#darkiplier in the white suit is cool and all

[chowdergal]

Guess who finally drew my favorite iplier after 84 years?

[am-i-late-to-this08]

BROKEN GLASS pt 3

Darkiplier x DA reader

Warnings: swearing

You were right, even though it was three hours long, it was entertaining. Dark brought you up on what was happening when you got confused. And despite there different personalities they all had one similar goal, to bring down mark. It confused you because last you knew mark was dead. Dark stayed mostly silent to you after that, like he didn't want to say something he might regret. More than once you caught dark staring at you,only to look away once you noticed. Finally you were brought up and introduced to everyone else, you were asked some questions about your past. When you became uncomfortable with the questions dark noticed and asked you to sit back down. The rest of the meeting went by in a blur.

After the meeting dark took you to a simple looking Chinese restaurant down the street from the office. You noticed his skin changed from monochrome gray to a normal skin tone and the blue and red etchings disappeared, along with the buzzing in your ears that you didn't notice until it was gone. Both of you were seated by your waitress and given menus. "So, what do you think of this?" He asked from behind the menu. " You're going to have to specify, the restaurant or your lack of personality?" You replied, he scoffed."I ment the world. You do realize you're going to have to live like this, right?" You looked up at him. For only a moment he looked like you remembered, tan, dark hair, suit, dark brown eyes and a smile tugging on his lips. But only for a moment, his eyes were lighter, his skin paler and no smile."Yes,I do." You answered. "Good, if you said no than we might have a problem." He looked back to his menu.

Dinner went without a hitch, to your surprise. Once both of you left the restaurant the sun had already set and a cool breeze drifted by, making you shudder. "You want my jacket?" Dark asked. "I'm fine." You snap. "Well you don't look fine." He replied. You turned to face him. "Than stop looking." His face goes blank. "Why are you always so stubborn? I'm trying to be nice here." He snarled." Why? Why, after what you did? Do you expect me to just forgive you?" You croaked, a pain starting in your temples."That's not my point." The pain in your temples growing more painful. "Than what is it? I told you don't make me your pawn, and what are you doing? Making me your fucking pawn!" You shouted. He reached out his hand and touched your shoulder. "Listen-" He started, but before he could finish the throbbing in your temples spread through your entire body. All you saw was white for a moment then you saw yourself. You saw your own body in front of you through his eyes, darks eyes. Just like it started the throbbing from your temples spread through you with a white flash. The experience lasted only a few seconds but it felt like minute's. You glanced at dark, wearing the same surprised expression you were. "How. Did. You. Do. That?" He asked slowly, his voice cracking slightly. You simply shook your head in amazement and shock." I don't- I don't know." You stammered. And without another word you shuffle back to the flat.

I'm working up to the part I'm most excited for @thereturnofthem @captain-solemn-titty

[franklyshipping]

Impish Impersonations ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

HERE WE HAVE ANOTHER AWESOME ANON PROMPT WITH OUR FAVOURTE EMO, AND OUR FAVOURITE ANNOYING BUBBLEGUM BOY! LET’S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @darkipli-ler

Wilford Warfstache was….bold. Well, bold is the kind word. Frankly, he was a reckless madman who did many things that he often ended up regretting, like eating lots of chillies, baking naked, and doing impressions of his friends and peers directly to their faces. Most of the egos didn’t mind to be honest, mainly because Wilford’s impressions were quite funny….however, there was one ego who certainly didn’t appreciate being mocked in that manner. Dark. Right now he was pink in the face with embarrassed at the sight of Wilford sitting in HIS office chair, with his hands steepled on the desk and his head lightly tilted to the side. Dark was going to get Wilford for this.

‘Wilford if you continue to mock me in this manner….then you shall severely regret it.’

‘Is that so? Well, if you continue to encroach upon my incredibly sleek and over-dramatic office space, then you shall severely regret it.’

Wilford retorted, steepling his fingers on the desk as he fought to keep himself well-postured and stoic, with pointedly pursed lips to enhance his intense impression of the man before him. Dark’s cheeks went pink as he ended up replying with pursed lips.

‘Wilford this is MY office!’

Wilford sighed through his nose at this, before reclining in the leather desk chair as he responded.

‘And yet, I am the one situated behind the desk whilst you are standing and twittering like a buffoon.’

‘Wilford I do NOT twitter!’

Wilford raised a cool, amused eyebrow at that, and spoke as he casually straightened his bowtie.

‘Ah, that’s Darkiplier Dark Lord of Extra-ness to you!’

Dark bristled, and Wilford really had to try and fight back a smile, but Dark could see how his eyes were twinkling with his annoying giddiness. Wilford thrived on annoying people especially him, and especially with embarrassing, silly impressions like this. Dark couldn’t help but get riled, which only made Wilford even more enthusiastic. Dark growled to him now.

‘Why do you always do this, hm? Do you really get so much pleasure out of irritating and humiliating me?’

Wilford smirked now, and he winked as he made his voice go even lower and posher than Dark’s actual voice.

‘Oh most certainly, and besides, what precisely can you do to stop me?’

Dark gritted his teeth at Wilford’s arrogance, also, he didn’t sound that bloody posh! Dark was so done, and all he wanted was to make Wilford regret humiliating him. So, Dark surged around the desk towards him, letting his form glitch and swell so that black, inky tendrils could shoot from his chest and wrap around Wilford. The tendrils forced Wilford to stand up ramrod straight and forced his arms out to his sides as Dark got nose to nose with him and growled.

‘I’m going to make you wish you’d annoyed someone else today. You are insufferable, I don’t think anyone else has ever gotten on my nerves more….’

Dark trailed off, and relishes for a few moments in how Wilford got visibly flustered and nervous and squirmy as he realised how utterly vulnerable he was. In that moment too however, Dark found himself recounting his own words in his head, and Wilford gulped when Dark suddenly smiled wolfishly, and cupped his jaw as he purred.

‘….and with that in mind….tell me Wilford, how are your nerves these days?’

Wilford certainly didn’t have the confidence to maintain his impression now, and continued to squirm as he replied to Dark’s question as calmly as possible….because he knew exactly what Dark was referring to.

‘Ah….wh-whatever do you mean old boy?’

‘Oh you know what I mean dear….and there is precisely nothing you can do to stop me.’

Wilford gulped at Dark’s sneer, before squealing and descending into cackles; Dark was never the kind of person to go in slowly. Two inky, black tendrils had slid up into Wilford’s armpits and were wriggling with reckless abandon, and Wilford instantly struggled adorably.

‘ACK-NOHOHO W-WAHAHAIT DAHAHAHARKY!!’

Dark chuckled, cocking his head at Wilford with satisfied amusement as he replied.

‘Oho Wilford, Wilford, Wilford, we’ve known each other for oh so long now….you know that your words are meaningless now.’

Wilford shook his head, grinning brightly and blushing pink like his moustache as he looked at Dark imploringly.

‘YOHOHOU DOHOHON’T HAHAHAVE TOHOHO!!’

Dark scoffed, and made the tips of the tendrils wiggle faster in the depths of Wilford’s hollows, making Wilford squeal as Dark chuckled.

‘Oh but I do. Not only because this type of torture is the only way to get through to you….but also because I oh so enjoy how ticklish you are. It’s such a pretty, perfect weakness, and exploiting it gives me much pleasure.’

Wilford threw his head back with flustered mirth, his heart pounding as Dark’s teasing swirled in his mind and gave him goose-bumps. Dark’s weapon was his words, and he was a master of their use.

‘YOHOHOU’RE SOHOHO MEHEHEAN!!’

‘Oh, says the man who was imitating me to my face for the sole reason of humiliating me!’

Dark retorted as Wilford cackled, before the moustached man gasped and tittered as the tendrils moved down from his armpits, teasing down his ribs lightly. Wilford met Dark’s eyes and smiled a flustered smile when Dark purred and raised an eyebrow.

‘Well? Anything to say for yourself?’

Wilford giggled nervously as the tendrils snuck beneath his shirt and curled at the dips of his sides, and then he grinned with his tongue poking out through his teeth. What, even now, did you think Wilford Warfstache wouldn’t be a cheeky shit?

‘…..sh-shohould I w-wear a s-suit next time soho I’m mohore accurate?’

Dark gritted his teeth, before letting his tendrils slowly scratch and tease Wilford’s sides, making Wilford descend into giddy, high-pitched giggles and blush a darker red from the teasiness. Dark purred in an amused, affectionate tone, because he knew Wilford oh so well.

‘You’re really asking for it aren’t you?’

Wilford spluttered and stammered through his giggles.

‘N-Nahahat th-thihihihis s-s-….s-spehehecificahally!’

Dark raised an amused eyebrow, because they both knew that was a lie. Then he leant in and whispered huskily in Wilford’s ear, making him shudder cutely.

‘Ohh, but revenge is a dish best served with chills down the spine….don’t you agree?’

Wilford scrunched up adorably, his face screwing up as he shook his head.

‘N-Nohohoho Ihihi doho nahahat!’

‘Oh well, I suppose we must agree to disagree.’

Dark replied, before letting his tendrils spontaneously shoot down, wrap around Wilford’s thighs….and start squeezing and prodding the sensitive flesh ruthlessly. Wilford just absolutely shrieked with hyper-ticklish surprise and went into hysterical laughter.

‘AAAHHHOHMYFUCK-NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!!!’

Dark laughed a bright, diabolical laugh, his eyes shining and white teeth gleaming amidst his wolfish smile.

‘Oh but your thighs are your most ticklish spot on the whole of your wriggly little body dear, how can I not?’

‘PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!!’

Wilford cried out with wide, watery eyes as he thrashed about in his unrelenting restraints; Dark simply mused evilly.

‘Hmm, that little bit of begging was very sweet….beg for me a little more, and maybe I’ll consider mercy.’

Dark winked, and Wilford whined because it was so damn embarrassing, but it tickled so much and he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it forever. Dark’s tendrils were the most diabolical tickling instruments that existed, and Wilford knew that with Dark, nothing else would suffice, and so he squealed.

‘PLEHEHEHEASE OHOHOHO GAHAD DAHAHARK PLEHEHEASE!!!’

Dark smirked smugly, very much enjoying himself and wanting to milk it as much as he could. He crooned.

‘Ohhh I love when you cry out my name like that, go on, do it again for me, there’s a good boy.’

Wilford was utterly broken and flustered as hell, and was such a frantic mirth-filled mess that he cried out with a cracking voice.

‘DAHAHAHARK OHOHOHO PLEHEHEEEASE!!!’

Dark beamed with great satisfaction, and let his tendrils uncurl and fade away so that he could wrap his arms around Wilford’s weak body supportively, and Dark purred with a smile as Wilford curled into his embrace with residual giggles.

‘Okay dear, you have earned your mercy, I’ve got you Wilford….’

Wilford gasped with his cute breathlessness, immediately hugging Dark back as he garbled in an adorable, giggly voice.

‘Yohou gohot me gohooood Darky.’

Dark chuckled, and rubbed Wilford’s back a little before releasing him so he could regain his steadiness on his feet. Dark kept his hands softly resting on Wilford’s elbows as he cocked his head at him with a curious smile….he knew Wilford liked being tickled, but he had a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that there was more to Wilford’s intentions this time.

‘Why do you insist on doing these impressions of me, you know how they rile me.’

Wilford smiled bashfully, and a tad awkwardly, before going quiet for a few moment; this certainly piqued Dark’s curiosity. Dark watched patiently as Wilford nibbled his lip in thought, before speaking in an unusually subdued way as he rubbed the back of his neck.

‘….with you being shut up in here workin’ all the time I just d-didn’t know how else to….get ya to divert…..to spend time with me…’

Dark’s eyes softened, and he felt his fractured heart tremble at the sound of Wilford saying he essentially would risk all manner of Dark’s wrath just to be able to spend time with him. Dark cupped Wilford’s face with his hands as he replied tenderly, with a genuine smile.

‘Wilford, no matter what, no matter the things that may come up that I have to address….none of them come close to even just a second of being in the same room as you. You make me feel better….more than anything, and believe me, in all things you are my preference.’

Wilford gasped softly and started to grin, and Dark chuckled affectionately when Wilford started to lightly wiggle on the spot. The tell-tale sign of his excited, happy energy building inside him.

‘D-Does that mean we can….cuddle and watch movies?’

Dark laughed softly and nodded, pinching Wilford’s cheek lightly as he replied.

‘Yes you gargantuan sap-‘

‘YAY! Okay come on come on I have a list come on!’

Dark laughed even more, right from the heart, as Wilford dragged him out of his office by his hand….and Dark felt his heart almost beat like it was alive again as he got close to the wildest man in the history of man. Because everyone needs a someone to do things with. Friend, family member, lover, doesn’t matter. Just one someone can make all the difference to life.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 3

Prompt: Injured Tentacles

Fandom: Markiplier

Characters: Wilford Warfstache, Darkiplier

Warnings/Tags: SFW, Mild gore, mild violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, Darkstache

               Fire

               Steel

               Bullets and Blood

               Wil fired off a few more shots into the confusion, when Mark’s voice reached his ears, but he couldn’t see much more than hints of the other two. Mark was a sleek dark silhouette, and Dark was a mass of shrieking aura and void, red and blue… not blue. The blue that normally blazed around Dark was flickering like bad television signal, and the void tentacles on his left side were shredded and fading. The crimson rage roared around him, and Wil had to shade his eyes to protect them. Mark’s laugh stuttered and jittered around them, and then it was gone. Dark let out a scream and the blinding red grew hot. Wil could feel his skin prickling with it.

               He stepped forward and placed a hand on Dark’s shoulder, shouting in his ear, “Dark! He’s gone! It’s over for now we should-“

               Dark’s red aura flared and pushed Wilford away; the blue was almost invisible now, and Wil could see more of the damage to his left side. His suit torn away and his pale skin—held in stasis by the very auras that split him—was weeping and breaking down. Wil’s eyes widened and he rushed back in, “Darkie something’s wrong!”

               Dark turned to him, his eyes burning red; when he spoke, his voice was deep and distorted, completely empty of the usual coldness, “YOU LET HIM GET AWAY!”

               Wil hesitated, then he grabbed Dark’s hand, ignoring the painful heat that blistered his palm and teleported them home, to Dark’s room. Dark shoved him away and his body broke into the drywall, scattering dust and causing a large painting to crash to the floor. Wil struggled to free himself from the wall as Dark strode to his desk, little flames following his feet, and when he reached the corner of his desk he stumbled, reaching out to steady himself.

               Wil watched as Dark began to limp, his left leg dragging as he maneuvered around to sit at his desk. He slumped, exhausted, but still full of rage and fire, and Wil hurried over, reaching to touch Dark’s arm. It was limp, unresponsive, and the normal musculature was gone; it was like the leagues of starving children he’d seen during his days in—not now Wil! You can’t afford to fade off into la-la land while Darkie’s hurt!

               Wil shook his head and cleared his throat, “Dark? Are you-“

               “DON’T TOUCH ME!” Dark roared, but he couldn’t quite muster the strength to pull from Wilford’s grip.

               “Dark listen, there’s something-“

               “I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME DAMN IT!”

               Wil winced, but something bubbled up in his chest, just as hot and angry as Dark’s aura, bloodred and white-hot. He lifted his hand and slapped Dark’s face, “CELINE LISTEN TO ME!”

               Dark’s head whipped to the side, and he froze, the red flames dulling down as his expression softened, changed to surprise, realization, “W…William?”

               Wilford winced at her voice—it wasn’t her physical voice, but her soul was in it, and it wasn’t easy to bear, “Celine… you have to help Damien. Look at yourself. He’s… something’s wrong.”

               Dark lifted his left hand; it had gone from pale to white, and the skin was breaking down even more, exposing bones and tendons, “Help me get to the bed.”

               Wilford acted immediately, hauling Dark to his feet and walking him to the bed as quickly and gently as he could. He settled Dark onto his back and straightened, “What now love?”

               “Cold. I need it to be cold.”

               Wil nodded and went for the thermostat, switching from heat to cool and turning the temperature all the way down. He hurried to pull the heavy curtains, blocking out the warming sun as he heard yelps of various protests from downstairs. For his part, Dark was working too, pushing his influence over the environment until Wil could see his own breath. The blue returned in the dark, like a very weak and very hot flame. He reached out, taking Dark’s hand, “Damien?”

               The blue flared and spread, and soon the cold was harsh enough to sting Wil’s skin, but Dark was regenerating, and the void tentacles regained their solidity. When Dark opened his eyes, they were black again, and his aura balanced around him. He let out a deep, slow sigh, “Wil.”

               Wilford smiled and kissed Dark, unable to restrain himself as he straddled Dark’s hips and their kiss became deeper, warm despite the frigid air. The kiss broke naturally so Wil could breathe, and he muttered against Dark’s lips. “I know you only just got these tentacles back, but how would you feel about choking me with one or two of them?”

               Dark snorted, trying to be derisive, but his rare smile of flashing teeth and crinkled eyes stripped away any venom it had, and he wrapped himself around Wil, pulling him down into sweet, cloying darkness.

[falseroar]

Midnight Masquerade

((In which (Actor) Mark finally puts on that masquerade with the help of Jack and their combined egos. It’s to be a night of fun, dancing, and mystery, even without the arrival of a certain unexpected guest. Near the end there is a reference to the song “Remember Me” from Coco, and the version I had in mind is the cover by The Hound + The Fox, if only because it had a nice blend of slow and fast (the original version is awesome, but might be a little too upbeat here XD).

Warnings: There is no Maskiplier in this story, so no warnings this time except for the usual angst. This is the last planned story for the whole Can You Wake Up? series though, and there are a lot of references to the other stories here so it may be a little confusing if this is the first one you’re reading.

It’s definitely on the long side, but it felt better to keep it all in one post instead of cutting it up, so...*shrugs*))

When you arrived at the dance hall with Amy, Tyler, and Ethan, the four of you found the massive room already bustling with activity as Mark, Jack, and almost all of their egos finished up their share of last-minute preparations before the guests arrived. Said room looked more like a ballroom from an overblown Victorian-style mansion than some place they had rented for the night, with vaulted ceilings, shining floors, (faux) marble columns, doors that swung out onto balconies that overlooked the hillside and the city down below, the whole nine yards.

The stage on the far side of the room looked almost out of place with the microphone stands and the DJ equipment, not to mention all of the speakers strewn up around the place which the Googles were doing final sound checks on while you and the others walked over to the long tables just inside the entrance where a couple of egos were arguing over arrangements.

“This should be the last of the masks,” Amy said as you and Tyler put your boxes down on the nearby chairs, as there wasn’t any room left on the tables for them. “Definitely more than enough for everyone who’s coming and then some.”

“I hope so,” Tyler muttered, rolling his arm as he straightened up. “If we left anything else back at the house it can just stay there, because I am not going back again.”

“What?” Ethan asked sarcastically. “You don’t want to sing along to Disney songs in traffic for another hour or two? Who even needs to go to a dance?”

“Oooh, let’s see what we’ve got in here,” Randal said as he ripped open one of the boxes to reveal a stack of masks in various styles and colors. Even a quick glance at the table told you there didn’t appear to be any two that were obviously the same, which was apparently making sorting and laying them out difficult, to judge by the argument currently going on between Bim Trimmer, Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, and Ed Edgar.

“It only makes sense to arrange by zhe size,” the doctor said, placing his hands on his hips even as Bim shook his head. “Who cares if it’s red or blue if it doesn’t cover your face right?”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand anything about color coordination,” Bim said, gesturing toward the doctor’s suit and earning a gasp in return, “But most people are going to want a mask that matches their style, that’s why we need to have warm colors on this end, cool colors on that end, and fashion tragedies such as yourself over in the corner.”

“How dare you! I am dressing very snazzy!”

“Pft, sure, you’re really stretching out of your comfort zone with that white suit,” Bim said, getting a simultaneous “oooh” from both Tyler and Ethan. “Did you leave your surgical mask at home, or do you think that will be enough to cover your face?”

“Vhy you—”

“Okay, maybe you two need to walk away and leave this to someone else,” you suggested, inserting yourself between them before Schneeplestein could think of a comeback or, more likely, smack the game show host. “I’m sure either way would work just fine.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is here,” Ed rumbled. He reached into the box Randal opened and grabbed a bunch of masks, which he promptly dumped into the middle of the pile to Bim and the doctor’s obvious horror. “They’re just going to get tossed around anyways, why not let people dig around for the one they want?”

“Okay, how about no,” Bim said, snatching the box away from the salesman’s hands before he could do any more damage.

“Zhis is not some rummage sale,” Schneeplestein agreed, already trying to gather up the masks and at least lay them out so they were all clearly visible. “Zhis is a classy event for charity, Mr. Edgar. Ve do not want people spending all night digging around for masks!”

“I don’t know, I think just seeing what you can find is part of the fun,” Amy said as she picked up a butterfly eye mask and held it up to her face with a smile. “Ed and Y/N are right, don’t get too caught up in overthinking it. After all, the guests are going to be here soon, so you’re not going to have time to organize them all.”

She immediately put the butterfly mask down and reached for another, crying out, “Oh, is this an alien one? Look at the big eyes!”

“I like the colors in this one,” Tyler said, tilting a full-face mask this way and that so that it caught the light. “What about you, Y/N? See any you like?”

You hesitated and Bim added, “You could certainly use some more color in your outfit. Your suit is about as basic as it can get.”

You shrugged as you looked down at the suit in question. He was right, it was a basic black suit with a white shirt underneath, one that Mark paid the rental fee on without even asking, which was embarrassing enough. Amy had also offered to help you pick out a dress if you preferred that instead, but you gave basically the same answer then that you did now, which was, “I wasn’t sure what…I would be comfortable with tonight. I’ll think about the mask and pick something out later.”

“Everyone else will be here soon,” Ethan reminded you. “You need to pick something out before all the good ones are gone!”

“Trimmer is right about the color,” Schneeplestein said. “Look around! Vhy, even Darkiplier is vearing more color than you!”

At his gesture, you turned to see the man in question walking in your direction, alongside an ego who looked uncomfortable in his suit with the red checkered shirt underneath it, judging by the way his hands were shoved into his pockets and the turn of his muttering mouth. The Host’s usual white bandages were hidden underneath a scarlet blindfold around his eyes which had the added benefit of hiding any stains that might appear over the night. Oddly enough, he actually matched Dark, whose jacket had a brilliant crimson lining clearly visible as he stopped to take in you and the other new arrivals.

“Evelien requires your assistance in the dressing room,” Dark said to Amy, his tone far more polite than you had ever heard him use around the others. Or maybe more embarrassed, as he continued, “We’re not entirely sure what’s wrong, but we think it involves a zipper.”

“On my way,” Amy said, immediately dropping the mask and running toward the side doors as fast as she could in her dress shoes.

Once she was out of earshot, Tyler looked around and said, “Okay, I’ll ask if no one else will: why is he here again?”

Dark narrowed his eyes at the gesture towards himself but spoke with an unerring calm. “I was invited, Benjamin, as you well know. And, unlike several others I could mention in this room right now, I have never in fact killed anyone, so I am uncertain why my particular presence should bother you.”

“You literally terrorized us for years after the manor.”

“’Us,’ being Markiplier, for very valid reasons I might add.”

“Not just Mark. Even people who had literally nothing to do with what happened, like Bob and Wade—”

“I merely wished to have a discussion with them, as it was clear Mark wasn’t being entirely…upfront about his past. It is not my fault they did not handle their time in my realm well.”

You made a noise at that, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, I could have anticipated that, but I had nothing to do with them winding up locked in a utility closet, that was all Wade.” There were a few nods to that, as even those who weren’t around at the time could see that happening, and Dark continued, “As I have said before, I have no intention of harming anyone tonight, least of all the guests.”

“Yeah, Tyler, don’t worry about it,” Ethan said, throwing an arm around Dark’s shoulders. “Dark’s just a big ol’ pussy!”

“I will break your arm if you do not remove it at once, Nestor.”

“The Host reminds Darkiplier that he promised to keep his…presence in check this night, lest any electrical interference be attributed to a certain other ego.”

“…I am well aware,” Dark said as he grabbed Ethan’s sleeve between two fingers and let it drop like a piece of trash.

Schneeplestein shuddered at even the veiled reference to Anti and you thought it might be a good time to change the subject.

“I like your suit, Host,” you said, and the ego immediately ducked his head.

“The Host thanks Y/N, even if this is…outside of his comfort zone,” he said, shoving his hands even further inside of his pockets. “The Host came over to let Bim Trimmer and Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein know that he is more than capable of taking care of the mask table for the duration of the dance, if they wish to focus their attentions elsewhere.”

“Thanks,” Bim said. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he admitted, “I was afraid to say anything in case I got stuck with it, but someone needs to be here when the guests come in.”

“Wait, you’re going to be here the whole night?” you asked the Host. “Don’t you want to enjoy the dance too?”

“The Host is not much of a dancer, and he would prefer to be useful rather than sit alone in a corner,” the Host responded. When you opened your mouth to argue, the Host smiled and added, “Besides, the Host is looking forward to talking to the fans, which will be easier for him here.”

“Oh,” you said as it clicked. You suspected that most of the egos had moved to supporting Mark’s idea for this masquerade thing when they realized the same thing: it would give them a chance to meet some of the fans whose love and attention kept them real, and spread that excitement through the rest of the community. Not to mention that all of the tickets sold or given out through multiple raffles were raising a lot of money for charity.

This was a special night for the egos, and not just because it was an excuse to dress up and don silly or extravagant masks.

“Speaking of the fans, showtime’s going to start soon,” Ed said, checking his watch. “Come on, Randal, let’s give everyone a head’s up to get their masks before the rush starts.”

The younger ego nodded and jumped up to join him as they walked toward another group of egos with a box of masks in tow, as if they didn’t have a combined indoor voice that could be heard by everyone in the room.

“I…need to go see Bob and Wade,” Ethan said, waving a seriously creepy mask that was almost all eyes and teeth as he added, “For reasons.”

Tyler snorted and followed to see how that would go and you looked around the room again. With all of the egos running around it was difficult to pick out any one in particular, so you asked aloud, “Do any of you know where Marvin is?”

“Why?” Dark asked, immediately suspicious.

You met his stare and said, “He said he was bringing a tie I could borrow for the night.”

“The magician is in one of the back rooms, going through his case of supplies for tonight,” the Host answered as he settled into one of the chairs behind the mask table. “He is considering which of his tricks might be amusing for any interested fans.”

“The answer being none, I’m sure,” Dark muttered.

“Oh, I know where he is,” Schneeplestein said. “Please, let me show you.”

“Thanks, Schneeps,” you said, taking his offered arm and doing your best to ignore Dark’s suspicious glare. Fortunately, he did not choose to follow you and the doctor across the floor and past the stage, where Mark was going over the rules for tonight with the DJ.

“And stick to the list,” he was saying as you approached. “This is supposed to be a formal dance, not a never-ending loop of ‘Déjà vu.’”

The android behind the equipment, who had skipped a jacket in favor of just a flashy orange vest that showed off his arms, shrugged and said, “If you say so, but, like, I gotta play the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ at least once. It’s the DJ code, dude, no getting around it.”

“There’s no such thing as the DJ code,” Mark answered.

Bing’s mouth dropped open and his sunglasses slipped. “Dude! Don’t disrespect my culture like that!”

“You’re—I can’t…” Mark sighed, hand to his face until he recovered and said, “You know what, fine, you get one hour of requests. That means someone has to actually want you to play the song, otherwise you stick to the list. Got it?”

“Sah, dude!”

“Sweet!” Mark jumped, not realizing he wasn’t the only one on the stage until the man next to him was there, handing a sheet of paper to Bing. “I’ve already got a list, starting with ‘Ocean Man’ and going all the way to ‘All Star’ and ‘Despacito.’”

“Dude!”

Mark flinched at the high five the two shared and said, “Okay, Chase, I get—”

He stopped short when he heard your barely restrained laugh and then saw the expression on Jack’s face.

“Really Mark?” he asked.

“I…meant Seán?” Mark said, and Jack shook his head in mock disappointment. “Look, it’s not my fault you two look the same!”

In unison, Jack, Bing, and Dr. Schneeplestein gave gasps of shock and Jack said, “Come on man, we’re not even wearing the masks yet and you’re already losing track of who’s who. Get it together, Mark.”

“It’s not just me, Y/N, you see it two, right?” Mark asked. “How are you supposed to tell which one’s Chase?”

“Um, I’m pretty sure he’s the one standing on Jackieboy Man and Silver Shepherd’s shoulders to hang up those streamers over there,” you said, pointing at the figure barely keeping his balance across the room.

“Ah, crap, I should probably stop that before someone gets hurt,” Jack said before he jumped down the stage and ran over to intervene.

“See, acting exactly like a concerned dad,” Mark said, gesturing toward the retreating figure and earning a middle finger in return. He shrugged and crouched down so that on the stage he was closer to eye level as he asked, “So are we going to see you out on the dance floor tonight, Y/N?”

“I am making zero promises,” you answered without hesitation.

He laughed and said, “We’ll see about that. You picked out a mask yet?”

“Soon,” you answered. “…But seriously, why masks? After…you know…”

Mark shuddered and just for a second his face clouded over, but he recovered quickly enough. “I had this idea long before that, and, well, it still seemed like a fun idea to get the community together and raise money for a good cause at the same time. Why let that thing ruin the chance to do some good?”

“And a chance to be a little melodramatic?” you asked.

“Why stop at a little?” Mark asked with a grin as he jumped down from the stage. “I want this to be a night to remember, for the fans and for all of us too. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, with more feeling than you meant to, but Mark didn’t seem to notice. In fact, his eyes shifted to over your shoulder just before you heard a familiar voice:

“…Hey.”

You turned around but your response turned into a confused, “…JJ?”

Jameson Jackson winked and held up a recording device before pressing another button, only to get a loud, “TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA!” that made him jump, one hand to his heart. A second try had the device say, “Jameson Jackson, at your service!”

“Aw, that’s so cool!” you said, and Jameson’s grin grew that much wider.

“He’s been playing vith it all day,” Schneeplestein said with a smile. “Jack and zhe rest of us made it for him for tonight.”

Jameson played another audio clip and this time it was Schneeplestein’s voice, declaring, “I am zhe good doctor!”

“Zhis way he can join in zhe fun of zhe masks and pretending to be everyone else,” Dr. Schneeplestein explained.

“I love it,” you said, deciding not to point out the flaw in that logic for the doctor’s sake.

“Plus it means no distracting speech slides,” Jameson added, nodding as everyone within “earshot” blinked as the speech slides appeared before their eyes. He chose another audio clip to add, “This is going to be so much fun!”

“See, getting into the spirit of things already,” Mark said, throwing an arm around Jameson’s shoulders. With a tone that suggested he had practiced this particular line several times, he added, “Part of the fun of a masquerade is hiding your identity and seeing how well we all know each beyond just the faces we put on every day.”

“Well, as ominous and foreboding as that sounds,” you said, ignoring Mark as he sputtered with indignation, “First I need to go see a magician about a tie.”

“Don’t take too long,” Mark called after you and the doctor as you passed through the door near the stage and into the back hallway that ran in either direction.

With the doctor to guide you, you soon found your way to a storage room where Marvin was sitting on a large case and going through some playing cards when you walked in.

“There you are!” Marvin said, jumping up at the sound of the door opening. He smiled and glanced at the doctor, who waved before heading back to the main area. Once he was sure Henrik was out of earshot, Marvin’s smile slipped and his bright eyes looked you up and down from behind a fancier version of his usual cat mask. He was dressed up in a vibrant blue suit, so dark as to almost appear black until the light caught it just right, with green accents on the sleeves and lapels, but it still felt like only a small variation from his usual dress style.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “We don’t have to—”

“I’m sure,” you interrupted, but you admitted, “I’m nervous, but…”

“But this is important to you,” he finished when you trailed off and you nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. Marvin almost sighed but caught himself in time. Because as many reservations as he had about this, he did have some idea of how much this meant to you. And, he thought as he placed the silver case he brought with him for tonight on one of the storage boxes, you had come to him for help before anyone else. Instead he said, “You don’t have to worry, Y/N. If you’re right, then I’m sure this will work.”

He had poured more hours than he would ever admit to you into reading every book he could find on the subject, every spell even partially related, every theory, every charm, and it all pointed to the fact that the idea you had come to him with weeks ago was possible. And if you were wrong, then it would just mean he had wasted time on some admittedly interesting research, so no loss there.

The case contained a tie, a small pin, and a few other things Marvin didn’t think it was important for you to see, at least not yet.

“Basically, the spell is worked into the tie,” he explained as he laid out the piece of fabric in question. “Similar to the spell I worked for the Host, except it’s not complete until I tie it. You’ll also need to keep it on you, which shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay,” you said, the word small and almost to yourself. Louder, you said, “Thank you, Marvin, for doing this. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

But you still asked. Marvin had every right to believe that every doubt, every idea how this could go wrong, must have passed through your mind just as easily as his, but you still wanted to try.

Which is why he put on a confident grin and said, “Nothing for a master magician like myself. But first, and most important, there’s this.”

He held up the pin so that you could see it was in the shape of a solid white cat with two gleaming green eyes before leaning forward so that he could pin it to your lapel.

“Is this part of the spell?” you asked, head tilted back so you two didn’t butt heads while he pinned it on.

“No, this is completely different,” Marvin said, hoping you didn’t notice how his hands shook and made pinning it that much harder. He faked a grin and said, “I say the right word and this little pin will turn you into a kitty cat.”

He leaned back in time to see you laugh and say, “Depending on how much cleanup there is after the party, I might just let you do it.”

“Or maybe it’s just cute and matches the tie,” Marvin said with a wink. To his relief, you didn’t question it, although that might have been because you were already watching as he picked up the emerald green tie. “Luckily I got to practice tying three neckties already today, so this part should be easy.”

“Three?” you asked.

“Seán and Chase, plus my own,” Marvin answered. “Jackieboy didn’t need one, Schneeps said he’d prefer a clip-on to having something around his neck, and JJ went with his usual bowtie.”

“You’re the resident tie expert?” you asked and he gave a less than humble shrug. “You haven’t said, how long will the spell last?”

“Until midnight,” Marvin answered, and stared when you gave a laugh at that. “What?”

“Midnight, really?” you asked. “Are you trying to make it as dramatic as possible?”

“It’s traditional, and I’ll have you know, drama is very important in working magic,” Marvin insisted. When you gave him a doubtful look, he admitted, “Plus that’s when the ball is officially over, so it seemed like a good end time.”

“You and Mark should really talk sometime, I think you’d get along if you both gave it a chance,” you said as he began to run his fingers up and down the fabric of the tie, whispering to himself as he did so. “Then again, I’m afraid what you two might come up with if left to yourselves.”

Marvin glanced up and flashed a brief grin before he could stop himself. “That’s probably fair. Are you ready?”

You nodded and leaned forward, head tilted to make it easier for Marvin to turn up your collar and loop the tie around it. As he did so, a last-minute question occurred to you.

“Will I remember…?”

“Probably not,” Marvin answered. “Some things might slip through, but until midnight it will just be like you’re asleep. Dreaming, maybe, but it’ll be over before you know it. Promise.”

You returned his smile, maybe out of reflex Marvin wasn’t sure, and he focused his attention on the tie. As he said, most of the heavy work had already been done, and now it was a matter of will as he carefully created a knot and slid it up into place at the base of your throat. He felt the spell take hold and his eyes flickered up toward your face.

He didn’t expect to see any difference and more than a part of him hoped that it might not work at all, but he was startled that this close he could see the flicker in your eyes before you closed them.

And the District Attorney opened them.

The District Attorney blinked slowly and then stared down at your—their body with a sharp inhale. They started to lift their hands only for the left to stop short on the way up, held back by a handcuff linking their wrist to the handle of a nearby storage locker.

“I—” They paused as though surprised at the sound of their own voice and a flurry of emotions crossed their face, too fast for Marvin to parse.

How long had it been, since they last spoke to someone else?

“I’m impressed,” they admitted once they recovered, turning their eyes from the handcuffs to the magician. “I didn’t even notice you doing that.”

“Sleight of hand is fun like that,” Marvin said over the scrape of the chair he pulled into place before taking a seat with his legs crossed. “Before anything else happens, I have some questions for you.”

The District Attorney took in the way those bright blue eyes narrowed behind the mask and the cross of his arms, but also the way his foot made quick, nervous motions in the air.

“…It’s Marvin, isn’t it?”

“You know my name?” The magician couldn’t hide his surprise. Marvin had assumed that the District Attorney would have as much trouble accessing your memories as you did trying to remember anything before the mirror. Actually, he had also assumed that the way you talked about the District Attorney as a separate person was just a way of coping with your lost memories, and that theory wasn’t looking too great either.

“Y/N, the one you know, isn’t trying to hide their memories from me. They’re…distant, like watching through someone else’s eyes, but they’re there.” The District Attorney put their free hand to their chest, where they could still feel your presence. Quiet, “sleeping,” but still very much there. A brief, soft smile crossed their face, giving them the patience to look at Marvin and ask, “What is it that you want to know?”

So much. Marvin’s mind was already spinning with theories on how you and the District Attorney could have become like this, two fragments of the same person. He had considered it of course, it was the whole basis for how the spell worked, but now he had so many questions. When did “you” first appear? Was it a side effect from all of those years in the house? Was it when Mark took a piece from the mirror? But there were more pressing concerns that he needed to focus on first.

“You gave Y/N the idea for this spell, didn’t you?”

“Correct.” The District Attorney attempted to lean against the storage locker, but there seemed to be no comfortable way of doing that. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy considering we can’t exactly talk face to face, but I’ve found I can have some influence in their dreams, and even then it was a long shot. I’m surprised you performed the spell, considering.”

“Just because I don’t immediately trust you?”

“I was thinking more because you seem to prefer using the same spells over and over again.” The District Attorney’s voice grew sharper as they added, “Speaking of, could you knock it off with the shrinking spells? Y/N has literally had nightmares where they’re tiny now.”

“…I’ll consider it,” Marvin said. The DA raised an eyebrow and he said, “Fine, no more making Y/N tiny…Spoilsport.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s get back to you. Why tonight? Why do you suddenly want to come back tonight of all nights?”

“This isn’t some sudden thing. I’ve had nothing but time to consider this.” The District Attorney shifted their weight, but the magician made no move to offer them a seat. “I have some things I want to say, and questions of my own I want to ask for myself. Y/N is the one who thought tonight would be best, with everyone in one place.”

They looked down at their suit and tugged at their collar before saying, “I’ll admit that I’m not too thrilled at the idea of a dance. Or this tie. Can I—?”

“Don’t touch it!”

They stopped just short of adjusting the tie and stared at Marvin. “Why?”

“So you just want to talk to some people? That’s all?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else you think I would have in mind, but that’s all. I want to make the best possible use of the limited time I have.”

“Forgive me for not immediately trusting someone just because they’re wearing a friendly face.” Marvin stood up and paced close to the District Attorney, his eyes locking with theirs. “Whatever you need to do, I want it done by midnight, do you understand? And then we get our Y/N back.”

“That’s all I—” The District Attorney stopped short and Marvin froze in the act of getting out the handcuff key when he heard the quiet anger in their voice. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No,” Marvin said, but they saw the flicker in his eyes as he glanced at their face and back to the handcuffs.

“Is it the tie? Or something about the spell—” The DA’s eyes narrowed when they saw the tell. “What’s wrong with the spell?”

“Nothing! It’s working fine, it let you take control of Y/N’s body like it was supposed to, and at midnight they’ll have the chance to take it back.”

“The chance? What does that mean?”

Marvin quickly stepped back out of arm’s reach before explaining, “The closest I could find to your…situation was two spirits or hearts or whatever you call it in one body. The original spell was designed for, well, possessions.”

The District Attorney was silent as this sank in, not visibly reacting except for their restrained hand, which pressed so hard against the steel binding it that there would soon be a mark on their wrist if they weren’t careful.

“The tie works to safely suppress Y/N, giving you an opportunity to take over. At midnight the suppression wears off, but if you were to resist…”

“There’s the chance I could stay in control,” they finished. Between the two of you, the DA was the older one, the original from which you “split off” to form your own memories, your own heart as Marvin called it. The District Attorney had been their own person before the manor, but you were formed on the other side of the mirror—you weren’t made for this world, not on your own. There was no doubt who was the “stronger” of the two of you, looking at it that way.

“That’s not what you told them.”

“I…” Marvin faltered under their glare.

“How could you not tell them?!”

“Do you really think it would have changed their mind?” Marvin snapped back, his voice rising to match theirs. “You can see their memories, would anything I said have changed their minds?”

“I…” This time it was the DA’s turn to grasp for words.

“They trust you,” Marvin muttered as he took their hand and unlocked the handcuffs. “Which is the only reason I’m doing this.”

He tightened his grip on their wrist as he looked them in the eye, his eyes like cold ice as he added, “But you better believe I will get them back at midnight, whether you’re ready to leave or not. So take care of what you need to before then, understand?”

“…I understand,” the District Attorney said, not looking away. When Marvin released their wrist and turned away, he was surprised again when they added, “Thank you.”

“Like I said, I’m doing this for Y/N,” he answered as he went to the silver case and snapped it shut before making it disappear with a snap of his fingers.

“Thank you for looking out for them.”

Marvin had no answer for that, so he gave a mute shrug and motioned for them to follow him out of the storage closet. It was a silent walk back the way they came, but when he opened the door to the ballroom, they were both greeted by a flurry of voices and low but upbeat music. A steady stream of guests entered on the opposite side, and a sizable crowd was already milling around waiting for the ball to officially start.

“You’ll need a mask,” he said, leading the way across the room.

“Why?” they asked, and he glanced back at the tone in their voice in time to see their distaste as they looked around the room. “Who thought this was a good idea?”

“Your old friend Mark did,” he answered and was rewarded by the flurry of conflicting emotions that sped across the DA’s face before they could collect themselves.

Well, that was interesting.

“Besides, it’s required,” he said. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you’re not wearing one.”

They muttered something about dramatic idiots and Marvin suppressed a grin. Maybe they weren’t that different from you after all.

By the time they crossed the room, the crowd around the table had started to diminish, but not enough for Marvin to notice who was sitting behind the stack of masks until he heard the narration.

“The Host hands Jeremy a mask that will certainly catch the eye of that particular someone and suggests that if Kiri is interested in a snake motif then she should take a look at the far end of the table where Jackieboy Man is assisting guests. Marvin stops short at the sound of the Host’s voice, but beside him the District Attorney—”

The fans nearest to the table were either too focused on picking out masks or trying to find their friends to notice as the Host rose from his seat, but Marvin still swore he heard the noise in the room dip as he spoke again, his voice low but trembling with anger.

“What has the magician done?”

“Uh, sorry, did you call for me Jackie?” Marvin said, not taking his eyes off of the Host.

“Kind of busy over here bro,” Jackieboy called from the other end of the table, even though he was clearly just posing for a picture with some grinning fans.

“Yeah, yeah, must have just been Jameson, I should…go…”

Then, dropping all efforts at pretending, Marvin turned and sprinted away into the crowd, leaving the District Attorney alone with the Host, whose furious narration was immediately rewarded by a yelp from the magician somewhere in the distance followed by Mark’s voice yelling about spilled punch.

“And then the magician—” The Host stopped short when he felt the pressure of a hand on his arm.

“Don’t, please,” the District Attorney said in his ear. “Y/N asked him to do this, just for tonight.”

The Host pulled away, his face turned toward theirs as though studying them through the red blindfold.

“The Host does not doubt his Y/N would do such a thing, but he does doubt that either Y/N has fully thought through what they have planned for tonight.”

“I just want to talk,” the District Attorney said, even as they felt a sense of unease at the Host’s words. “And I have thought of nothing else for a very, very long time. Our—your Y/N will be back safe and sound at midnight. No one, especially them, is going to get hurt. I promise.”

“The Host asks the District Attorney not to make promises that they have no control over.” Bitterness tinged the ego’s words, even as he added, “…But the Host will—”

He stopped, interrupted by the amplified tap of a finger on the microphone before a voice similar to his own came out of every speaker around the room and the crowd as one turned toward the stage with more than a few cries and shouts.

“Hello everybody, and welcome to the masquerade. I’m Markiplier—”

“And it’s me, the one and only Gaelic Gladiator,” chimed in the man next to him over the crowd’s applause and cheers.

Next to Mark.

The District Attorney stared at him up there on the stage, at the embroidered flowers splashed across the chest and running down the sleeve of his jacket, a dizzying array of colors designed to catch the eye, and at the white partial mask that did nothing to hide the shape of his face or his identity. How he drank in the audience’s attention even as he and Jack spoke about the masquerade, about the charity this was all for, their voices mingling and distant even as the light background music and every clap and laugh grew louder and more distorted.

There were so many people here. Despite the distance between themselves and the nearest guest, the District Attorney was suddenly aware of the press of bodies, the voices murmuring even during the rehearsed speech, the colors glaring against their vision even as the amplified voices caught and grated against their eardrums and this was a mistake, they couldn’t do this, they—

Your presence stirred and the District Attorney felt your concern like a sudden hand reaching out to steady them. They put a hand to their chest and took several long, slow breaths until their heart rate steadied.

I’m okay, they thought, and they felt you slipping back into your “sleep.” There was something about the idea of you so ready to step in and protect them that made the District Attorney smile.

For just a moment they caught Mark’s eye and just as quickly looked away. It took several seconds before they realized that the music had returned and that there was movement going on in the center of the dance floor.

The masquerade had officially begun.

Turning back to the masks and the Host, they couldn’t help but notice just how much he looked like Mark. It had been easy enough to ignore with the red blindfold around his eyes, but looking around the room they could see several other identical faces partially hidden by various masks.

Of course, they had also noticed how much Marvin resembled his creator despite a few cosmetic differences such as his hair. Even the man sitting at the other end of the table with the vivid red hood and a gilded blue mask was obviously another one of these egos.

Jackieboy Man. The name swam up from somewhere in your memories, and the District Attorney clung to it, already knowing how much they would be relying on you throughout the night.

“The Host holds out the mask he set aside for Y/N earlier. He had the other Y/N in mind, but it should still match this Y/N’s enchanted tie if they are interested.”

“…Thank you,” the District Attorney said, wondering if their voice shook as they took the offered mask. It was a half mask that covered the eyes and cheeks, the same emerald green as their tie beneath thin golden lines that radiated from the center like delicate, curling beams of sunlight.

“It is just a mask,” the Host answered, his face turned toward the table where his hands were clasped together. “Markiplier has asked that everyone wear one tonight for an effect that should go over well with the fans, but the District Attorney will see for themselves.”

“For that, but also thank you for taking care of the other me.” The District Attorney closed their eyes and let your memories of the Host wash over them briefly. “Thank you for being their friend.”

The Host seemed momentarily lost for words, judging by the way his mouth opened but nothing came out, not even his usual narration.

“Y/N, the District Attorney, can see our Y/N’s memories,” he said slowly, but before they could confirm that he continued, “Earlier they told Marvin the Magnificent that our Y/N is not hiding any memories from them.”

This time it was the DA’s turn to be surprised. “You—Yes, that’s correct.”

They could see the thread connecting one thought to the other in the Host’s narration, but they still weren’t prepared for the accusation in the Host’s voice as he said, “But Y/N cannot access the District Attorney’s memories unless that Y/N allows it. Because it is the District Attorney who is hiding memories.”

“Of course I am,” the District Attorney said and the Host visibly stiffened. “The Host has to know the kind of nightmares Y/N has. What just the memories of our time in the manor has done to them. If it were up to me…I don’t want to share anything with them that might hurt them any more than they already have been.”

“Even memories of Markiplier and Dam—”

“Especially those,” the District Attorney interrupted. They heard the anger in their own voice and added in a much more measured tone, “At least, not all of them, not yet. I don’t…I just want to be careful what I share with them. Sometimes even the good memories can do more harm than good.”

“It is not the Host’s place to comment on Y/N’s memories, so he will not,” the Host said, his clasped hands gripping each other tightly as he added, “But the Host wishes Y/N to know that he will be ready when they need him.”

“You mean ‘if.’”

The Host did not respond, instead turning his face toward a fan that had walked up to the table beside the District Attorney as though to suggest this conversation was over. The DA stepped away but couldn’t resist looking over their shoulder at the ego again before they shook off what he said and put on the mask.

At first the DA strayed around the edges of the crowd, watching as egos, fans, and creators danced together or stood around in small clumps, trying to hold conversations over the sound of the beating music with varying degrees of success. Gradually the tension in their body eased and they began to focus on the individual persons, searching for any sign of familiar to you faces beneath the masks.

But they were spotted first and a voice straight from their past asked, “Y/N, is that you?”

The Detective. He was wearing a mask, a simple black domino mask whose only contribution to hiding his identity was the fact that it actually matched his suit, and a frown as he leaned forward to get a better look at them before smiling as though satisfied. “Good to see you, Partner. I was starting to think I wouldn’t find you in this madhouse.”

“It’s good to see you too, Detective.”

The change in Abe’s posture was instantaneous, like a wire being pulled tight. Eyes blazed behind the mask as his hand went into his jacket and he said, “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m—” The District Attorney lunged forward and grabbed his wrist before he could draw it out of his jacket and tried to keep their voice down as much as possible as they asked, “Why did you bring a gun to a party?!”

“Considering how the last time I went to one of Mark’s parties turned out, why wouldn’t I?” Abe asked, but he released his grip on the gun hidden under his jacket and grabbed their wrist instead. “And you better start answering my question, pal.”

“I am Y/N, just…just not the one you’re thinking of.” The District Attorney sighed and tugged their gripped wrist in the direction of one of the empty tables. “This is going to take some time to explain.”

Abe sat back in his chair and studied them the entire time they spoke, and when they were done he shook his head and said, “You really expect me to believe there’s two of you in there?”

“In essence, yes. I think it’s safe to say that it’s the ‘other me’ you are familiar with and know by this point. After all, they’re the one who’s been your partner for over a year now, compared to the single weekend we knew each other.”

“Which would make you—you’re the one who…”

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault, Detective.” The District Attorney spoke quickly to cut him off before he could follow that train of thought too far, but they looked down, their gaze on their hands fidgeting on top of the table. “I don’t know if you know that, but just in case. And I’ve wanted to say thank you for choosing me to be your partner, for as short a time as it may have been.”

When they looked up, they saw the tears in the Detective’s eyes before he coughed and looked away.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I…” He gave up and shook his head. “Thank you.”

“And I know the other Y/N enjoys their time with you as well,” the District Attorney added, revealing a rare grin.

“Okay, look, I’m already crying, just stop already,” Abe said, but his smile faded slightly as he studied their face again. “What happens to you at midnight? When the spell ends?”

The DA shrugged. “Things will go back to the way they were before. For me, it’s like…being asleep, I suppose, except I have some awareness of what’s going on with the other me. The important things come through, at least.”

They had chosen to leave out Marvin’s warning, for the Detective’s own peace of mind.

“That’s…” Abe trailed off, unable to find the words.

How could they look so okay with that?

Before he could protest, two masked individuals approached from the crowd and stopped at their table.

“You two aren’t just going to sit here all night, are you?” asked the one on the left, the one wearing a butterfly mask emblazoned with bright colors that shimmered with the lights.

The District Attorney hesitated, just long enough for your memories to resurface. “It’s…Amy, right?”

“Got it in one!” she said with a laugh. She pulled out the chair next to them and sat down while gesturing at her mask. “I’d wanted to get the alien one, but it was gone by the time I got back.”

“Sorry about that,” said the second woman, who took another empty chair and sat back with a sigh. “The stupid zipper on this dress hasn’t worked right since Jackieboy tried to take it for a spin.”

“I…what?” the District Attorney asked. “We are talking about the superhero, correct?”

Evelien sighed. “Yeah. Yandereplier started it, trying to talk you into wearing a dress tonight, and next thing I know Jackie’s seeing how he looks in one. I took him back to the store so he could get his own dress, and Schneeplestein helped him sew the hood on, but the damage was already done.”

She gestured toward the superhero, who was walking across the floor now, and there were appreciative nods all around the table and a low whistle from Abe.

“He definitely has…the build for it,” the District Attorney said.

“Yeah he does,” Amy said. “Oh. Sorry, Evelien—”

“Please, you should have heard Seán when he saw him,” Evelien said with a laugh. “Look at those legs!”

Abe looked between the three of them as the conversation continued, waiting for as long as he could before he blurted out, “Hey, Amy, where’s Mark at?”

The DA visibly froze and sent him a daggered look, but Amy shrugged and looked around.

“I’m not sure. He said something about his jacket, but I didn’t think he would want to miss—”

As if in response to her words, Mark’s amplified voice rose above the crowd and all eyes turned once again to the stage in response to his question.

“Does everyone have their masks?”

A chorus of cheers and shouts greeted him and he smiled as the other person on the stage continued.

“Fantastic! Now we can really have some fun.”

The District Attorney frowned, recognizing Marvin’s suit and mask up on the stage, but before they could wonder what the magician was up to, he raised his hand up and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, all of the lights in the room went out as one, plunging the masquerade into darkness for just a brief second. The DA felt a hand clamp down on their wrist as if to make sure they were still there, but before the crowd could even panic or start making jokes they were all turning to one another with sounds of surprise and delight.

In the darkness, they could now see that their masks glowed as though lit from within, taking on new colors and patterns in the darkness. The colors in their clothes also took on a lesser glow, so that an idea of the person standing next to them could be seen, if not the whole figure.

“Once an hour, at a random time within that hour, we’ll have ourselves a dance in the dark,” Mark said. His partial mask also glowed in the darkness, and the flowers spread across his jacket left iridescent trails as he gestured.  “Even we don’t know exactly when they’ll happen, but that’s just part of the fun. So hold on to your masks, and be ready. After all, who knows who you might bump into in the dark?”

The music started again, this time with a very different beat, and the District Attorney found themselves being pulled up out of their chair and in the direction of the dancing masks by Amy, whose butterfly mask was such a bright neon blue now that it left trails in the darkness when she turned to face them.

“Come on, Y/N, move it a little,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, no one can judge you if they can’t see you.”

The District Attorney blinked and stared at her mask. Did its wings move, or was it just a trick of the light streaming from it?

“I’d beg to differ,” they muttered, but began to move in time to the music all the same. “Amy, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure! Music might make it a little hard though,” she said, her own voice barely audible over the incessant beat.

The District Attorney moved closer and asked, “How have you been doing? You and Mark?”

“Crazy busy! This whole thing didn’t plan itself,” Amy pointed out. “How much does it show?”

“It doesn’t—I mean, I just…” The District Attorney let their voice trail off and get lost in the noise.

“But I wouldn’t trade times like this, or any of these last few years, for the world,” Amy continued. This time, the DA was sure they saw the butterfly on her mask flap its wings and realized the blue was shifting into a vibrant, beaming gold as she looked around the room. “I hope he takes the time to stop and enjoy this. You wouldn’t remember I guess, but when I first met him Mark just…couldn’t look past his work, whether it was the latest video or the next project. Bob and Wade told me they used to come by once a week just to make sure he was still alive and then drag him out for a movie or a game or anything to snap him out of himself. Sometimes he slips back into it, but if this makes sense, it really feels like he’s finally remembered there’s a Mark in the ‘Markiplier.’”

“It really does seem like it,” the District Attorney said quietly, and then raised their voice to be sure Amy could hear as they added, “I know he seems so much happier now than he used to be. He definitely smiles more when he’s with you.”

Amy laughed and pushed at their shoulder, but the District Attorney saw the yellow in their mask tinge pink before the song ended and lights came up again around the room, and in turn the masks dimmed back to their normal colors.

The District Attorney glanced toward the stage, but there was no sign of the magician or Markiplier, only the ego in his likeness handling the music. The next song was just as fast as the first and the District Attorney backed away, saying as they did so, “Thank you, Amy. For everything.”

“Now hold on, that was just one song,” Amy said, her smiled widening just as the District Attorney’s shoulders bumped into a pair of hands waiting to catch them.

“You aren’t trying to run away, are you?” The voice behind them sounded like the magician, and when they looked over their shoulder it was the same face, but your memories immediately offered up the name Jack. Or maybe it was Seán? “Come on, Y/N, let’s see you shake those hips!”

“Excuse you?”

“Here, just move like this,” Evelien added as she walked up, the Detective in tow and looking about as thrilled as the DA.

The District Attorney watched Evelien and Jack dance for a few seconds, during which they both tried to outdo each other while not breaking down into giggles as their moves became more and more ridiculous.

“How do I pass?” they said eventually, but Amy took hold of their hands and began pulling them back and forth until they were forced to move their feet. They shot a look at the Detective for help, but he only managed a smirk before he found hands clamping down on his shoulders.

“Someone’s not dancing,” Tyler crowed.

“Get your hands off of me, you washed-up butler,” Abe snapped, but he was helpless in the face of Tyler’s might combined with Ethan, Wade, and Bob, who seemed to have formed a roving band with the goal of getting all the dance-shy guests moving and enjoying the fun.

While he tried to evade them, Abe kept an eye on the District Attorney, watching as they, yes, danced (who taught them the cabbage patch?), but also used every chance to talk to the friends you had made over the last year and a half. About what, the Detective couldn’t be sure, but he often caught them staring too long at faces, brow furrowing as though trying to read beneath the surface of what they were saying. And he saw the same words repeated over and over again, so many times that he started to recognize the shape of them on their lips even if he couldn’t hear the sounds over the music:

Thank you.

The first time he saw them lose their composure was when a slow song came on and one of Mark’s egos tapped them on the shoulder. He saw the way their eyes widened behind the mask, the panic that made them take a step back, but before he could step in they slowly relaxed and said, “…You are…Eric?”

“Uh, y-yeah, it’s me,” Eric said. His bright yellow mask matched the handkerchief in his chest pocket, which he promptly took out to fidget with as he added, “I, uh, sorry if you were, um…Hoping for someone else, but I was…would you…I mean you don’t have to, I just—Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait!” The word slipped out and the District Attorney immediately winced, their hand going to their chest with a grimace before they recovered and continued in their normal, restrained tone, “I’m…not much of a dancer, but sure.”

Eric’s grin, the only part of his face visible beneath the mask, was nervous and hopeful even as he and the District Attorney fumbled in how and where to place their hands before starting a slow, uneven sway much like the other dancers around them.

Abe watched for a moment and then realized he was the only one just standing there amid all of the dancers. More importantly, he had managed to lose Tyler and the others in the dance posse, which meant he was free to leave the floor.

And free to have a talk with a certain magician before midnight.

“I’ve, um, I’ve been practicing but I’m s-still not very good,” Eric mumbled. This close, and he could still barely look them in the eye, only briefly glancing up every now and then in between keeping his gaze firmly on the ground.

“You’re doing fine,” the District Attorney said, and then realized their tone wasn’t exactly encouraging or kind so they tried again. “Just relax. It’s only a dance.”

Eric gave them a bashful smile and the District Attorney could only stare. Even with the mask, he looked so much like Mark. Of course he did, there were over a dozen of them roaming around the room right now, but the idea of this shy, bashful, neurotically nervous person, that any part of him could have come out of Mark of all people was…

“Um, have you, have you been enjoying the, uh…dance? Not the dancing, I mean, I know you don’t like that, but um…everything else?”

“It’s been enlightening so far,” the District Attorney said. They glanced at the clock hanging above the stage and took a deep breath. They could only avoid the inevitable for so long, after all. “Have you seen Marki—Mark anywhere around? I…I need to talk to him after this dance.”

“Um…I think he went backstage a while ago, something about a stain on his jacket?” Eric looked up at the District Attorney and their eyes briefly met. “Is everything…Um, are you okay? You just don’t… Um, never mind, this is stupid, I’m stupid, let’s, uh…How long is this dance?”

“I’m sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” the District Attorney said. They paused and then gave his shoulder a squeeze as the song came to an end. “And you’re not stupid. Thank you for the dance, Eric. I enjoyed it.”

At that moment the lights went out, plunging the room once more into darkness as an upbeat, borderline funk song came on. The District Attorney wove their way in and out of the crowd in the direction of the stage, too intent on making their way to the back area to notice that a couple of dancers had taken to the stage.

But one of the dancers did notice the mask moving through the crowd out of time to the music and a voice loud and deep enough to be heard over the music called out, “Someone’s a little slow getting into the groove!”

The District Attorney stopped so fast that others around them bumped and jostled them out of the way, but they couldn’t care less. They knew that voice, even without your memories stirring at the familiar baritone, but when they turned toward the stage he was gone, leaving a blank space between the glowing masks.

“Maybe you just need a little encouragement?” he continued and the District Attorney whirled around to stare at the lurid yellow and pink suit that probably didn’t need Marvin’s magic to glow in the dark, at the mask that was a solid white except for the mustache, which was almost as brilliantly pink as the mustache hidden underneath the mask.

Wilford, your memories said, but all the District Attorney could hear was the voice of the Colonel, the slurred, manic voice of the man who shot them.

“Come on up, don’t be shy,” Wilford continued without waiting for or needing a response, and suddenly the District Attorney found themselves on the stage with the other dancers even though they had certainly not taken any of the steps leading up to here.

They staggered back but Wilford caught their hand and pulled them away from the edge of the stage with a laugh and a “Not that way!” The next thing the DA knew, they were mimicking the movements of the dance, or at least from what they could see of it in the dark. Their mind moved achingly slow but, eventually, the thought strayed forward that they would have to catch him before he left the stage. This might be their only chance to talk to him tonight, after all, as both your memories and theirs confirmed he wasn’t the easiest person to get a hold of when he didn’t want to be.

As the music slowed, they stopped pretending to dance, and just as the song came to a close and the lights returned they grabbed hold of his candy-striped sleeve.

“Not bad,” Wilford said, pushing his mask up out of the way as he turned to face them. His eyes glittered in the stage lights as he added, “What do you say to another round, for old time’s sake?”

“I—” The District Attorney let go and stepped back, unable to look away from those eyes, their heart thudding like it just took another bullet to the chest. “This was a mistake.”

“Come on, we can work on the dancing!” Wilford called after them as the District Attorney jumped down from the stage and disappeared into the crowd, but he made no move to chase after them and instead turned to the guests on the floor. “Well, anyone else want to volunteer?”

While a suspiciously loud and Irish voice volunteered to go on stage, the District Attorney wove their way in and out of the crowd, looking for the least crowded path to anywhere, just as far away from all of this as possible.

“Y/N!”

They had no idea how many times their name was called before the weight of a hand on their shoulder drew them back into the here and now.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s go over here where it’s quieter, okay?”

They nodded and the hand kept its steady pressure on their back, guiding them through the spinning room and out of the pressing crowd until they were in the back of the room, in the relative privacy and quiet behind one of the fake marble columns.

“Just close your eyes, take deep breaths.”

The District Attorney did as he said, breathing slowly in and out. They felt their panic slowly ebb and fade, but nearly thought they were going to be sick again when they remembered what the magician said about strong emotions passing through to you in your “sleep.” They could still feel your presence, closer than and just as comforting as the hand on their upper arm that squeezed gently as he continued to talk them down.

They risked opening their eyes and found them drawn to the flowers scattered across the white jacket in front of them, droplets of colors that ran down the sleeve and up toward the hand on their shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked and the District Attorney looked up at that white partial mask that covered the left side of his face, at the eyes full of concern on the other side. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No…” They took a shuddering breath and tried again, “No, I just…need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need, Y/N,” he said with a gentle smile. “There’s no rush.”

They might have laughed at the irony of that if they weren’t studying the visible portions of his face closely, looking for what they weren’t sure.

“I realize this might not bring up the best memories for you,” he admitted, watching their face just as closely.

“The—Abe said the same thing earlier. About the…other party.”

His hand on their shoulder tightened, briefly, his mouth turning down before he sighed. “It’s a shame you can’t remember the other ones. And there were others, Y/N. Some a little more…rowdier than others, but not all of them ended badly. Like when we celebrated graduating college together and wound up in a field looking up at the stars. We may have overdone it a little on that one, considering I don’t remember exactly how we got there…”

“I would be surprised if you did,” the District Attorney said, uncertain if it was the sudden venom in their voice or the way they slapped his hand off their shoulder that earned them the look of surprise before they continued, “Considering Mark wasn’t there.”

The noise in the room dipped briefly in the pause between one song ending and the next one starting, a silence as Dark’s lips parted but nothing came out.

The District Attorney had no such problem as they reached up and pulled his mask off, only to toss it on the ground so they could see his face when they asked, “Why are you pretending to be Mark? What was the plan here, why would you—Why?!”

“You remember.” Dark stared at them, eyes wide and showing no sign that he was listening to a single word. “I thought tonight might jog your memories, but—”

He stopped short, and now it was his turn to pull off the other’s mask. The District Attorney took a step back and their shoulders bumped into the column behind them, but they met Dark’s stare head on with a fury and disgust he recognized. Just not one he had seen outside of your reflection trapped in a mirror.

“You…how…?” Dark’s eyes dropped to the emerald tie around their neck. “The magician. What spell is this? How long will it last?”

“Don’t,” they said, putting out a hand to stop him before he could touch the tie. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Is it permanent?” Dark’s eyes went back up to their face and he quickly took a step back.

“No, it is not,” the DA answered, stressing every word in an attempt to not raise their voice. “At midnight, this body goes back to the other me.”

“Why? Isn’t there some way—”

“Why would you care?”

Dark paused and then straightened his tie, settling back into his more reserved state as he said, “It is of professional interest to me, of course. After all, that looks like a possession spell our dear wannabe warlock has used.”

The District Attorney kept their face carefully blank, not wanting to give Dark the satisfaction of a reaction to that. “Which is exactly why this won’t last.”

“But it could. You could stay here, with us.”

“And the other Y/N?” they asked, feeling their anger reach a new fever pitch at the word ‘us.’ How dare he say it, how dare he even pretend— “What happens to them?”

“…They’re a part of you, you’re the same person,” Dark started, but the District Attorney cut them off.

“No. Because I will tell you right now, if I had been the one to find you bleeding out on the infirmary floor, I would have kept walking.” The District Attorney looked him straight in the eye as they said, “If it were up to me, the other Y/N wouldn’t even remember your name, or Mark, or any of our time in that godforsaken house.”

“…Would you really?” Dark asked softly.

He saw the uncertainty flicker in their eyes, heard the anger recede into bitterness and sadness as they looked away and said, “I would take back every memory I never should have shared with them, if…”

They took a deep, shuddering breath and continued, “But no, we are not the same person.”

Every memory I never should have shared. Dark thought of what memories you did have, of those long years spent in the house, in that mirror. Maybe a few other, scattered memories that the District Attorney had either chosen to share with you or that accidentally slipped through whenever they felt a familiar touch or heard a certain phrase. Enough to give you recurring nightmares, enough to make you hide yourself away at the sound of thunder or the crack of lightning.

“Only because you made it that way,” he said. “You chose this, to split your memories in two, to keep everything from them. Maybe we should have been tapping the magician for a way to separate you two instead of forcing you together.”

He thought the sarcasm in his voice was audible, but the District Attorney answered them as though they had seriously considered it, “Even if we had a second body, I’m not sure the other Y/N would be able to survive in this reality without me. They were born on the other side of the mirror, after all, and that’s gone.”

“I could always take them off your hands, if you ever find the other you to be a burden.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“I thought that’s what we’re doing now,” Dark said, stepping closer so that he could still be heard over the music even as he lowered his voice. “You are making this harder than it needs to be. If you would just get over your martyrdom complex and let them become a part of you, there wouldn’t be a problem. They’re not going to do die, they would just become a part of you, like they’re supposed to be!”

He felt his aura straining to be free of the hold he had on it, to grab hold of them until he could force them to see how stupid and petty they were being about all of this and he grabbed the lapels of his borrowed jacket, pulling until the collar pressed into the back of his neck.

The District Attorney stared evenly back at him as they asked, “Just like, say, Celine is a part of you?”

“…What?”

“Celine. What happened to her, when she became a part of you? To—What happened to them? Because maybe they’re still in there somewhere, but they’re not you, not as I knew them. What do you think will happen to the other Y/N, if I took them back? Do you think the last year and a half is enough to even stand up against the pain and heartbreak you and Mark put me through? Remembering the house did enough damage, but to remember you—to remember my friends, what you meant to me, and to have all of those memories, the best memories of my life, tainted and torn apart by what you did? Or I could just leave them buried, safe and away from you while I take control. Is that what you want?”

“Y/N.” Dark breathed their name, the only word that could come to mind as he saw the tears form the in the corner of their eyes.

“It’s not fair.”

Dark froze, his hand outstretched as though to wipe away one of those tears. “What did you just say?”

“It’s not fair how much you look like him. Like Damien.” The District Attorney’s hands clenched into fists at the name and they shook their head as though they wished to say more but couldn’t. Instead, they shot forward, brushing hard against Dark’s shoulder on their way past him and back toward the center of the room, muttering something about time.

Dark looked down and realized that he still had their mask in his other hand. He ran his thumb over the green and gold sun design, their words running through his mind until he felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with his aura.

He didn’t see them, but he did see a familiar white cat mask on the far side of the room talking to the Detective. Dark’s eyes narrowed and he strode forward, no longer certain of what he hoped might happen at midnight but very sure of what he intended to do once he had his hands on that magician.

The swelling anger provided a welcome distraction from the worrying thoughts that were piling up, starting with the realization that his words may or may not have had an effect on what the District Attorney planned to do between now and midnight. Combine that with the unwelcome uncertainty of what he even hoped would happen and it turned into something bordering on worry and concern.

Two things he could very much do without, all things considered.

The District Attorney had every intention of getting lost in the crowd, but somewhere along the way the stares from strangers became more and more obvious. A girl who they didn’t recognize and whose face didn’t appear in any of your memories stopped them and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I—” The District Attorney reached up and brushed a sleeve across their eyes only to realize with a jolt what was missing. “Ah, my mask, I—I should go get another one.”

They brushed off the girl and her friends’ well-meaning offer to walk with them and reassured them that they had plenty of people looking out for them tonight. The truth of which the District Attorney was reminded of when they approached the nearly empty mask table, where a small group had gathered around the Host.

“That story was one of the Host’s favorites as well, which is why he—The Host asks for the group’s patience as he steps aside for a moment,” said the ego, stepping away from the group to hold out a mask for the District Attorney. “The Host hopes this new mask is suitable. Unfortunately, there are not a lot of options on the table now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” they muttered, taking the offered mask. It was a full-face mask this time with a simple design of a face split straight down the middle, separating the mask into half gold and half black. “You could have mentioned that Dark would be impersonating Mark.”

“The Host can see possibilities, but they are not a guarantee of future events.”

“Are there any more possibilities I should be aware of?” they asked as they put on the mask.

The Host hesitated, more than long enough for the District Attorney to know he was putting too much thought to his answer. “…Any warning the Host can give will not make this night any easier for Y/N. But he can tell the District Attorney that seeing Mark again will not be easy.”

“I could have guessed that,” they answered with a sigh. “But I still need to talk to him. I—I…”

“Markiplier has replaced his jacket and is making his way back to the party. He will seek out Amy first…” The Host paused, muttering to himself as he sped through his narration before he nodded and said, “The District Attorney can find him at the punch table three songs from now, if they wish to talk to him alone.”

“Thank you,” they said, unable to hide their surprise. They studied the Host’s face under that red blindfold, but could still make nothing of his expression or his thoughts before their eyes strayed to the group behind him. “Fans of yours?”

“Yes, they are,” he said, and the Host could not hide the smile or the pride in his voice. “Some have read his stories, others have listened to them, but they—They were excited to see him, and to see other fans.”

“Then I shouldn’t keep you from them any longer,” the District Attorney said, smiling as well.

The Host wasn’t the only one of the egos thrilled to find fans among the crowd. As the District Attorney walked across the room, they saw two egos wearing matching white jackets giving a very biased poll to any who would answer on just who was the “number one best real doctor,” a puff of green smoke on the side of the room followed by cheering and clapping as the magician apparently pulled off a disappearing act, and Eric Derekson was positively overwhelmed by the supporting fans all around teaching him a dance the DA wasn’t familiar with but your memories seemed to connect with a game of some sort. They even saw an ego with a squirrel mask and a cape thrown over his suit having a very spirited discussion with several fans about someone named Doreen Green and assuring them that he did, in fact, speak fluent squirrelese.

The District Attorney kept moving around, listening to the music while the words they had prepared to say to Mark ran through their mind again and again.

They could do this.

The District Attorney took a deep breath and walked over to the punch table, where there was a short line for the bowl and the snacks. More people seemed interested in the chairs further down the wall and around the nearby tables, where guests sat with their legs stretched out for a break and where a growing line of shoes suggested some people had rethought the idea of heels for the night. An ego with a bright blue shirt that matched the ‘G’ embroidered on the pocket of his jacket stood impeccably straight near the wall, looking absolutely bored as he watched the table and the immediate area.

Google, your memories offered, along with the mental image of not one but four egos. The District Attorney took a closer look around the room and spotted the other three, all with the same bored yet unblinking stare as they stood sentry near the stage and next to the exits.

The one near the table made no sign that he recognized the District Attorney as they approached and ladled out a drink in one of the small plastic cups, although based on your memories they suspected the android wouldn’t have cared much if he did know.

“No one’s spiked this, have they?”

The District Attorney dropped the ladle and just in time caught the handle before the whole thing could slide to the bottom of the bowl.

“No. No foreign substances have been added to the punch or any of the food,” Google answered with a heavy, dull tone. “This has truly been a waste of my capabilities.”

“Considering alcohol could literally kill me, you could say you have the most important job of anyone here,” Mark suggested.

He was right behind them. The District Attorney felt their grip tighten on the cup, threatening to break the weak plastic and send the contents flooding across the white tablecloth.

“Tell me, when I convey to you my combined processing power and the rate at which I can access and transmit the vast stores of data I have access to after each update, which part of that suggests a walking security camera?” Google asked, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he stared past the District Attorney.

“I think I’d have to go with that video you threaten to send to my millions of subscribers every time I put off my Windows update.”

“IT security nightmare,” Google muttered darkly before walking away to take up a new vantage point further down the wall.

This was their chance. There was no one else in the immediate area, just the District Attorney and Mark.

They could do this.

The District Attorney turned around and felt like all of the wind had been knocked out of them in a single blow that flung them back eighty years to a very different party.

Mark must have felt their stare because he tugged at the lapels of his jacket and said, “What do you think? I had to make a change, and I found this one just lying around backstage. It’s reversible!”

It was a brilliant red except for the black lapels and lining. A memory of Dark’s jacket slipped by but the District Attorney couldn’t acknowledge it, not when all they could see was the exact same Mark from before, down to the way he brushed his hair back and up out of his face before he smiled at them, face only half covered by the white mask that dominated the right side.

The District Attorney backed up, but Mark interpreted it as them stepping aside to give him space to get to the punch because he now he was standing next to them, chatting easily as he poured out two cups.

“Joke’s on him if he thinks that video’s any more embarrassing than anything I’ve posted myself. Are you enjoying the masquerade? Met anyone yet?” Mark paused long enough to take a sip of one of the punches and, when a reply failed to come, said, “You don’t talk much, do you? It’s okay to admit if you’re one of Seán’s fans, I won’t take it too personally.”

“Mark, you—” The District Attorney stopped, their words catching in their throat when he suddenly looked at them with recognition at the sound of their voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

The District Attorney could only give a mute nod in recognition of their name.

“Oh! Well I guess the masks work, huh?” he said, giving an uncomfortable laugh as he studied them more closely now. “Everything okay? Amy and Seán told me about Wilford dragging you up on stage. If you want, we can…um…”

Mark trailed off, aware that there were very few threats he could use against Wilford that the man would take seriously if not outright ignore.

The District Attorney shook their head and found their voice. “No, it was just a bit…much. Are you—are you enjoying the masquerade?”

It wasn’t the question they wanted to ask. But the District Attorney thought they could build to that, to all the words they needed to get off their chest. Until then, as long as Mark still didn’t know who he was talking to, they might as well pretend everything was fine.

“Of course! Seán and I have been working for months to pull this all together and the fans pulled through for us too. Google’s got the final numbers on the charity donations, but it’s more than either of us have ever raised in one go before.” He looked around the room as he spoke, smiling as he added, “And I think they’re all more excited to see their online friends in person than any one of us. Not that any of the egos aren’t getting enough attention to satisfy even them for a while. Everyone’s playing their part.”

“Like actors in a play.” It was subtle, but the District Attorney could see the flicker in Mark’s eyes, the small double take at that choice of words. Before he could respond, they added, “I ran into Dark earlier. He has on your jacket and an almost identical mask.”

It was just like Mark’s, except flipped to cover the opposite side of his face. The District Attorney supposed it was the closest one Dark could find, with no two masks being identical.

“What? He—that—” Mark sputtered as he spun around to look at the rest of the room, as though he expected to find Dark flipping him off somewhere among the dancers. “I knew he shouldn’t have come, I told you he would pull something like this. What the hell is he doing, pretending to be me?!”

At that moment, Dark was posing with a couple of fans for a photo. A fake smile plastered on his face hid his frustration at losing the magician, who’d disappeared at just the sight of him. There were still a couple of fans hanging around in the general area to see if he would finish the act or at least come back for the rabbit, who seemed to be enjoying life outside of the hat.

On the other side of the room, the District Attorney answered, “He seemed to think this party might stir up some memories.”

“…Oh.” Mark paused and made an effort not to sound too eager as he asked, “Has it?”

“Why?” The question slipped out before the District Attorney could stop it, just one of the questions they had been asking themselves again and again for decades. “Why did you invite me to that party?”

“Maybe now isn’t the best time for this…”

“Mark. Why?”

“I—I don’t know. Being in that house, that thing feeding into all of my anger and bitterness, looking back on it now I don’t know what I was thinking. All I cared about was the Colonel and Ce-Celine…” Mark stopped to take a shuddering breath before he looked them in the eye. “Y/N, all I wanted was to make William hurt any way that I could, whatever it took. You don’t even know all of the terrible things that I did, what I could have become if I hadn’t left when I did. Maybe I thought that if a private detective, a mayor, and his district attorney all leave a party saying that a man killed their host, no one would question it. No one would doubt you. What happened to all of you, I—”

“We were just convenient witnesses,” the District Attorney muttered.

“Or maybe—” Mark stopped himself and shook his head. “Whatever the reason, it never should have happened. None of it should have happened, but all I can say is I’m sorry, Y/N. For as little as that’s worth.”

The District Attorney didn’t answer. They just closed their eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on your presence to calm them down.

“Y/N? You never answered me,” Mark said slowly, as though even he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too far. “Do you remember…?”

He left the question hanging there in the air, hopeful and hesitant.

“Maybe it’s like your egos.”

“What?”

“Us. The District Attorney and the Y/N from the mirror. One is the original, and the other is…someone else. Someone with their own memories, their own personality. One who can’t exist without the original. There are similarities, but we’re as much the same person as you and, say, whoever that is flexing by the speaker.”

“Probably the Silver Shepherd,” Mark said, if only because of the silver mask and Jackieboy’s presence near the ego. “Y/N, don’t talk about yourself like that, you’re not some kind of copy or fake—”

“But if it were true? If there were two of us, somehow split apart, then…”

“…It wouldn’t change the memories we do share. Y/N…” Mark put his drinks down and pulled the DA into a hug. “You would still be my friend. I’d still love you, both of you. Even if you don’t understand my flare for the dramatic.”

The District Attorney stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Part of them wanted to lean into the hug, to tell him everything, to spend time with their friend again. But another part of them wanted to push him away, to scream, to tell him apologies and hugs would never be enough to undo what he did to them, to the others, to Damien.

“I can’t do this.”

“What?” Mark asked, but they were already pulling away. He reached out for them, but at that moment the lights went out for the next dark dance.

The sudden darkness surprised the District Attorney as well, and for a moment they and Mark saw each other in the dark. They saw the red jacket, gleaming like blood beneath a partial face that was no longer smooth and white but a spiderweb of cracks out of which spilt light like it could barely be held in. And he saw the green tie that in the dark seemed to swirl with an energy all its own beneath a solid gold mask. And behind and beside the golden mask there was a darker one, moving just out of sync like a delayed shadow, gleaming with an almost violet hue that did not quite blend in with the darkness all around.

It was as though two people sharing the same space looked back at him, before they ducked their heads and turned away. Mark called out, but the District Attorney had already disappeared into the darkness, lost among the other masks. His heart thudded in his ears as the possibility hit him, too much for him to believe or even hope, and too late for him to run after them.

“Google!” Mark realized it was just short of a shrill scream, but it was enough to be heard over the music as a blue ‘G’ lit up near the wall in response. “I need you to help me find someone, now!”

“What’s the magic word?” Google asked.

Mark heaved the hugest sigh he could and said, “Please.”

“Incorrect. The correct response is ‘magic is an inherently illogical system that does not necessarily convey politeness.’ Please try again.”

Mark’s muffled scream of frustration was drowned out by the music behind the District Attorney as they walked out of a side door to one of the balconies that overlooked the lawn. Leaning hard against the stone railing, they took a deep breath of the heavy summer night air and slowly let it out. Or that was the intent, until their breath hitched and they moved to the corner of the balcony, out of sight of the glass doors where they could sink down and sit there, cheek pressed against the stone railing, and just…not think about anything.

They had a lot of practice at that, from their time alone in the mirror.

They did not notice the click of the door opening, or the footsteps that paused when they were spotted, but they did hear the loud greeting that followed:

“Howdy, bitch!”

The District Attorney jumped and whirled around in time to see Jameson fumbling with his recording device, face aflame as a speech slide appeared in the air between them.

“Good gracious! That is not what I meant at all, I swear! Who even put that on this confounded device?!”

Jameson looked up when he heard the laugh that escaped from the District Attorney before they could stop it, and he gave an embarrassed smile before gesturing at the empty ground next to them. “May I join you?”

The District Attorney nodded and watched the ego as he brushed off the stone before sitting down with exaggerated care.

“It is nice to get away from the noise of it all,” he commented, his bright blue eyes watching them just as closely. “But I’m starting to suspect you have a habit of avoiding the dance floor.”

“Not everyone jumps at the chance to waltz, Mr. Jackson.”

“Then I must have been a lucky man, to tempt you once,” he replied with a wink. “And it’s Jameson, if you please.”

“You do remember,” the District Attorney said and his smile widened. They had recognized him through you when he played the song from that night, all those years ago, but as much as they watched him since, as much as they studied your memories and their own, it just didn’t make any sense. How could one of Seán’s egos remember something like that, be the exact image of a man they met decades before Seán was even born but without a voice of his own? “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how you wound up like this.”

Jameson just pressed a finger to his smiling lips and winked in response.

“Can I at least ask why you’re out here and not dancing the night away inside with the others?”

“A proper gentleman always goes where he’s needed!” Jameson declared, and when the District Attorney seemed more than a little skeptical, he added a second speech slide that read, “Also, I may have overheard the Host talking to himself about you. I don’t think he realized I was there, because…”

He gestured at the speech slide before it disappeared and shrugged.

The District Attorney wasn’t surprised the Host was keeping a narrative eye on them. They placed a hand to their chest and felt your presence, quiet and hopefully dreaming of better things. For a brief second they considered removing the tie, letting you have the body back early and just being done with all of this, but that would only cause you to worry.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?”

The speech slide nudged its way into view and the District Attorney glanced at Jameson, this strange ego who was also out of place, out of his time.

And, without hesitation, they told him everything. About the tie, about the time limit, about how they had so many things they wanted to say, but even looking at Mark or Dark or Wilford brought back so many memories that it hurt to even be in the same room as them, much less talk to them.

“I thought I was ready, I thought I could finally face them myself, but one look and I just—I can’t…” The District Attorney stopped with a hiccup and sob. They couldn’t remember the last time they cried, much less so many times in one night.

“Here.”

Jameson offered them the handkerchief from his chest pocket. When the District Attorney started to refuse, he pressed it into their hands while a second speech slide appeared. “A proper gentleman always has a handkerchief to hand for just such an occasion!”

“I guess I’m not much of a proper anything,” the District Attorney said, putting a hand to their own chest pocket while the other dabbed at their eyes with the offered handkerchief. “Nothing here but—”

They paused as their finger brushed against the jacket pocket and found something. They reached inside and pulled out a small piece of paper, doubled over on itself which when unfolded read:

Tonight is your night. Do what you need to do, but please don’t forget to have some fun!

The District Attorney wanted to smile, but the note just brought a fresh sting to how much they had messed up the time you gave them.

They blinked as a speech slide appeared before their eyes and read, “Maybe you don’t have to face them to say what you need to say.”

“What do you—” The District Attorney stopped mid question when they saw Jameson fiddling with his recording device. He smiled when he caught the look in their eye and another speech slide followed.

“I watched my brothers set it up. Shouldn’t be too difficult to add another recording or two!”

“Are you sure? I don’t—”

But he was already showing them the button to press and how to tell when it was recording.

“Take your time.” He pressed a hand on their shoulder as he stood. “I’ll be waiting by the door when you’re done. After all, the night’s far from over!”

The District Attorney watched him walk to the door, where he stopped to give them a cheery thumbs up before going back in.

Leaving them alone with the recorder, and with everything they needed to get off their chest.

The District Attorney took a deep breath and pressed the button.

It should not be this hard to find one person, even in a crowd this large. That was the thought that occurred to both Mark and Dark as the night wore on and as the District Attorney proved more elusive than either expected. Every time they thought they were close, it just proved to be yet another dead end.

“This?” one of the fans asked, pointing to the gold and black mask Mark last saw on the DA’s face. “I don’t know, I thought it looked cool so I traded my mask for it. Are we not allowed to do that?”

When Dark asked Jameson, the ego paused in the act of eagerly signing with a couple of fans to shrug, a barely visible speech slide explaining, “Can’t say I’ve seen them since the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ when the others showed us how to ‘cha cha now y’all!’”

“Y/N?” Chase said when Google sent Mark his way. “Yeah, we were talking just a few minutes ago with Wade and Bob. Wade thought I was Jack and we were seeing how long it took—”

“Do you know where they went?” Mark interrupted. “What about their mask, what did it look like?”

Chase pulled up his own monster mask to look Mark up and down before he said, “Mark, I understand why you might be worried, but sometimes you just need to let your kid—”

“Brody, if you finish that sentence, I will stuff your tie in your mouth.”

“Have you seen Y/N?” Dark asked during one of the lights out dances, having reached new levels of desperation.

“The Host waits for Dark to see the irony in that question.”

“You know what I mean! Where are they?”

“They are enjoying the masquerade, unlike two men who cannot step back and realize this is not about them. Which is why the Host will not tell Darkiplier where the District Attorney is, just as they refused to tell Markiplier fifteen minutes ago.”

“Because of course you would,” Dark growled. For a brief second two outlines appeared around him in the darkness, red and blue echoes of his form that quickly disappeared when he regained control of himself. “Wait, does that mean Mark knows too?”

The vivid red blindfold was nearly all that was visible of the Host in the darkness as he tilted his head, as though studying Dark. “The Host told him that the spell will end at midnight, just as Darkiplier is already aware. He is employing the Googles to look for Y/N, but they will not relay the information to him in time.”

In the darkness, Mark had come to the same conclusion after one of the Googles directed him to the tables to find that he had, once again, apparently just missed the District Attorney by minutes or possibly even seconds according to Jackie and Silver, who claimed to have broken up a (probably) friendly argument between the DA and Abe that almost ended in a fistfight.

At the suggestion, the android’s eyes took on a red hue that glowed to match his ‘G’ emblem. “Do not blame me for your inferior processing speeds.”

Mark made an inarticulate noise and stormed off, the three egos watching until he was out of earshot.

“Y/N’s not that way, right?” Jackie asked.

“No, I saw them over with Yan and Ethan I think,” Silver answered as he stretched back in his chair, his back popping a little as he did so. “Oof. Not sure what that Detective meant by ‘round two,’ but neither of them was about to pull punches, am I right?”

“The Yellow unit will give Mark an update in…2.5 minutes, depending on Y/N’s status then,” Google declared with a smile. “They have already traded their mask three times since Mark’s last check.”

And so the rest of the masquerade went. Every time Dark or Mark came close to the District Attorney, when they spotted them on the dance floor or chatting with one of your friends, one of the other egos would bump into them or accidentally get in their way and then apologize for a little too long, or one of the random dances would ‘just so happen’ to plunge the room into darkness yet again, to the point even the fans were joking about how short the hours were getting.

Until suddenly it wasn’t just a joke.

Mark gave up on checking his watch when every passing hour just filled him with a new sense of disbelief. There was no way, it had to be wrong, he couldn’t have lost fifteen minutes, an hour, two hours so easily. Instead he turned his whole focus on spotting that green tie among the crowd, he had already lost track of what mask the District Attorney was wearing now—

But he did recognize that white cat mask, even from this far away.

“Mark, please, just calm down,” Marvin was saying to the man in the white jacket embroidered with flowers who had his back to Mark. “You’re starting to scare some of the other guests.”

“Yeah, you should really calm down, Mark,” Mark said, putting a hand down hard on Dark’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Says the actor.” Dark slapped Mark’s hand away without even looking at him. “And do not tell me to calm down, magician.”

“Wait, Dark?” Marvin looked him up and down, taking in Mark’s jacket and the near identical mask. “Wow, you two have some serious issues you need to work out.”

“I’m not the one with the problem here,” Mark said.

“Debatable.”

Dark scowled at the both of them and grabbed a nearby ego at random with the command, “You. Switch jackets with me, now.”

“O-okay,” Eric said, mumbling questions to himself but doing as he was told all the same.

“There,” Dark said while Marvin gave an approving nod to how the flower jacket suited Eric. “Because that is apparently more important than finding Y/N right now.”

“Do you know where they are?” Mark asked and the magician took a swift step back at the intensity of his voice.

“I, uh…”

“You’re not foolish enough to not keep an eye on them,” Dark said, moving closer to the magician as he lowered his voice. “Are you?”

Marvin hesitated and all three were distracted by Bing’s voice over the speakers.

“Sah, dudes! We have just enough time for one more song tonight—” Bing paused and let the disappointed voices die out before he continued, “But I think you’ll like this one.”

He pressed a button and the queued-up song began to play. It had seemed like a good idea when Amy suggested it days ago, but now Mark wished for anything else as the duet began to play.

Remember me, though I have to say goodbye

The response from the crowd was immediate as the ukulele started, but Mark and Dark turned on Marvin with a new urgency.

“Fine,” he said, if only because he knew it was too late to matter anymore. He pressed a hand to his cat mask and his left eye suddenly took on a green gleam, the same gleam that appeared in the left eye of the cat pin he gave you at the start of the masquerade.

Recuérdame, si en tu mente vivo estoy

Recuérdame, mis suenos yo te doy

After a moment that seemed to last an eternity he said, “They’re outside, on the balcony. Looking at the stars I think.”

Te llevo en mi corazón y te acompañeré

Mark turned and immediately started to run toward the glass doors, ready to force his way past friends holding each other and singing along to the upbeat, bouncing music.

Dark muttered something under his breath and ran after him, catching his arm before he could waste any more time. With a surge of his aura they disappeared into the darkness, only to reappear at the glass doors on the other side of the room.

Mark stumbled to regain his balance and together they thrust open the double doors and ran out onto the balcony just as the District Attorney jumped and turned around at the sound, their hand still holding the tie that now hung loose around their neck. For just a moment, as the music suddenly fell away behind them and as the clock struck midnight, the District Attorney locked eyes with both of them and gave them a soft, sad smile.

Remember me, for I will soon be gone

And with that, the spell ended. The District Attorney blinked and it was you who opened your eyes, who found yourself standing on the balcony, who came to just in time to see Mark and Dark both staring at you as they realized what just happened, neither one able to hide their identical reactions of relief.

And disappointment.

---

“Come in,” Dark called when he heard the knock at his office door. Too late he remembered that most of the egos were still sleeping off staying behind to clean up on top of last night’s party and the only ones who would have the energy to be up and moving around wouldn’t have bothered with knocking.

“I just want to talk,” Mark said when Dark’s aura flared around him. It could have been the effort of keeping it in check for so long last night, but Mark didn’t think that was the only reason Dark’s aura seemed darker and more…active than usual. Even as he waved Mark in and sat back in his chair, an afterimage snarled in his direction over the sound of creaking and twisting wood.

At least, until Mark asked, “Have you seen them? Since…”

Dark’s aura froze and contracted until it could barely be seen, its sudden disappearance more unnerving than its presence as Dark answered without emotion, “No, I have not. They must still be with the Septics.”

After they found you on the balcony last night, after they realized that the District Attorney was gone again without a word, neither Mark nor Dark could bring themselves to say anything. While the music slowed and the song came to an end, the three of you just stared at each other, the silence saying more than any of you could or wanted to.

Until the noise from inside caught up with you. Voices calling for Mark were just background noise until Amy poked her head out and told him he needed to get on stage and help Jack wrap up the evening. Reluctantly, or perhaps not too reluctantly, Mark allowed himself to be pulled away. Dark had no time to recover or say anything before you brushed past him, pressing the green tie into his chest like you didn’t even want to look at it anymore on your way to where Marvin was waiting with the Host.

Without waiting for an explanation, the magician pulled you into a hug and you both disappeared. The rest of the Septic egos soon followed once the party was officially over, with most of the Iplier egos assuming you had just decided to spend the night with them.

“I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want to come back,” Mark said now, his face clouded as he sank into the chair opposite Dark’s desk. “How much…how much do you think they remember from last night?”

“We could go over there right now and get them, we could force the magician to—” Dark stopped, his eyes lingering on the green tie lying on his desk next to the sun mask the District Attorney had left with him. To do what, exactly?

“We can’t force them to come back here,” Mark said. “We should…”

He trailed off, aware that he was about to suggest the exact same thing the Host had about the DA: Give them some space, let them decide when and if they want to come back.

Mark and Dark sat in silence for over a minute, both wrapped up in their own thoughts until Mark finished, “They’ll come back when they’re ready.”

“Or when they’re sick of the Septics,” Dark added, attempting a smile and failing. “Shouldn’t take too long, even if they have a soft spot for that bunch of—”

“Don’t,” Mark said, with enough force to make even Dark pause.

“But if it were true?” you had asked, about the possibility of being the District Attorney’s ego, of being a different person than the one he remembered. Only now, Mark knew it wasn’t you asking. They had wanted to see how he reacted, to make sure you would be okay.

Mark slumped against Dark’s desk, head buried in his arms. “They’re never coming back. We screwed up and now both Y/Ns hate us.”

“Drama queen,” Dark muttered as he pulled his papers out of Mark’s reach, but his aura began to spread again, filling the office with distant creaks and whispers too faint to make out. “Y/N—the one from the mirror is…forgiving.”

He had meant to say more, but at the thought his aura darkened, the whispering growing louder now but still impossible for Mark, at least, to make out the individual words.

“Well, aren’t you two some gloomy Guses!”

Mark sat up quickly and turned to face Wilford if only because the last thing he wanted was to have his back to that maniac. Meanwhile, Dark sighed and said, “Come in, Wilford,” like he hadn’t already barged his way into the office without knocking.

“Why the long faces?” Wilford asked as he took a seat on Dark’s desk, ignoring Dark’s scowl as he rescued his coffee cup and could only watch the pens and papers scatter across the surface. “Oh, let me guess, someone hit the sauce a little too hard last night? I do know a few hangover cures, if you need a little help.”

Mark was baffled by the wink Wilford gave him and said, “We’re not hungover, Wilford. I can’t drink, or I’ll die. Remember?”

“And I’m not even sure if I’m capable of getting drunk,” Dark said, although he had considered the option many times over the years, living with the egos. “We were just talking about Y/N.”

“Say, where is that rascal?” Wilford asked. He picked up the sun mask and held it to his face as he added, “I haven’t seen them since I apologized for that whole dance thing last night.”

“You talked to them last night?” Dark asked, exchanging a look with Mark. “How did they seem to you?”

“Oh, about normal I suppose,” Wilford said. For a second, his eyes appeared pink behind the mask. “Didn’t say much. I apologized, they said they would try to forgive me, turned me down when I asked for a second dance. Have to say, I did miss the other Y/N last night.”

They both stared at him and it was Mark who finally broke and asked, “You knew?”

“Knew what?” Wilford asked as he put the mask down.

“You mentioned you missed the ‘other Y/N’ last night,” Dark said patiently, well aware of how easily Wilford’s mind could jump tracks if allowed. “Did you know that was a…different person than the one who has been living with us?”

“Of course! It was pretty obvious, if you know what I mean,” Wilford said. He paused in taking a long sip from Dark’s coffee when he saw the expressions on their faces and rolled his eyes before explaining like he was talking to children, “That Y/N would have hugged me after I apologized, just like they always do. And don’t even get me started on the dancing!”

“Of course,” Mark muttered.

“Be that as it may, Y/N is…staying over with the Septic egos for now,” Dark said. “We have, apparently, decided to give them some space until they are ready to come back.”

Wilford nodded along at Dark’s words. “Got it. I think I can kill a couple of hours. Hey Mark, my boy, do you want to—"

“No,” Mark answered without even waiting for the rest of that invite. “Wilford, Y/N doesn’t—”

He stopped at the knock on the office door, to which Dark gave a loud sigh at the sight of the two Jims looking in.

“Sure, just come in, let’s see how many people we can stuff in here,” Dark muttered. “And that was a joke Wilford, don’t you dare drag anyone else in here.”

Wilford sat back down on the desk, looking disappointed while Jim leaned toward the other Jim and said, “It’s our lucky day, Jim! They’re all here!”

Dark frowned at the word “all,” and asked, “What do you two want?”

Jim straightened up and said, “We have something for you from Dapper Jim himself!”

Mark stared as the Jim placed a recording device on the desk in between him, Dark, and Wilford. He recognized it from the night before and said, “Wait, are you talking about Jameson? When did he give you this?”

“Our adopted brother from across the pond,” Jim said solemnly as the other Jim nodded. “He gave it to us last night, but we were told to wait until exactly this time in exactly this place to give it to you.”

Dark scowled down at the device. That last part had the Host written all over it, which made him suspicious enough as he pulled off the note taped to it and read aloud, “Play me?”

“If you say so,” Wilford said, already pressing the play button.

“Is this…Yeah, yeah it’s recording.” The voice coming from the device was unmistakable, the recording crisp and clear as the District Attorney said, “I’ve had so much time to think about what I would say if I saw you all again. Mark. Dark. Wil-Wilford. But I never imagined how hard it would be to look you in the eyes and…”

There was a long, shuddering sigh before they continued, “This isn’t the way I planned to do this, but there’s so much I need to say to the three of you while I have the chance. So here goes.”

They paused to take another breath and Dark paused the recording long enough to toss the Jims out of the office and lock the door behind them. Then, once the three of them were alone and unlikely to be interrupted, Mark restarted the recording. And they listened in silence as the District Attorney poured out their heart on a balcony, alone with the stars and their sometimes rambling thoughts. Not all of those thoughts were kind or warm fuzzy memories, and more than a few were bitter and left more than just a sting in their wake. But they were all honest, all past the point of holding back any more.

Until the District Attorney laughed and said, “I sound ridiculous...No wonder I can’t figure out how to say all of this.”

There the recording stopped, leaving Mark, Dark, and Wilford sitting there, staring at the device as though waiting for more.

In the resulting silence, they could hear voices in the hall, including your own hushing the others.

“How was I supposed to know he wasn’t joking about the cat spell?” you asked as you led the way down the hall. “And keep it down, the others—”

You stopped short as the door to Dark’s office shot open and Mark, with the other two right behind him, stared at you.

“S-sorry,” you said, looking away first. Around you the Septic egos moved in just a little closer, Jackieboy Man in particular stepping forward as though to place himself between you and them. “I just needed to pick up some fresh clothes, I didn’t…”

You thought they didn’t want you there, Mark and Dark realized in the same instant. And they wanted nothing more than to show you just how wrong you were about that.

Without bothering with an explanation, all three moved forward and you found yourself being pulled into a tight, desperate hug, their voices mingling and mixing until your cry for help only encouraged the Septic egos to join in, and then more and more of the Iplier egos who had no idea what was going on but weren’t about to pass up an opportunity when they found it outside of their bedroom doors. Struggle as much as you wanted, there was no escaping without acknowledging just how much they all loved you.

Both of you.

“Is it selfish, to ask them to keep taking care of the other me? That Y/N?” The District Attorney asked the device last night as they sat with their back against the stone wall, eyes on the stars but their hand to their chest. “They don’t remember, not everything, and I think that’s…a gift. As much as they’ve been through, they still have hope. They still have it in them to forgive, to risk second chances. I want to protect them, to keep them as far away from the pain I felt. I want them to have their own second chance, at a life that I just…can’t deal with. Not yet. I can’t even begin to tell these people I barely know how much they all mean to the other me, but I think they might have a small idea already. And as broken as I am, as broken as I make them, I don’t want to lose them or the new memories they’re making with all of you. Even when I’m ‘asleep’ inside of them, I can feel you, all of you, and all of the happiness Y/N feels when they’re with you. It helps me feel less broken, day by day.”

The District Attorney laughed and wiped at their eyes before looking for the button to stop the recording. “I sound ridiculous...No wonder I can’t figure out how to say all of this.”

 ((The End. And as always, thank you.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight  @withjust-a-bite  @blackaquokat  @catgirlwarrior  @neverisadork  @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy  @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead  @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

[whydoilovesomanyvillains]

True Kings

SeansPov~

I eventually felt a bit embarrassed by what had just happened and pulled away from him]

“I I’m sorry that wasn’t um” I wiped the tears from my eyes not knowing what to say. He was just staring at me with curious yet soft eyes it just made me want to cry more 

“you know that its ok to show emotions right” he laughed a little as he said this 

“ya ya I know” the truth was I couldn’t it wasn’t fit for a ruler to show emotion I looked away back to the control panel an hour left. I put my head in my hands I wasn’t tired but I didn’t want to look back at him. 

“so um can you tell me what Atlantis looks like” happy at the change of subject I looked out the window and began to speak.

“well for starters its huge, blue, and not like anything you’ve ever seen” I paused trying to find the best words. “the water surrounding it is less dense but it says under the denser water”

“that not how physics work” he mumbled I laughed at this 

“Atlantean Magic man what can I say”

“that just sounds like another way of saying you don’t know” he teased 

“hey who’s the one thats lived there their whole life” 

he nodded “true true but please continue”

“the roads are made of this white marble and the throne room is huge with two thrones at the back and beautiful columns supporting the structure the walls are covered in gorgeous stained glass telling stories of old, and the halls are lined with blue intricate designs” I closed my eyes remembering the place “I'm not doing to justice but my god it is breathtaking” I glanced over at mark who was looking at me in disbelief 

“that does sound really cool”he smiled and we began to play 20 questions for the remainder of the trip which in turn flew by. Another beep on the dash turned my attention to it and I smiled 

“Mark as your captain I would like to formally welcome you to Atlantis”

he turned to look out the window and his eyes went wide 

MarksPov~

Dear god what the hell have I done to deserve to see something like this, Jack was right he wasn’t doing it justice the towers on the castle seemed to glow even without the sunlight and countless ships past by all with people that looked fish like or human like or both, everything was immaculate I did not deserve this.

“wow” I breathed. 

Jack had taken back control on the ship and led it closer to the castle and finally docking it inside. He turned to me.

“you ready your majesty” I turned to him my eyes still wide 

“ready as I’ll ever be I guess”

“then lets go” and with that he opened the door and guided me out.

the first thing that happened was I was tackled to the ground the second thing that happened was Jack pulling the person off me and pulling me back to my feet.

“Wilford”Jack growled 

“what can’t I be excited” the man presumably Wilford said

“you always excited”

“true but this time I have a perfectly good reason” he turned to me and booped me on the nose “you”

I smiled nervously “thank you?”

“don't be so shy kid the names Wilford you can call me wil for short” he hooked his arm around my neck 

“aren’t I older than you” Wilford wiggled his pink mustache

“Ya kid you are”

“so why are you...” Jack was shaking his head as if to say ‘your not going to get anyway’ I relaxed my shoulders “you know what never mind its a pleasure”

“thats the spirit old chap” he started to lead me toward the door “now there are a couple of others that want to meet you” I gave Jack pleading eyes 

“hey don't look at me I did ask if you were ready” and with that he opened the door Wilford let go of me and pushed me through I tripped and fell into someone who started apologizing profusely 

“I I'm s-s-sorry, I did-I didn’t mean to” I looked up at a kid who had glasses on and was shaking 

“hey no problem it was my fault” I smiled “bit of a klutz” he looked shocked at this statement 

“oh oh um my name is um my name is e-eric” he looked down and started to rub his hands together, I smiled 

“names mark but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you probably knew that already” he smiled a little “Its nice to meet you Eric” 

“I should um I gotta um” Wilford cut him off by swinging his arm around my shoulder again 

“now now now dark you are the only sibling who hasn't said hello yet”

someone who was wearing a suit whim cane spoke up 

“with all your blabbering how could I get a word in” he walked up to me and smiled at Eric “hello mark my name is Darkiplier but everyone just calls me dark” his eyes looked me over and I felt like an ant compared to him, he saw the fear in my eyes “no need to be nervous, well not yet anyway you haven't met dear old dad” poison laced the last word he said and I swallowed hard 

“yyaaayyyy” he turned and looked at Jack

“You can take him there right me and Eric have something we have to do and Wilford needs to go to bed” Wilford looked shocked 

“I'm hurt dark you have wounded me”

“good now go to sleep before you die”

 Wilford gave in “Whatever you say tall, dark, and brooding pshh whatever” and with that he was gone he didn’t walk away he was just gone I was confused 

“thats um thats just son-something he does” Eric said “um d-da-dark I'll um meet you in your in your room” he looked at dark to make sure it was ok for him to leave “I’ll see you there Eric I won't be long” Eric nodded and walked away 

Dark turned back to me and Jack “your siblings have all passed out but they did try to stay awake last I checked they are in your room and mark” he turned to me “don’t say anything stupid in there and talk to me later” with that he turned and walked away the same way Eric left.

“well time for the hard part I won’t blame you if you want to leave right now mark”

“no I’m ready for this” he lead me down another hallway to the throne room

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

yay 

@silverghosting

[thesuperyooper]

Closure

Closure - Sequel to One Last Dance

Darkiplier x Reader

Dark remembered you sometimes. Little remnants from Damien’s memories would seep in to his thoughts and drive him crazy. He could feel Damien cry out for you sometimes. Even in a different dimension, Dark couldn’t get you off his mind. He would get little flashes of his memories, like dinner dates and waking up next to you, but the one that plagued him the most was the night before the manor.

Whenever that memory would pop up, Damien would get particularly ornery. He would push Dark away so much that his shell would begin to crack. Even Celine’s anger couldn’t keep him in check.

Even though it was difficult, Dark could manage Damien’s guilt and sadness. That was, until one day at the office with Wilford.

“I’m just saying, you look a bit stressed.” Wilford expressed in his warbled cadence that Dark has grown used to.

Wilford was lounging lazily on the client chair in Dark’s office while the latter worked on paperwork for his newest endeavor to find Mark. Wil held an iridescent knife and was toying with it interestedly.

“I’m fine, Wilford.” Dark replied pointedly.

“Tell that to your face.” Wil retorted flippantly. He flung the knife at the wall and it stuck perfectly along four others.

“You’re paying to get that wall fixed.” the demonic entity growled without looking up.

Suddenly, a puff of green smoke filled the room, making Wilford cough and wave the fog away. Dark glanced up from his work ever-so-slightly.

“Can I help you, Marvin?” he sighed, putting his pen down and rubbing his temples. His head started to hurt all of the sudden and he could hear the two siblings in the back of his mind begin to fight. He blocked it out and focused on the plume of smoke before him.

A man in a white cat mask walked out of the smoke, which lingered behind him. Besides the mask, the man had long, bright green hair tied up in a bun and a black cape billowing behind him.  When he spoke, he spoke with a heavy Irish accent with a high, flighty cadence.

“I think I might be able to help you.” Marvin replied, idly playing with a ball of green energy in his hands.

Dark rolled his eyes. “Get to the point, Septic.”

“Okay, Edgy Mc Edgelord.” Marvin laughed, pulling another figure out of the smoke, which then dissipated.

The annoyed look on Dark’s face changed to one of surprise and agony in a split second. “(Y/N)?” he whispered, so lightly he could barely hear.

You emerged from the smoke into a bland office. Marvin, the strange man who had found you when you appeared in front of Ego Inc. You weren’t sure exactly where you were or how you got there. The last thing you remember before waking up outside the giant corporation building was going to the manor for closure.

You never got closure after Damien’s ‘death’. Of the the four people allegedly murdered there, they never found any bodies. So, instead of a funeral, you went to the manor on a regular basis. You had always thought you felt Damien’s presence whenever you were there. So, every month, you would make a pilgrimage to the late actor’s house, which had been left to his butler, Benjamin. You liked Benjamin, and he liked to serve you. It was a win-win situation.

When you had gotten to the manor this time, though, you felt a different presence. It was the one year anniversary of the dreaded poker party, and Benjamin was out to an interview for a new master. The first thing you saw when you walked in was a cracked mirror. A disembodied voice whispered all around you.

“What do you wish for….” it echoed, leading you deeper into the house, “Fame? Fortune? Love?”

Before you knew what you were doing, you responded softly, “Closure.”

“Then closure you will have.” it granted, and the next thing you knew, you had a giant migraine and  you were in front of a giant, foreign-looking building. Marvin was leaning against the wall nearby and he helped you up with a knowing look.

“I thought I felt something weird and unbalanced in the world.” he had said, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“(Y/N). (Y/F/N). I was promised closure... I don’t know what’s going on… is this Heaven?”

Marvin sighed, “Let’s get you to Dark and Wilford, huh? Maybe they’ll know what’s going on.” He wrapped his arm around you and the two of you disappeared into a plume of green smoke.

The first person you spotted in the room, other than Marvin, was who you thought was the Colonel.

“William?” you said, wide-eyed. He wasn’t as you remembered him. His mustache was smaller and bright pink, matching his hair. He wasn’t wearing his uniform either, in fact, you barely recognized him until he spoke.

“That was a bit too close for comfort.” Wilford retorted with a chuckle. “May I inquire, who you are, my fair lady?”

Dark growled lightly, attracting your attention. He stood up and fixed his already perfect suit before cracking his neck to try and keep Damien in line. The arguing in his head was almost unbearable now. Damien was screaming at Dark to let him out, to let him see you.

Your eyes traveled to the demonic entity and you felt the room cool down and dim. You felt a pull towards the man that you thought was the man you loved.

“Damien!” you breathed, exasperated. You went to run to him, but were stopped in your tracks when you saw his eyes. Gone were the chocolate brown irises you had grown to love, in their place was a pair of intimidating, pitch black eyes. For a moment, they flicked between the two. “Damien? What’s going on?”

“You were about four letters off for both of our names, cupcake.” Wilford stepped in, laughing his warbled, maniacal laugh.

“Wilford, Marvin, out.” Dark commanded through his clenched jaw. His shell was beginning to break.

Marvin poofed out of the room with no hesitation. Wilford, however, was a bit more persistent.

“And let you have all of the fun with Mystery Girl here? Not in a million years, Darkipoo. Now, darling, what’s your name?” he chuckled, coming over to you and inspecting you like a diagram. What you didn’t know, was that he was noting your every vulnerable spot for if worse came to worse and he had to tickle you with one of the knives stuck in the wall.

“(Y/N).” you replied as it sunk in that these men were not who you thought they were.

Your name seemed to trigger something in Wilford. Broken memories of Russian Roulette and thunder seeped into his brain, and Dark could tell he was remembering through his insanity.

“Wilford. Out. Now.” Dark commanded, more dominant this time.

Wilford stared at you shellshocked before shaking his head and stomping over to the wall and pulling his iridescent knife out. He walked out of the room mumbling things along the lines of, “It wasn’t my fault. It was all a joke!”

“Why are you here?” Dark sneered.

“I just wanted closure. It said it would give me closure.” you pleaded, starting to lose your composure. The thing in front of you had all of Damien’s physicalities, except his skin was grey, his eyes flashed black, and he radiated a soft blue and red light. The blue light, though, you noted, was growing stronger. You even felt his presence, pulling you, tugging you towards him.

Somewhere, a familiar voice cried out your name. When you looked to Dark, his shell was cracking in two. A version of him glitched into existence and reached out to you, screaming your name. Dark reigned it back in and cracked his neck, trying to keep his composure.

“You need to leave. I don’t know how you got here, but you need to go, now.” Dark growled. You shook your head.

“Where’s Damien? I just want to tell him I love him.” you shrieked, as Dark pounced over his desk and wrapped a hand around your throat.

“DAMIEN. IS. GONE.” he yelled, making you close your eyes. “I AM HIM AND He…. HE-”

Dark released you and reeled backwards, holding his head in agony. You opened your eyes and watched as a blue light overtook the room and Dark screamed in defiance.

“He-” Dark stuttered, “He loves you too.” He slumped over against his desk and held his head in his hands. “He misses you, so much. I- I miss you.”

You crawled over next to him and he looked at you, his eyes no longer black, but still a darker brown than you were used to.

“I’m not Damien.” he sighed, trying to explain. “But, Damien is me. Anything that remains of Damien, is me.” His hands shook, and he looked away from you in shame.

You took your hand and covered his. “Tell me what happened. Give me closure.”

A/N- So I wanted to write something before I left for camp again, and this has been in my head for a while so I decided to finally get it down! Anyway, I hope you liked it! I’ll probably work on a third part when I get home again. <3

[candylani-draws]

When Evil Conquers YT - Chapter 2

Character List: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/177562446573/when-evil-conquers-youtube-character-list

Cover Art: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/177562290268/hey-peeps-im-so-excited-to-be-re-publishing

Wattpad Link: https://my.w.tt/rTElIdf6MP

Deviantart Link: https://www.deviantart.com/pandaserules97/gallery/67161703/When-Evil-Conquers-YouTube

(READ THIS FIRST!!) Important Notes: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/178727812658/when-evil-conquers-yt-important-notes-about-the

Prologue Link: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/178859191453/when-evil-conquers-yt-prologue

Chapter 1: https://candylani-draws.tumblr.com/post/178892439558/when-evil-conquers-yt-chapter-1

WARNING - This chapter uses high levels of offensive language, including insults and nasty comments about these certain Tubers. I obviously do not hate these people, this is just for story sake. If you feel that you are going to be offended by the words here, just skip to the end. Thanks!

Anon: "Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to announce my purpose for joining this occult!"

He leans down to inspect the pages, then opens the large book to the page he was looking for, a large slam echoed the rooms. In it lies a cell phone, and he pulls it out.

Anon: "Now, as I load my information, allow me to give some context. Most of you are aware of a popular video website called 'YouTube', correct?"

Lucifer: "You mean that stupid website that forbids copyrighted material and is full of pampering, self-absorbed morons?"

Anon: "Yes, exactly! And don't forget about ad revenue!"

His YouTube app has loaded, and he begins to search, both for his content, and in his notebook.

Anon: "Now then, I have four specific specimens who I believe deserve a bit of a punishment..."

Lucifer: "Ooh, what kind of punishment?"

Leader: "Have patience, Lucifer. We cannot have anything done if we rush into it..."

Anon: "Ah, here we are!"

Anon flips over several pages and reveals a large list of names.

Anon: "For 7 years, I've putting all of my time into this YouTube matter, finding out who and what is popular during different eras, and today, I have found the perfect victims. Now, if you look at this list, it reveals YouTubers that I wish to see be taken down by my command! Most of them are the gaming community, just a heads up."

The list was insanely long, and each of the names contained some sort of extra name beside it. From the looks of it, it seemed that Anon wanted to take these Tubers and...change their names? The first 4 caught everyone's eyes.

List of Dumbasses - 2016

1. VenturianTale → Jimmy Casket

2. JackSepticEye → AntiSepticEye

3. Markiplier → Darkiplier, Yandereplier, Authorplier, Googleplier

4. Pewdiepie → Lucius-pie

Anon: "Let's see here, ah! VenturianTale, the first channel on my list! To keep this simple, I'll make a demonstration and start off with the first four names, to warm us all up. If this is a success, we continue this tradition every October!"

He pulls up a video of some brunette man wearing a blue hoodie, screaming like a girl at some stupid animatronic animal jumpscare.

Anon: "Now then, here's out first Tuber, Venturian, aka Jordan Frye, a American guy who is known for playing Gmod and has 2.43 million subscribers. Even though that's not a large number compared to other channels, it still eludes me how a man in his 20s spends his time playing stupid mods with his retarded siblings. Yes, this isn't a solo channel, he has 3 other siblings who are equally guilty of this cringeworthy dungheep."

Random Occult Member 4: "No wonder they only have less than 3 million subscribers..."

Anon: "However, there is something that caught my attention from them during my studies...on their Gmod murder series, Venturian has created an original character named 'Jimmy Casket', a crazed murderer who happens to have some sort of personality disorder. It's a long, boring story as to why that is, but the point is...whenever Jordan plays as Jimmy, it seems to be one of the few times he goes insane and turns into someone else...someone dangerous...someone...evil.."

Random Occult Member 2: "Interesting..."

Anon: "Now, onto our next Tuber..."

Not even 3 seconds into the next video, and several of the Tubers covered their ears in pain from obnoxious singing and shouting. Luckily, Anon came prepared as he grabbed powerful earmuffs during his searching.

Anon: "Is the ear bleeding done?"

Everyone: "TURN THAT SHIT OFF!"

Anon: "With pleasure..."

Anon took off his earmuffs and paused the video. From the screen, and the audio, this Tuber is European man with bright green hair and a VERY loud personality.

Anon: "Our next Tuber is JackSepticEye, aka Sean McLoughlin, an Irish gamer with 12.36 million subscribers. I have no idea how the hell he's able to scream and shout for more than 20 minutes without a sore throat, but that is a gift he should never have been born with. This man is irritating, and he seems to overreact to every little fucking thing he plays! And he's friends with an eyeball that's LITERALLY septic! He's FRIENDS with a toxic fucking eyeball!"

Random Occult Member 2: "Greaaaaat, as if this man wasn't unlikable enough, now he's a gross slob..."

Anon: "...Riiight...now then, despite his annoyance, he also has a darker side to him that, this time, was created by his fanbase. Since his YouTuber name implies that he's all septic, it only makes sense that his dark side implies that he's antiseptic, and it's quite an irony. Recently, some of Jack's videos are giving canon appearances of this alter ego, and it helps give one a glimpse of what his true design looks like..."

Lucifer: "Ooh, now THAT is something I would KILL to see!"

Anon: "...Okaaaaay then...Next up is the pure definition of a manchild. Do not be fooled from his appearance."

The next Tuber who was on screen was an Asian-looking guy with an extremely American accent, red dyed hair, square glasses, and a skin tight shirt, playing some horror game about a rabbit.

Anon: "This here is Markiplier, aka Mark Fischbach, and this is another American Tuber here, with 14.55 million subscribers."

Random Occult Member 3: "Ooh, this guy has quite the bod..."

Anon: "Hey, remember what I said earlier? This person may look handsome on the outside, but inside, he's a scaredy-cat and...a bit of a crybaby...He's also really stupid."

Anon fast-forwarded the video, and the man screamed loudly and flew backwards in his seat, with his jaw dropped to the floor.

Anon: "See what I mean? Oh, and this guy seems to have a weird thing for boxes, considering he's friends with one."

Anon then clicks on another video with the man playing with some sort of small box creature with a big baby face and cartoony hands, and they're making stupid noises and faces.

Lucifer: "How in the hell did he even-?"

Anon: "It's best not to ask right now. Besides, I didn't get to the real meat here. Mark is unique, because he has not one alter ego, but FOUR!"

All Members: "FOUR?!"

Anon went into his photo album and pulled up a collage for 4 characters that looked eerily similar to the manchild.

Anon: "You heard me right, 4 alternate egos! The main one, and the most iconic, is his dark side named...Darkiplier...I know, hilarious. This ego has an interesting history. He originally started off as Mark trying to be "scary" to his audience, and this soon turned to a whole new persona. The last time Dark was seen canonically on-screen was a video named "relax", but I've been hearing rumors about the new appearance of Dark; it consisted something of him being all black-and-white, in a formal suit, and 3D effects..."

Lucifer: "Wouldn't that be cool to see?"

Anon: "Ha, tell me about it. Now then, the next persona is known as 'Googleplier', and this one is pretty recent. From Matthias' video 'Google IRL', Googleplier is a real-life Google machine who can answer any question, along with having an obsession with destroying mankind...to be honest, this one is my most favorite. Unfortunately, Googleplier has a retarded weakness against too many questions."

Nobody said a word, but they all seemed to have some sort of prediction that Anon is, in some way, similar to Googleplier's personality.

Anon: "Third one has a bit of 'style', if style meant a weeb who wants to kill everyone for their lover. This is 'Yandereplier', but I'm calling him Yandere Mark for short. For those who don't speak weeb, a yandere is a character in anime who acts nice but kills peers behind their love interest's back. Yandere Mark actually started once Mark started playing an indie game called 'Yandere Simulator'. Basically, the game is shit, and the developer seems like an asshole. But this persona has definitely intrigued me. To have a fake persona to hide your true identity from the one you love? Seems like the perfect ego to hide crimes."

From the weird smile/grimace on Anon's face, the group was wondering if Anon has dealt with a "yandere" before.

Anon: "Last persona is a lesser known one, but holds great promise. Meet Authorplier! Honestly, he doesn't have an official name besides 'The Author', but I'll be calling him Author Mark for now. This persona was created back in 2013 in a mini-series called 'Danger in Fiction'. Honestly, most of the videos consist of stupid, immature potty humor, but the parts that I find to be BRILLIANT is the character's appearance and his power to write stories to torture his victims. See, with Author Mark, he has a special book that plans out the victim's fate, and he wants the victim to follow it, or else he'll end them faster with his bat."

Lucifer: "Now THAT one is my favorite!"

Anon: "And FINALLY, the last YouTuber on this list is..."

Anon quickly went back to his YouTube app and typed away, and everyone was anticipating for who was the last Tuber.

Anon: "PewDiePie, aka Felix Kjellberg! Not only is this guy the biggest gaming YouTuber, he is the biggest YouTuber of all time, having 48.17 MILLION subscribers!"

Random Occult Member 1: "48 million?!"

Random Occult Member 2: "He could have his own country with this many people!"

Lucifer: "This guy must be rich for playing games all day!"

Anon: "HOWEVER! I must point out that Felix does not play as many games as he used to in his hay day. Still though, he is no exception...the fact that this annoying Swedish man can entertain or cause controversy for stupid games or unlogical statements is beyond me. If there's one thing I cannot stand about him, it's his enormous ego, acting like he's a mighty god. He kind of reminds me another YouTuber, I think his name was Joke Pole, but he's not a gamer."

Random Occult Member 3: "What's Felix's alter ego?"

Anon: "Ooh, now this is a tricky one...see, Felix doesn't have an official persona like the others, especially since none of them have a canon appearance or voice. However, one I did choose is similar to Yandere Mark and Jimmy Casket, where this one is based off a game that Felix played named 'Lucius'. See, 'Lucius' was a game he played back in 2012, and it's about a boy with the powers of Satan; his main objective is to kill his family members without causing suspicion. For a while, people loved Felix playing as this demon-writhing kid, and he seemed to take on the personality quite well, although he had a strange obsession with a beach ball."

Leader: "I see..."

Anon: "And that's everything I wanted to say! I only have these personas, but these people have a SHIT ton of more personas than I could count, a lot of them were fucking stupid. I only chose the ones that caught my eye, which were coincidentally the popular ones."

Lucifer: "The power of shitty fanbases..."

Anon: "And this is only the start...once I make these personas a reality with a special recipe I have made, they will cause havoc, ruin the reputations of these YouTubers once and for all! These are only with 4, imagine what it would be like with every other YouTuber gamer, or YouTubers in general, big and small, destroying the platform and taking down Internet entertainment with it!"

Everyone gasped and stared in awe as Anon caught his breath from all his speaking.

Anon: "So...am I in?"

[sweetnestor]

this is not a dream #1 | no, something seems wrong

the real reason ethan was taken under the teamiplier wing | teamiplier/ego au

WARNINGS: suicide, murder, blood, self harm, drug abuse, alcoholism, sex addiction

AN: hey hi hello does anyone remember the one fic i posted in october, previously known as ‘entirely bonkers?’ yeah, well i rewrote it and now it’s this!! ive taken much more time with this fic and given it the attention it deserves, so pretty much all the chapters may be dramatically different from the original version. each chapter title is a line from a different song, which will be listed in the tags.

i have to warn you, this fic is very dark and very graphic. read at your own risk. but also enjoy!!

~October 2016

This was good news. Great news. The best news. This was going to change everything. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe that’s why Ethan couldn’t stop crying, losing it, unhinging for the thousandth time.

It had been on and off for the last few weeks, the tears. He didn’t know why, but it felt like every little thing made him burst. Not only did Ethan cry, but he also yelled and screamed. Most of all, he would break whatever was in sight. He’ll throw things, punch, kick… He’ll go out in the middle of the night and take a bat to an unsuspecting mailbox. He was usually aware when he did these things, meaning it wasn’t technically a blind rage that sent him into these episodes. He’s gone through several mugs, a few controllers, and he even had to buy a new camera one time. All because of these tears and weird destructive urges he couldn’t control.

He wanted to throw his phone just after this call. It was a good call, though. It was life changing. But he had to force himself to calmly set the device down on his desk and move away from it. Ethan got to his feet, sniffling and sobbing, and then he tore off some of the foam padding on the wall. Did it matter? No, he was moving at the end of the month. He could destroy a few more things.

Foam pads were strewn across the floor by the time he was done. But Ethan still felt… destructive. No, worse. He knew what he wanted to do. He just had the slightest worry that it would actually work this time. But he had to do it.

Blood was pounding in his ears as he pulled on his sweater and beanie. Before he knew it, he was in the car, driving to the location he had been to plenty of times before. He parked some distance away and walked the rest of the way.

In all honesty, he had no idea what led him to this the first time. It was like this feeling in chest and gut, like an impulse. Once it fell into his head, he had to do it immediately. There was no going back. Crying was one of those things he felt like he had to do. This, however… this was a lot darker.

A few cars passed as Ethan approached the bridge. None of them stopped. None of them ever did. He couldn’t help but appreciate that. He didn’t know what would happen if this got back to his family. He had quite a bit to lose, but he still boosted himself up on the railing. This was really stupid, he thought to himself as he looked down at the drop he’d seen many times before.

“Something’s wrong,” he spoke to himself before leaping off.

The cold, bitter air hitting his face was the most painful part, as strange as that was to admit. But what if it actually worked this time? He didn’t even say goodbye to his dad as he left the house. He’d never get to experience that job in Los Angeles. He’d never interact with his online community again. Would this be the one to do it?

“Nope,” Ethan mumbled once he was face down on the ground. Dirt was in his mouth, and his face was numb from the cold. He sat up and coughed, both relieved and disturbed that he didn’t die. Again.

Ethan sat back and brought his knees to his chest, shivering. Was it going to be like this once he moves? Would he be able to control it?

~

“He can’t help us, he’s a kid!” roared the booming voice of Darkiplier. It echoed around the spacious, black room, enough to make any mortal’s blood run cold.

“We need all the help we can get,” replied the soft and frighteningly serene voice of Peevils, who was sat on top of the desk across the room. “Besides, the younger they are, the more powerful they can be.”

Her pitch black eyes gazed down at the stoic mortal sat in the armchair. He was sat up straight, on the edge of his seat. His usual brown eyes had rolled back into his skull and his mouth was gaping open. Dark was was “stood” by the body, his suit clad form flickering with distortion. He was always in black and white, but a blue and red aura was always around him. The biggest thing that fascinated Peevils was that this man, her supposed lover, was impossible to touch. Well that, and she could hear him in her mind and he could speak to her personally, even when their mortals were present.

Peevils, on the other hand, was from a whole other galaxy. She couldn’t quite remember how she got to Earth, much less how she got in contact with her mortal. All she knew was that her mortal was very willing and complicit. Peevils had cool powers too, but she seldom used them on this planet. Her aura often mixed with the mortal’s, making it a weird greyish yellow.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let your mortal make that decision,” spoke Stoneface in his deep, intimidating voice. No one knew where he came from, or what his true powers were, aside from killing people after intimate affairs. He had much paler skin compared to his mortal, and his eyes were greyer than concrete, while his aura was black. You couldn’t look into his eyes without feeling paralyzed to the spot.

Everything surrounding the trio was dark and dim. The atmosphere was that of another realm. No human would be able to stand with them for very long. No human, except one.

“The mortal needed him for his own desires, not ours,” Dark growled. “And he was coping at the time, so I couldn’t intervene. But… I felt something. It was like a whisper.”

“So we just wait til the boy arrives,” Peevils concluded. “I feel it won’t be a waste.”

“You feel a lot of things,” Stoneface said back.

Her face fell. She stared ahead wordlessly, and imagined what she wanted to happen, and then it was real.

Stoneface immediately started gasping for air, his relaxed composure turning into nothing but pain and panic. His body began to rise up from the couch and it contorted into unnatural folds.

“Mercy! Mercy!” he strained out just before his bones could snap.

Peevils lifted, a ghost of a smile on her face.

Then, the room lightened up. The walls went back to white as the door to the office opened, and the trio were back in the human world, thanks to the one human they all knew.

Kathryn walked in, carrying a brown paper bag. A tall, dark haired, skimpy dressed woman followed behind her, looking curiously around the room. Peevils quickly looked down, knowing her eyes were prone to cause panic, and Dark was nowhere to be seen. The human led the other human over to Stoneface, whose eyes suddenly went back to a humanistic hazel.

“Hi, I’m Tyler,” he greeted, and the woman smiled in returned. He offered his arm. “If you’ll follow me…” And the two were off into another room.

Then, Kathryn turned towards Peevils, but instead was met face to face with Dark, who did not look happy.

“We were having a meeting!” he snapped, trying to look threatening.

She rolled her eyes and moved her arm forward, making the image fade away. After that, she reached into the paper bag and pulled out a plastic ziplock bag that was contained with white powder. Kathryn waved it in the direction of Peevils.

The blonde’s eyes flickered once. Kathryn had her attention now, so she slowly bent down towards the coffee table, opened up the bag and poured out some of the contents onto the glass surface. In the blink of an eye, the alien was sat on the floor in front of the table, using an old business card to make her series of lines. She hunched over the table as she snorted to her heart’s content, and when she looked up, her eyes were not black, but brown and humanlike.

“Alright, Amy’s back,” Kathryn said in affirmation. Then she turned to her boss.

He still had that horrifying expression on his face, but at least the body wasn’t moved. The last thing Kathryn wanted to do today was to pry Dark and his mortal away from something illegal or fatal… not that he could die, anyway.

“Don’t you dare…” the hallucination spoke, appearing behind the armchair.

She didn’t even hesitate to straight up bitch slap the body across the face. The last aura was finally gone, and the body had, for lack of a better phrase, come back to life. He swore in pain and held his cheek.

“Mark?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?”

Kathryn nodded once and pulled the last item from the paper bag. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She shoved it into Mark’s hand and then crumpled up the bag, tossing it in the bin.

Mark just sat there for a moment, still coming back to himself. He felt that internal twitch, though, so he twisted the cap off the glass bottle and took a swig. Then he moved to the floor, next to his girlfriend, who was now baked like a fucking cake. Just another day in the office.

Now, Kathryn was able to get back to her actual work. She sat at one of the computers, but then paused as she thought of the newcomer they were expecting. Poor kid had no idea what he was walking into.

~November 2016

The team noticed something about their newest member. It wasn’t what was on the inside, no. Not the reason why they brought him over here.

Ethan was happy. Giddy. Very doe eyed. Upon arriving to the office on the first day, he thanked Mark many times for the opportunity. He was just… not what you would expect from someone like him. He almost seemed normal.

See, when you’re like Mark, Amy, and Tyler, you get this feeling, an instinct, even. They could sense each other’s demons, even when they were dormant. Amy and Tyler feel Darkiplier’s jitters when their Mark got rubbed the wrong way. That was probably because Peevils and Stoneface were so connected to Dark, and by extension, their mortals. They could all sense each other inside and out. In their logical, human eyes, the feeling of the three demons scheming in the background was seen as “impending doom.” The only human able to see past that was Kathryn, and none of them knew why.

But Ethan? He seemed like any ordinary human, and that was just weird. There was almost no impending doom vibes coming from him as the days went on. This wasn’t what they had been expecting.

“So…” Mark prompted one day, “how’ve you been? Y’know… since the move?”

“Fine,” Ethan mindlessly responded. He was on the computer, doing exactly what he was hired for.

The other four exchanged looks. Apart from Kathryn, they were experiencing withdrawals from their… coping. The plan was to get the other guys to meet Ethan’s other guy… just to see what would happen. The latter was proving to be difficult, given that there was no instinct or any indication that his bodily occupant wanted to come out, or that it was even there. Did that guy even have a name?

“You’re f-fine?” Amy repeated irritably, her voice shaking. “Y-You dropped everything, moved all the way here, and you’re just fine?”

Now Ethan caught onto the tension. He turned in his chair, only to feel deeply intimidated by the staring. Something was off, and it wasn’t just the stupid crying fit growing in his chest and throat.

“I’m just glad I’m here,” he said, but it didn’t feel like the right answer.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tyler blurted out.

“What?”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Kathryn sighed in annoyance as she buried her face in her hands.

“God, I’m sorry,” Tyler quickly said. “I didn’t mean that, fuck. I’m an asshole, I’m sorry.”

Mark could feel it, though. A cold chill went down his spine,  telling him that he was right to bring Ethan in. He felt a tightness in his throat, this feeling of dread sitting heavy on his shoulders. He hadn’t felt this with the other two, this had to be Ethan.

“You don’t miss what you left behind?” Mark asked as he got up from the couch, putting on a hard face. “I mean… you sacrificed your whole life for this, didn’t you?”

The dread only grew. Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Yeah, but I made that decision,” he timidly replied.

“Like the grown up you think you are?” Amy mocked.

It was there, right there. The four nearly gasped as Ethan’s eyes flickered to black once. But the boy quickly shook himself and stood up.

“I’ll be right back.”

The surge of emotions lifted as soon as he left the room. But then, the walls went black, and the three auras appeared. Meanwhile, Kathryn let out another annoyed groan.

Mark’s body froze where he stood, and his head fell back as Dark made his appearance. Tyler’s body paled, eyes turning grey. Amy appeared sat on top of the coffee table with her legs crossed, eyes black and empty.

“Hey doesn’t even know what he is!” Dark shouted, his image flickering angrily around the room.

“Of course not, he’s a kid,” Peevils shot back coolly. “And you’re not the one who asked him to come here. Why are you concerned now?”

Dark appeared in front of her, his face inches from hers. “I felt it! There is something there, but the boy isn’t letting him through! He’s powerful, and I am powerful. That’s why I could feel him!”

“Don’t make me slap your mortal,” Peevils threatened as she waved her hand through him.

“So what do we do?” Stoneface asked, getting the couple back on track. “Do we let the mortals handle it?”

“Provoking him did help a little bit,” Peevils pointed out.

“Yes,” Dark agreed. “They have to push him past his limits. Whatever it takes. If they have to destroy whatever humanity he has left in him, then so be it. He has to be disturbed, humiliated. Anything to get to what’s truly lying within.”

“So you guys are going to go silent, then?” Kathryn asked.

“It’s the only option,” Peevils confirmed.

That prompted the human to quickly flee the office. She had to make a big order.

~

Ethan managed to find a corner store down the road. The blind rage he went through caused him to break more things, and his knuckles were bleeding yet again. He also debated jumping off one of the high buildings, but this city was far too busy for anyone to not notice. Instead, he found another solution. He was sure his ‘friends/colleagues’ wouldn’t miss him for a few more minutes. Or at all.

Tear tracks were on his face as he went through the aisles. Look at him, a grown 20 year old, unable to control his crying. How did he get like this? He was never this emotional about anything! Sure, the group had ganged up on him, but things like that weren’t likely to make him burst into tears.

He calmed down some more when he found rubbing alcohol and bandages. However, there was only one box left of the latter, and it was pink and flowery. Reluctantly, he took the box and went into the next aisle. There were painkillers, vitamins, and sleep aids. For a second, a flash of lacing his friends’ drinks with pills went through his mind. It was short, but vivid. One by one, passing out around him.

He chuckled and kept walking. “Yeah right…” Then, he stopped in his tracks, went back and grabbed the biggest bottle of sleeping pills he could find.

After paying for his items (and getting some weird looks from the cashier), Ethan settled for sitting under the awning outside the store. He didn’t feel like going back to the office just yet, despite the fact that it was already getting dark. As he tended to his hand injury, he tried to forget all that he damaged. Several cars parked on the side of the road now had cracked windshields, and a few more mailboxes were wrecked. He could only hope that there weren’t any witnesses. He had only been in LA for about a week, he couldn’t get arrested now.

“Hey darlin’,” greeted a sickly sweet female voice.

He turned to find a red headed woman perching down next to him. She was wearing a rather revealing top under a fur coat along with a really short skirt. It rode up as she crouched down, making Ethan lose his words for a moment.

“H-Hi,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his injured hand.

“Did you get into a fight, honey?” the woman asked.

“Something like that…”

“Strong man, aren’t ya?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m putting on Hello Kitty bandaids.”

The woman giggled and moved closer to him. “Strong and cute.”

There was a feeling. Pinning her to the ground, a hand around her neck as the back of her head hitting the concrete. Slamming her head into the ground until she bled to death. Watching her green eyes lose their panic and fade into nothingness. Is it bad that it was nice to think about?

“Marsha!” called a familiar voice.

It was Kathryn. She approached the pair, her hood up and her hands in the pocket. Ethan was relieved to see her.

The redhead got to her feet. “You’re not here to send me to that friend of yours again, are you?”

“Why, do you have other plans?” she asked in return.

“Yes! I found a new friend!” Marsha pointed down at the boy with Hello Kitty bandaids.

Kathryn glanced down at him. “Yeah, not him. Can’t afford to have Tyler beat his ass right now.”

That was both confusing and not reassuring at all. Could Ethan down the whole bottle of pills without either woman noticing?

“Well, I’m not going. I’ll ask Sydney. She knows where to find you guys,” Marsha said in conclusion.

“Awesome. Ethan, get up.”

He didn’t need telling twice. Kathryn gestured for him to follow, and they walked back towards the office together.

“What’d you do?” she asked, nodding towards his hand.

“Don’t ask,” he said with a sigh. Not like he could properly explain it, anyway.

Luckily, she didn’t press the topic. When they approached the building, she stopped in her tracks and pulled a brown paper bag from under her sweater.

“I won’t ask questions,” she told Ethan. “But neither will you.”

____

next.

[incorrect-ego-quotes]

More? On it!: Lets say the egos went to the store, who’s got a list of what theyre getting and a time schedule, who’s fuckin around in the kid’s section (or sitting in the cart) and who’s standing confused and alone in the dairy section because they’ve already lost their friends (Hope this isnt bad lol!)

hope these are okay aaaaaaahas a time schedule and specific af list: darkiplier -- he didn't have a schedule or list per say, he just got tired of hearing 'mommy why's that man black and white' or 'jesus christ karen what's wrong with him?' and even 'wait -- isnt that the old mayor? isn't he.../dead/?'jackieboy man -- superheroes are busy too. thankfully all he needed was rope. don't think like that ya nasty, he needed it since his last one broke while saving a cat out of a tree. dr. iplier -- got weird looks from other shoppers when they saw him, a doctor, with nothing but sweets and sodas but other than that he was outta there in no time. save for the fact someone in the pharmacy section asked him for advice on their rash where the sun dont shine. silver shepherd -- felt embarrassed by the teenagers who were mocking him and his superhero suit. dark said he deserved because why would you even go outside on the lawn in that??yandereplier -- knives, duct tape, ropes, cyanide, a shovel, a map of the city's forest, everything they'd need to spend a night with their rival!! bim trimmer -- he got everything he needed without being too distracted!! his new mug, coffee, a new tie, but...well, he can't quite get over the feeling he's missing something. it's about 10 minutes after he drives away from the store does he yell while making a dangerous u-turn, "I FORGOT THE HOST OH MY GOD--"fucking around the store:jim twins -- trying to interview shoppers on their purchases, holding up fruits in the isle, "LOOK AT THIS KUMQUAT, JIM. ITS THE SAME FRUIT OUR MOTHER JIM GAVE TO US AND JIMOTHY EVERY MORNING BEFORE SCHOOL. ITS A PRECIOUS FRUIT, JIM."bingiplier -- testing out the skateboards while the store's overworked and underpaid staff chase him. he makes a vlog about it later -- "I GOT KICKED OUT FOR BEING TOO COOL?! [GONE WRONG] [COPS CALLED] NOT CLICKBAIT!"marvin the magician -- stuck in the appliance section dazzling a crowd. so far he's made a dishwasher, a blender, and a knives set disappear. what they dont know is he made them disappear back at his apartment. hey, its easy to get away with illegal stuff with magic. wilford warfstache -- fucking around in the kids section. scaring several children as he rides a tricycle up and down the isle, looking more like jigsaw from the saw movies than anything else to them. and that gun he's holding up aint helping. ed edgar -- the man insisted to try out the fishing lines and hooks. he's in the pet section fishing for goldfish. so far he's caught two. he's also insisting to test out their frying pans and cookware with said goldfish. security is taking pretty long to get to him.king of the squirrels -- he's in the kids section cuddling with every single stuffed animal he can find. curled up in the isle with a giant squirrel plushie or several small dog plushies. it takes dark and dr. iplier ages to get him out of there. robbie the zombie -- mostly stalking other shoppers and wondering which one would taste better. he did see a red haired student in a uniform who promised to bring him a human to eat later that night though. standing alone and confused™:chase brody -- he's been in the dairy section for hours trying to figure out if his kids would want banana milk or strawberry milk. poor chase stands there until bing rides on by with a skateboard and grabs him while recording, "bro, i'm on the run from the security in here we goTTA GO--"dr. schneeplestein -- trusted anti to baby sit robbie so he's mostly browsing. so far he found a neat new lab coat but feels lonely without having someone to look after. he can only imagine what trouble the other egos were in while out of his sight. he winces as he hears for security to be called in a nearby isle for appliances, followed by a "please escort the magician off store grounds."googleplier -- was sent out to get baking supplies for wilford and dark. has no idea what supplies to get nor can he use his search bar since there's no wifi in the store. thankfully he does have their credit card and just buys everything in the baking isle. he's sure they have, according to his calculations, 4,580 dollars to spare. the host -- he was holding onto the back of bim's suit like a lost puppy. not exactly sure what isle they were in. he did know it was cold. bim told him to stand right there and wait for him while he grabbed some milk...that was nearly an hour ago. the host just stands there and waits -- maybe his dearest best friend just likes taking his time choosing milk? either way, he smiles and blushes as he feels bim hold his hand and drag him out the store. "did you get what you needed, mr. trimmer?"anti -- holding a box of knives and a blindfold, frantically running around the isles confused and scared, "HAS ANYONE SEEN A ZOMBIE WHO LOOKS LIKE ME BUT WITH PURPLE HAIR PLEASE HELP ME SCHNEEP IS GONNA KICK MY ASS IF I DONT FIND HIM."

[ghost-dust]

Dynamic Duo

Requested by a friend on instagram.

Pairing: Darkiplier x Reader x Wilford

Description: I’ve noticed that some of you have been quick to minimize how dangerous Dark and Wilford are. I believe it’s time to remind you all of what they are truly capable of. 

Warnings: Graphic physical and psychological torture. This is pretty fucked up so you have been warned.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to be met with the darkness encompassing your vision. You tried to move, but found that you were unable. Your wrists and ankles were bound to the cool surface beneath you. If you had to guess, you would say it was a table of some sorts.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head!” An all too familiar voice drawled cheerfully. “We have a big day planned for you!”

A single light hanging in the middle of the room illuminated the surrounding area. You saw him standing there, fidgeting with his suspenders as usual. Wilford Warfstache. He wasn’t alone. On his right Darkiplier stood there, his lips twisted into a scowl.

You looked around the barren room, the corners were still shrouded in darkness. And yes, you were infact strapped to a metal table. Great.

You glanced back to the pair, their positions causing the light to cast ominous shadows across their faces. You were utterly boned. You tried to remember what you did to “earn” yourself this punishment, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“Do you recognize this place, my dear?” Dark moved to the left side of you, his hands clasped behind his back. You shook your head. “This is my persuasion room.”

“Our persuasion room.” Wilford corrected, standing on your right. Dark rolled his eyes.

“Why am I here?” Your trembling, raspy voice questioned. Wilford grinned while Dark let out a smooth chuckle.

“You’re asking the wrong questions, sweet pea.” Wilford chimed in, brushing a stray hair out of your face. He gently rested his palm on your cheek as if to reassure you.

“I believe we’ve teased her enough.” Dark said sternly, looking to his companion. “Shall we begin?”

“Absolutely.” Wil’s carefree smile shifted into a more sinister one. You felt shivers down your spine as a sort of predatory expression appeared on Dark’s face.

The two disappeared from sight with a faint popping sound. You had no idea what they were beginning, but you already didn’t like it.

You felt a drop of water hit your forehead and you felt yourself inwardly cringe. Chinese water torture. Part of you doubted it would work and another part of you was afraid it would.

You felt another drop hit you and then another and another. They fell at irregular intervals and you could see each one a second before it inevitably dropped. You tried to pull at your restraints, but it just left your wrists and ankles raw.

After time, you felt as if the water was forming a hole in your forehead, despite knowing that it couldn’t possibly be true. The endless amount of time you were forced to lay there made you realize just how helpless and alone you really were. There was no one coming to save you.

Your anxiety began to build as your chest tightened. All you could do was wait in anticipation for the next drop to hit. You couldn’t do anything to make it stop and it was slowly starting to eat at you.

Before you fully lost it, a man entered the room and the water completely stopped. Your forehead felt dry as if the water was never there.

I couldn’t have imagined it. There’s no way.

You looked to the man with pleading eyes, hoping he could help you. He was dressed like a doctor, his white lab coat and scrubs seemed as if they were too big for him. Your eyes trailed up to his face and that’s when you realized it was Dr. Iplier.

“W-what are gonna do with that?” You stuttered when he approached, a syringe in hand. He roughly pushed your head to the side and held it there. You tried to squirm, but he was too strong for you.

“I’d suggest you stay still or this will hurt. Very much.” The doctor scolded you, the syringe piercing your neck. You muttered out a string of curse words at him, yet he wasn’t bothered by it. He left the room, slamming the door shut.

You had no idea what the fuck he injected you with, but you felt yourself start to sweat. You slowly began to feel like you were boiling, but freezing at the same time. Persperation trailed down your forehead and onto the table. Your breath was ragged as your teeth chattered. You felt like you couldn’t get enough air, no matter how deeply you breathed.

But the burning sensation wasn’t the worst part of this drug induced fever. The worst part was when the room started spinning and nausea crept up on you. Then the voices started. They whispered into your ear, growing louder and more violent.

                                     "You’re going to die here, all alone like you deserve.“

“Worthless, disgusting creature. Die like the cretin you are.”

         "Don’t tell him, he can’t know.“

                                   ”Let him in and he will end this right now.“

“God can’t save you now.”

                                     "You want to be punished, don’t you? What a freak.“

                       "You’re going to be here forever.”

        “Hide, they’re coming!”

“They’re coming”

                                   "THEY’RE COMING!“

The voices all screamed over and over in your head that they were coming. Your body shook as footsteps approached you. They were almost there and you closed your eyes, hoping that you could hide away.

                                                       "They’re here.”

Suddenly, the voices went silent and you warily opened your eyes. No one was there. The room was deafeningly silent. Your heart rate and breathing slowed as the effect of the serum wore off.

“My oh my, I can’t believe you’ve lasted this long.” Dark’s voice cut through the silence as the two of them appeared in the room once more. Part of you was relieved to have human contact again, but the other part of you want terrified.

“How many hours have I been in here?” You queried weakly, unable to stay silent any longer.

“My dear, you’ve only been in here for five minutes.” Dark tilted his head to the side, mock confusion on his face. You shook your head, refusing to believe that bullshit.

“No, you’re lying!” You yelled at him, pulling at your restraints once more. “You fucking liar!”

“Ooh, you’ve got some spunk, don’t you?” Wilford teased, his hand grabbing your chin roughly. “Let’s change that.”

Suddenly, Wilford had a scalpel in hand and put it dangerously close to your collar bone. With one swift movement, your shirt was torn down the center. He pulled it off of you and removed your pants next.

You looked over to Dark who was holding a metal rod. You watched as one end slowly began to aquire an orange glow. His eyes met yours, followed by him smiling sinisterly at you.

Wilford was the first to begin. He made quick slices up and down your arm and torso. You did all that you could not to cry out as he continued. Your arm was covered in slashes when Wilford decided he was bored of the device. He tossed it aside as Dark approached.

“No, Dark, please don’t-” Your begging was cut off by the hot metal rod being pressed slowly into your side. You cried out as it burnt a hole into your flesh. Dark pulled it away from you, but it immediately heated up again. He moved so he was down by your bare foot and you shook your head rapidly. The contact of the heated metal sent agonizing pain through your foot. You felt every second of it and did your best to pull away from him.

Dark stopped again and waited a moment for the metal to heat once more. He held it dangerously close to the side of your neck, barely able to stop himself. He cast the metal aside and it disappeared. Your foot still throbbed painfully.

Dark studied your face carefully, not missing a single detail. You couldn’t look at either of the monsters in front of you. You didn’t understand why they were doing this to you.

“My turn!” Wilford jumped cheerfully and Dark backed off. In Wilford’s hand was a hammer and a few nails.

“Get away from me, you fucking psychopath!” You yelled at him, attempting to move as far from him as you physically could. Wilford frowned and looked a little upset.

“That’s pretty rude, sweet pea.” He scolded you as if you were a child. You could tell he was holding back how angry he actually was. “Perhaps both of us need to teach you some manners.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Wil.” Dark walked towards you with what looked like toothpicks and a smaller hammer. You noticed that he had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

Wilford placed a nail just between your eleventh and twelfth rib, while Dark delicately place one tooth pick under your thumb nail. At the same time, Wilford aggressively drove the nail between your ribs as Dark slowly pushed the tooth pick under your thumb nail. You screamed louder than ever before. Of course, they didn’t stop there.

Wilford placed another nail to puncture the crevasse of your collar bone while Dark lined a toothpick up with your pointer finger. They pushed both into you at the same time, though Dark was much slower about it.

By the time they where finished, Wilford had put three more nails into your hand, the bottom of your right foot, and the side of your knee. Dark had pushed tooth picks under each of your finger nails. While Wilford was done, Dark was not. Dark took his small hammer and slammed it against each of the tooth picks, one by one. You sobbed as your fingers trembled, the pain nearly making you pass out.

“Remove the nails.” Dark instructed Wilford as he slowly pulled out the toothpicks. A glare from Dark crushed any protest from Wilford. He ripped each of them out of you, but you didn’t feel any relief. It was as if they were still there and you felt yourself slowly drift away.

Dark had a syringe in hand and poked it into your neck. Whatever he injected you with caused you to perk up and stay awake. You cried, the only thing that would end the pain was gone.

“Should we change things up?” Wilford asked Dark with a devious smile. Dark shrugged, not caring either way. Wilford pressed a button and the table moved so that you were upright once more. Wilford removed your ankle restraints and your feet dangled there limply. Dark moved to grip your waist, intentionally pressing his hand against the burn on your side. You glared at him weakly.

Wilford undid your wrist restraints and you fell limply against Dark’s form. You felt disgust at the physical contact from him, but had no energy to fight back.

Wilford grabbed your wrists and secured them in shackles hanging from the ceiling. Dark backed off of you and you hung there, gently swinging back and forth.

“You won’t be needing this.” Dark said as he ripped your underwear from your form. You protested gently, but it’s not like you could actually stop him.

Wilford readied his fists as if he was about to box. You looked pleadingly into his eyes, hoping that you could stop him. Wilford’s fist hit your stomach aggressively, taking your breath away.  You thought the punches would never stop and we’re sure that he had at least fucked up one of your internal organs. He did stop and luckily he didn’t break any bones. Yet.

Dark walked behind you with something scraping on the ground behind him. You couldn’t help yourself, you had to see what it was. Your eyes widened as you saw the whip. It wasn’t just any whip, though. Oh no, Dark was extremely fucking extra. It was a cat of nine tails with barbs on each end.

You didn’t think anything would be more painful than the first lash, but you were so wrong. Sometimes the whip got caught and Dark had to rip it from your skin, taking chunks of flesh with it. As he continued, you could hear a faint ringing noise.

You didn’t remember when Dark stopped, the stinging sensation as well as the liquid dripping down your back clouded your senses. When you finally came to, you noticed that both Wilford and Dark were standing in front of you.

“Together?” Wilford asked, his hands behind his back. Dark smiled at him, his hands also clasped behind his back.

“Together.” He answered and the two of them walked towards you. In their hands they each had blow torches. You didn’t think this could get any worse. They knelt down and took hold of your calves to prevent your struggling.

The torches both roared to life at the same time and were brought to both of your thighs. You cried out at the sensation of your flesh being melted from your legs. Luckily for you, they only did a portion of your thighs before calling it quits.

“I believe that’s enough for today.” Dark said, backing away from you while Wilford undid your wrist restraints. Your body fell to the ground and you cringed at the feeling of your torn back making contact with the dirty floor.

“See you tomorrow, sweet pea.” Wilford muttered, kneeling next to you. He leaned down next to your ear, so that only you could hear him. “Maybe the three of us could try something a little more… exciting.” Wilford’s teeth grazed your ear lobe, resulting in a wave of nausea coming over you. You hoped he didn’t mean what you thought he did.

“Come, Wil.” Dark demanded, walking towards the door. “We have other... guests to attend to.”

With that, the pair left the room and the light above you went out. You were alone again and finally the sweet release of unconsciousness took you.

[sparks-is-here]

Monsters (Darkiplier X Reader): Home Sweet Home! (Part 3)

My nightmare…

Was real.

   I don’t recognize this kitchen, and the cabinet where I keep my huge collection of coffee mugs is not the right cabinet. I didn’t even realize I wasn’t in my kitchen when I was thinking about my nightmare, I was wondering around the giant house lost. I am not in my house. This is not home sweet home! The dream was real, and a monster has me captive. I don’t think I’ll ever get to see anyone I know and love ever again. No. I need to calm down, I just need to get out of this house. I start to move backwards out of the kitchen and into what looks like a very elegantly decorated living room. The room was not only nice looking and clean, but it had gaming consoles and games everywhere on the media stand along with dozens of movies. I stop dead in my tracks, I’m suppose to be leaving this place not admiring it, I continue to back out of the room, but a wall stops me from moving.

   "You’ve left your room, what do you think you’re doing wondering around the place?“ a voice abruptly states. That’s not a wall… I jump and turn around as I screech, "Fuck!” It’s Dark… “I woke up, a-and got hungry…” I stammered backing up, suddenly tripping over my damn foot, falling on the ground while staring at Dark. He is in a dark gray suit, a white dress shirt, with a dark blue tie laying nicely on his chest. “Why of course, you must be so hungry,” he smoothes his tie over with his hand and the man lowers to my height, his eyes starring into mine, a smirk present as he takes my hand, “We wouldn’t want you to starve now would we?” “N-no…” I responded almost in a whisper, why is he terrifying to me one minute and gentle and caring the next? Bipolar much dude?!  I stand up with the help of Dark, I follow him into the kitchen I just wandered out of, “Sit,” Dark commands. I sit on the bar stool that is placed upon a breakfast bar, I stare intently as Dark walks into the kitchen quietly looking into cabinets and the fridge for breakfast ingredients. As I watch the entity in front of me my mind wonders, Why is he so nicely dressed all of the time? All this time I’ve seen him, he has been in suits. “I am always dressed this way, not much other attire appeals to me,” I could hear a slight chuckle after his response.

  “Do you live here alone?” I blurted out, I immediately regretted my questioning, I lowered myself in the breakfast bar stool while slapping my hand upon my mouth to stop from more thoughtless blubbering. “I did until you arrived, by the way, don’t go into any rooms with closed doors, you won’t enjoy what’s behind them, and if I find out you’re somewhere I don’t want you to be or try to escape… well..” he starts to cackle, not finishing his warning, I suddenly get a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, I don’t have a clue what he is referring to, but I’d rather not find out. “Okay,” I reply, he spins around walking toward me, looking at me after his small laughing fit, “If you’re good you won’t have to find out what happens, deal my dear?” I sit there, starring at him, whenever I look into his eyes I get trapped I can’t look away from them, and I realize he is inches away from my face “Deal.” He steps away, hands on the counter, “Good girl. Now… what do you want for breakfast?” “Um.. chocolate chip pancakes? And bacon?” My face lights up, food, real food, and I get to request it? Maybe he isn’t that intimidating. He laughs, “Alright, pancakes and bacon it is.” I blink, when my eyes open breakfast is right in front of me, that was barely a second and the food is made?  “There are perks to being immortal sweetheart.” Dark exclaims leaning on the counter smirking as he stares in amusement at my shocked expression. “Damn, that’s cool, but where is yours?” I question as I shovel the very delicious breakfast food in my mouth. “I also don’t need to eat, or sleep like humans need to in order to survive. I have the ability to, but I usually choose not to,” Dark replies. “Interesting…” I said finishing my food, damn I was hungry.

   "Well… since I’m going to be stuck here for a long time, can I get to know the person I’m living with a little more? We can do more normal introductions to each other?“ I said warily, How much information would he even tell me?  "I suppose you’re correct, well, Darkiplier is the name, but call me Dark. You know I’m a supernatural entity of some sort, I’m specifically a Demon, and to answer your first question, no, I don’t work for Satan. Myself and a few other supernatural acquaintances have our own order of business involving our abilities normally not available in this universe.” “So in a way you can use magic?” Dark leans closer to me staring intently at my wide eyes, he smirks, “You could say that.” I blink and slowly lean back in my seat, He could do anything to me, he’s a Demon after all… he could have plans to torture me for all I know, or kill me… I just want to go home. “So why am I here again? I don’t understand why I’m so special.” “Like I said before, I know everything about you, everything that has happened to you, you are a strong young woman, the strongest human I’ve seen in a while since I’ve been on this planet” Dark simply replies. “Okay…” That still doesn’t answer my question, why steal me away from my own life? From my family and my friends? It’s not fair.“ "The room you woke up in is your new room, and the bathroom is to the right, that is if you want to shower or whatever” Dark explained, he snapped his fingers and the silverware in front of me disappeared. He walked away, towards a door that was closed, when the door opened I got a sliver of a glance, all I saw was a desk, so I only assumed it was an office.

   I got up and walked upstairs, I looked in my new bedroom and tried to find some clothes to change into. Most of the closet was filled with sweaters, tank tops, and a few pairs of skinny jeans and leggings. They were all my style, and the sizes were exactly my fit, how he got that information I may never know… I brought my clothes into the bathroom Dark talked about earlier, I placed everything down and locked the door. I started the shower up and looked at myself in the mirror, I looked like a mess. My (h/l) was in knots, and my eyeliner and mascara were smudged around my eyes so much I looked like I had black eyes. “Woah, how could he look at me like this” I said. I jump in the shower, finally getting to wash my hair and get the old makeup off my face. How long was it like that for? How long have I been here, and how long have I been passed out? Days? Weeks? Months?  “You can’t stay in the shower forever Y/N!” Dark knocks on the door. I get startled by the sudden noise and jump, I look toward the bathroom door and wonder how long I’ve been in the shower, I got distracted by the warm water. I step out of the shower and get dressed, I quickly brush my hair and brush my teeth. I step out of the bathroom and run into Dark’s chest. “Took you long enough, follow me my dear.” Why was he so close to the door? Possessive much? I walk behind him warily, I fold my hands into my sweater sleeves, I do it a lot when I’m cold or nervous. Dark leads me downstairs and past the kitchen to the front door, he slides on a coat and gets a (f/c) coat out and opens it out for me to put on. “Where are we going?” I ask looking up at him. “You’ll see my darling.” He smirks down at me.

[lilacnestor-blog]

Damien and the Summer of the Flowers

So I found @alcordraws  ‘s headcannon on twitter (even though i follow them on here) and got inspired so have this unedited piece of garbage. this is shit and i’m not sorry for the shittiness/feels trip also it’s super long. also sorry that it takes place in two different times and universes i didn’t know how else to do it so there’s a lot of notes to help you along. tagging @mayor-damien-protection-squad and @darkiplier-support-group because they were really cool last time i made damien/darkiplier stuff. also tagging @warfstache-support-group and @colonel-william-protection-army because they might like to see it?

POV - DARKIPLIER TIMELINE - FAR AFTER WKM, FAR AFTER ADWM, A FEW MONTHS AFTER MPRTV (PRESENT DAY) SETTING - EGOS INC - BUILDING WHERE ALL EGOIPLIERS LIVE AND WHERE THE CONFERENCE PARTS OF MPRTV TOOK PLACE NOTE - THIS GOES ALONG WITH THE HEADCANON THAT WKM MARK, WILLIAM, AND DAMIEN ARE BROTHERS

Ego's Inc has a courtyard. It's directly in the center of the building and is quite expansive. It first appeared King begged one of the reality benders (myself, Wilford, and Host), though I can't remember which one, so it must not have been myself, for a tree so his "subjects" could have a home. If I had to guess, it would be the Host who conjured it, because the whole place has a certain sense of elegance and tranquility that his style leaves. Anyways, many of us enjoy being out in the courtyard, it is nice to have some fresh air, and Host regulated the weather so that if one of us were to step outside while it is raining and we wanted it sunny, or vice versa, the weather would change to our liking.

I often sit under the large tree to meditate, and by that, I mean I relive memories in my head. You see, I remember both of my past lives quite well, the one of Damien, and the one of Selene. When the souls merged together in this body, and created me, their consciousnesses merged as well, so they became one person, sharing the same thoughts, emotions, and memories. Though I suppose I have the most of Damien's consciousness, I share quite a lot of traits with him, not just the physical. I like to think back to his memories more than I do hers, it is a good way to spend an afternoon, sitting under the tree and reliving his memories, and a strange side effect is that whenever I get up from meditating, white roses grow where I was sitting. I think it's something to do with the reality bender I am, letting my emotions go can often produce unusual results.

I've come here so often, that I have to look for a spot where the roses aren't growing beneath the tree for me to sit. I know that I could physically make them disappear, and I probably will, when they cover the whole base of the tree, or King complains that he can't climb it without falling into thorns. But not today, as I am especially drained, physically and emotionally. Today would have been Selene's birthday, though time has passed so strangely here, even I do not know how old she would be. I sit underneath the tree and start picturing Damien's memories. I know that since it is her birthday, I should spend some more time with Selene, but it makes me tired to remind myself of all of the things she's done. It is almost comforting to go through Damien's mind, since we are so similar, I feel like I almost am him. Which I am, but not completely.

I enter the mindspace, and decide to go for something calming.  I decide on the summer of the flowers. Bittersweet, but has always been one of my favorite periods of time in my past life. I'll only relive that part, so I'll only be here an hour or two. I take a deep breath, and then, quicker and easier than falling asleep, I enter my memories, and I become Damien.

*** POV: Damien, age 15

I only know a few things about the groundskeeper. His name is George, he likes to keep to himself, and we both love flowers. I really enjoy sitting in the garden, admiring the flowers and reading my book, my hair slicked back in the only way I can get it to stay back, and still in a suit from my job as my dad's assistant. I hate the boring political work I have to do for him, but I know being the mayor's assistant will look good on college applications, so I suffer through it. Plus, he pays me pretty well, and I am saving up to get a motorcycle with my own money because I want something that's really truly mine instead of bought with my parents' money.

Some days, when I'm sitting in the middle of the grass, flowers all around me, pollen all over my wrinkled suit, and my head in a book, George will approach me and we'll talk about flowers, or whatever's on either of our minds, for a few minutes before he goes and takes care of something else, and I go back to reading. After he learned that my favorite flowers are roses, especially the white ones, (his are the giant sunflowers that reach almost as tall as Mark, though as the youngest brother, he'll always be short in my opinion,) George always brings me a rose or two from the rosebushes near the front of the house.

Today, as I was enraptured by Moby Dick, (I mean I know Dad said it was a classic, but I didn't know a book about whale fishing could be this interesting,) George walked up towards me in his dirt-caked overalls and handed me a freshly bloomed white rose. I looked up in surprise. "I thought we only had red roses growing here, where did this come from?"

"I convinced your parents early this spring that we needed more variety in the rosebushes out front. This is the first white bloom of the season. I thought you'd like to have it."

"Thanks, George, I really appreciate it. Man, I should really show Will this flower, it's a really nice one!"

"And how is William doing, by the way? I never see him in the garden anymore like I see you."

"Will's still set on joining the army next year when he turns eighteen. Dad thinks it's a good idea, he says it'll take all of Will's boundless energy and put it to good use. But I don't know, I don't like the idea of Will going off to war. He never seemed like the type to be able to just kill people cold-blood like that. Maybe I'm just scared, you know? I just don't want to lose my big brother, and I feel like if he goes to war, he'll come back... different. Less happy and bouncy, more hard and stoic."

"I'm sure everything will work out fine. Why don't you go show that beautiful flower to your brother? Maybe you can get him out of the house and come down to see the rosebushes."

"Alright, I think I will. See you around, George."

"Goodbye, Damien."

I went into the house to grab a small vase for the rose, to preserve the bloom longer, before setting off to find Will. He wasn't in his room, which was strange, so I searched the whole manor before finding him sat outside on a bench on the west end of the house, near the pool.

"Heya, Will! Whatcha' doing out here?"

"Oh, hi, Damien. I'm studying up on military history. Thought it would be nice to get out of my room, it's kind of stuffy in there, especially with this spring heatwave we're getting."

"Look, Will, I've got a flower! George, the gardener, heard they were my favorite kind, so he planted white rosebushes along with the red ones and this is the first bloom of the spring! Isn't it pretty?"

"Yeah, Damien, it is pretty."

"Do you want it? I put it in a vase so it wouldn't die."

"Well I think you should have the first bloom, little brother, but if you find another one and want to give it away, I'll take it."

And with that, a tradition had been formed. For that entire summer, I'd periodically get roses from George, and then I'd tell Will I had a flower, ask him if he thought it was pretty, and then ask him if he wanted it. After the first rose, his response was always the same. "Yeah, Damien, it is pretty, I'll put it in my room."

But as all things do, the tradition ended. It was a Saturday morning, and I didn't sleep well that night, so I ended up sitting in the garden, watching the sunrise. When I inevitably fell asleep in the grass, a book half open next to me, I awoke with a white rose as its bookmark, the bloom sticking out of the top, and the stem keeping my page. I grabbed the rose and the book, and headed up to Will's room. I knocked on the door, unsure of whether he'd be awake or not, and started on my routine. "Hey, Will, I've got a flower! Isn't it pretty? Do you want it?"

But to my surprise, Will wasn't at the door groggily in his pajamas with a tired smile because, well, it was 7:15 now that I looked at the wall clock. He opened his door with a resolute manner, his eyes stern, and his face stoic, dressed in full military uniform. When he saw me, still in pajamas, a hopeful look on my face and a rose in my hand, a sad smile graced his face. "Heya, Damien, that is a pretty rose. I'll put it... in my shirt pocket."

"Why are you dressed so early? And why are you wearing your uniform? You're not leaving yet, are you? I thought that wasn't for a couple months!"

Will gently took the rose out of my hand and put it into his shirt pocket. The stem was already short, so the flower poked out of his dull brown uniform just so that the late-August perfect bloom was the only thing sticking out. "I'm sorry, Damien, you were right. I wasn't supposed to leave until October, but I got a call last night and they need me today. They're running short on infantry soldiers because of the Great War, so they're calling up their best soldier's homes to send us in. Don't worry little brother, I'll see you in a few years, at most."

At this point, I had started to cry. I had been desperately trying to hold it back ever since he'd started speaking with such a melancholy tone to his voice, because Dad always said boys shouldn't cry, that it was weak. But I knew Will wouldn't judge me because he'd always rebutted that it wasn't weak to care so much about something, that your body showed its grief. He pulled me close into a hug, so that my tears left streaks down his uniform shirt, and he almost looked like he was going to cry as well. "Hey, there, Damien, it's going to be okay. You're going to have to take care of Mark for me, okay? He's only twelve, he's going to need a big brother to set a good example for him. I'll be back before you know it, kiddo."

"But what if you don't come back? What if you die? I'm so scared Will, god, I'm so scared. I've been trying to hide it this entire time, but I don't know what I'll do if you don't come back. I can't be the head boy, the oldest of the family, the role model for Mark! I'm just the middle child, the weird kid who likes flowers and reading. I'll never be able to replace you, and god damn it, I don't want to! Please, promise me you'll try to stay out of too much danger Will. You'll be all the way over in Europe, I won't know if you're dead or alive for months, or even years if this war drags on! I don't know what to do."

"Oh, Damien, don't worry about these things. You'll never have to be my replacement because I don't plan on getting myself killed. These next few months, or years, might be hard, but you and Mark will get through them with Mom and Dad. I have to leave now, Damien. I need to catch the train out of here. Remember, I'll be back before you know it."

And a few minutes later, he'd woken up Mom, Dad, and Mark, and told them the news. We got in the car, though since our Model T was only a four-seater, the three of us had to squeeze in the back. Will tried to make light of the situation by telling us we wouldn't need to all squeeze in once he left, but no one found it funny. I think the only one not about to cry, or crying in the car, was Dad because he was proud that Will was going off to war, and was never one to show much emotion unless at a public event. I was crying, to which Dad was giving me a look, Mom was sniffling, Mark's eyes were watering, and Will looked like he was barely keeping it together. He just kept twirling the rose in his fingers, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down. I wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to go to war, he just did it because it was the right thing to do. He was always led by his strong sense of morals, and I guess if they told him to fight for his country, he would.

When we reached the train station, both Mom and Mark had started full on crying, and I was pressed against Will's side like I had been in the car, just of my own volition this time, while Mark was hugging him on the other side. Will's uniform had multiple tear tracks down it from the two of us, and there were a few drops that looked like they could've been Will's himself. I looked around the station briefly, and through my tear-blurred vision, I saw other soldiers surrounded by their families, though a few arrived alone. A train whistle blew, and I knew that meant Will needed to get on the train, so we exchanged our last goodbyes.

"Fight well for our country, son." "I will, Dad." "Goodbye, William, please be careful." "I'll be okay, Mom." "Will, don't get yourself killed out there, okay?" "Don't you worry, I'll make it back, Mark."

And then I realized I needed to say something. "I'll miss you." "I'll miss you too, kiddo, and remember, I'll be back before you know it."

Will boarded the train with the other soldiers in similar brown, tear-stained uniforms. I heard the engine start, and right before the train started moving, I saw Will poke his head out of the window. I ran up to the edge of the platform, even though I could hear Mom yelling at me, and listened to the last words my brother had to say before he was whisked off to a new world with guns and soldiers and death.

"Damien, thank you for all the roses."

It was two days after Will left that I left the house for the first time. I'd spent the time locked in my room, only coming out to eat and to receive disapproving looks from my father about the tear stains that seemed to be tattooed on my face. I left the house without telling anyone, with two dollars in my pocket, a face that was red and puffy, an idea in my head, and a determination to get to the shops in town by myself, on foot. It took me twenty minutes to get there, as we lived a decent ways out of town, and I wasn't used to coming out without being in the car. But soon enough, I arrived at the shops and there it was, a small and humble stationary store. I walked in, and after looking around at the different notebooks and journals, asked the lady at the counter if they had any books with special paper. Paper for pressing flowers.

I stopped crying every day, three days after he left. I started going out to the garden regularly after five. I got my first rose since he'd left, after six. As soon as I got the flower, I brought it upstairs to my room and picked up the thick blue book full of thin sheets of paper, with "WILL" written in all caps on the front. I placed the first rose in between the front cover and the first page, and gently closed the book before putting the copy of War And Peace that I took from the bookshelf in Dad's office, on top of the book. And thus, I created a new tradition, born out of the ashes of the old one.

I pressed every rose that George gave me between the dates of August 29th, 1917, and November 16th, 1918, because that was the day Will came back. The day Will came back started off like any other. It was a Saturday, and I'd woken up strangely early, early enough to watch the sunrise, which I'd only done a couple times in the past year. I sat out in the garden, and fell asleep reading, waking up to a rose as a bookmark. It hit me that the last time I'd had a rose as a bookmark was the day Will left, which left a strange feeling in my chest. I walked into the house, and was in the process of walking up to my room to press the flower, when I heard the phone ring, which was unusual, as we usually didn't get a lot of calls, especially this early on a Saturday morning. I looked up at the clock and saw it was 8:15, okay, so maybe it wasn't so unreasonable, but I knew it was probably for Dad, and he'd still be asleep, so I should take the call and tell him who wanted what later. I picked up the phone and heard a static-filled voice say, "Oh thank god, I didn't think anyone was going to pick up. Hello?"

"Hello, this is the Iplier residence." I replied, confused because the kind of people who talked to my dad weren't the kind of people to start a phone call like that. The voice sounded young and slightly familiar, but that might have been the static from what was obviously a payphone in a busy place playing tricks on me.

"Damien, is that you? It's me, Will."

"Will? What? No way. How are you talking to me, aren't you still in Europe?"

"I guess you guys didn't get the letter then, my group got shipped back this morning. I've only been at the station about twenty minutes."

"I can't believe you're back! I need to go wake up Mom and Dad and Mark! We'll come pick you up, okay? And when we get back, I have something to show you. It'll be like your late birthday present because your birthday was last Saturday! We'll be there soon, okay? I'm so glad you're okay, I know you sent letters, but I was so worried, and-"

"Okay, okay, I know you're glad I'm back, and I hate to cut you off, but this payphone is about to run out and I don't have any more change with me. See you in a few minutes, Damien."

"Bye, Will!"

I woke everyone up, and while they got changed and Dad made coffee, I flipped to a page near the end of my flower book; it had filled up quickly, and placed the last rose in the book, before quickly shutting it and putting War and Peace back on top. I put a dress shirt and some slacks on, but no tie, I wanted to be fancy, but not too fancy, before heading downstairs to join my family.

The ride to the station was uneventful. Mark and I were giddy in the back, we couldn't believe we were going to see Will again! We reached the station and Mark and I jumped out of the car and ran in, Mom and Dad trailing behind us. We looked around the station filled with soldiers reuniting with their families and then spotted a lone figure near a telephone booth. Could that be Will? We ran over, dodging people and getting stares, and once we came closer it was obvious that though he was tanned, muscled, and had a buzz cut, our brother was standing there waiting for us. We tackled him in a bear hug, to which he stumbled and regained his footing before saying, "Whoa, you kids are bigger than I remember. How are you guys doing? I missed you both so much!"

"We missed you too, Will!"

"Yeah, we're so glad you're back!"

"I'm glad I'm with you guys."

The reunion was sweet, Mom was crying, and when I showed Will the book full of pressed flowers that I had given him, he seemed to really like it. But after a few days, we noticed something small had changed in Will. Before, he was always open and trusting, but now he seemed a bit more closed off. He also seemed a bit erratic, but Mark and I figured he was just trying to adjust to normal life again. What we thought was the strangest was that he seemed to hate the war, he never wanted to talk about it, but after six months of being home, he announced that he was leaving to go be a part of the military occupation of the Dominican Republic. The only one who didn't seem surprised by this was Dad, who said at the table when Will announced it that once join the army, you don't stop fighting until your last days, or at least that was what one of his friends in the army had said.

A few days before he left, he came up to my room, a strange smile on his face that made it impossible for me to tell if he was happy or sad, and told me that this time, he'd be gone for a while, and I didn't need to keep the flowers for him. I smiled back and told him I might still do it. He ruffled my hair and told me I was his little man, to which I replied that I was sixteen and still looked Mark's age. I honestly made him laugh with that, which was rare, so I took special enjoyment out of it.

He left on a Tuesday, while Mark and I were at school, Dad was at work, and Mom was at some ladies' tea thing. He didn't even tell us he was leaving that day, or I would have cut class to see him leave. I cried when I got home, but strangely, I wasn't as affected by it this time. The next day, I was fine, though I bought a new book for flower pressing because the old one was in his room, and it was nearly full anyway. He told us in his first letter that the time he was leaving was a split second decision by the higher-ups, and he didn't have much choice in the matter.

Life went on. He sent letters once or twice a month, he'd met a nice girl in the Dominican Republic named Penny, and then broke up with her three letters later. He wished both Mark and I happy birthday in the same letter when I turned seventeen on the nineteenth of June, and Mark turned fourteen on the twenty-eighth. I continued collecting flowers, and by the time he'd sent us a letter explaining that he wished he could be home for the Christmas of 1919, but was needed there, I had three-fourths of a book filled. By the time he sent a letter explaining that he couldn't be home for the Christmas of 1920, I had filled a book and a half.

By the Will-absent Christmas of '21, I had two books of flowers filled and was contemplating moving out. I got a book for pressing flowers as a Christmas gift from Mom, and a talk about how the Mayor's assistant needed to focus more on his college studies, instead of picking flowers with the gardener from Dad. He didn't seem to care that I wasn't the one picking the flowers. He also hadn't seemed to care a year and a half earlier when I told him I hated politics, but here I was as a political science major at his urging.

By the Christmas of '22, I had a hard time remembering what Will looked like. A part of me was concerned by this, but a larger part didn't care. I was in my third year of college, still hated my major, still contemplated moving out, but wondered where I would go. I barely knew anyone there because I wasn't a boarder or a party animal. Dad didn't want me to board, so I didn't. It was that simple. I listened to him on everything but the flowers. I now had three and a half books, and it had become the one thing I would do for fun. Talk to George about flowers, press them with what was now my own copy of War and Peace, wonder if I was even doing this for Will anymore, and realize I did it because I didn't know what else to do.

Will came back from the Dominican Republic on July 10th, 1923. He'd been sent back because they were pulling troops out of the island country, and now had nothing to do but wait for the next thing. I was twenty, and Mark was seventeen, my age when Will left. Mark looked more like seventeen-year-old me than I did, and Will thought he was me at the station when Mark and I drove to pick him up. Mom and Dad didn't come with us, since it was a Thursday afternoon and they were out of the house at 4:30 when I got the call.

He only stayed for two months. He was more erratic and closed off than he was the last time, and I barely recognized him from the happy, shy, trusting, boy that was seventeen a lifetime ago. He was twenty-two now, a man, not a boy. He'd made friends, brothers in arms as he called them, that he would die for and kill for. When I tried to give him the four books of flowers, because we weren't allowed to send packages to him while he was in service, he took one look at them and said I could keep them. I ended up putting them in his room one day when he'd left the door open, and he never said anything, so I don't know whether he appreciated them, or just didn't notice.

He didn't even stay for his twenty-third birthday, though Mom was so excited to finally have a birthday party for him and invite the relatives who hadn't seen him in ages. He left on September 17th with his "brothers in arms" to go off to the Haiti occupation. I stopped caring enough to cry about it, I had other things to deal with. I moved out after I graduated in 1924, and with funds from my parents, and from my job as my dad's assistant, which I'd held since I was sixteen, moved into a house on the other side of town. It wasn't as nice as my childhood home, but for a just-graduated-college kid, it was pretty nice.

My dad retired in 1930, and I ran for mayor. Shockingly, I won, although I think it was because the people just wanted a familiar face. I became the youngest mayor of the town at twenty-seven and hadn't seen my brother in seven years. But it was okay, I had other things to deal with. Four years later Dad had a heart attack and died, and at his funeral was the first time I saw William since I'd graduated college. I learned that he'd just been assigned to come back and help lead new recruits, he was a colonel now. He decided to live in a town an hour and a half away, because it was the nearest military base without being right in the city.

I was thirty-one, he was thirty-four, and Mark was twenty-seven. It was strange that Mark was the youngest, but already had a fiance. Selene, who I'd met a couple months before, but Will had just met at the funeral, was strikingly beautiful, and an actress. Mark had met her because they'd been co-stars on a movie he'd been in, and they had become famous together. We caught up, and Will seemed a bit off, but I quickly realized that "off" was his default state. I delved back into my work, got re-elected, and time passed in a blur.

Only a year later, Mark had a party at his house, the mansion that was our childhood home. He invited Will, his friend the detective whose name I could never remember, and me, although with his permission I invited my friend the attorney general whose name I used to know. Things got blurry that night, and I found out that Selene had been cheating on Mark with Will. I honestly can't remember anything after about 1:30 am. Anything at all.

W h e r e  a m  I ?  W h a t  y e a r  i s  i t ? W h a t ' s  g o i n g  o n ?

PRESENT TIME - DARKIPLIER

I jolt back to reality to find it's now late at night. Where am I? What was I doing? Oh, yes, the tree. I must have gotten sidetracked and ended up playing Damien's entire memories. I have a wicked headache now. It always glitches out like that when I reach the end of Damien's memories. But at least I know the rest of the story, unlike that poor figment of my being. There are white roses all around the tree now, and I remember why they form, from my emotional energy. The memories of the summer of the flowers must have increased it.

I don't want to get up from where I'm sitting because of my glitch-induced headache. I think the science behind the damned things is that when I reach the end of Damien's or Selene's memories, that part of my shell cracks, which can lead to physical repercussions? I'm not entirely sure. This universe is weird, but I needed somewhere to go after I became Darkiplier, and this was the closest in both physical proximity and relation to my universe. This one is just so much more modern, and there aren't any demons that naturally occur in it. But there are alter egos here, and this universe's Mark is a good person, although not the most observant, so he accepted me as one of his egos when he saw me wander into Egos Inc. confused at all the people that look like me. I hope he never finds out that I'm not one of his carbon copies.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one from my universe to come to this one. Will is here. I don't know how, I don't know why, but he is. He just showed up one day after I'd been here about five months, and he stayed. Well, it's not totally accurate to say that Will is here. He's Wilford Warfstache now, not William Iplier. But I know it's my Will, from my universe. Or what's left of him. After he murdered two people, though one of them wasn't his fault, and without the other, I would've never been able to return to a physical form, and then believed that when he killed people, they didn't die permanently, he became fully unhinged. He's now half serial killer, half reporter, though the reporter half is mainly the rest of the egos and I just humoring him.

It's strange, the other egos think both he and I are egos as well, especially because my first move was to cause accidental glitches across this Mark's channel, and his first move was to interrogate Slenderman. And I almost feel as if I am an ego, when I first showed up in this universe, although I was thirty-one in one of my past lives, and twenty-six in another, I just felt that I was twenty-three, the age of this universe's Mark, and I am sure Will feels the same, although I haven't talked to him about it, and don't plan on it.

The last time I tried to talk about something serious with the new Will, one thing led to another, and I had to convince all of the egos to watch and support Markiplier TV, because yes, Will had lost it, and yes, he acted like a child left unsupervised, but he cared about that project, and I still cared about my older brother. I would always care about my older brother, even if he looks several years younger than when he was in our universe, when he was sane. Even if now we aren't brothers anymore, we are egos, we are the same age, and have to pretend we are parts of the same person. I know we aren't because I know what it's like to be made up of different people. But that doesn't matter, I need to get up, go back to my room, go to sleep. And I will, in a minute. I'm just going to let this headache subside.

I wake up to the door to my room opening. Wait, this isn't my room. Where am I? Oh, wait, the tree. God, that's the second time I've said that tonight, I must have dozed off. Wait, it's not night anymore. It looks like it's early morning. I glance over to see who just entered. Ah, Bim Trimmer. He's an alright kid, he follows Will around a lot, which means... there he is. Will is sitting on the singular bench in the courtyard, but because of his reality-bending powers, the bench is now bright pink. He's scribbling something in a notebook, and I can hear him, even from on the other side of the tree where the two can't see me, mumbling something about a second episode. He must be talking about making the second episode of Markiplier TV. I swear to god if I have to convince everyone to show up to this thing again. Bim is saying something now, so I decide

"Hey, Wil! There are roses all around this tree." Bim declares, excited as he runs over to the tree that I am hiding behind to gaze at the white roses that have formed from my reality bending.

"That's nice," Will replies, distracted, as he scribbles more into his notebook and crosses something out with a frown. Bim reaches down and picks a flower before running back to Will.

"Look, Wil, I've got a flower! Isn't it pretty? Do you want one?" Bim says, suddenly seeming very familiar. Will doesn't look up before he speaks, still concentrated on whatever's in his notebook.

"Yeah, Damien, it is pretty, I'll put it in my room." Will responds before- oh, god. It's only a split second before...

"Who's Damien?" Wilford freezes, looking around before his eyes settle on Bim, who now that I think about it, strikingly resembles Damien in looks and clinginess to Will. His eyes are vacant, but scared, an emotion the new Will doesn't show often.

"Wil?" Bim is concerned, Wilford may be crazy, but no one knows who Damien is, even, seemingly, not even his own brother anymore.

"I-I don't know. I don't know." Wilford looks paranoid, no, vulnerable, and scared, his face almost mirroring William's face the day he left to fight in the first world war. He mumbles something under his breath and I catch the words "White roses, flower books," before Will runs out of the room, flinging the door open. Bim just stands there for a second, confused and concerned, before running out after Wilford, yelling an "I'm sorry!"

And I, I slump against the tree. Too many memories hit too close to home, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I close my eyes and try to will the emerging memories away, but my broken mind replaces them with thoughts of Will. Not my Will, Wilford Warfstache.

Why does history repeat itself, just with different faces and names? Except for this time, only the names differ.

[franklyshipping]

Day 23 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

WOOOOO DAY 23 MY FRIENDOS LET'S CARRY ON WITH SOME SWEET ROMANCE! LET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @darkipli-ler @darkipliler @giggles-and-pink-mustaches​ and @wilford-lee-warfstache

Now we come…to the patron of Christmas. This being is known far and wide for being the bringer of hopes and dream and gifts and jingles and jangles and happiness to all those in the world who deserve it. That’s right, it’s Daddy Yule-UH…I mean Father Christmas. The jolly, bearded, chunky, sack bearing guy himself…though for some reason he seemed to be wearing garters on top of his trousers, and he also had a pink moustac-ohhh…it seemed Wilford Warfstache was taking on the role of Santa this year. He’d just collapsed with a happy sigh into a squishy armchair in the main living room, and smiled to his boyfriend.

‘Wowie that was tiring!’

Dark, who was on his knees next to the Christmas Tree, looked to Wilford with a sigh and a raised eyebrow.

‘That, my dear, is because you insisted upon putting all these presents under the tree whilst in your full Santa Claus garb.’

…there was in fact no lie here. Wilford was fully dressed up as Santa, with the white beard, the hat, the boots, red trousers and waistcoat and jacket…all on top of a fat suit. As a result, amidst the present depositing task, Wilford had gotten very tired very quickly. Even though he was sat, he still managed to put his hands on his hips as he replied to Dark passionately.

‘But I have to practise wearing it for an extensive amount of time if I’m going to be able to do it for the kids on Christmas Day Dark! Just imagine their cute little smiling faces!’

Dark let out a soft laugh, lounging on the floor on his side in white, suit-like pyjamas as he smiled up at Wilford.

‘You sap.’

‘You still loooove me!’

Dark rolled his eyes with a snicker, before raising an eyebrow when he felt something nuzzling his hand. He looked down with a grin and crooned.

‘Yes, yes I love you as well, god you’re as bad as him…’

Gooper gurgled and giggled, particularly when Dark used his blunt nails to scratch his underbelly playfully. Dark smirked at the little creature, before sending that smirk Wilford’s way.

‘Wow, you two really are alike.’

….Wilford was grateful for the fake beard right now because it hid his embarrassed blush very well.

‘You hush it! And don’t torture the poor bumpkin, he’s worked hard today!’

Dark rolled his eyes once more, before having mercy on the giddy, trembling little glob. He pet him instead as he softened his voice affectionately. Gooper had helped them so much today, working so tirelessly, he was a special, warm-hearted little glob.

‘That is true….I don’t know how we all survived in this house in the past without you…’

Gooper cooed and wiggled softly in response to that, before Dark booped him with a smile.

‘Alright, enough heartfelt things, off to bed or that underbelly is mine!’

Gooper squeaked adorably, and nuzzled Dark’s fingers before hurriedly speeding out of the room, making Dark chuckle and sigh, before looking back to Wilford.

‘Shall we head off too love?’

Wilford hummed, stroking his fake beard in thought, before straightening up in the armchair as he replied.

‘In a minute, while I’m in this chair though I wanna test something, c’mere.’

Dark raised a curious eyebrow as he stood, ambling over as his boyfriend beckoned him….but then the suave gentleman pursed his lips when Wilford patted his lap with a grin.

‘Come sit on Santa’s lap.’

‘No.’

‘C’mooon!’

‘Absolutely not!’

‘But Daaaark we have to check if I’m comfy for the kids!’

‘….fine.’

Dark huffed, looking around to check that they were absolutely alone….before he settled himself on Wilford’s lap. He couldn’t help but smile when Wilford grinned and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him softly as he spoke.

‘So?’

Dark averted his gaze, feeling a tad bashful since it was such a sweet little moment between them.

‘You are comfy….as you always are, love.’

Wilford grinned, keeping Dark close so he could relish seeing him succumbing to the sweetness of it all. Wilford reached up to take of his fake beard, before cupping Dark’s face with his hands as he purred.

‘C’mere….’

Dark obliged happily, and soon they were both melting into each other’s lips, kissing warmly and gently and happily. Dark was gripping Wilford’s jacket as Wilford’s fingers snuck and nestled into Dark’s hair, and it was all beautifully sweet….until Wilford whispered.

‘Santa thinks you’ve been a naughty, naughty boy this year…’

Dark spluttered and pulled away from the kiss, cheeks going pink as he shoved Wilford’s chest, the owner of which was cackling his heart out.

‘Wilford! That’s rude!’

Wilford snorted amidst his mirth, eyes gleaming with his happy cheekiness as he purred.

‘Darn right it is honey, how’s my lap treatin’ ya?’

Wilford wiggled his hips with a smirk, which made Dark jump and let out a low growl. He leant in nose to nose with his boyfriend, and his eyes were narrowed threateningly….if Wilford wasn’t careful, Dark was seriously going to punish him for bringing rudeness into their sweet moment.

‘Any more rudeness out of you….and you’re getting it.’

Wilford’s and Dark’s eyes met….and Dark knew right away, before Wilford had even spoken….that Dark was going to be dishing out punishment to Santa Claus instead of mince pies.

‘….Daddy Yuletide at your service-!’

‘OH THAT’S IT!’

Wilford yelped with wide, giddy eyes as Dark ripped open his jacket and waistcoat, yanking off the fake belly strapped onto Wilford….before using his devilish fingers to dig into Wilford’s real tummy.

‘WOHOHOHAHAHA BAHAHABE NAHA!’

Wilford threw his head back with laughter, batting at Dark as he writhed around in the chair, trying to get up to escape….but with Dark solidly on his lap, that was impossible. Dark smirked, eagerly squeezing and scribbling Wilford’s soft abs as he purred.

‘Seems to me that it’s Santa who’s been the naughty one this year….and he needs to be punished.’

Wilford shook his head adorably as his limbs flailed, his cheeks a dark pink now as streams of bubbly cackles spilled from his lips. He tried hard to initially curl up, but Dark had leant right on top of him, so there was no chance of shielding any of his sensitive spots….Wilford was screwed.

‘NAHAHA IHIHI DOHOHON’T I DOHON’T!’

Wilford tried to insist, but he should have known better than to try and play to Dark’s morality….because when it came to tickling his beautiful annoyance of a boyfriend, Dark had no morality. He just smirked and tickled to his cool heart’s content.

‘Oh but you do….you’re such a naughty thing, and we can’t have any of that on Christmas Day, think of those poor children!’

Wilford howled as Dark dug into the sides of his stomach, making him kick out and squeeze his eyes shut with desperate flusteredness. It was such torture, and the fact that it was his evil, loving, teasy Dark tickling him to pieces….made Wilford crumble even more.

‘PLEHEHEASE BAHABY! I-IHIHI’LL BEHE GOHOHOOD!!’

Dark hummed in a disbelieving manner, relishing in how Wilford trembled and twitched as he used one finger to trail about over his tummy.

‘Hmmm….you don’t sound particularly sincere.’

Dark sneered, before slipping his finger into Wilford’s navel and swirling it about devilishly, making the moustached man beneath him squeal and arch his back cutely.

‘AAAEEE IAMIAM EHEHEEE IHI AHAAAAM!!’

Dark chuckled fondly at his hyper-sensitive darling, letting out a light, happy sigh as he watched him screw up his face with mirth and beg for mercy….whilst at the same time, never lifting a finger to fight him back. It was so beautiful to Dark, Wilford was so beautiful.

‘Mmm….you know, I’m still not sure….’

Dark purred, twisting his finger in the ticklish bellybutton at a slow, evil pace to make Wilford wail and shudder, encased by his ticklishness. Wilford was beyond embarrassed by this point, he was red faced, hot, nearly hysterical, and flustered not just by the tickles, but also by the smirking and chuckling from his boyfriend that he couldn’t escape.

‘PLEHEHEHEASE BAHAHABY!!’

Wilford cried with wide eyes, and Dark smiled…dammit, he never could protest against those sweet, chocolate, puppy dog eyes. Dark let out a playful growl under his breath, smiling at Wilford playfully as he crooned.

‘I suppose I don’t want you to go completely crazy….’

Wilford panted and giggled, relishing in the chills and goose-bumps happening all over his body as he looked up at Dark from beneath his eyelashes. He loved Dark so much, and honestly, Dark was someone that Wilford would allow to drive him crazy. Dark’s heart flustered when Wilford sported the beautiful, tired, lopsided grin in the whole world.

‘Hohow Chrihistmas spirited ohof you….’

Dark raised an eyebrow at his sarcasm, and leant in to ghost his lips over Wilford’s teasingly as his crimson eyes glimmered with flirty playfulness.

‘Really? You really think it’s a good time to get sassy with me?’

Wilford nibbled his bottom lip….before leaning in and nipping Dark’s bottom lip with a giggle.

‘Ahabsolutely.’

Their eyes me again, before Dark leant in and captured Wilford in a more passionate kiss, causing the moustached man to purr and melt and let the kiss take up all the focus in his mind. He even rested his arms on Dark’s shoulders as they made out….but Dark wasn’t done with his punishment yet. He smirked into Wilford’s lips as he let his fingers teasingly splay against Wilford’s inner thighs….and he chuckled when Wilford’s breath hitched.

‘….b-bahabe….’

Wilford’s whisper was weak and shaky, and his lips were already twitching as Dark smirked against them and purred, letting his fingertips trace the sensitive areas.

‘Yes dear?’

Wilford whimpered, smiling properly now as his eyes started to water adorably, and his thighs were twitching.

‘….i-ihit t-tihickles….’

Dark snickered fondly, growling as he kept softly kissing Wilford, wanting to drive him absolutely over the edge of flusteredness.

‘Excellent….’

Wilford whimpered even more as Dark’s fingertips and blunt nails ragged and circled all over Wilford’s vulnerable, sensitive inner thighs. Within minutes, Wilford was a mess of splutters, squeaks, beet red blushes and whines as he felt himself weakening completely at the tickling and affection.

‘P-Plehehease….D-Dahark….’

Dark smirked, raising a playful eyebrow as he purred, still teasingly tickling.

‘Yes dear?’

Wilford whined as he gazed at his boyfriend, his hands now moving to cling to his pyjama shirt as Wilford’s begged oh so preciously and handsomely.

‘P-Plehease….D-D-Dahahamien….m-mehercy….’

Dark blinked a few times, and his smirk melted away into a tender smile….dammit, Wilford using that name always made him weak….but in a way that Dark loved. His hands moved away from Wilford’s thighs so they could cup his face, making Wilford gasp and giggle residually amidst the mercy.

‘Anything for you, my naughty, naughty darling.’

Wilford absolutely lit up and giggled when Dark started to snuggle into him….and there they stayed. Honestly, they were probably the two naughtiest little shits in the entire household….and yet if anyone were to walk in now and see all the cuddling, kissing and smiling….they would say that it was nicest thing in the whole damn world.

WOOOO HOPE YOU ALL LIKED THIS NEXT FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 16

Heyo it’s day 16!

Prompt: Tentacles In Peril

Fandom: Markiplier Egos

Characters: Yanderiplier, Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache, Actor!Mark

Warnings/Tags: SFW, gore, violence, guns, swords, swearing, transgirl Yan, mentions of gender dysphoria, subtle hinted Darkstache

           The mansion was quiet, scattered with the soft sounds of nighttime, the house settling and crickets outside singing; it was the lullaby Yan fell asleep to every night. She was drifting now, in and out when suddenly her door slammed open. She grabbed her katana and rolled out of bed, standing to face her intruder. She instantly stood down, realizing how underdressed she was. She grabbed her robe and pulled it on. Dark stood in the doorway; his auras were snapping and twisting, so intense that it lit Yan’s dark room like cheap LEDs. “Get dressed,” Dark growled. “We’re leaving.”

           Yan watched him leave the room then quickly shrugged off her robe and threw off her pajamas. She dressed in her nicest skirt and blouse, finding a pair of tall boots. Dark obviously didn’t summon her to go out to the movies, so boots would be practical but that didn’t mean she had to give up entirely on looking good, either. They would be doing something difficult. She ducked into the bathroom and washed her face, then—losing the fight to her dysphoria—she shaved, lamenting that she didn’t have time for concealer to hide the shadow she couldn’t seem to get rid of. When Dark yelled from the hallway, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and ran out, sword in hand. “I’m ready!”

           Dark growled and took her by the wrist, “Close your eyes, Yan.” He pulled her in and picked her up, bridal style.

           Yan hesitated, but when the auras went black and surrounded them, she squeezed her eyes shut; she’d heard some of the others talk about the dimension Dark walked in, and she did feel the bite of icy wind before they emerged once again. She eased her eyes open when Dark set her down. Yan swallowed down the nausea and cleared her throat, “Can I ask what we’re doing?”

           Dark straightened his suit as he walked, and she followed, “Mark.”

           “You brought me on a Mark mission?” Yan grinned. “Yes! Wait… but what about Wil?”

           “He has Wil,” Dark said. They ducked into a steam-filled alleyway and Dark came to a steel door. His void tentacles came to life, tearing the door in two like paper.

           Yan stayed on his heels, and she could hear voices, one laughing, the other soft; Dark turned a corner and bullets rained down the long hallway. Yan caught a glimpse of Mark at the end, a stylized tommy gun in his hands, “Ugh does he always have to be so extra?”

           The void tentacles swirled out around Dark and protected him from the majority of the bullets as he ran down the hallway, but it soon became too much, and the hot lead tore into his body while Wil shouted, “STOP!”

           While Dark had Mark occupied, Yan sprinted down the hallway, sliding beneath Mark’s gun on her knees and swinging her katana up. She jumped to her feet and turned. Mark dropped the gun—and his left hand—and spun to face her with a sneer, “Who’s this little bitch?”

           “Oh you remember me, fuckface,” Yan growled. “Thanks to you I’m never gonna graduate highschool!”

           Mark laughed, “Shouldn’t you be thanking me then? Aren’t you teenagers all too cool for an education nowadays?”

           “I haven’t been a teenager for five years,” Yan growled, stalking forward.

           Mark ran then, ducking out of the large room, “Keep him busy!” Dark shouted, and Yan followed him, leaving the older men behind.

           Mark was fast, and really fucking annoying. He was like trying to kill a rat with a sword—something Yan had done, but it was a real pain in the ass. He finally came out of hiding when she cornered him in a locker room, and he emerged from the shadows with a rapier in hand, his injured arm behind his back, “Are we gonna fight or fence?” Yan muttered.

           Mark lashed out—and he was deadly fast. The blade caught Yan’s face and sliced into her cheek, then he ducked away. Blood poured and Yan snarled, “Come on, princess.” Mark cooed. “Show me you’re more than just a pretty face, before I remove it for you.”

           Yan screamed then, running forward and swinging her katana with merciless speed and ferocity. Mark could only block and dodge, sweat beading on his forehead as he bore the full brunt of Yanderiplier’s fury. She caught his leg and he went down, slamming against a row of rusting lockers. Yan got in place for a quick kill, but he swept her legs out from under her and she went down hard on her shoulder. Laughing, Mark stumbled to his feet, “Not quite good enough, little girl.”

           Yan thrust her sword upward, and it went into—through—Mark’s abdomen. Blood bubbled from his mouth and he choked on it. It spattered across Yan’s face and white shirt as she stood, pushing him back with the pressure. Mark reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her—and the blade—in. Yan leaned back, but Mark was laughing, and the crazed grin on his face spread as his eyes went black. Yan tried to pull away as his grip burned her skin, but the black of his eyes was spreading through his veins, spidering over his skin until he erupted into a plume of black smoke and disappeared, leaving Yan holding her bloodied sword.

           She looked around, quickly dashing back out into the factory in search of him, but he was long gone. Yan screamed in frustration, punching the concrete wall and busting her knuckles. She grit her teeth and shook her hand, sending blood flying—again. She wiped her sword clean on her skirt and went back to find Dark and Wil.

             She kept her eyes on the floor, blood drying on her face and making her skin pull unpleasantly. “It’s good to see you, gumdrop,” Wilford said, smiling through the obvious pain on his face. “What’s the matter?”

           “He got away,” Yan said. “I had him. I got a really good piece of him. Anybody else would have been dead but… he just laughed.”

           Dark finished untying Wil, moving slow from the mess of bullet wounds in his body; he pulled Wil to his feet, supporting him. “You expected to kill him?”

           “I assumed that’s why you brought me, yes,” Yan growled. “Or was I just bait?”

           Dark raised an eyebrow, regarding her coolly, “Have I ever put you into danger you couldn’t handle?”

           “No,” she said sullenly.

           “Then what basis do you have for accusing me of using you for bait?”

           Yan folded her arms, “None.”

           “Then stop pouting like a child and-“

           “And come give old Wilford a hug!” Wil interrupted smiling warmly. He chuckled when she did, patting her back. “I’m very sorry I missed seeing you fight, Yan. I’m sure it was a fearsome battle!”

           “She’s good,” Dark said. He kept his eyes ahead as he walked Wil out of the room. “She’s better than you.”

           “I’m not much of a swordsman, admittedly,” Wil agreed. “Maybe you can show me a few pointers, gumdrop.”

           “If you’ll teach me to shoot a gun,” Yan said. “We have a deal.”

[logan-are-you-okay]

Anniversary to hospital

(Darkistache fanfic)

To celebrate the eight month anniversary of the first airing of Markiplier TV, Wilford decided to do an amazing public stunt to perform at the end of the episode. However, it did not end correctly...

Wilford got a random civilian from off the street to help him perform the amazing stunt while the Jim twins commentated and recorded. The civilian that he picked wasn’t careful. Thankfully he didn’t get hurt, but Wilford did. The man that they picked ran away fast once it went wrong to avoid law suits or anything like that. Quickly, one of the Jim twins called the police while the other called the other egos to tell them to meet at the hospital. Wilford was able to make it to the hospital soundly, but he flat lined twice while in the ambulance.

Once they were able to get to the hospital, they quickly rushed him into a back room while the Jim’s waited for the others to arrive. Once they started rolling in, they did the best they could to explain what happened.

Usually this wouldn’t be a big deal. Wilford always got hurt performing a big finale for the show... but this was the first time he’s ever flatlined. The oldest Jim told Bing, Bim Trimmer, Kink, Chef Iplier, and the weird white supper hero dude (Can’t think of his name) about what happened. The other Jim told Google, host, author, and Dr. Iplier.

Even some of Jack’s egos came by for moral support.

The only ones yet to arrive where yandere and Darkiplier. While they waited to

Be able to visit Wilford, they didn’t know that he flatlined trice more. Once they where allowed back, Bing and google went back first. They calculated that for everyone to say goodbyes or whatever they wanted would take 5.26 minutes. Then people would take long or shorter than that, but that was the average time generated. Well, Google calculated it. Bing just agreed to sound smart. One by one the egos came back into the room, only allowing three at a time to come back. However, When Dark came in, everything changed. It was almost as his mere presents changed the atmosphere around. There wasn’t any emotion expressed on his face, just a plain grey slate with his raven black hair dripping in front of his eyes, but the others could tell that he was in pain and worry. There has been an unspoken thing between the two for as long as they’ve both been around. Which has almost been since the very beginning. It just becomes more apparent when certain things happen like this.

Dark asked where Wilford was, so they told him and he went on his way. When he got to the room, the egos that where in there Chef Iplier and Dr. Iplier immediately left.

As the doors closed behind him, he didn’t move. He just looked down at his beloved friend that he has known since they were children playing at Markiplier manner. Dark still maintained his composure and manners as he walked over to the side of the bed and looked longingly at Wilfords closed eyes, and untrimmed bright pink mustache. He moved with grace and softly, almost as if it would have been rude if he made a sound at all. He sighed, why did Wilford have to be the one who made him feel anything but anger and determination to take over and gain control from Mark.

As doctors walked by the room, they didn’t think twice about Dark. They just assumed he was at a party that he went full out on by adding affects to his costume. But sure enough, that wasn’t what Dark was. He wasn’t just some party trick for people. He was created from the worst two things that could ever happen to someone.

Dark takes a small step closer to Wilford, and gently between his two finger tips grabs a strand of Wilford’s hair, and rubs then together. How could this broken soul with such life and color be able to fill an empty hole inside of his chest?

Dark: “Wilford... life isn’t the manner. In real life you can die and not come back.”

He knew that if Wilford was awake he would have rebutdtaled saying that you never really die. It’s just an illusion and you’ll wake up in a couple hours or something like that. Never has Dark ever yearned for a slur sentenced from the man laying before him. Dark takes deep breaths, he can’t show weakness. If he ever did, people would use it against him. He’s be mocked, replaced, and his rein of terror would end in the souls of those who fear his name.

Dark: “You’ve been in the hospital thousands of times for this... god damn series Wil. Why can’t you understand that this is killing me more than it’s killing you.... I told you that this show wasn’t going to help in any shape or form.”

Yes, he knew he sounded insensitive to what was going on... but it just happens. He retaliates for not showing the true pain and torture he’s going through. He soon gets tried of standing, so he he sits down on the chair that was conveniently placed right next to the bed. He never wanted to admit it, but just sitting next to Wilford, breathing in his cotton candy aroma always calmed Dark. He always got a sense of peace whenever around him... if Wilford knew what would he say? If he didn’t feel the same way, Dark would probably not care, but deep down... it would feel like he was getting stabbed straight into the heart.

Dark: “Fuck it.”

Dark reaches forward and holds Wilfords limp hand inside of his. If there was any time for him to get away with this without any punishments, this would be the time.

Dark: “You have to fight Wilford. Think about how many people would stop watching the show if you weren’t in it anymore.”

He half expected a chuckling reply to that remark, but nothing was heard. Dark looks around the medical room, this wasn’t the type of place that Wilford should be staying in. It was too white with plain colors. It needed a touch up. He looks over at the walls and cracks his neck to the side. Smoothly the once white walls are covered in different color pink ribbons, yellow paint along the trim of the door, and bright blue paint spots scattered about. It wasn’t Dark’s style by a long shot, but if anyone deserved it, Wilford did. He then looks down at Wilford, and he sees a half smile spreed across his brightly rose colored cheeks. Causing little dimples to form on the sides of his mouth.

Dark didn’t deserve to have someone like Wilford around. Even way back to which he can barley remember, he still felt like The Colonel was way to good for him and Mark. They always found the brightness in the world, they always found a way to make a dull situation to one of the greatest.

Dark: “Wil... you can’t keep doing this. I lie awake almost every night wondering what you are doing. Hoping that the next day that comes you won’t be injured. Wishing that you would check things by me to see what you should or shouldn’t do. I know what’s best for you Wilford... even if you don’t feel like it.”

Dark then suddenly stands up, still holding onto Wilfords hand, not letting it go for a single second. He’s never felt such a burning passion to express himself till this moment. Maybe because he knows what he’s saying won’t reach Wilford Ears.

Dark: “Why can’t you see what you’re doing to me? You are tearing me apart with these stupid emotions that you have shot inside of my soul. I can’t stand it anymore, I just want to grab your stupid pink overalls and kiss you till I can no longer breathe! How are you able to put these emotions inside of me without realizing that I’m crazy for you? If I could have one thing in This world if I couldn’t take over Markiplier it would be you! I’m always so calm and collective around everyone, but once you get in the room it instantly feels hotter. You’re not even going to know any of this when you wake up, but I just need to get it off if my chest. I want you, every single damn fiber of you’re being.”

He then takes a deep breath after letting his heart basically pour out to the unconscious Wilford. Without even a second after, Dark becomes cool and collective. As if nothing before happened, that no time had passed at all. He just needs to do one more thing before he can just blow this all over. He lets go of Wilfords hand, and slides it up his arm and to his right cheek. He looked so peaceful, like nothing could kill his spirits. Dark gathers up his courage, and presses his lips against Wilford’s. He’s wanted to do this for such a long time, and it was better than he ever could have dreamed of.

Suddenly he feels pressure being returned, and slowly pulls away. As he opens his eyes he sees a sleepily awake Wilford with a small smile across his face.

Dark: “Well I guess you’re awake.”

Wilford: “I heard everything.”

Dark: “Fuck You Wil.”

Wilford: “According to your confession, that could mean literal.”

Dark just rolls his eyes playfully, and they both look back at each other suspiciously.

Wilford: “Do you feel like someone’s watching us?”

They both then look right at the door, and there was Bing recording them.

Both: “BING!”