#ahwm spoiler

[strawberryamanita]

I know all too well that I might be late to the party on this take (still not gonna watch ISWM or delve into the lore for the sake of my health, sorry and thank you✌️), but it only hit me today and I am just elated that Dark is directly responsible for the box from AHWM.

They didn't just find it. They didn't just lead us to the museum that was housing it. They built it, and either left it out for the curators to find or planted it there themself. And their smug ass is sitting there in AHWM, admiring not just another source of power they have complete control over, but one of their own design.

First of all, I'm really happy to know they're more crafty than I gave them credit for -- in every sense of the word. Secondly, this does mean that Mark isn't sweeping them completely under the rug, and that's a fact I'm really dang grateful for; like I get it now, they just didn't have anything to contribute for the on-screen story for ISWM.

But I just hope Mark knows that doesn't deter my interest in Dark at all. If anything, it makes me wonder what other obstacles and tribulations they're responsible for... or WILL be responsible for.

Wink wink, nudge nudge.

[emittthehuman]

The funniest thing about this fandom is that half of you little shits looked at the two most virtually insane people and twirled your hair and kicked your feet in response

Audio by amandassneakylink on tik tok

[rustychips]

Dude your stuff is SERIOUSLY SO TALENTED DAMN If you’re taking requests, could you do some of those ISWM cursed images drawing things, except with the AHWM characters? (Mark’s characters, Prof. Beauregard, the Hermit, Ed, Warden, etc)

AaA thank you! These are genuinly so hilarious and enjoyable to do, apologies theres only like 4, I went a little overboard 💀 hope you enjoy these!

( click for better quality )

[thermodynamic-comedian]

most complex mcu scene: this is a vague yet obvious reference to the last movie. be impressed and keep paying us so you can understand all the references

least complex mcu (markiplier cinematic universe) scene: hey remember that interview ending that was really difficult to get back in ahwm? yeah that's actually in the future, and also remember that one extra wilford warfstache that sneaked away in wmlw about 4 years ago? yeah he's actually plot relevant and a time-traveler, and he's booking you the interview for a heist right now, here, in iswm part 2, the most recent video, which is also the past. all of this was planned, and you get it for free <3

[flyingbats]

DARKIPLIER YOUTOOZ OUT SOON?!?!!!!!!!

[dave-bot2002]

Another old head cannon just hit me like a truck.

The reason wug is the only ailen to answer the destress call is becalls in AHWM mark gives the box to the ailens and they say something like "now you have shown us the idle it has proven that humans no longer need our help..."

That's why the intergalactic government doesn't help us and only wug does.

[captain-neutrino]

Can i ask whats up with Mark writing stories and then acting like he,, didn't write the story dbsjsnd??

Like how he gave Yancy tattoos based on the event flowchart of AHWM, and then gave him two new tattoos that reflect parts 1 and 2 of ISWM-

But when ppl in the chat were like "wow its cool that u did that" his response was basically "welllll if you want to IMAGINE that Yancy has tattoos that change with the story, i guess i'll Let You guys have that"

Like??? Bitch thats???? What you wrote tho????? Even Amy was like "but isnt that exactly whats happening-?" Djsksjs what is he talking about 😭😂

[crackedegotheories]

I recall seeing a question floating around after the end of ISWM that I wanted to tackle today: how, exactly, is the Captain able to hold on to Engineer Mark when you choose to, uh, hold on?

Well, we know the Captain is super strong. 10/10 high fiver, but might break your hand if they’re not being careful strong. Like strong enough to not get sucked out into the vacuum of space when a poorly planned window breaks, and to hold on to their head engineer at the same time.

But, you might say, we clearly see the Captain grab on to the control panel before grabbing Mark’s hand there. In “Hold On,” the Captain is holding Mark with one hand and handling the crystal with the other, so what was stopping them from being lifted up into the wormhole the same as Mark?

To which I say: third hand.

Look, if we got a third hand in Heist, there’s nothing to say we didn’t have one in Space. Some might consider “you do not have a third hand” something that doesn’t need to be explicitly said and can’t just be assumed in a separate project, but…shush.

One hand for Mark, one hand for crystal, and one hand for holding onto those safety railings around the warp core because they’re clearly not there for any other reason. Easy.

We’re even handling a crystal in both scenes, so bonus theory time: the crystal from In Space originated from the same place as Illinois’s “just a rock”:

A gift from (unconfirmed, but possibly monkey) heaven.

[geocookie21]

If ActorMark is playing Mark in our adventures with him… does that make him Barbie?

Like, Barbie is an actress and is ‘acting’ in all of the movies…so is ActorMark Barbie?

[nanoa1foryou]

Okay, but since Yancy's tattoos change based on changes on the universe around him, what do you think the weirdest/funniest tattoo on him has been?

I personally believe the tattoos across his knuckles read "Tuna" and PB&J" at one point.

[holymusicalmothman]

You’re a Flirt Illinois x Reader

This was a request from @creat0r-cat​

You sent me a request on Monday and I didn’t check my Tumblr for a few days so oopise! Sorry about that! Also, my aro/ace ass completely lost the plot and for that I apologize. But, I got excited and cranked this out in a few hours, and it’s now 3 am. I hope that, even if it’s not the fic you were aiming for, it’s at the very least amusing and the cameos and references keep everyone entertained! 

The request was for a female reader, but this actually wound up coming out without pronouns, so it’s totes Gender Neutral

Word Count: 1.2k

Check out the masterlist! 

“Come on, it could be fun. We could have an adventure! Maybe fall in love!”

It had been a few years since you had been told those words. Granted, you remembered it perfectly.

The heist you had been on. The way you had wound up in the temple tunnel system. Meeting Illinois. Ditching Mark–granted, while you admit that hadn’t been kind, something in your mind said that he deserved it. That thought probably stemmed from getting dragged around on his stupid heist.

Mark had done a lot of things that rubbed your brain wrong. Almost as if he had done something in the past that you couldn’t quite remember. 

Either way, you had been glad to be rid of him. You had much better adventures now! Illinois was a much better adventure partner.

 Except for one tiny detail.

Illinois was a huge flirt. 

You had been on adventure after adventure with him. An inseparable pair since you both discovered the monkey heaven. You had gotten the feeling that he was a flirt when you first met him, but it never bugged you when he flirted with you. You had liked the attention. Plus he always seemed to pay a little extra attention to you. It always seemed more genuine. 

Like he felt something for you. 

And you clung to that. The hope that the dashing, devil-may-care adventurer felt something stronger than the everyday run of the mill platonic affection for you.

But that hope had dwindled over the years. 

And as you sat in some strange diner and listened to Illinois flirt with the bright haired waitress, you wondered if you had been reading into everything. If you had read into his flirty personality. Or, god forbid, you had been friend zoned and were just too dumb to realize it. 

"And it was such a strange place!" He was recounting the most recent of your adventures. "The entire temple was ice cold, and made of metal! I did find a sarcophagus with quite the lovely and/or handsome mummy! Granted, we were busy working on an escape so I didn't have time for it's ancient curses and I left it be."

You remembered that. The entire situation had made your head hurt. That had been why you two had been looking for an escape. You had refused to look at the mummy, the entire ordeal had only made you feel like you used to when you were around Mark: like there was something happening, but you weren't supposed to know about it. A real migraine. 

The waitress looked disappointed at the fact that there was no fun mummy story to be heard. She shot what looked like an annoyed glance in your direction. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention to your food, something called a Warfstache Deluxe Sandwich. The name had gotten your attention, and, for some reason, the sandwich itself was on pink bread and shaped like a mustache. You decided not to ask and ate it anyways.

You tuned out Illinois' conversation as you ate, you had grown used to ignoring his constant flirting with anything that had legs. 

You jolted to attention to the sound of your name. Illinois was looking at you, mild concern etched into his features.

"You doin' alright there, honey?" He had that smile on his face. The smile that was somewhere between a smirk and a grin. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, Illinois." You forced a smile. You briefly wondered how long he had been  trying to get your attention. 

"How's the head?" 

"Good. Food helped." You gestured to your almost gone sandwich. 

Illinois nodded, satisfied with the answer. He grabbed a napkin and started to draw out what looked like a map. You watched on with a curiosity. You had become accustomed to his eccentric ways and knew he would tell you the purpose in a moment.

"So," he began once he finished drawing. "The waitress told me about a journal where whatever is written in it has to happen. It's currently in the possession of some author with a weird obsession with mysteries. Honestly, that's too much power for one man. Sort of thing that should be in a museum, or destroyed, don't'cha think? Who knows what could happen if something like that got into the wrong hands."

Well, that hadn't been in the plans at all. After the failed adventure on the frozen temple, Illinois had promised that the next adventure would be to follow up rumors of some mystical potato salad that held the answers to the universe and was guarded by an advanced automaton. But apparently, that wasn't happening.

A weird feeling passed through you. Exhaustion? Annoyance? You couldn't tell.

"Alright." Your words were clipped, an angry edge to them. "Well, you two have fun then." 

Illinois had obvious confusion written across his features. 

"You. And her. On your adventure." You stood. 

He opened and shut his mouth repeatedly, as if searching for words he couldn't find. 

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. "I like you, Illinois. A lot. So I have grin and beared when you flirt with anyone and everyone. But throwing out an adventure you promised me for a suggestion from a waitress you've only known for an hour is too much. So have fun looking for your journal. I'm out."

And before he could argue, you turned on your heel and left the diner. 

A few weeks had gone by. Due to the fact you weren't adventuring with Illinois, you had to pick up another job. There weren't many options, there was no way you were going to reach out to Mark, so you wound up working for a pair of eccentric twin reporters--the Jims as they called themselves. Although sometimes you swore there were more than two of them.

But they paid you weirdly well and didn't have you do much more than bring them the oddest coffee orders, so you didn't complain much. 

But, boy oh boy, did you miss Illinois and his adventures. A part of you kept hoping he would show up and sweep you off your feet with that smile of his.

You hadn't realized how much it had all meant to you until the frustration and anger had worn off. The Jims had even commented on your sudden forlornness. They went so far as to even suggest that you go look for the "man with the snappy rope" as they called him.

But Illinois didn't want you. That much was clear. 

Or so you thought.

It had been a few days after the talk about the "snappy rope man". You had walked into the TV station with yet another absurd coffee order, only for yelling to be heard.

Granted it wasn't uncommon. There was often the distant sound of yelling throughout the building. The Jims said it was simply a crazed talk show host and not to worry about that. But you had yet to hear the yelling in your usual area of the station.

"Tell me where they are!" Someone was yelling.

"Drop the shooty and get off the table! Jim and I don't care if you're the snappy rope man or not! Right, Jim?"

"Right, Jim! Besides that's not the shooty table, it's the snack table! Now get down!" 

You sighed and walked further into the room, that way you'd be able to see what was actually going on. 

Only to find Illinois standing on a table with his whip in one hand and a gun in the other. 

His eyes caught yours from across the room and a smile stretched across both your faces.

They say a smile can speak a thousand words, but this one radiated love and yet begged for forgiveness. 

And, somehow, you knew that all was going to be right in the world again.

[tenebrisnoirs]

**DO NOT REPOST/USE**

REBLOGS ARE WELCOMED! :D

About time I drew my favourite boy, I simply will never get over him. Mark please for the love of god play as Murdock again. 🥺🤌🏻

May need to turn your brightness up.

[jackaycola]

made by @0citrus_draws0 (instagram)!! this was during a discussion I believe. very Life changing.

the virgin cis illinois and the chad transgender illinois.

[peachyloveswriting]

Long past dawn (Yancy x reader)

Summary: taking event about a month after the events of ISWM Yancy calls you asking for a place to stay, now that he's on parole. But you can't seem to remember your last visit with him, nor can you remember the past month very well either. It seems Mark's to blame when he shows up at your doorstep asking for a favor

Word count: 1.9k

This chapter || next chapter >>

Notes at the end

Chapter 1

Your phone rings beside you. Glancing at the number, you don’t seem to recognize it. Maybe it was Mark calling to harass you again, you thought.  After setting down the bowl in your hands, you scoop the ringing phone up and answer.

“Hello?” You wipe your mouth. 

“Hey, is this y/n?” the speaker crackles to life in your ear. Furrowing your brows and standing, you pace. The voice sounds familiar, but it wasn’t someone you could remember off the top of your head. You rack your brain only for a moment longer before speaking again, 

“Yes. Who is this?” You asked. The curiosity was getting to you. Maybe it was a cousin of yours who had only just now remembered you existed. It’s such a foolish thought. 

“Youse really don’t remember me? It’s Yancy, your old pal from Happy Trails Penitentiary.” He mocked a pout, but the smile was still clear in his voice. The smile soon enough made its way onto your face as well. The fond memories reminded you of the time the two of you had spent together for those few hours. It was such a lasting impression. It surprised you, you even forgot. You note, it was probably because of Mark. 

“I’m so sorry. Of course, I remember you.” Trying to sound over the top happy really didn’t work out the way you’d hoped. It made you sound like a douche. You just pray that Yancy didn’t notice.

A dry laugh crackled through the speaker. “It’s okay. I know it’s been a while.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “Say, uh… would youse maybe come and get me? I applied for parole, but youse already knew that. I was hoping to crash at your place. And maybe stay there.” Inquiry lingered in his voice, sounding almost more like a suggestion than anything.

 But before you could answer, Yancy interrupted you. Tripping over his words as he went. 

“I mean, ya’ know. I just.” He huffs, “I have nowhere to stay, and if youse say no, that’s okay. I don’t want youse to feel you have to let me stay.” His voice trembled on the other end of the line, and his words jumbled together right at the end. 

“Yancy, buddy. It’s okay. You can stay as long as you like. It would be nice to have some company, anyway.” Reassurance felt necessary. He was literally starting over again, and maybe he needed someone. 

“Seriously? I don’t know how I'll repay youse.” He exclaims. His voice is still shaky, but you can hear him clearly now. 

“You don’t have to worry about that.” You stated. Turning away from the front glass door, you walked back to the table and picked up your soup. Using your shoulder to hold the phone to your ear, you grabbed yourself another spoonful of your soup. 

“Thank you,” He chirped. 

Not wanting to make it appear you were ignoring him, you hummed. Swallowing the food, you finally spoke. “Of course, it’s not an issue.”--setting down your bowl again you grabbed a notebook and pen --’’ So where are you at?” You asked. 

“Right outside of the prison, actually. They’re letting me stay until someone comes to get me.” He explains. You hum. The memory of the way to the prison was fuzzy in your head, but you somewhat knew where he was talking about. 

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.” You said. 

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you soon.” He chirped again. A breathy laugh escaped you.

“Yeah, m’bye.”

“Bye.” 

The call ended with a click. You gathered your things for a rather long ride. It would be hell on the way there, with traffic being shit and the anticipation killing you. The end goal was more important than how you got there, though. Excited would be an understatement in all honesty. 

As you were rushing back through the house, you noticed your bowl still sitting on the table. Not wanting it to go bad, you placed it in the fridge. Probably the only semi-real food you’d eaten in a while. Living off of takeout wasn’t fun. And you didn’t want to waste perfectly excellent soup.

⭒✩✦✧✦✩⭒

Google maps had been your savior on the way there. Damn near getting lost three times off of memory alone. It was embarrassing, but no one would know. You thought it silly for being embarrassed to begin with. But you got there in one piece and in a relatively good timeframe. It really must’ve been the universe blessing you, for that you were thankful. After all, you were sure that even on the interstate, going over one hundred in the fast lane was illegal. Now that you were off the interstate though and on a relatively empty road, the excitement built. 

The sight of the prison in the distance made your stomach churn. It was a good thing none of the workers there seemed to remember you miraculously. Maybe it really was the universe giving you a break, you note. 

The outside walls of the prison are bare, the barbed wire at the top different in contrast to what the place was actually like on the inside. The Area in which Yancy sits is uncanny. To have a sitting area and a garden outside of prison just didn’t fit. He fit it though, wearing the white tee and striped pants from when you first met him, and in his lap, he had a black leather jacket. 

Yancy leaned back against the bench, one arm outstretched on the back and one ankle resting on his knee. His eyebrows were knit tightly together and his eyes squinted against the light of the sun.

The butterflies fluttered around your stomach as you stepped out of the car. The anticipation was building.

When he saw you, he jumped to his feet, his jacket draped over an arm and a folder in one hand. He practically bolted to you. You opened your arms with a wide smile, letting him tackle you into a hug. It was like fireworks were going off inside you. The joy was unexplainable. You didn’t know him that well, but it felt like you were seeing a best friend for the first time in forever.

“Oh my god, it’s so good to see youse again, youse do not know,” Yancy exclaims as he pulls away from the hug. A smile wrinkles the skin in the corner of his eyes, and there’s a glow to him now that you can see him fully.

“It’s so good to see you again, too. Seriously, it’s been so long.” Sincerity lingers in your voice. He shifts from one foot to the other, his hand lifting to scratch his head. 

“Yeah, it has.” He agrees.

Lifting your hand, you point towards your car.

“C’mon, it’s hot out here.” You suggest. He agrees quietly. Now that you thought about it, you weren't entirely sure what to say to him. But you were eager to fill the silence as you drove away from the prison. Gazing over at Yancy, you could see him watching the prison disappear from view in the rear-view mirror. 

“How’s it feeling?” You ask. 

Yancy looks at you, his brows furrowed. “Huh?”

You ask again. “How does it feel to be free?’ You glance at him before turning back to the road ahead. Humming in thought, Yancy shifts in his seat. The folder formerly in his hand now rests on the dashboard in front of him. Something about him seems restless now as he stares at it intensely. 

“I'm not sure yet,” he drawls. You nod your head. Who could blame him? After all those years in prison, you wouldn’t know what to do or how to feel either. Just years before this, he never even thought of leaving. He didn’t want to. And to just be torn back out into society again was probably a huge mental challenge. Again, he didn’t want to be free, to begin with. So, what changed his mind?

“Why’d you go on parole?” Unable to recall him telling you why you didn’t second guess your knowledge. 

Yancy licks his lips and takes a deep breath before he speaks. He’s looking at you now, a mildly concerned look on his face, eyebrows furrowed, and lips ever so slightly down-turned into a frown. 

“Youse don’t remember?” he sounded hurt, and that scared you. Biting the tip of your tongue softly, you questioned what you knew. 

“I’m kidding,” he said with a smile, “Kinda.” Your heart dropped.

To think that you had even forgotten what he told you hurt. It pained you to think about how hurt he must feel by your seemingly inconsiderate reactions. He probably thought you weren’t listening.

“It’s okay though, I’ll still tell you.” He’s noticed the visible distress on your face, even if you didn’t. 

“Thanks.” You mutter, a sheepish smile on your face.

Yancy smiles, “Of course!”-- he chirps before briefly pausing--” Youse the reason I got parole.”

You freeze. He barely knew you and you were the reason he suddenly wanted to be free. It warms your heart. His words are too kind for your previous actions. But to forget that, of all things. It saddens you. 

“I can’t believe I forgot that.” You shake your head slowly, loosening your grip on the steering wheel. “I’m so sorry, Yancy. It warms my heart to think that I’m the reason. Thank you for that. I’ll make it up to you though, I promise that.” You announced your newfound lawful voice perhaps too justifying, making Yancy cackle. 

You smile at that. 

“Sorry if that sounded rather prideful,” you remark with a grin. 

He giggles again, “S’okay, it was funny anyway.” 

Silence falls back over you, opening your mouth to say something before you stop, deciding against it. If he wanted to talk, he would. You didn’t want to push him.

"By the way,"-- Yancy snaps you from your thoughts — "we have to stop at the department of corrections so we can give them your address n' stuff.." He explains. 

You nod.

He seemed so regular now that you thought about it. You had only ever seen him in prison, so there's a reason. The idea of what he’s like outside of that life urges you to think about it. The vision of you and him making your ways around the kitchen, his hand resting against the small of your back as he scoots past- 

"I also need clothes." Sarcastically he gestures to his outfit. You smile, a light heat rising to your cheeks.

"We'll definitely be going shopping after we get the paperwork done." You deadpan.

He lifts his arm, running his fingers through his slicked-back hair. 

"I'll pay youse back once I get a job." You glance at him again, sending him a dismissive wave with your hand.

"No, don't concern yourself with it." You pause, thinking of your next words. He broke you out of prison, you remember?

"Think of it as a favor for breaking me out." You remark, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

Yancy smiles and the skin around his eye crinkles up. "Thanks, it means a lot, seriously. I don't know how many times I've said thank youse." — he chuckles, deep — "but I'll say it as many times as I need to." 

You smile at that.  

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°|

Thanks for reader the first chapter I hope you enjoyed. This took me a really long time to feel satisfied with how it turned out but once I finally had what I felt was good enough I felt really happy so I seriously hope this get as much attention as I hope it does. I'll be posting the chapter links in my master list.

Tags: @batty-the-red-koolaid-man @abbzzzzzz @dragonangel201

[fischyplier]

Spoilers if you haven’t seen Stranger Things, otherwise enjoy!

Edit: Template by collarfullofpanic on Reddit

[flyingbats]

...Damien?

Is that... you? Damien?