#iswm beta

[smiledog15578]

GOOGLE GIDEON Google’s first walking talking task robot

The first of his kind, so some of his features are outdated

Originally had silicone skin but was ripped off because he didn’t want to be seen as human but as robot

Was once on earth but went rouge, wanting to destroy human kind

The government thought instead of termination, they would put him into the nasa where he would go into a spaceship and land wherever nearest planet he can inhabit. He has no control over the ship so he’s mostly a metal asteroid

You can either avoid the unknown flying object or let it crash into your ship

If you let it crash into the Invincible, Gideon will aboard your ship surprisingly being friendly. He is putting up a front to kill you and your crew mates and take over the ship then going back to earth destroying it in the process

He doesn’t like Head engineer Mark. Of course Mark loves to ask it questions since he’s never gotten a physical robot before

Doesn’t like the ship computer either.

If you avoid the unknown flying object in later universes you will end up in the bad lands were bandit, Beta, and wug inhabit

Begrudgingly joins the pack just to survive, he doesn’t like any of them but they help him from not falling apart

Beta thinks that him and Gideon are friends, Gideon doesn’t think so at all more of a nuisance than anything

Talks in a monotone but snarky voice

Higher intelligence of any human being on earth, but not street smarts

While he does hate humans in order to blend in he had to learn human culture

BING BETA Bing’s first and last task robot

Like Gideon, Beta was once a robot from earth

Not as good as the Googles robot. Pretty janky

The earth decided to make him space trash because of how shit the product was.

Ended up in the badlands junkyard were he was left with nothing but a head and an upper torso

He quite literally built himself up from scrap grabbing other trashed robot parts

While he isn’t intelligent, he is a very friendly robot. More human than robot at this point

He is sort of an inventor trying to find things to help other robots in the badlands without limbs n such

He actually named himself! He never really had a name except “Bing prototype”

Meets Wug and Bandit later on down the road and they’re his only best friends

A lovable himbo

Once Gideon crashes into the badlands and Beta finds him, Beta is excited for joy of this new robot on their planet

He immediately goes to work repairing anything torn of broken fixing Gideon up

Him and Gideon are best friends even if Gideon is a bit shy

Loves to collect earth kick knacks he finds and gives them to either Wug or Bandit. A huge earth enthusiast

Probably Allum and Beta would be friends also

Twitches a lot, faulty wiring.

Mark said he wish he could play Bing and Google again but couldn’t due to copyrighted names but here ya go! Something completely non copyright free if you take out the companies names and replace it with something else :3 this was just for fun

[spidersfanfics]

In Space No One Can Make You Choose

Y/N / The Captain x Mark Iplier / Head Engineer (In Space With Markiplier) | Meta Jokes About CYOA Stories | Fourth Wall is Broken

Too much meta, or is it just too meta? Maybe leaving video format and hopping into some fics is the secret to being happy with Mark Iplier.

I wrote this based on some memes I saw about interacting w/ Engineer!Mark and it's kinda weird? Like the vibes definitely show that I wrote this at 3AM. But hey, it's fun, even if it is a little bleak. And it was important that this come out before Part 2 gets released. So if you're reading it after May 2nd then keep that in mind I guess? Unless it turns out to not affect things at all. In which case disregard.

It’s hard to say what exactly propelled you forward in this darkness of space. Making choice after choice despite the futility, and indeed fatality, of the whole endeavor. Naive optimism? Not yet jaded by the ending of it all. Morbid curiosity? Wanting to know what else could have been, and now is. A drive for completion no matter the cost? Even if that price was far steeper than you could ever hope to pay. Or worst of all, maybe it was just a sick, twisted, glee in seeing other people suffer at your hands. Or at the very least, hands that claimed to be yours.

But no matter the reason, this time, you just can’t bring yourself to do it. Can’t stare Mark in his beaming smile and make the silent call. Not after you had, or perhaps had not, heard the way he thought about you in one timeline or another.

A date? That certainly wouldn’t go well. But he’d still thought it, and it’s the thought that counts. Speaking of thoughts…

“Captain? You’re sort of staring off into space there,” Mark comments in a lighthearted tone as he waves a hand next to your face. “Earth to the captain. Does that joke even land out here in space?”

Very slowly, you turn your head to face him. How much you’ve put him through and yet he still trusts you blindly every single time. You know it’s just the effect you have on people but he accepted it so much easier than most. The knowledge stings just a little. But how do you even begin to convey how sorry you are without saying a word? How do you tell him that you can never be sorry enough for how much he’s had to suffer?

You hug him.

“Captain…” Mark trails off and accepts it, nearly collapsing onto you. Good thing you’re more than strong enough to fling him around with just one hand. You know that from experience. Probably. Mark’s arms find their way around you in response and you hear him take a deep breath in what sounds like an attempt to hold back tears.

When you pull apart, he clears his throat stiffly and nods with only a slight sniffle. “Thanks, Captain. I’m uhh, not really sure why you did that? But I appreciate it.” You just nod.

The wormhole will not let you leave, you realize. Not yet, not until the time is right. And it doesn’t matter how many times you jump in the outcome will not change. There. But maybe, a change of medium will let you take a breather, just for a little while. So as the setting around you fades away into the white noise of the background, you realize something.

“This isn’t our ship.”

Mark fixes you with a startled and somewhat puzzled look. “Captain,” he says slowly, “This is going to sound weird but… it feels like that’s the first time I’ve ever heard your voice. Which makes no sense of course given your famous heartfelt and inspiring speeches but still. Well, I guess maybe heard isn’t quite right, but I do see what you mean. About this ship I mean, I feel it too!” His face breaks out in a wide grin as he grabs you by the arms, “Does this mean we did it? Did we escape the wormhole?”

You start to shake your head a little solemnly but then pause. Why bother burdening him with the knowledge of what is and isn’t? None of that matters here so who cares? There are far more pressing matters at hand. “Mark.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Do you like me?”

That seems to catch him off guard and it takes him a second to answer. “Of course I do,” he says earnestly, “You’re my captain, I would do anything for you. I’d follow you to the ends of the universe.”

You sigh a little bit and reach out to rest your hand against his face, “But do you like me?”

He tenses up instantly, “Oh uhh, Captain. What’s this about suddenly?”

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” you reassure him. Sure he’d go along with whatever it is you tried because that’s the kind of person you are but right now you don’t want things to be that way.

“Are you…” he hesitates, just in case he’s still wrong about your intentions. Which he isn’t, you know this. But will he accept it? “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

You shrug, “Do you want me to?”

He smiles just a little at that, “Are you offering me a choice? That’s not usually how we do things, is it, Captain?”

You can’t help but laugh too. Somehow, it makes the whole thing a little less insane when someone else acknowledges it. “No,” you agree, “But I think we’re a little past unconventional at this point. So what do you pick?”

“I pick yes, of course,” and so you do. You kiss him, and it’s nice. And even if you’re fated to relive the same fate over and over again, dying countless times for who knows what reason, at least you can die together. More importantly though, at least you can live together. Truly the epitome of what do we have to lose?

If all of your choices just serve to hurtle you towards the same end anyway, then you might as well make that journey an enjoyable one. Right?

Your story is not over yet, you are not done making choices. Things will move forward whether you want them to or not and soon. In about a month or so to be precise, but not in his time. None of that matters here and now though because in this little pocket of pseudo-reality, the two of you can at the very least stay linear. Looping only of your own volition and only ever down a set path. Here, in space. No one can make you choose.

[d3-iseefire]

O Captain, My Captain

Note: Oneshot based on Mark’s comment in the livestream of when the first seed of doubt was planted in Head Engineer Mark’s head concerning the captain. Also, based on the description for one of the videos that says, “it’s not like you just planted the idea in his head or anything.” Just my interpretation of how Engineer Mark (or one version of him) might have been feeling and thinking through a few key moments in “In Space With Markiplier.” Is it accurate? Highly unlikely! But I had fun writing it, so that’s that. :D All credit for “In Space With Markiplier” goes, of course, to Mark and the crew (as well as all credit for the dialogue which is all pulled directly from the show). It’s Mark’s sandbox, I’m just playing in it. Thank you for such an amazing, and inspiring show, Mark and team! :P :D

The thought started small. A seed that burrowed into his brain and refused to be shaken, no matter how hard he tried. 

Just the smallest, smallest bit of uncertainty. 

Mark didn’t doubt the captain. 

He didn’t.

They were going to stop all this. Shut down the warp core and fix everything and then it’d be fine. 

Everything would go back to normal.

He never doubted that. 

Never doubted the captain.

Except…

Until…

That one time. The time they’d actually reached the corridor. Made it all the way to the door that would take them to the warp core. 

And the lady had appeared. 

Mark had never seen her before. Didn’t know why she shot him the second she saw him. He’d been shot before (hadn’t he?). He’d forgotten how much it hurt (he had been shot before. Why couldn’t he remember when?). It was strange how it was possible to remember how bad something had hurt without remembering how bad it had hurt. 

He didn’t know the lady who’d shot him. 

The captain…he wasn’t sure if the captain knew her. The captain was stoic, always playing things close to the vest, the consummate poker face. They never engaged in idle chit chat, speaking only when necessary, or when they felt it important enough to expend the effort. 

They apparently didn’t feel this situation was important enough.

The lady, however, certainly knew the captain. Or thought she did. She looked like she’d been through hell, all blood and grime, filthy bandages and torn clothing. It might have been a uniform once. She might have been an officer of some kind, sworn to protect and serve, but those days were long gone for her now. The look in her eyes was near feral, desperate and full of despair, and the expression she wore when she saw the captain…

The accusations she spat…

“How many people have died because of your carelessness?”

None. No one had, because the captain had (was) saving them. Just like the captain had tried (was trying) to save him. Right? They had tried to save him. Hadn’t they? He couldn’t remember. The lady had shot him, and then she’d shot him again, and then she’d been outright torturing him and the captain…the captain…

There was nothing the captain could do. Obviously. What was he expecting? The lady was crazy, and armed. The best thing to do was stand back and wait, wait for the opportune moment and then step in. 

Exactly. 

The captain knew what they were doing. 

They always did. 

“We’re just going to reset and fix it,” he broke in, defending the captain as any loyal head engineer would. “It’s fine.” 

It was fine. All those loops (“Captain! What are you doing?” “It’s not fair, Captain.” “Are you going to the airlock? How did I know you were going to do that?”) where it had seemed like the captain was being intentionally negligent, or even cruel. All those times where the captain had seemingly made capricious decisions (“Let’s pop her in reverse!” “Fire all weapons!” “Open the door”). 

There was a reason. There had to be. Everything the captain did meant something. Besides, Mark couldn’t fully remember the entirety of everything they’d been through. It was just fragments, broken bits of a puzzle. And there had to have been other times, times where he wasn’t with the captain when they were making crucial decisions.

It all must mean something, even if he didn’t understand. 

There were times he hadn’t been with the captain.

And times when the captain hadn’t been with him. 

So he didn’t know everything…and he didn’t need to. 

Because the captain knew what they were doing. 

He could trust the captain. 

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

What?

“We’re not trying to hurt anybody,” he’d said, even as the words she spoke carved themselves deep into his psyche. Even as she hurled accusations at the captain, accusing them of knowing, of having done it on purpose.  “We’re just trying to save our people.”

She was wrong. She had to be wrong. The captain…

“The captain wouldn’t do that.” A desperate look toward the captain, searching…for anything. Scoffing. A laugh. 

A denial. 

“Captain, you wouldn’t let that happen, would you?”

The captain didn’t answer, but Mark didn’t need them to. 

He didn’t. 

Not even when the captain raised their hand and started tapping at that crystal (what was that thing, anyway? It was supposed to shut down the warp core, but why did it look like – ) and it was as if they knew what they were doing (like it really was on purpose) and then another wormhole opened and sucked them all through — 

Why would the captain do that? 

The lady had wanted to help them. 

And he’d been shot.

So why would the captain run away? 

And send him away?

Why would they do that? 

There had to be a reason. 

The captain had never let them down before. 

The captain knew what they were doing. 

The captain wouldn’t do that. 

They wouldn’t. 

And so the seed was planted.

***

He woke up on a dying ship. 

(He always woke up on a dying ship). 

His wounds were healed (had he been hurt? It was so hard to remember sometimes. There were so many lives, so many voices, all him, yet not him, all clamoring for attention inside his skull).

The silence alone was enough to drive him mad. Like a thick, weighted thing that pressed on him until he thought his eardrums would burst from the sheer absence of noise. 

So he started speaking, if only to keep that awful weight at bay. If only to keep himself sane (though he sometimes feared he’d already lost that battle long ago). Eventually, he forgot the reason why he started speaking and just…spoke. 

To nobody at first but, later, he would talk to the crew.  

He mostly apologized. 

Tried to explain. 

He tried to save them. 

He really did, but there were so many and just one of him and then he’d be pulled away and come back and pulled away and come back (he always came back) and every time there were fewer and fewer to come back to until finally he’d come back one day and the last cryopod…the very last…the one he’d tried so hard to save if only to prove it was all worth it, that it had all meant something…

He had tried. 

After that it was just an endless litany of going and coming back, and going and coming back, fixing problems that never seemed to be the problem, telling the crew how goddamn sorry he was even though they could no longer hear him (though it didn’t always stop them from answering)...

He didn’t think about the captain.  

The lady’s words were always there, echoing about him in the darkness. 

The multiverse is littered with the corpses of your failures. 

He refused to believe it, didn’t want to believe it. 

Surely he could save them (that isn’t how it works). There must be a way to reset, to make it all just…start over (these aren’t second chances). It was fine, it was fine, it was fine, he was going to fix it all. Rewrite the past (these aren’t second chances) undo the mistakes (every mistake has cost the lives of people who have trusted you). He was going to fix it.

How many people have died because of your carelessness? 

Not his.

Not his. 

The captain. 

She’d been speaking to the captain.

He never saw the captain on that dying ship. They were always gone, somewhere else, somewhen else, doing something. Mark would see them when he was off the ship sometimes, glimpses, brief moments here and there, sometimes longer. Sometimes entire lifetimes, lived as if universes weren’t collapsing around them (as if he had the time or luxury). A lifetime, only to close his eyes in death, and wake up once more on the rotted corpse of the Invincible II. To realize what he had thought was an entire lifetime had been nothing more than an illusion. 

An illusion that sometimes featured the captain. 

A captain who lied to him. 

Used him. 

Betrayed him. 

He always felt so much guilt when he woke up from one of those dreams (nightmares, flashes of lives not truly lived…or were they?). Guilt for wasting time. Guilt for all the mistakes he made during them. 

Guilt for doubting the captain. 

(Anger. Anger at the seeming impulsive choices the captain sometimes made. Choices that resulted in failure. Suffering. Death. Countless. Countless deaths).

(But it was okay. It was okay. He just didn’t understand. Just because it looked one way didn’t mean it was. Right? Right?). 

He’d seen that lady once. Was his loyalty so shallow he’d doubt the captain because of the words of a complete stranger? 

Right. 

The captain wouldn’t do that. 

And he believed it (mostly), even as, one day, (one day like another like any other on the rotting carcass of his pride and joy) he’d turned to see the captain standing in the doorway. 

Even as he’d seen that crystal on their hand. 

He recognized it this time. He hadn’t before (or maybe he had. He didn’t know anymore. Things had started to get so tangled in his mind, the bits and pieces stretched out and hopelessly knotted). 

“Where did you get that crystal?”

He asked, but he knew the answer. He knew where. He knew what that crystal was, and had seen it glowing in the center of the warp core powering the ship. 

Powering the wormhole. 

The wormhole they were supposed to shut down. If they could ever find it. If they could ever reach it. 

Shut it down. 

The words had been screamed, shouted, begged by so many. So many he’d lost count but it all came down to the same thing. 

Shut. It. Down. 

And, yet, and yet and yet and yet and yet. 

Here was the captain with the warp crystal on their hand like some sort of decoration. 

Like a plaything.

If the captain had the crystal it meant they'd reached the warp core. Through countless lives, countless pathways, they’d reached the wormhole…and then…

“You didn’t shut it down, did you?”

It was unfathomable. All they had to do was shut it down. Just…turn the damn thing off and all of this could end. Finally, an end. 

But instead…instead…they’d…

Broken it?

Destroyed it?

Left them trapped in this hell, with not even death able to free them…

Why? 

And for what? 

Why would the captain do that?

“Was she right about you?”

No. No no no no no. No. 

The captain wouldn’t do that. 

They wouldn’t. 

Except. 

“We trusted you!” It was a cry of pain more than anger, of betrayal. “I trusted you, Captain!” 

And he had. He might not have been as obvious as some, but that didn’t mean he was any less of a fan of the captain. He’d never admit it, but he’d lobbied for the captain to get command of the Invincible II. The ship was his baby, and as like any good father, he wanted only the best for her. 

And that best, was the captain. 

He’d thought.

He’d followed their career, read all their speeches and been just as inspired as if he’d been there to hear them live. 

He’d trusted the captain. 

And they’d…

They’d…

He didn’t know what they’d done. 

Maybe it was a mistake. Hell, maybe the captain wasn’t even really here. That happened sometimes. He’d spend hours talking to Gunther or Burt only to turn around and realize they’d never been there at all. 

Maybe that’s all this was. 

Or maybe…

Maybe it was real and maybe…maybe the captain had made a mistake. 

A mistake. Not evil, not deliberate, just a mistake. Just a foolish, human error. 

They were human after all, and humans made mistakes. 

Maybe that’s all this was. 

A mistake.

A terrible, stupid, tragic…

A wormhole opened (had the captain opened it? The captain opened it. Why did the captain open it? Couldn’t he see that Mark needed help?). 

“Captain!”

The captain was gone. They were gone and he was alone and the captain  was gone and…and…

It was okay. It was okay. He’d scared them. He’d been too threatening…it had been too long since he’d interacted with someone. The captain wasn’t running because they were guilty, or because they were abandoning him (again) it was because Mark had scared them.

He wanted to apologize, or ask for an explanation, or something but the captain was gone and now he could feel himself going but it was okay because the captain wouldn’t do that, the captain wouldn’t do that, the captain wouldn’t do that, the captain wouldn’t do that, the captain wouldn’t do that –

And the seed sprouted. 

***

The captain destroyed the warp core. 

Or broke it, or altered it, or moved it, or simply pissed it off and it was taking its revenge or something. 

Mark didn’t know what.

He didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know when. 

He just knew…who.

The captain. 

It took…a long time for that to sink in. 

A long time.

More trips to and from a dead ship. The memory of the captain pressing the crystal on their palm, with intention, of the lady’s accusations ringing in his ears, of the sight of row upon row of silent cryopods…but he finally got it. 

All of this…all of it..it had been the captain. 

A mistake perhaps. He still wasn’t quite ready to accept that the captain had done it maliciously.

Not yet (but he was closer than ever before).

It had been the captain and the realization…crystallized things in a way they hadn’t been before. 

It was up to him. 

Before…before he’d thought it was the two of them. That somewhere, somewhen, the captain was fighting just as hard as he was. Protecting the crew the same way he was. 

But if they weren’t…

If they were out there causing problems rather than solving them…

Then it was up to him. 

He had to fix things. 

He had to fix the warp core. 

And since he had no way of knowing where the warp core was it meant one thing. 

He’d have to rebuild the damn thing.

From scratch. 

It was a daunting task, and an invigorating one at the same time. He finally had a purpose, a goal to work toward. No more simply coming and going and fixing problems and going and coming back in an endless, hopeless loop. 

He got cleaned up, found a fresh uniform, and got to work. 

And it was so much work. 

And it took so long and he was still going, and coming back but, this time, now, when he came back it was with purpose. It was to get back to work and when the despair would creep in, or the hopelessness, or the question of what if this isn’t the answer after all? What if it’s something else entirely? He would push it to the side, ignore it, because he had nothing else, because there was nothing else. 

And so he worked, and the warp core took shape, and he tried to ignore the empty slot in the middle, built to hold a crystal he had no hope of obtaining unless it literally walked into his hands. And the times…many times when the despair crowded far too close to be ignored and he’d sit for hours staring into nothing, or lean against a wall, close his eyes and desperately wish to be anywhere other than here… 

It was during those times that the good memories always seemed to crop up. It hadn’t been all bad. Not every life. Not every moment. There were places, people, loved ones he’d met, and lost, along the way. 

Sometimes the thought of them simply brought more despair. 

Other times they were what got him back up. Back to work. Back to building the warp core that would take him back. He could never regain what he’d lost. He could never return to what he’d gained. 

But he could go back. 

He believed that. 

He had to believe that.

And if, over the years (decades, centuries, millenia?), an…anger started to take rise toward the captain, toward the cause of all his pain and suffering and loss, well, he ignored that too. 

Ignored it, right up until the day the warp core was finished, and the captain walked through the doorway. 

As if fate itself had finally taken pity on him. 

Mark wasn’t proud of hitting the captain with an oxygen canister. As much as he blamed the captain, as much anger as he felt…he still didn’t believe the captain had done it on purpose. The captain was misguided, flawed, perhaps stubborn or prideful or a thousand other things but they weren’t evil. 

The captain wouldn’t do that. 

He tried to explain it to them and found himself falling naturally into old patterns. Speaking conversationally, like they were friends (because they were), like he still trusted the captain (because he did? Did he?). 

Maybe he shouldn’t have. 

But the only person he trusted (had trusted) more than himself was (had been) the captain.

So it was only natural for him to turn his back on them, not once, or even twice. It only made sense to look away, to try and make the captain understand the magnitude of what was happening (had happened) and let them know that it was going. 

It was okay, because he was going to fix it. 

And then the captain threw sand in his face, and then they lunged toward the control panel and things went far too quickly to process after that until, suddenly, Mark found himself being dragged upwards toward a roaring vortex while the captain stood beneath him, gripping his hand to hold him in place. 

He’d called for the captain to help him, told the captain not to let go, and they hadn’t. 

 So what did that say?

It was still possible, wasn’t it? He’d attacked them, ripped the crystal off their hand, and they’d still caught him, still held onto him to keep him from being pulled away (which had been a kneejerk reaction because he wanted to go, that was the whole point. Going back to fix things but he was scared, god he was scared, but he still needed to go and that meant the captain needed to  let him go).

But even so. Even so, he still wanted them to hold on (let go), tell him they’d go together (he was better off alone), trust him (trust them).

He wanted to trust the captain.

“Look, I don’t know what you did –”

He could ask. He could, but he didn’t. There was no time, that’s what he told himself (but, truthfully, deep down, he knew time had nothing to do with it. He was afraid. Not of the question, but of the answer. He didn’t want to hear it, not really). Not asking meant never having to know. It meant believing that the captain had simply made a mistake. That they were human. 

The captain wouldn’t do that. 

Not on purpose. 

“-- and maybe you didn’t mean to, but I have to stop you. I have to!”

It was the only way. The only way to save both of them, and everyone else. The only way to repay those silent cryopods. 

“Please! This is it!” There would be no more chances. If what the lady had said was true, if every choice had resulted in untold deaths, if every failure had brought about more chaos. “This is the end of everything.” 

It was his first time acknowledging what he’d already known was happening. That the glitches were getting worse. The time between coming and going shorter. The lives lost, lost faster. 

It was unsustainable. 

It was falling apart. 

“This is the end of everything unless you let me go!”

But he could fix it. He knew he could. 

“Captain!” He could hear the desperation in his own voice, feel the despair of countless lives piled upon his shoulders. This was it. It had been up to him for so long and now, this was it. The only choice that really mattered. 

The final choice. 

“Please, let me go.” 

He said the words but, even as he did, his fingers still clutched onto the captain’s. 

The captain wasn’t letting go, but neither, technically, was he. 

“I know I can fix everything,” (Maybe. Possibly. God, he hoped so). “I know there’s a perfect solution. I just have to find it.” 

Please.

Please let there be a perfect solution. A solution that really did let them reset everything. A solution that really did give them a second chance. 

“This is my last chance, our last chance to save everyone.”

All those lives. 

“Everything.”

All those people. 

Please. 

He couldn’t see the captain’s expression, the light was far too bright and the noise of the wormhole too loud to hear anything they said (if they were speaking at all. Maybe they weren’t. Mayb the situation still wasn’t important enough).

But he felt it when the captain loosened their grip. 

When his hand slid free from theirs, and the force of the wormhole took its place. 

Then he was gone and, and the captain was left, and the wormhole was sucking him toward what he hoped was where he needed to go.

When he needed to go. 

And it wouldn’t be until much later that he would start to wonder about why the captain had let him go. If they’d done it genuinely believing he could change things, or if they’d been laughing in his face as they released his hand. 

He wouldn’t notice as the seed planted such a long (short) time ago multiplied and began to spread, slender tendrils that poisoned his memory and twisted his thoughts, built the anger he felt toward the captain into a raging inferno that could only ever lead to a final confrontation one day, some day. 

He wouldn’t notice as his faith in the captain eroded into ash about his feet. 

Light flashed and his boots hit steel (concrete, dirt, dead leaves, the red hot surface of a burning star) and (for now at least) he had full confidence in his ability to change things fix things, if he could just find that one moment. That one choice. 

The one that really mattered. 

The one that would finally save them all. 

He strode forward. 

And the loop ended.

And the loop began again.

[ironwoman359]

an instant of great white gravity

Summary: William J. Barnum has been promoted to Colonel, and he's finally ready to ask Celine out on a date. But before he asks her, he goes to Damien to get his blessing.

Ships: Actor Mark/Celine, one-sided (for now) William/Celine

Content Warnings: This starts out fluffy but do not be deceived, it ends in some Bitter bittersweet feelings, and the longer you think about it the angstier it gets.

A/N: Surprise! I wrote a Markiplier fic! in the year of our lord 2022! I was surprised too, tbh, but as I’m sure you guys have noticed, I’ve gone off the hyperfixation deep end over here. Currently while waiting for iswm part 2, I'm especially fascinated by the period of time Before the friendship between Actor Mark, Celine, Damien, and William fell apart, and I want to write more fics like this set within 'the before times' as it were. So if you have an idea for another scene you'd like to see in that time frame, let me know, maybe I'll write it! As always, thank you to the amazing @theinvisiblespoon​ for beta reading this for me, you’re an absolute gem and I love you! If you guys like the fic, please comment or reblog it, it would make my day!

--- --- ---

Damien scrawled his signature across the bottom of a page, then set it on top of the other completed papers on his desk. The pile of finished work was still significantly shorter than the stack that still needed attention, and Damien rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the clock, wincing when he saw it was already half past four. 

Part of him wanted to ring for his secretary and ask for another cup of coffee, but the temporary boost in energy may not be worth being unable to get to sleep that night. The last thing he needed right now was another day spent running on too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

A knock at his office door jolted him out of his musing, and he sat up straighter, quickly smoothing back his hair and schooling his expression into an attentive smile. 

“Damien? Have you got a minute, old chap?” a familiar voice called through the door, and Damien’s smile turned more genuine. 

“Of course, William, come right in.” 

The door opened, and Damien got to his feet as a tall man in a military coat entered the room. 

“How’s the new uniform feeling, Colonel?” Damien asked. “I have to say, I think it suits you.” 

“Oh, don’t flatter me, Mr. Mayor,” William chortled. “Everyone knows you’re the handsome one.” 

“Don’t let Mark hear you say that,” Damien said, and smirked when William rolled his eyes. 

“Just because Mark managed to make it big in Hollywood doesn’t mean he’s automatically the prettiest. No need to give the ol’ scoundrel a bigger head than he already has.” 

“Perhaps not,” Damien chuckled. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Will?” 

“I, er…I was wondering if I could…ask you something,” William said slowly, shuffling his feet and glancing to the side.

Damien frowned slightly. It was rare for William to be nervous, and rarer still for him to show it. 

“Of course, whatever you need.” 

Damien sat down in one of the chairs he kept in front of his desk for meetings, and gestured for William to do the same. He plopped down unceremoniously, still avoiding Damien’s gaze, and Damien swallowed.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked carefully, and bit back a sigh of relief when Will shook his head. 

“No, no, nothing like that old boy, don’t worry.”

“Then what-” 

“It’s about Celine.” 

“Celine?” Damien repeated, and Will nodded. “What about her?”

“You’re my oldest friend, you know,” William said abruptly. “I can barely even remember a time we didn’t know each other. And the same goes for Mark and Celine.”

Damien nodded slowly. He could scarcely think of a time before he knew Mark and William either; he and Celine had been visiting the manor where the boys had grown up for as long as he could remember. 

“And you and Mark, you’re like brothers to me,” William continued. “But Celine…” he smiled nervously. “I’ve been crazy about her for ages.” 

Damien’s eyes widened. 

“You don’t mean as in-”

“I’ve wanted to ask to court her for years now, but I wanted…I wanted to be the sort of man who was good enough for her. And now with this promotion…” he fingered the new bars on his uniform. “If I don’t have a shot now, then I never will.” 

“You…are you asking my permission?” Damien asked. “You know I don’t control her life, right?”

“Oh, of course,” William said with a laugh. “We both know you couldn’t if you even tried, she’s her own woman through and through. I just…it’s been the four of us against the world for so long, you know? But I know before that, it was just the two of you. If you don’t approve of me as a match for her, or if you think it’d be too weird for our friendship? I won’t ask, you have my word.” 

“William…” Damien got to his feet, and William quickly stood to join him.  “You’re one of the best men that I know. As far as I’m concerned…you didn’t need a promotion to be good enough for Celine.”  

William’s eyes widened slightly, then his face bloomed into a smile and he reached over to sock Damien on the arm. 

“Aw, bully, now you’re getting all sentimental on me, you rapscallion!”

“You started it,” Damien chuckled, rubbing his arm. “But really…I mean it. I think the two of you would be a fine match; if that’s what she wants, of course. I can’t guarantee that she’ll say yes, she’s never looked very favorably on suitors in the past.” 

“I know, I know,” William acknowledged. “And it’s very possible that she’ll be incapable of viewing me as anything more than a friend. But I need to at least let her know how I feel. Whatever happens next is her choice.”

“Life is ours to choose, after all,” Damien said. “I’m afraid I can’t give you any insight into how she might feel, she doesn’t exactly discuss such matters with me. But I’ll say it again, Will, you’re one of the best men that I know. And regardless of whatever else she may feel, I’m sure that Celine would agree with me there.” 

“Well, I certainly hope you’re right, old chap. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” 

“Will you be asking her soon?”

“I thought I’d broach the subject with her after our scheduled dinner tomorrow night.”

“Wait, is that tomorrow already?” Damien exclaimed. He turned to his desk, sifting through the papers for his appointment book, where sure enough, the dinner date with his friends was scrawled in red ink for the next evening.

“You didn’t forget, did you?”

“I didn’t forget,” Damien insisted. “I just…lost track of time, that’s all.” 

“Seriously? You lost track of time? You’ve been working too hard, Damien,” William said. “I know you’re the Bigshot Mr. Mayor now, but you still need to cut loose every now and then. For your own sanity.” 

“Perhaps you’re right,” Damien sighed. “But for now, I do need to get back to work. I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow?” 

“You better! If you’re late, the others and I will show up here and physically drag you out of the office.”

William tossed a cheerful wave over his shoulder as he exited the office, and Damien smiled to himself. He hadn’t been lying when he said he couldn’t guarantee how his twin would respond to Will’s affections, but he knew that she had always enjoyed his company. And of all the people his sister could court, she could certainly do a lot worse than William J. Barnum.  

--- --- ---

The following day, Damien did not forget about his dinner plans, and he showed up to the restaurant where he was supposed to meet his friends at six thirty on the dot. Mark and Celine were already at the restaurant waiting for him, and a few minutes later, William joined them.

“I thought we were going to have to send a search party out for you,” Damien joked, and William rolled his eyes. 

“Sure, let’s all pretend you would have remembered about tonight if I hadn’t reminded you.” 

“I didn’t forget!” Damien insisted, and William opened his mouth to reply, but Celine cut in first. 

“Are we going to go inside, or are we going to listen to the two of you bicker until they give our table away?” 

“Give away a table meant for the Hollywood celebrity Mark Fischbach and none other than the Mayor of our great city? They wouldn’t dare,” William said with a laugh. 

“Alright, alright, let’s go in,” Damien said. 

They were quickly seated, and while Damien did notice a few glances thrown their way, nobody approached them directly, which he was relieved about. Mark liked the attention, he knew, and he’d be lying if he said there weren’t times he enjoyed it himself, but sometimes he just wanted to be able to have a nice evening with his friends without worrying about the public’s eyes on him. 

“A toast,” Mark said once the waiter brought them their drinks. “To moving up in the world. May our newly elected Mayor have a long and happy reign, may the newly instated Colonel William J. Barnum lead his brigade with honor, and may the new movie I just signed a contract for not end up bombing at the box office. Who knew the three of us would come this far?” 

“I did,” Celine said, raising her glass. “I always knew you’d all do great things.” 

“While your faith in us is commendable, I do think it’s fair to say that there were times when you were our only supporter,” Damien pointed out. “Still, now’s not the time to be morose, we’re celebrating!” 

“Indeed we are,” Mark said. “As a matter of fact…” he looked across the table at Celine, who nodded at him, and Damien’s stomach dropped. “I have one more happy announcement.” 

Mark stood, holding out a hand to Celine, who took it, standing beside him. Damien stole a glance in William’s direction, wincing when he saw his friend’s face frozen in shock. 

“Celine and I would like to announce our courtship to you both. I know we’ve all been friends for a very long time, and that this may take a moment to wrap your heads around, but I hope we’ll have your support.” 

Damien swallowed, forcing himself not to think about the look on William’s face as he stood as well.

“Of course you do, Mark. Congratulations to the both of you!” He reached over to pull Celine into a quick hug, then shook Mark’s hand. “You know, I am the Mayor now,” he said, giving him a pointed look. “So I can make things very difficult for you if you break her heart.” 

“I can take care of myself, little brother,” Celine said while Mark laughed.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Damien said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you too. Besides, you’re only older by ten minutes.” 

“Yes, yes, all the congratulations to the happy couple,” William said. “Now can we please all have a seat so I can order? I’m dying to cut into a good steak.” 

“Of course, of course, can’t keep the carnivore from his meal,” Mark said with a chuckle. 

“You’re hardly any better,” Damien pointed out, taking his seat. 

The rest of the evening dragged on in what Damien could only describe as the most obliviously awkward dinner in his life. Mark and Celine seemed blissfully unaware of the tension in the air, too focused on each other to notice Damien‘s discomfort or William's uncharacteristic silence. Damien did his best to engage all three of them in conversation, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to improve the atmosphere. 

Finally, the bill arrived, which Mark paid, and the four of them got up to leave. 

“Congratulations again,” Damien said as they stood outside, waiting for the valets to bring them their cars. “I wish the two of you every happiness.”

“Thank you, old friend,” Mark said, shaking his hand warmly. “Your support means a lot to me.”

Mark‘s Cadillac pulled up beside them, and after tipping the valet, Mark opened the passenger door for Celine. The two of them waved goodbye as they drove away, and Damien returned their wave, his grip like iron on the head of his cane.

“I think perhaps you missed your true calling, old chap,” William said dully when the car was out of sight. “It seems Mark is not the only great actor among our party.”

“I didn’t know,“ Damien said immediately. “I swear, Will, I had no idea-” 

“Yes, yes, obviously,” William said, waving his hand. “But the role of the happy, supportive brother and friend? You certainly pulled that off without a hitch.” 

“Will,” Damien winced. “I…I am happy for them. The timing couldn’t be more terrible, and I’m so sorry for you, I truly am, but they do seem to be happy together. I wish more than anything that their happiness didn’t come at the cost of your pain, but… I still want to support my sister. And both of my friends.” 

William sighed, then gave a weak smile. 

“This is why you became the politician, old boy. Always finding a way to keep the peace.”

“I just want-”

“No, no, you’re right, of course,” William said. “I can’t blame either of them, really, it’s my own fault for not working up the nerve to ask her sooner.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Now I’ll probably never know what she would have said.” 

“William, I-”

“It’s alright, Damien. You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s like you said, Celine is her own woman. She’s made her choice, and I won’t stand in the way of that.” 

“Mr. Mayor?” A valet interrupted them, holding out a set of keys. “Your car, sir.”

“Thank you,” Damien said, taking the keys and handing the valet a few bills. “Can I give you a ride home?” he asked, turning back to William, but he shook his head.  

“I’ll take a cab, old chap, don’t worry about me. You run along and enjoy the rest of your evening. Or do more boring mayor stuff, whatever it is you like.” 

“I- if you’re sure, then,” said Damien. He opened the driver’s side door of his car, then looked back at William. “You know, I meant what I said earlier. You’re still one of the best men that I know, Will. And even if it isn’t in…that way, I know that Celine cares for you too. We are both still your friends…and that won’t ever change. I promise.” 

William smiled, and Damien thanked whatever might be listening that it appeared genuine. 

“I know, Damien. I won’t forget, don’t worry about me.” 

“Somebody has to,” Damien said, and William snorted. 

 “Go home, old boy, a mayor should get his rest.” 

He turned on his heel and strode away down the sidewalk, leaving Damien alone next to his car. 

“Mr. Mayor?” the valet piped up. “I’m terribly sorry, but we need the driveway clear in order to tend to our other guests.” 

“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies,” Damien said, nodding to the valet before climbing into his car and pulling out of the driveway. 

He drove home in a haze, playing the events of the evening over and over again in his mind. Could he have done something different? Said something that could have prevented this? But no matter how much he turned the problem over in his head, he could see no solution. 

At the end of the day, both Celine and Mark were adults, who had every right to choose each other. And they had seemed happy, smiling and laughing and holding hands all through the night. And Mark was a good man, he knew that he’d treat Celine well, and provide her with anything she could possibly need. 

But no matter how happy the two of them had looked, it couldn’t erase the startled, pained look on William’s face from his mind. 

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” Damien said aloud to himself as he made his way into his apartment. “It won’t change anything. The four of us have been through so much, we can make it through this. Everything will be fine. It will be.” 

And maybe, in another time, in another life, he would have even been telling the truth.

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A/N: Once again, if you enjoyed, please consider commenting or reblogging! (remember, like do nothing on this hellsite). If this hyperfixation train keeps going, then I may have to start a markiplier fic taglist again, so if you’d like to be on that, let me know! Love y’all <3

Everything Taglist: @poison-lyra​, @spacevirgil​, @mirror2thespirit, @stormcrawler75​, @backatthebein​, @bubblycricket​, @callboxkat, @theinvisiblespoon​, @fandomsofrandom​, @hold-our-destiny​, @broadwaytheanimatedseries, @grey-lysander​, @leaves-and-bounds @storytellerofuntoldlegends, @funsizedgremlin​, @iaminmultiplefandoms​, @slightlyobssesive, @today-only-happens-once​, @fluidityandgiggles​, @faithfreedom-art, @theymaynotbedenied​, @redone0-0dreamer​, @lamp-calm-sanders, @heythereprincey​, @evetheodd, @thedundundunnnsong​, @fandomloverangel, @i-read-by-lamp​ @msu82​, @thilb0burrit0,@michealawithana, @gatlily, @just-another-starfish​, @gattonero17, @cyberpunkjinx​, @lucifer-in-my-head​

[krowscrawl]

sorry yall not back with anything new lol

i'm already slacking off on studying for important tests so haven't done any proper art lately (aside from coms)

so uh

have a pile of sketches lol

some where done like a month back so yknow, art style change

but mmmmm

i've been getting back into IFs lol, replayed mindblind recently so i wanna doodle sth for it (and actually make the characters look as hot as how they're supposed to be MAN younger me did not do them any justice), also did some redesign on MC so ig now they're Nemo lol

got some stuff for iswm, i'm still deep in that rabbit hole lmaoo, did some stuff for my cap'n and DA lol

aaaand sky beta is testing new season lol, got sum new cosmetics and my brain immediately went to make my krill oc a royal harem lmaoo, we got the jellyfish prince and the manta prince ehe (really gotta flesh out their stories one day lol)

that's it for today i think lol, i might be back soon, might not be, who knows lol it's important tests month i might be dead before i know it ahaa

[eekahchu]

Help from other ADHD peeps pls?

Hey, I know a lot of Mark’s fans also have ADHD so I was hoping to maybe see if anyone else has had experience with Strattera and if it has made anyone else feel like shit? I have an appnt with my doctor very soon but my last appnt with him, after saying that I thought my medicine was making me feel bad, he was just very dismissive. Like “Oh, well you’ve been on it for so long (2 years) it seems unlikely that it would be making you feel bad now..” and sent me for a bunch of expensive cardiovascular tests and shit. (Note: It’s been making me feel off for a while, it’s just recently become unbearable)

Finally, a cardiologist told me I just have a fast heartbeat. He seemed very unconcerned and gave me MORE medicine to take to try and slow my heartbeat. BUT LIKE- am I losing my mind??? I feel like we should at least try lowering my dose, right? I’m on THE MAXIMUM dosage for Strattera. I DON’T WANT MORE MEDICINE. I’m already on 5 fucking different medications! and it doesn’t even feel like it’s helping! I feel the same as before I started taking this beta-blocker bullshit, the only difference is now I’M ON ANOTHER MED!

The fast heartbeat has left me feeling constantly exhausted and feeling out of breath. I get lightheaded all the time (and while I do struggle with anemia, I’m on an iron supplement and take it every day and my bloodtests came back normal so it’s not that), and I definitely can’t focus at all now. I “crash” a couple to a few hours after taking it and feel like I need to sleep even though I just woke up. (Which I read was unusual for Strattera since it’s a non-stimulant but hey! IT’S HAPPENING.)

Every now and then I feel “normal” and can get shit done. But that only lasts maybe a few hours and then I’m back to feeling awful.

This on top of my fibromyalgia and gastroparesis has left me feeling absolutely sick. Just complete physical disability. I’ve been trying to finish a single drawing since ISWM part 2 came out and haven’t been able to work on it hardly at all bc I feel so sick all the fucking time.

I wish doctors would listen to me.

Please talk to me fellow NDs.. I desperately need you.

(Note: I DO have an appointment very soon and I AM going to try and assert myself more about lowering my dosage or something, don’t worry. I’ve just been so desperately sick for so long I needed to vent.)