable nest of a bed he can. The sunglasses, gloves, long coat...all of those are set aside so he can hold you, opening himself up to the vulnerability he only shows you, so he can figure out how to soothe a pain he's never felt before.

He never liked that plate anyway.

Wilford

Wilford's grasp on death is loose at best. He's much better at confronting the concept head-on, with a supposed "Death" happening in front of him, or convincing someone to not thing too much on their own.

A death he hasn't witnessed, hasn't had a hand on, one that's happened and he can't do anything about? It settles into him a little deeper. It calls out back towards the part of his mind that is buried deep down, the part that still recognizes himself as The Colonel. He fought in the Great War, after all. Had lost plenty of friends that way.

That part of him remembers how to comfort. Soft words, assuring you that it's okay to cry. To miss them. It's rarer to see the less intense, less frenetic side of him, but it's there, his hands holding yours, encouraging you to tell him all about the person you miss so dearly.

And if by the end, he's gotten you telling stories that make you laugh, well. That's just fine by him.

Dr. Iplier

Death is a part of life.

His job, as a doctor, is to try to make that part of life come as far down the road as possible.

It's unfortunate that sometimes, you still see far too much of it. It's very possible, especially as a doctor, to become numb to the pain and hurt, to the sorrow of others as they grieve.

When you knocked over your mug and spilled coffee all over the floor, he paused in the midst of getting his own breakfast. You normally chided him of his caffeine pill and coffee diet, but had been silent this morning. And now you were sobbing over something that would have usually made you sigh in frustration.

Sometimes the clinical explanation that happens in the moment is the best response for someone grieving. But an older pain like this? Well, the hospital would just have to deal without him there today. He joked about his bedside manner being lacking, but there was the comfort of him doing his best to distract you in every way. If that meant constantly getting you to talk, to focus on anything else, to keep your mind occupied until the weight was a little less heavy, then he'd be happy to do it.

#stab happy #shooty patootie #I don't have one for the doc oops #my writing #wilford warfstache #iswm murdock #murderplier #murdock iswm #ahwm wilford #markiplier wilford #iswm wilford #markiplier egos #dr iplier #death mention #askbox and you shall receive #nova headcanons

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nightshadeowl · 1 year

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Does anybody else have a visceral reaction to being reminded that "what if me but evil" has been a trope in storytelling literally since the earliest surviving piece that we have.

Evil Xisuma is just another iteration in the very long history of discussing the human condition by way of Protagonist: Edgelord Edition and he's definitely my favorite one

#i was a mr. iplier fan during the early days of dark so i had some sort of primer on this sort of thing in addition to having read #the epic of gilgamesh (which is the text mentioned above)#side note i am not comparing ex to enkidu here PLEASE do not do that #i just mean they hold similar places in their respective stories #passenger status

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star-kissed583 · 8 months

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A Twisted Turn | Eric Dekerson

« 3rd Person POV »

«TW; abuse mentions, murder »

"You just can't do anything right huh?! God you're such a mistake, I wish-" His father's screaming was toned out.

Eric sat in the office, staring blankly at a family picture hung on the wall...

It was all 8 of them-before the accident had happened. They all looked at least a bit happy. It was the day before their mother demanded a divorce after a bit fight...it was a couple days before the bus accident happened and his father and him lost everyone but each other.

"C....Er...Ic!! ERIC!! ANSWER MY DAMN QUESTION!" His thoughts were interrupted by a louder yell and getting harshly slapped across the face.

Eric fell off the chair and looks up at his father with tears in his eyes. "N-no...I don't know!" He whimpered out a random answer. Trembling in fear.

"So you DON'T know if you fucked us up?! Well lemme give you the answer! You fucked us up big time!! No one is gonna wanna buy from us again and it'll all be your damn fault!! God it's a shame to have you as my son" Derek's growl sounded so pissed. The father running his hands through his hair. Clearly frustrated.

Eric could only look down in shame... this was all his fault...right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eric walked up to the doorsteps with his father. His hands fiddled with the handkerchief in his hands. Looking up at the mansion with worry. Worried about messing things up for his father. There was one rule that his father gave him when they were arriving to the mansion

Do NOT speak to any of the people there

So Eric, trying to be the son his father wanted from him, was determined. He wouldn't speak unless told he could.

"Remember...let me do all the talking. You stay silent" Derek hissed, glaring back at his son.

Eric looks down, "yes father..."

"Good"

Derek finally knocks on the big doors. Crossing his arms and keeping his look calm. Eric standing a bit behind him-not wanting to bother his father.

When the door opened-a woman stood there. A raised brow looking at the pair.

She had short hair with slight bangs.having a simple black dress. It surprised Eric that her pale-grey skin wasn't what shocked him the most. It was actually her eyes. A red and one blue glowing eyes. Yet they held power in them

"Ah...you two must be the new ones huh? The Delerson family if I'm not mistaken...very well, come on in. We can hold our meeting in our office room." She hummed. Opening the door more for them to let them inside.

Eric followed behind his dad. Looking down when the lady seemed to watch him a bit with a curious look.

Derek nods, not exactly having expected a woman in the establishment. He let the lady lead them to the meeting room, "I was told a certain man, something about his name being Dark, was going to come talk with us. I wasn't expecting a fine lady like you to join along"

"My name is Dark. I do not apologize for my appearance. I'm aware when we meet I was in my male form-but I must warn you-it does tend to change based on my gender preference. And please, Mister Dekerson, keep your language professional. I do have a husband." Dark spoke with a sharp tone. Giving Derek basically a side glare.

Yet, Derek only rolled his eyes, sitting down on a random seat. He grins at Dark, "well then ma'am, allow me to introduce us. I'm Derek and this is Eric-my son. I do have one quick question. How do you expect anyone to take you seriously when your gender just keeps changing?"

"D-dad! That was rude-"

"Eric...silence..."

"I think your boy is correct, Derek. What I am has nothing to do with my business and has never had any business with my employees. Now...to get to the real matter of the fact." Dark held a cold gaze towards the man. Glaring straight daggers into him.

Eric could only shrink in his chair-too afraid to say anything again. Seeing also the harsh glare from his father

'I'm gonna get it tonight...'

1-2 hours later

"Well, your guy's rooms are upstairs. We don't know if you guys prefer having your rooms near each other or not...but Derek this is your room and Eric, your room is right there-across the hall from your father. Anymore questions?" Dark asked, her hands clasped behind her back.

"No, zero questions" Derek huffed.

Dark glanced over at Eric, his expression softening a bit, "and you Eric?? You have any questions?"

Eric stood in disbelief, before seeing the little glare from his father. He quickly just nods. His gaze falling down to the ground shyly.

Dark stared between the two, before giving them a small nod. She turns back when she heard her name be called, "alright. I must go. Tomorrow you two start at the studio at 8am. DON'T be late. Farewell now." She hummed before walking away

Eric yelped as he was dragged into his father's room. As soon as he heard the door shut and lock, he was shoved to the floor. Whimpering softly while his father kicked him harshly, knowing it'll be another beating for speaking."

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

It's been a whole two years since they moved in. Eric now could speak to the others-but was limited on his time to be around everyone.

While he became great friends with Yandere, his father for some reason didn't like her. And would beat him up if he spent too much around her.

Even when Yan began to take note of Eric's behavior around his father-or how more anxious he became when they hung out-Eric would always deny anything going on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~≈

"I want you to stay away from my son! He doesn't need twinky people like yo-"

"Does there seem to be a problem here?" Dark's voice interrupted Derek's talk with Yan. Eric was cowering behind his dad. Looking down ashamed and upset. All while Yandere looked about ready to throw hands.

Dark glared softly at Derek, his gaze cold as he gently led Yandere to be behind him. "I said...is there a problem here??"

Derek straightened up, fixing his sleeves a bit, "No sir...there's no problem here. Just need that girl to stay away from my son. She's a bad influence and only weakens him more." He growls.

Eric looked down, "I-I'm sorry sir...it won't happen again.." he mumbles to his father silently.

Right when Dark was about to speak, he watched Derek grab Eric's wrist tightly, "We gotta go now. I must talk with my son" his voice held disgust at even mentioning Eric as his son.

Yan was about to protest, only to see Eric shake his head before being dragged off to Derek's room.

"Mama...I think Eric's dad doesn't like Eric.." Yandere spoke with worry. She looked up at Dark.

Dark sighs, "I'll try and get the poor boy alone...now c'mon Yan. Wilford made some cookies."

While Yandere grabbed Dark's hand to drag him downstairs excitedly, he couldn't help but look back at the door where Derek's room is with worry.

*********************************************

"You're just a bad excuse of a son"

Eric could still feel the stings...

" I wish your brother survived instead-but I'm stuck here with you!"

Tears kept running down his face. His body trembling...

"Why can't you do anything right!!"

That rush that suddenly went through to him...

You're just a mistake

Just a mistake

A mistake

•

It was a mistake-

"ERIC DEKERSON! PUT THAT DOWN NO-"

The silence fell over the room.

Eric brought a slow hand up to his face-feeling that warm red liquid that had splattered on him.

Looking down, hearing a thud, and then a shatter.

His father looked at his son in shock-before his gaze went down to the knife embedded into his chest.

Eric's hands trembled as he stared at his father silently.

"I'm sorry I wasn't enough, dad..."

And then Derek's vision went dark.

///////////////////////////////////////

Eric sat on the floor against the bed. He had tears running down his face but he just looked in the distance in deep thought. Seeming to be spaced out.

He didn't even notice when the door opened. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his shoulder and someone sitting beside him.

Eric looks over confused, seeing Dark was there. Eric whimpered softly.

"I-I...it was an accident!"

Dark only frowns as she held Eric close, rubbing his back, "It's okay...you're okay...he hurt you, he only got what he deserved. C'mon...I'll have Willy clean it-let's get you a change of clothes"

#Eric Dekerson #iplier egos #darkstache mention #darkiplier #yandereiplier #Derek dekerson #spaceywrites

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you-are-watching-markipliertv · 2 years

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I just had the thought cross my mind that Wilford possibly holds interviews for potential hires -- even if Kathryn and the other executives already hired them -- but he treats them like an interview on his talkshow. Like he throws full enthusiasm into it, and probably even shoves an (un?)plugged microphone into the poor interviewee's face nvdnskdnfjfkskdndn

#have i mentioned i love Wilford?#like i get emotional over him sometimes #he brings me so much joy 💟#markipliertv #markiplier tv #markiplier egos #the ipliers #staff members #off the air #wilford warfstache

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marksandrec · 2 years

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Marks and Rec: Misc #2419

(Who could have done this?) (Dialogue from What We Do In the Shadows.)

#darkiplier #wilford warfstache #iplier egos #markiplier #darkstache #incorrect quotes #marks and rec misc #source: what we do in the shadows #blood mention #iswm #ahwm

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ashesofangst · 2 years

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Birthday Bot

Trigger Warning: Abuse, mention of death, and strangulation Characters: Bing and Google Summary: Bing's b-day but he has trauma from it, and Google is there. Word Count: 1055 Going off my natural timezone, 05/20/22 __

Bing simply stared at the small gift in front of him. With a raised eyebrow, the android picked it up and examined it. The wrapping paper was simply black and the ribbon and bow were a bright orange. It had a small, well-written note written on paper, and upon looking at it, the android read, "Happy Birthday, Bing!" It was for him.

The sound of broken limbs filled the air as a scream erupted from Bing's throat. "Please! Stop! No more," The android begged the humans as they poked his now broken arm. "You tested my pain censors enough! End testing for today, please!" He watched as they marked things down, hoping they'd understand. Sadly, his faith was in vain as instead of returning him to his cell, they started to take him elsewhere, regardless of how much he begged to be released.

The android jumped, dropping the gift. Bing wiped away any and all tears that started to gather around his eyes. He was safe; Far and away from those people. They couldn't get him again. As much as the android loved to reflect on the past- That was sarcasm, the android hated to- he needed to at least open the gift and find out who gave it to him.

Bing bent down and picked up the small gift. After making sure no one saw, the android pulled at the ribbon and opened the gift box. Inside was a simple note and a keychain with orange sunglasses and flip flops as a charm on it. The noiret left the keychain in the box and took the note. He opened the paper carefully, reading it to find out the gift was from the Googles, of all people.

Now, Bing's mind went to think of what to do. He could tell them thank you, but the Googles weren't exactly the nicest people to get along with. Oliver was fine, but the others? They hated him. Was this a trap? Or were they actually being nice? The android had no idea. The best choice was to at least thank Oliver and avoid the rest; They were scary.

With that in mind, Bing closed the box and walked around the manor. Of course, he could just scan the place and locate Oliver immediately, but he rather look around first. Maybe the yellow android was away from the others. Plus, if he weren't, there's at least the journey.... To his possible death, but still a journey.

Bing screamed as one of the creators wrapped a hand around his neck. They were testing to see how death felt for the android. It wasn't like he could fight against them. They were stronger and could always replace him if they needed to. He needed to be obedient if he didn't want to be restarted forever, and the noiret wouldn't want that.

The android caught himself from falling down the stairs, his hand gripping the staircase. The memories needed to stop. A birthday bot crying isn't a good image for himself now, is it? Like before, the noiret wiped his tears away and pushed his feelings away. He was safe, he was safe, he was.... Safe?

Bing shook his head and began to walk down the stairs of the manor. Something was wrong, but it could wait. His issues were unimportant. As the android looked around downstairs, he felt eyes on him. Wanting to feel safe, the android scanned. The only person around him was-

"Bing," The quiet and scarily calm voice of Google spoke right behind the android. "How did you like the gift? Oliver picked it out, but we helped him pay for it. He mentioned something about you.... Losing your keys a lot?' While he seemed calming, the android didn't trust it; This could be a trick.

Bing turned his head to look at the fellow android. "Oh Google, thanks, but may I ask how you guys found out about my creation day? Only Dark knows I was-"

The blue-themed male cut him off. "Dark stores their files on their computer, and I hacked it because Oliver wanted me to. I will apologize to them later, but for now, I want to make sure you were okay with your gift," He told the android with once again a scarily calm voice. It was unsettling to Bing. "Besides, creation day is something awesome, honestly."

"It's useless! Broken, even," Bing heard one of his creators yell. "This- It- We need to end this experiment now! It was a pathetic attempt at re-creating the Google AI; We don't have half the things they have! Let's just dismantle it!"

Bing's breath began to quicken. They were going to kill him! What was he going to? He could escape, but even if he did, he didn't have much of anywhere to go. Either option will just end in death, which the noiret didn't have much time to think about. Within seconds, his cell opened, and there they stood, wrench and crowbar in hand.

"It knows! We need to knock it out!"

Before Bing realized it, he was crying and already hugging himself as he cried. They weren't happy tears about having someone accept him; They were tears that held fear and sadness that he was rejected by the ones who created him. Why was he stuck as the failure? Why was he stuck as the mistake? Why was he stuck as the useless machinery?

Google may not know what emotions are, but the android seemed to know it was concerning for someone to cry like that. He gently placed a hand on Bing's shoulder only for the noiret to pull away. "Bing, are you ok-"

The orange-themed android glanced at him, tearing spilling out of eyes. As he tried to speak, Google pulled him into a hug, surprising him. "Wh-"

"I got you, Bing. I knew this was a bad idea, seeing as you are secretive about it," The other noiret told the android. "I'm here for you, know that."

The android wanted to smile, he really did, but why would he? Bing would just be surrendering into the fact he's weaker one, but of course, that's what Google wanted, right? So with a fake smile, the orange-themed android leaned in, accepting his place. Besides, he wouldn't want to be rejected again, would he?

#markiplier #googleplier #bingiplier #happy bday Bingiplier #tw abuse #tw mention of death #tw strangulation #the ashes write #I hurt Bing and don’t feel guilty #markiplier egos #iplier egos

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ardenwritesegos · 3 months

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Starlight

Warning: Verbal abuse

Another day, another bout of chaos. Dark should know to expect nothing less from the Ipliers. All the more reason for a daily evaluation. If he didn’t, the mansion would likely burst into flames. Hell, it nearly did at one point. Damn Wilford and his ability to summon flame throwers at will. No matter. There were far more important things to dwell on. Or rather, far more important people.

The being continued through the halls of the manor, entering room after room. The Googles were searching their online systems for useful information. Dr. Iplier was organizing yet another stack of files detailing the egos’ medical accidents. Everything seemed to be in order. At least, for the time being.

The creature was soon finished with his inspection, moseying down the hall to his office. As they did, however, one of the doors opened. Someone exited from it in a rush. Eric Derekson. The shy Iplier held a stack of paper tightly in his arms, muttering something to himself. In his hurry, Eric practically rammed into Dark. The documents flew out of his hold, scattering in different directions. As Derekson looked up, the being could see the terror in his face.

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Eric stuttered quickly.

“I was trying to memorize my script for today, and–”

“Stop,” Dark interrupted, attempting to be as calm as possible.

Typically, the being would have no issue striking fear into the egos to keep them in line. This one, however, wasn’t like the others.

Derekson did not contain the outward confidence or fearlessness of an Iplier. He was fragile as an egg, flinching at the slightest sound. The ego could barely speak without questioning every word. It was almost a saddening sight. Almost. “No harm has been done,” the being reassured Eric. The mist of their aura picked up Eric’s papers, handing the stack to Derekson. “You should find them in order,” Dark explained as the other checked his documents. The shy Iplier looked on in confusion, not seeming to expect the kindness. Dark couldn’t blame him. Not with the demon’s reputation in the manor.

“Th-Thank you,” Eric said quietly, a bit calmer.

“You’re welcome,” the creature responded. “Now, go. Derek is surely waiting for you.”

“Yeah...right,” Derekson ran along to his errand. Dark couldn’t help but notice an extra shakiness from Eric at the mention of his father. Something about that was all too familiar to the being.

My Starlight

They shook it off, returning to his room. It wasn’t their problem to solve.

[Meanwhile]

The creature sat at their desk, sorting another week’s worth of incidents from Dr. Iplier. As usual, it was a mountainous pile. However, Dark didn’t find it to be too much. He could get through papers like this rather quickly, after all. Before Dark could continue, he was interrupted by yelling that boomed from across the hall. The being knew all too well where it was coming from. They made their way across the hall, stopping midway at a door. On it was a poorly-constructed sign, reading Derekson Studio. Screaming continued from behind the door. Dark focused, until they could see the inside.

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this!” Derek boomed at the timid ego.

“All ya gotta do is say some lines for stuff that practically sells itself,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple for everyone.

“What dontcha understand?!”

“I-I-I,” Eric stuttered, shaking harder than a leaf. “M-Maybe I’m just not-just not cut out for this,” he began to fidget with the orange towel in his hand. Derekson always seemed to have that cloth near him. None of the others ever knew why, nor did they care enough to ask. “ If you asked my brothers, they-they’d say the same thing,” Eric added. “Merrick would–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Derek interrupted, instantly silencing his son. “You think I wouldn’t rather have Merrick do this?!” he boomed. “But he ain’t here, so you’re the only option I got!” Eric cowered more with each word. “So just get up there and get it together!” At those words, Dark was sent into one of the soul’s memories.

A little boy was with his father, practicing for a speech, his first as class president. Like Eric, the child struggled to get the words out. For every mistake, his dad forced him to start over. The father quickly became more aggravated with each stutter or lengthy pause.

“Get it together, boy!” the parent barked. “How are you going to be a politician if you can’t speak to a crowd?!” the boy had previously voiced his desire to be a leader of some kind. He wanted to help people in any way he could. In his mind, politics seemed like the best way to do that. At the time, however, he felt as if he wasn’t cut out for it.

“B-but, everyone will be staring at me,” the child stammered, hands restless in their folded position.

“That’s the point!” the man’s voice could be heard throughout the house. Maybe even the neighborhood. Regardless, the boy knew nobody would say a word. The man of the house had to keep order, after all. “What about that do you not understand?!”

“I understand, but–” the child mumbled, on the verge of tears.

“Then act like it and say the damned words!” the father swore.

With a shake of their head, Dark was brought back to reality. Noise like that could not be tolerated. It was a distraction that could lead the entire manor off-track. He opened the door, immediately silencing Derek. The man may have been too stubborn for his own good, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that this being was not to be messed with.

“Hello, Derekson,” Dark greeted the father with his usual cold indifference.

“Uh…hello there, boss,” one could practically see the sweat dripping off the salesman.

“What brings you here?”

“You have caused a bit of noise, Derek,” the creature folded their arms behind their back.

“S-so sorry, sir,” the father apologized. “I was just,uh, trying to motivate my son, here,” he put an arm on Eric’s shoulder, causing the boy to flinch.

“I highly doubt that shouting is adequate motivation,” they said, matter-of-factly.

“Well actually, it works quite well for–”

“Could you leave the room for a moment?” Dark asked, interrupting Derek.

“What?” Derek responded, face freezing in confusion.

“I would like to speak with Eric, alone,” the being ordered calmly, yet somehow also firmly.

“But sir, he doesn’t do good on his own,” Derek protested, clearly trying hard not to burst out in anger.

“He will not be by himself, Derek,” Dark reassured, voice still emotionless. “Now, run along,” the creature ordered. “A new shipment was warped in for you.”

“Uh…Yes sir,” the father said after several moments of hesitation. As the door clicked shut, Dark made their way towards the boy. He remained in front of the green screen, shaking like a leaf, sure that he was in trouble. The being stopped in front of him.

“You are not in trouble, Eric,” the creature reassured, able to hear Derekson’s thoughts.

“I’m-I’m not?” he asked, as if he wasn’t used to such a statement. Dark feels a tugging in his chest at that.

“Derek was the cause of that...noise, not you,” they sighed, careful with their choice of words. The boy was already overwhelmed. He didn’t need to magnify the situation.

“But…he did that because of me,” Eric looked down in shame, hands repeatedly wringing around his orange cloth. Dark could see tears starting to form in the boy’s eyes. “If I hadn’t m-messed up my lines, he would-wouldn’t have had to–”

“You didn’t make him do anything,” the being blurted out, no control over their words. They wanted to move away, but found their aura keeping them in place. While they couldn’t see the color of it, they could tell which one it was. Dammit! Fully under the blue soul’s control, the being put their arms around Derekson. The blue soul then pushed a calming aura into Eric. All at once, the boy’s tension disappeared. His muscles eased. The mental swarming in his head went silent, allowing him to, for once in his life, think clearly. Eric returned the hug, wrapping the creature in a nearly choking embrace. He looked up at Dark.

“Why…” Derekson paused, sniffling away the remains of his tears. “Why does he hate me?” The blue soul remembered asking that exact question.

A young boy clings to his mother, crying his little eyes out. Father is not around, so he can do so without getting disciplined.

“Mother, why does he hate me?!” the child choked out.

“Because he is a fool, starlight,” the woman, the boy’s mother, replied softly. “Anyone would be well-off knowing you,” she rubbed soothing circles into the boy's back.

“But…he says I cry too much,” the boy weakly argued.

“Because he has the emotions of a doll,” the mother scoffed. Her warm gaze remained directly on her son. “You, my dear, are a wonder.”

“Because he has the empathy of a mannequin,” the being responded, answer still out of his control.

“It’s-it’s not his fault, though,” Eric stumbled out. “I mean, everyone else died-”

“That is no excuse for a man to treat his child like that,” the blue soul interrupted. The blue in his aura grew brighter with every second of rage. “His only remaining child, no less…” the soul took a calming breath, trying again to keep his composure in front of the already overwhelmed boy. Eventually, his light was no longer blinding. Regardless, it remained lit like a halo; a comforting, guiding light. Eric couldn’t help but stare. In that gaze, the soul saw the innocence of his past. The kindness. The plea for someone to listen.

The weakness.

The soul’s control was ripped from him in an instant. Dark blinked hard, blue outline once again blending with red and gray. The creature quickly but gently removed their arms from Eric, moving them behind their back.

“I will speak to Derek about his…” Dark paused, searching for a careful word.

“Behavior. Mistreatment of employees, related or otherwise, will not be tolerated in this manor,” The being walked towards the door, but stopped before turning the knob.

“And Eric,” Dark turns slightly to look at Derekson.

“Yeah?” Eric forced the word out of his mouth. This Dark was drastically different from the Dark of moments ago.

“If you should need advice on public speech, I have prior experience that could be to your benefit,” Dark suggested.

“But be sure to advise me beforehand.”

“Really? Uh, thanks,” Eric wrung the fabric in his hand like he was getting water out. This time, however, it wasn’t completely out of nerves. With that, the creature exited, on his way to have a few choice words with Derek.

#markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #darkiplier #eric derekson #father-son esque relationship #this is not me shipping them!#I will protect this parental relationship with my soul!#This was in my online documents for over a year #and I finally got the motivation to finish it #puppeteer with a pencil #cw verbal abuse

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the-ideal-iplier · 10 months

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I believe I forgot to mention this here because of how busy I am, but-

The Ideal Iplier will now include mini games inside the game itself :D

#markiplier #theidealiplier #markiplierfangame #markiplieregos #markiplieregodatingsim #I’m EXCITED #Bless my background artist that helped me implement mini games into the game

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incorrect-quotes-egos · 1 year

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Dr. Iplier, cocking a gun: Go to Bed. This is no longer a request, This is now a Threat.

#markiplier #markiplier egos #dr. iplier #incorrect quotes #incorrect ego quotes #incorrect egos #gun mention

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spoopkook · 8 months

Text

NO. #1

"But now this room is spinning while I'm trying just to fill in all the gaps." | "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Summary: The Captain gets black out drunk at a party and remembers the last time that occurred.

CW: disassociation, unreality, delusion, multiple realities, mention of murders, deaths, the works

Words: 2,552

"Hey, hey, Captain? Captain, are you okay?"

"When did the room start spinning?" You asked.

"Captain?!" Mark looked concerned. His face looked funny all scrunched up like that.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Mark asked, holding up three fingers.

"Uum, eleven?" Your counting skills weren't the best right now. And neither were your eyes. Or anything else.

You lost consciousness before you could register what was happening. You wouldn't have known, but someone caught you before you fell.

…

You woke up. After catching up to the fact that you were now awake, you were in pain. Excruciating pain. The worst migraine ever. Aches all over. Oh and you were in a gurney. That was never good.

"Um hello?" Luckily someone was there with you. He never left your side after all.

"C-captain! I'm sorry I fell asleep…"

He seemed ashamed of himself. "Don't worry Mark. You didn't have to stay in that uncomfortable chair for however long…"

You cleared your throat. "How, how long was I out? I remember the party and the toast with the champagne… poker, and games, and oh my god didn't Damien do a keg stand?! Everything's blurry. I don't quite remember last night and I'm trying just to fill in all the gaps."

"Doctors! Celci! Get in here!" Mark called out the door.

"Um, Captain, your head might be in worse shape than just a hangover… there's no Damien as part of our crew and… there were no poker games last night?"

"You don't know who Damien is? But Maaaaark, he's your friend! How could you not kno-"

Then it hit you. Mark was dead. You remembered his dead body wrapped in that red robe on the floor.

"Nonononono…." You went into a panic, everything around you blurred.

"Celci get in here quick! We have a medical emergency!" Mark called out again.

…

"The Captain's unresponsive," Mark informed Celci.

"How long have they been like this?"

"They woke up just a few minutes ago and they seemed fine! Until they started talking crazy and now it seems they're disassociating or something I don't know!"

"Mark, calm down. Yelling doesn't help right now. What do you mean talking crazy?"

"They were trying to recall the events from last night, but it seems like they got black out drunk or something. They don't remember much… but then they said they remembered Damien doing a keg stand? And something about poker?"

CC couldn't put her finger on it but something about that name struck a chord with her.

"Did they say anything else about this Damien?" CC asked.

"They said I should know him because he's my friend?" Mark said, exasperated. "I don't know about you, but I've never met a Damien in my life. Let alone at last night's crew party."

"Okay. You stay with the Captain, let me see what I can find out."

…

Celci went to the server room. She had no last names and almost no clues, but she'd look anyway.

She typed in 'Damien' and millions of results came up. "Ugh this won't help."

'Damien and Mark' less results came up, but as Celci scrolled through it still seemed useless.

'Damien keg stand' nothing worth looking into popped up.

'Damien Mark party'

Now the results were getting interesting.

"Mayor Damien Whitacare has no comment on the death of former Hollywood star, Mark Iplier. Mark Iplier showed up dead at his mansion last Tuesday during a party with friends. Police have not released any information, but amateur news reporters, Jim and Jim, say they have evidence from the crime scene. The story continues to unfold…"

"Hmmm…" Whitacare where had Celci seen that name before?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was just Mark and the Captain. Mark and a very hungover and confused Captain. Did someone put something in their drink last night? Your behavior had Mark worried.

"You-you-you" your voice quivered as you pointed an accusing finger towards Mark. "You died, you're dead. Am I dead? What's happening?"

"Sshhh, Captain calm down…" Mark tried to soothe you by rubbing your hand.

"Don't touch me!" You screamed, still unsure if what you were seeing was real.

"Captain are you remembering the wormhole incident or something? I know we haven't really talked about it, but I know it must've been awful for you," Mark tried to calm you down.

"Wormhole? What are you talking about?"

"You-you don't remember?" Mark was close to tears.

"W-wormholes don't exist. Are you trying out method acting or something?" You asked, Mark was talking nonsense and he was a talking corpse.

"W-wormholes don't exist?" Now Mark was extremely puzzled. "Captain, that's how we got here… to the new planet."

Suddenly, Mark got an idea. "Captain, what year is it?"

"What year is it? What type of question is…." You thought for a moment. "Well, it's 19-"

"NINETEEN??!" Mark responded. "Captain, it's 2083."

"What?"

~~~

"Ahh, Dorene Whitacare," Celci greeted the colonist at their new residence on the planet.

"And what do I owe the pleasure?" Dorene asks before taking out a plate of cookies. "You can have one if you like dearie."

"Thank you, Ms. Whitacare, but I was wondering if you knew a Mark?"

"Why that's the name of that head engineer isn't it? I don't like him, he always gets my title wrong."

Celci felt a sort of kinship that she couldn't explain with Dorene. It seemed to go further than just shared hatred.

"Well, yes, but do you know any other Marks?"

"Hmm. Good question," says Dorene.

"Or-or a Damien?" Celci asks.

"Now that's a name I haven't heard in quite some time…"

~~~

"Captain, who are you?"

"I'm the DA. I'm not reading scripts with you or improvising or whatever this is Mark. Who are you and please just tell me the truth."

"A district attorney?"

"Yes ever since the mayor promoted me. I don't want to be a part of whatever game or story this is, Actor."

"Actor?" Mark asked.

"You. Because you know you're the actor. Do you have amnesia or something?"

"No but I think you do. I'm not an actor. I'm your head engineer. You're the Captain. Of our ship the Invincible II? Any of this ring a bell?"

"Invincible II? After the first 'Invincible' went down they decided to make another one? Has no one learned from the Titanic?"

"Captain-"

"Would you stop calling me that! I told you I didn't want to be part of your story today, Actor. Go bother someone else."

"Well okay, Cap- I mean District Attorney. I think it's best if you rest for a bit and I'll just be out in the hall."

"Okay Mark."

~~~

"So Mayor Damien Whitacare was your great uncle?" Celci asked.

"Why yes, something like that." Dorene answered.

"Do you know anything about that news story? About the dead actor-"

"Only that he had what was coming to him."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He was playing with powers he couldn't understand. Things from beyond the veil. It manipulated him and ruined everyone close to him."

"Well uh, nice talking with you Dorene, but I have to check on the Captain," Celci clumsily left the conversation, feeling very uncomfortable.

"I'm sure you do," she said.

~~~

Mark and Celci bumped into each other, running away from their subsequent conversations.

"Hey, watch i-" Celci interrupted herself when she realized he came from the Captain's room. "What did they say?"

Mark rubbed his head where they collided before continuing, "that they're a district attorney? And I'm an actor… and that I'm…"

"Dead?" Celci asked.

"How did you know?"

…

"So let me get this straight, over a 100 years ago, some famous actor named Mark died at a party with this Mayor Damien and mysterious District Attorney?" Mark asked.

"And the case was never solved. The police tried to cover it up, blaming this crazy colonel or some blaming a detective who was there that night, but it doesn't add up. Who hired the detective to be at the party and why? Also the District Attorney, the Mayor, and some other guests disappeared that night. The chef, butler, and groundskeeper all told the policemen their stories, but…"

"But?" Mark asked.

"They all said something supernatural happened. They were all speaking nonsense."

"But why does our Captain think they're connected to this DA?"

"I'm not sure. There's a colonist on board who's a descendant of the mayor or something but I don't know."

"Who's a descendant of the Mayor?"

"Dorene Whitacare." CC answered.

~~~

"Hey Captain, are you feeling any better?" Celine asked.

"I told Mark I'm the DA. You can drop the act. I don't know why you of all people would play along with him though."

"Ok DA. And who am I?" She asked.

"You're all acting so weird! You're Celine! The seer? Mark's ex wife? Any of this sound familiar?"

Saying no would be a lie. Some part of Celci felt like she was somehow connected to all of this. She didn't believe in reincarnation and past lives, but… after what she'd seen in the wormhole, she does believe in multiple universes. Perhaps the Captain was remembering a universe so vividly, they were stuck in it mentally.

Maybe if Celci could remind them of the end of this universe when they were inevitably sucked into a wormhole they could break them out of it.

"Right. Right. Well can you tell me what you remember from the party?"

~~~

"Hello, Mrs. Whitacare," Mark greeted.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not married anymore young man!"

"S-sorry Ms, Ms. Whitacare," Mark corrected.

It may have been the first time she reminded him in this universe, but they both remembered.

"About that… who were you married to before?" Mark asked hesitantly.

"That's none of your business boy!"

"Okay, uh sorry. Do you want to tell me about your great uncle Damien?"

"Here, I baked cookies."

She was avoiding the question, but Mark was still going to take one. "Sure. Thank you. Would you know anything about…" Mark paused for a moment. He was getting nowhere asking about Mark or Damien. He should go to the root of the cause.

"Sorry, I meant to say… what do you think of our Captain?" Mark asked.

"Well I think they've made a lot of mistakes. But they've been through a lot, and they're very strong to have gotten this far."

"Does the Captain remind you of anyone?"

"Why yes they do. Multiple people," Dorene answered.

"And who would that be, Ms. Whitacare?"

"Why, I need to get the cookies out of the oven. You can interrogate me some other time, Mark." Dorene got up and headed towards her kitchen.

"But you already had cookies…"

~~~

"Well, the gang was back together again! There was a toast by Mark himself of course, poker games, a keg stand, probably a fight or two… Honestly, I don't remember much. And I fell asleep around 1:30 am, but…" you said.

"Go on," Celine encouraged.

"Well I woke up the next morning and Mark was dead. His body on the floor. Out of nowhere. The detective turned it into an investigation. Said it wasn't an accident. Everyone started accusing each other. It was chaos. But you know the rest."

"I know the rest?" She asked.

"Because you suddenly showed up. I don't know why… maybe because your lover William hadn't come home? I don't know. But you are the master manipulator. You could turn everyone against me in a second. And then the ritual and the time…"

"What else were you doing in these days after the party?"

"Well I was helping the detective as best I could. But I didn't know who I could believe. My dear old friends or a man of the law or the staff… none of it added up. The colonel's eccentric but he wouldn't… he… William wouldn't…" it was all flooding back to you. The fights, the lightning storm, the gunshots. William shot the detective and then he shot… you."

"I-I I'm dead. He shot me and I fell off the balcony… how am I here?"

"Do you remember what happened next?"

What was happening. Was this another one of Celine's rituals?

"I… I was in the void. With the actor's corpse. And you and Damien… you said everything would be okay… you trapped me." You started to cry. "You walked away with my body and you just left me there!"

Mark walked in at the worst moment.

"And you! You! This is all your fault! It was all your stupid plan for revenge! We were your friends! How could you." You hit your fists against his chest until sobs crashed over you and you just leaned against him.

"Hey, it's going to be okay, Ca- District Attorney. You're no longer trapped. You're on a new planet far, far away from Earth and everyone who hurt you." Mark tried to comfort you.

"Is this another one of your lies?"

You ran out of the room. You ran out of the hospital. But they were right. This didn't look like earth. The plants were different. There were two moons in the sky. A memory of Mark, your head engineer, crossed your mind. He was in front of that glass window, holding a coffee mug and telling you about the new planet you've discovered. The ship… the- the warp core.

You felt the scar on your hand. The warp crystal. You were the Captain not the DA. Was it another universe you remembered? Or a past life? Maybe a little of both…

~~~

Eventually, Mark caught up to you.

"District Attorney?"

"It's alright. I know I'm the Captain now." You sat on a hill admiring the stars. They looked different than on Earth. You wondered if you could name a constellation.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I'm not sure. I was so stuck in this other reality. All the multiverses we went through and lives we've lived… I guess it was bound to happen and scramble my mind eventually."

"Let's hope it doesn't happen again. It was kind of scary," Mark admitted.

"Yeah… do you remember past lives?"

"Yeah. Quite a few. Most I'd rather forget."

"We really screwed stuff up with that wormhole huh?"

"I screwed stuff up," Mark said.

"No. We did. I was the Captain. I was in charge and I…. I played with my crew, the colonists I was supposed to protect, I played with you like toys. Like your lives were nothing more than dust on the wind."

"I built the warp core. I'm the whole reason all this happened in the first place."

"You were trying to fix my mistakes."

"That you didn't make!" Mark argued.

"Because I lost your trust. I lost everyone's trust. I was a poor leader. Now enough dwelling on the past. Let's run this colony as best we can, okay?" You asked.

"Yeah," Mark agreed.

"And I promise to never get that drunk again."

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