#Markiplier hot

[caveguy22]

Markiplier once said--

I have never made an edit quite like this before.

[squeeshh]

before the fall.

[infinite-infinite-stars]

Imagine being the former staff at Markiplier Manor and thinking "boy, that was fucked up, but at least I got out of it unscathed. Surely my life can only get better from here" and then two years later the stock market crashes.

[bubblesbinxs]

dark + f7

his white heist suit might be my favorite but i still love his date one dearly<3

[boobookiss]

hey so

*Femmes your darkiplier*

[sybersepticeye]

they are now all in the bath

[seraph-draws-stuff]

he definitely only paid for like half of his groceries

[thetinytaco]

It lies beyond the veil

a one hour wip painting of Mark in his new Iron Lung trailer

[leobashi]

SEND IN PRIDE REQUESTS!!

Icons, prompts, egos, idk make it gay, and I’ll draw some!

There is no guarantee that I’ll do all of them, I’ll get to them when and while I can

[onthecrosslook]

Posting this here because it deserves attention

[ghostf1ux]

Hot definitely not murderer bodyguard man

[melaniehere91]

How can both of THESE men...

Do this...

So well...

I mean hot damn😈🤤❤

[cosmosisfold]

i think people who hate rpf in the mcyt sphere should be forced to interact with the markiplier choose your own adventure series. yknow. the ones that are explicitly viewer/markiplier rpf.

[xnaderblog]

in order to satiate the brain, here’s some excerpts from my vicious captain idea:

(also this is as close as my interpretation of the captain can get)

“the multiverse is littered with the corpses of your failures.”

“god if you keep telling me that i’ll make sure that you join them!”

you grab the muzzle of her pistol, and even though she fires it, you force it away from you. the burning of the recent blast scalds your hand, and the pressure you use to keep your grip steady forces the crystal to cut deeper into your palm. hot red blood trickles down your wrist, but it doesn’t dissuade you.

you rush towards mark as he falls to the floor, a burnt hole in his chest. she points her blaster at you next, trying to frighten you off with the threat of death. as you’re knelt down to mark, you grab the wrench he keeps on his belt, and you take the opportunity of her yelling at you to bring the wrench up, hard against her face. she screams in agony, holding her blaster to her face, you got her good, just below the eye.

you weren’t afraid of action before, and the addition of immortality only encourages your actions.

mark sees the rage that boils underneath your skin, how your white hot anger seeps into your eyes and makes you feel… dangerous.

she approaches from a portal, a bandage covering her eye. what a pity, she’s ran into you before and didn’t learn her lesson.

you beat against the cryo door until your hands were bloody, but you were never able to get through. you were alive, but rotting, and watching as your poor engineer begged for you to save him.

your anger boils over, and you kick against the cryo chamber door until it opens. before the computer can even wake up your head engineer, you grab the fire extinguisher and hurl it at the bridge window. it shatters, and the vacuum of space sucks you out of the ship, your lungs collapsing in seconds. your death is quick but painful, and then you wake back up in your cryo chamber. maybe you wanted to just confirm your suspicions, or maybe you just wanted to feel something again.

the next time you wake up from cryo sleep, you push open the door, expecting chaos, you’re used to it now. so what met you instead made your blood run cold. the bridge was dark, everything was, and when you tried to get the ship to tell you the problem, it was quiet too. you pried open your head engineer’s cryo pod, to find it empty. every pod was, besides your own. you do not die quickly, but it is lonely, and you think that if you wait, someone will come for you. and then the thought crosses your mind, if you die, will you come back to a dead ship? or will you see your beloved crew once again.

…you’d do anything to just hear mark’s voice.

“captain?”

when your head engineer finally tore open your cryo pod, there was nothing left of you, save for the blood smeared on the walls inside.

there are pages scattered all over the ship, and they’re familiar to you, you’ve seen these once before. there are many littering the cryo pod that you usually wake up in, but they all say roughly the same phrase, “don’t wake the captain.” it’s foreboding, and you move through the darkness further, searching for any sign of life.

[heaven-with-mark]

"𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣."

The now empty Truly can slams against the counter, tinny and empty. "Better get drinkin, Eef!" You yell, triumphant and two seltzers ahead of your opponent. Mark looks a tad disappointed, back against the counter and arms crossed. You and Ethan sat at the island on barstools, having a competition to see who could drink more before getting shitfaced.

Ethan was lagging behind. You were feeling tipsy yourself but he was getting a little woozy. The way his body would tip to one side until he noticed and righted himself told you a lot. Mark cleared his throat, and both you and Ethan turned to look at him. Your smile dropped the moment the empty Truly box left the olders' hand and tumbled to the floor. "Automatic win." He says, nodding towards you.

The smile returns as you slide from your seat, a little stumble to your step as you saunter up to the fridge. Out comes an unopened twelve pack of Coors, your least favorite alcohol. "You hate beer." Mark comments, pushing himself off the counter to stand at the island. You slide it to Ethan and stand next to Mark as the drinks are opened. Ethan passes you a Coors and next thing you know, you've had five.

"Uh. Fuck." You giggle, swaying in the middle of the kitchen. Ethan was... laying on the floor next to you. Hands over his eyes, face flushed, stupid drunk smile. Mark now sat at the island, chin in the palm of his hand. He found you and Ethan amusing to watch.

Until now. Your stomach churned, your heart sinking. You were absolutely terrified to puke. It was a childhood fear for no real reason. "Mark," you whispered, hands out to steady your rocking, "Mark I think I'm gonna throw up."

He'd known you long enough to understand why it was a problem. He sighs, "alright. Fun over. You're both cut off." Ethan cries, but you don't catch whatever he said. You're no longer a happy drunk, you're scared to move in fear of emptying your stomach. Mark is gentle in the way he presses a hand to your back, slowly guiding you over to the couch. Some animated movie plays and you're barely aware of it as you're helped into laying down.

"Mark, I need water. I'm gonna go get water." You slur, and immediately sit up. Your head hits the couch pillow a second later, feeling like you'll upchuck if you try to do a single thing. "I'll get you water, just chill for a second." Mark murmurs, smoothing the hair stuck to your forehead. Your heavy eyes shut, and you buzz in and out of consciousness as you vaguely hear Ethan get ushered down the hall to his room.

When Mark returns, it's with water and blankets. He hands you the drink first, keeping a hand on the cup as yours cradles it just to make sure it doesn't spill all over. "Are you okay now?" He asks softly, setting your beverage down on the coffee table. You're only now aware of being in tears, very disorientated and drunk. He's leaning over you, using the back of the couch to brace himself. Unable to think right, your hands come up and do the grabby hand motion.

After some very slurred convincing, the footrest of all three couch cushions are kicked out so Mark can squeeze onto the couch behind you. You're warm, content, and very tired now watching whatever movie played on TV, Mark pressed to your back and holding you close. Still both in jeans and not in comfortable clothes, you're comfy how you are. And scared if you move, it'll break the peaceful atmosphere.

"I hope you know I'm not dealing with your hangover." Mark whispers, patting your hip. You giggle and turn in his arms, face shoved to his chest. Unashamed you take in the scent of his cologne, listening to the rumble of his chuckle. "Alright Tipsy, go to sleep." He says, and your mind shuts off almost immediately. Tomorrow was gonna be one hell of a day full of headache and nausea but Mark was gonna help you, even though he said he wouldn't. He's got a little bit of a soft spot for you.

"At least I beat Ethan. Momma ain't raise no quitter." You slur, having to have the last word.

[dancing-heart-pony]

Pride Art, Day 13: Beach + Sign

As if I needed an excuse to draw shirtless Dark… 😤