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franklyshipping · 7 years

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I Know What's Best ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

Okay so i got a really kind and lovely prompt from an immensely complimentive anon and hoooooo BOI I HOPE YOU’RE ALL READY FOR SOME TEASING BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL AM NOT…..LET’S DO THIS!!!

Bim was nervous, even though mentally he knew it was silly. It was a doctor’s check-up, and it was going to be carried out by one of his friends no less?! God Bim pull yourself together, you have no reason to be nervous. None at all….and yet…..Bim sighed to himself as he sat in the small waiting room, thinking to himself. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous….he just had this strange nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something was going to happen. Bim’s brain wasn’t being very specific, which was annoying, so Bim tried to ignore the little nagging sensation. His hands fiddled in his lap as he looked around, he was surprised to see that he was the only patient waiting…..but Bim didn’t question it. He was about to sneak a peek at the clock again before one of the check-up rooms opened and a nurse came out, smiling gently as she approached him.

‘Bim Trimmer? He’s ready for you.’

Bim smiled as he stood, smoothing out his suit as he followed the woman through the door she’d come from. Bim relaxed a little at the sight of Iplier sat at his desk, and he looked up to Bim with a kind smile as he stood.

'Ah Bim, excellent. We should be good nurse.’

The nurse nodded and promptly left, shutting the door behind he with a small click, thus leaving Bim and the medical man alone in the consultation room, which also had a patient bench…..which actually looked rather comfy. Iplier stood and paced round to where Bim was stood, a wide smile on his face.

'How are you doing Bim? No pressing medical things you need me to address first?’

Bim smiled in response as he shook his head, he was already beginning to relax at Iplier’s kindly tone; and he was at the point where he was questioning what on earth he’d been so nervous about in the first place.

'No, no I’m pretty sure I’m fighting fit.’

Iplier grinned as he clapped a hand on his shoulder, and began leading Bim to the patient bench as he talked.

'That’s what I like to hear, but I’m just going to do all the basic checks to be safe. Skeletal and joint integrity, muscle response, nerve response…..’

As Bim perched on the bench he let out a small snicker, looking to Iplier with a wide grin.

'I’m not gonna pretend to know what ANY of that means.’

Iplier let out a gentle chuckle as he began slipping on his mandatory latex gloves, he grinned widely at Bim before leaning forward and pretending to whisper.

'It’s fancy wording for “check all the right shit works”. But don’t tell anyone I told you!’

Bim giggled before miming zipping his lips shut, he legs were swinging a little…..since his feet couldn’t touch the floor when he was sat on the bench but that’s not an important factor pffft Bim’s not a midget or anything. Said man had by this point taken his shoes off and tentatively laid himself on the bench…..and it was in fact immensely comfy. As Iplier tested his stethoscope on his own chest he flicked his eyes to Bim.

'I’m gonna need you topless too.’

Bim immediately grinned wider as he shot the doctor an exaggerated expression of flirtatiousness, whilst also placing his hand on his chest; his eyes narrowed seductively.

'Why doctor…..’

Iplier couldn’t help but snigger as he sent Bim a wink, before rolling his eyes and speaking through small chuckles.

'Belieheve me, ihif that was going to behe the case I would have ahat least dimmed the lights. I have some class…..’

Bim giggled again lightly as he stripped off his jacket, neck-tie and shirt, which Iplier took from him and set on his desk in a neatly folded pile. As Iplier turned back to him, he grinned widely before he fanned himself lightly whilst gesturing to Bim’s topless form.

'Oh sweet lord…..’

Bim used a hand to cover his mouth as giggles streamed from him, and his cheeks were even going a little pink at the doctor’s silliness. Iplier found himself grinning fondly at Bim’s giddy and relaxed state, a lesser known fact was that Iplier got all of his patients into this state one way or another before he actually started whatever procedure needed to be done. He always felt that a happier patient was a more relaxed patient and a more relaxed patient meant Iplier could get his job done with less awkwardness and discomfort; it was always his key aim.

'Oho my god stohop!’

Iplier cackled gently as he came over to Bim, who had rested his arms at his sides.

'Ahalright, alright I’m done. Ohokay so first things first breathe in for me…..’

The check-up was going well, Iplier managed to check Bim's breathing capabilities and the mobility of his muscles and so far he was indeed fighting fit. Apart from a few little back strains from Warfstache working him too hard, he was doing pretty good from Iplier’s perspective. Now came for the bone and nerve checks, these were often able to be carried out relatively easily since all Iplier had to do was have a bit of a feel around. Bim meanwhile was also feeling pretty content by this point, what had he even been worried about?

'Okay I just need you to raise your arms so I can check your ribs now…..’

Bim complied as he raised his arms above his head, a small chill went down his spine as the cool air hit his ribs, but he nevertheless relaxed. Iplier leant forward and placed the tips of his fingers on either side of Bim’s ribcage, starting at the top, and he lightly pressed and rubbed at the upper bones just so he coul-

'AH! Wahait!’

Iplier very nearly jumped out of his skin at Bim’s outburst, and he immediately stopped in his rubbing for fear of having hurt him. He looked to Bim’s face and started to try and deduce how much pain he was in.

'Oh god did that hurt? What kind of pain was it? How would you place it on a scale of 1-10, 1 bein-’

’D-dohoc it’s fine! It uh….it didn’t hurt, you just surprised me that’s all…..’

Bim spoke hurriedly, immediately wanting to dissuade Iplier from thinking that he’d caused him pain…..because in this situation that was certainly not the correct diagnosis. At Bim’s words Iplier immediately relaxed…..but then his insatiable curiosity had reared its head. Iplier had spontaneously checked other areas like this and Bim hadn’t reacted so abruptly then, so what was different now? He narrowed his eyes at Bim and the latter could feel himself shrinking back a little under the doctor’s analytical gaze.

'Hm…..are you quite sure that your surprise was the only thing that prompted your reaction?’

Bim didn’t hesitate to nod, he knew that if Iplier underwent a realisation about his…..sensitivity, he would be utterly screwed. Bim’s cheeks were pink once again as he nodded….but he couldn’t keep the frantic and insistent nature of it at bay.

'Yes I swear i-it was just my s-surprise! Nothing else, honestly!’

Iplier let out a light hum as his mind worked away, his gaze took in Bim’s seemingly desperate demeanour. He knew Bim was lying…..but he couldn’t yet figure out exactly what it was that Bim was trying so hard to cover up. Hmmm…..Iplier suddenly smiled gently with his narrowed eyes, he leant forward as he spoke.

'You see Bim…..I just have this feeling that you’re lying to me…..’

Bim gulped a little as he squirmed on the bench, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable as Iplier got closer to him…..and extended his hands back to his ribs.

'Nonono I’m not I’m not!’

'Oh really?’

Iplier’s voice was harsh and stern, making Bim’s cheeks darken as his gazed became fixed upon Iplier’s hands which were inching ever closer. In the space of a millisecond, Iplier’s fingertips were back to prodding and rubbing at his upper ribs…..and Iplier’s keen eyes were fixed on Bim. The latter couldn’t escape or hide it anymore, he yipped as frantic giggles left his lips as he looked at Iplier imploringly.

'Dohohohon’t dohohohoho ihihit!’

A wave of realisation passed through Iplier…..and the first thought that ran through his mind was the incredulousness that Bim could get any more adorable, which Iplier personally thought would have been an impossible feat for the already immensely cute man. It seems Iplier was mistaken. But now the doctor finally knew what was happening…..he was going to have a LOT of fun with his patient.

'Oh Bim! Oh how could I have been so blind to your ailment!’

Iplier spoke with dramatized woe as he moved his hands to the middle of Bim’s ribcage, where the pads of his fingers vibrated and massaged every inch of ticklish skin Bim had. Bim meanwhile was getting progressively more embarrassed and giggly as he looked at Iplier with a wide-eyed expression of apprehension.

'Wh-whahahahat dohoho yohohou mehehean?!’

Iplier was trying so hard to maintain a serious façade, and as of now he was doing quite well. He decided to stand up so he was leaning over Bim menacingly, and he relished in the nervous shiver that he managed to elicit with his movements alone. Iplier’s tone deepened as he spoke solemnly.

'I am afraid that you have a severe case……’

Iplier paused for a effect as he also paused his fingers, thus keeping Bim in jittery suspense. Then suddenly his hands shot up to scratch and scribble in the hollows of Bim’s underarms as he exclaimed.

'Of Ticklish-Liaritis!’

Bim burst into snorting cackles as his arms came slamming down, but nothing could stop the shocks and ticklish waves that Iplier’s skilled fingertips unloaded.

'NAHAHAHAHA THAHAHAT’S NAHAT AHA REHEAL IHILLNEHEHESS!’

Iplier let his eyes widen as he expelled a loud gasp, opening his mouth wide at Bim to present his strong indignance and offense…..which to Iplier’s amusement only seemed to make Bim laugh harder.

'How…..DARE you! Here I am, trying to HELP you if you please! And here you are, being silly and giggly in the middle of my procedure whilst you question my credibility as a doctor?!’

Bim could only laugh and squirm as he blushed harder at Iplier’s reprimanding, his grin was wider than it had probably ever been before as his mirth and embarrassment intermingled like butterflies in his tummy.

'IHIHIHI’M SAHAHAHARRY! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!’

Iplier fought back a wide smirk as he lessened up on the wiggling of his fingers, but he still kept them moving so Bim could stay encased in his little world of giggles.

'Mmmmm I guess you can be excused for your rudeness, this is clearly your affliction talking…..’

Bim giggled squeakily as he tried to hide his face in his shoulder, his breath was jittery and jumpy……and he mumbled embarrassedly.

’……hohow doho wehe fihix ihihihit?’

Iplier was taken aback…..Bim actually wanted him to continue? Iplier observed him, his rouged cheeks, his wide smile…..his flusteredness. Iplier aww'ed internally, well if Bim was enjoying himself then who was he to cut it short? Iplier’s eyes were shining as he looked down at Bim, his medical persona back in place.

'Well…..I’m going to need to see how far it’s spread of course, to see how much of your body has been affected by it…..’

Iplier fought back a grin at Bim’s visible gulp, and yet no protest came forth. Bim only nibbled his lip and remained relatively silent, with the odd giggle slipping out. Iplier thought for a moment….until he let his eyes rest on Bim’s bare stomach.

'Perhaps your tummy would be a good place to start this investigation?’

Over the past few minutes, Bim’s clamped arms had been gradually un-tensing which allowed Iplier to now remove his hands from his hollows; not without a few skitters here and there though. Bim was yipping and giggling gently now, and in his mind he couldn’t believe this was actually happening…..well at least he now knew what he’d been nervous about. Except….perhaps the word 'nervous’’ isn’t the correct term. You see, the truth of it is….this is precisely what Bim had been hoping for; it was practically the only reason he’d agreed to the check-up. In the hopes of being tickled. Well he’d certainly got his wish, since Iplier’s fingertips were now gently tracing over his belly.

'Ohohoho gohohohosh……’

Iplier furrowed his eyebrows with mock concern, keeping up the teasing lightness so he could watch Bim squirm and giggle…..and from Iplier’s point of view it actually seemed like Bim was squirming INTO his fingertips; this was too damn precious.

'Dear oh dear, yes this is quite a serious case……my goodness you poor thing, I can’t imagine how horrid this affliction must be for you…..’

Bim’s cheeks seemed to get even hotter at Iplier’s devious words, and through his giggles he was gasping and squeaking like a mouse that had just run a marathon.

'Ohohoho my gohohohod shuhuhut uhuhuhup!’

Bim spoke in a giggly whimper, thus making Iplier harden his touch……significantly. There was no warning, not even a transition into scratches. Iplier just straight up dug his fingers into Bim’s abdominals, squeezing all over Bim’s poor tummy and even his sides; for added research. Amidst his ruthless onslaught however, Iplier’s vernacular remained perfectly nonchalant.

'I know it’s difficult to hear Bim, but I’m just in awe of how you’ve coped with it before coming to see me! Being so sensitive all the time…..it must be pure hell.’

Bim wholeheartedly agreed. This was pure hell…..and yet heaven simultaneously. He thrashed and laughed wildly as his dimples shone through from his wide, and very nearly insane, smile; whilst also trying to curl up on himself.

'FAHAHAHAHACK NAHAHAHAHAHA!!’

Iplier sighed at Bim’s hysteria, keeping up the ruthlessness by deciding to torment Bim’s belly button and waistline simultaneously. Iplier was quite proud of the fact he’d managed to keep up his stoic composure unlike Bim…..to be fair though Bim was the one being tickle-tortured so he was at a slight disadvantage. Iplier tutted a little as he spoke, all the while Bim was bucking and writhing.

'Ah yes, incoherency and loss of muscular control…..such terrible side effects…..’

Iplier decided to lessen the relentlessness, settling for tracing Bim’s belly and sides once again as Bim hastened to catch his breath and look up at his professional tormentor.

'Thihihis ihihis ehevihil!’

Iplier donned a sympathetic expression, all the while Bim giggled residually.

'I know…..I feel nothing but sympathy, I can assure you…..’

Bim resisted the urge to fling forth a retort, he knew damn well that Iplier was just being a mischievous shit. Speaking of said mischievousness…..Iplier knew that Bim probably thought he was done being ruthless, or in fact that he was done all together and that he was going to drop his façade. He was going to, very soon in fact…..but there was something he needed to do first.

'Th-thahahanks…..’

Iplier felt his heart melt at Bim’s words…..the fact that he seemed so grateful, it just made Iplier feel honoured at the fact that Bim was his friend. The doctor smiled at Bim, all the while perceiving how progressively relaxed the man became with every passing second…..and it was now. Just after Bim had spoken….this was the doctor’s cue.

'You are most welcome.’

And with that statement…..Iplier grinned. A wide, and slightly feral, grin as he suddenly launched himself at Bim and buried his face in his neck…..where he unleashed raspberry upon messy raspberry, whilst barely stopping to breathe.

'AHHHHHHH NAHAHAHAHA WHAHAHAT AHAHARE YOHOU DOHOHOING?!?!’

Bim screeched in surprise as he scrunched his shoulders and immediately started pushing at the doctor’s shoulders, which unfortunately did him no good as Iplier’s sloppy raspberry/nibbling attack continued.

'I still need a decent diagnosis!’

Iplier exclaimed as Bim wailed and cackled…..but then he screamed. For Iplier had decide to spontaneously reach behind him and squeeze the tops of his thigh muscles…..you could say that Bim noticed.

'YOHOHOHOU CAHAHAHAN’T DOHOHOHOHO TWOHOHO AHAT OHOHOHONCE!!!’

Iplier chuckled as he scratched and pinched at the, now heavily flailing, muscles all the while he messily nibbled at Bim’s ears.

'If I am to diagnose you properly, I need to carry out as much experimentation as possible!’

NOHOHOHOHO YOHOHOU DOHOHOHON’T!!!’

'Uhhh yes I dooooo!’

Iplier grinned at Bim’s protests, but was conscious of the fact that Bim’s strength to fight back was waning and the doctor certainly did not want to end up causing any real ailments to arise. Iplier started by letting up on Bim’s thighs, so that his reactions dimmed down from their hysteria gradually, and then relented on his ears and neck. Iplier did this because he was conscious of Bim’s breathing. If he had relented instantly, there would have been a lot of confusion for Bim’s lungs because of the sudden change in Bim’s body’s need for oxygen; but by doing it gradually, Iplier was allowing Bim’s lungs to get back to functioning at a steady rate by GETTING to that rate, in a less abrupt manner. He’s a doctor, he knows what’s best.

'Fuhuhuck Ihi thihihink Ihi’m dyihihing…..’

Bim gasped as he let his head fall back and rest whilst his eyes fluttered shut, his chest rose and fell slowly as his breathing rate turned to normal. Bim could still feel his legs, neck, ears and the entirety of his torso tingling from the aftermath…..Bim had never been tickled like that in his life. By god he loved it.

'Ihi can assure you Bim, that you are alive and….“fighting fit”.’

Bim felt himself smile at Iplier’s voice and at how it copied his earlier words. He opened his eyes and turned to the owner of that voice, who was in fact smiling gently himself as he observed his patient’s recovery. Bim slowly sat up and arched his back as he stretched, before looking to Iplier with a bashful expression.

'I-I know I uhm…..said it before but uh…..thanks.’

Iplier’s smile widened as Bim sat up further and swung his legs over the edge of the bench, the doctor’s eyes glimmered with new joy as Bim’s shone with his embarrassment and his residual mirth.

'Bim…..you are most welcome.’

Iplier extended his hand to Bim, who looked at it for a moment before he took it and let Iplier help him off the bench. There was silence in the room as Bim redressed himself, and smoothed himself down….particularly rubbing the tops of his legs which Iplier couldn’t help but smirk at as he sat back down at his desk. He watched as Bim turned to leave…..but then a small thought popped into his head.

'Oh Bim?’

Said man turned, curious as Iplier smiled lightly.

'Remember…..it’s important that you have medical check-ups regularly, to…..keep on top of your health.’

Bim felt his cheeks go pink again as his hands started fidgeting with one another, but he grinned and nodded.

’…..I’ll remember.’

Iplier grinned widely at him as Bim departed, with a new spring in his step, and it’s worth noting that Bim does in fact have very regular check-ups. I mean, why wouldn’t he take Iplier’s advice? After all…..he does know best.

Ohhhhhhh this was so fun to write holy heck TELL ME IF YA LIKE IT AHHHHH LUV YOUS XX

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lowat-golden-tower · 7 years

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Married... With Egos

So... here it is. The mess I poured all my blood, sweat and tears into as a celebration of @markiplier‘s 18 million subscriber milestone.

It's a doozy. I spent literal hours agonizing over this, between the writing, editing, tweaking and locating all the appropriate sound effects.... But you know what? I'm proud of the finished product. It's silly, cheesy and crazy and gosh darn it, I hope you guys like it. I hope Mark would like it. I took a lot of inspiration from him. >w>'

Mark, thank you so much for everything you do. Thank you for being such a good person, a generous person, a kind person. Thank you for donating to charity and caring for us, your community. Thank you for putting up with us all these years. Thank you for being you. I've never been more happy to see you, well, so happy! Please continue to enjoy yourself, your life and your success. Thank you.

Oh, also @alcordraws with the usual inspiration on the kiddos, eyyyy. <3

PLEASE NOTE ALL THE EGOS ARE CHILDREN/TEENS IN THIS AND PAPAPLIER IS AN EGO ALSO, NOT MARK. THIS IS MEANT TO BE A PARODY SITCOM LIKE MARKIPLIER TV's.

AO3 Mirror

This, is Papaplier.

Mark rested his hands on his hips, puffing his chest out as he observed the brand new day. It was another beautiful morning in California's happy suburbia. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and all the little rascals had the day off from school. That meant some more chaos was in store, but it was nothing Papaplier couldn't handle.

Papaplier was a normal suburban father living a normal suburban life with his sweetheart, Amy.

Bending down to grab up the morning newspaper, Papaplier turned on his heel and went back into the house. He whistled as he went, steps bouncy and light with his good mood. In the kitchen, he found Amy near the coffeemaker and gave her a loving smooch-

Please keep in mind this is G-rated programming.

-on the cheek, of course! Who knew if any of the kids could be watching? Amy giggled as Papaplier's bushy pink mustache tickled at her skin and gave him a teasing little shove.

Oh, Papaplier. You fox!

"Good morning, sunshine!" Papaplier quipped, letting his arm rest snug around Amy's waist.

She beamed at him and returned both hands to the steaming mug of coffee she was holding. "Morning. You seem to be in an exceptionally good mood today. Get up on the right side of the bed?"

"Always, when I wake up next to you."

Awwwwwwww.

"Grooooss! Amy and pops are being disgusting again!" Cried a smaller voice from the kitchen doorway.

Together, Papaplier and Amy cared for a colorful cadre of characters.

Amy pursed her lips and moved a fist to her hip. "Bing. That's a terrible thing to say. Don't be a bad influence on your brother Bop!"

A young boy, about the age of eight with the same dark hair as his Papaplier but brilliant golden eyes, peeked around the doorway with a petulant scowl. He stuck out his tongue at the pair, and another head peered out a few seconds later; hesitant. The second boy was the same age as the first, but he wore a backwards baseball cap and shared Papaplier's warm brown eyes.

"Now, Amy. They're just kids. They can't help it if they don't understand the wonders of love!" Papaplier swung Amy around, causing her to giggle again as he leaned in to rub their noses together. He cooed nonsensical affections to her.

"EWWWW! Nasty! C'mon Bop, let's go before we get secondhand ADULT COOTIES!" The golden-eyed boy, Bing, cried before ducking back down the hallway. His brother was quick to follow suit, emphasizing their footsteps with small explosion sounds.

Laugh track.

Amy laughed and pushed herself free of Papaplier's grasp, shaking her head. "You're just too much sometimes. Why don't you go track down the others? I can get breakfast going. I'm thinking... egg white omelettes. Sound good?"

"Sounds the bee's knees to me, sugarpie!" Papaplier gave Amy one more kiss on the cheek before setting his newspaper on the table and heading out. The house was rather big, but he had a vague idea as to where he'd locate all the boys. Children could be such creatures of habit.

Nevermind the fact "bee's knees" is an outdated term. No wires were crossed in the making of this program.

He found one of his two oldest in his room, as usual. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn tightly over the window. Just opening the door a crack practically illuminated the space and Papaplier recognized a familiar hiss. The only source of illumination otherwise were various lit candles scattered about the room. He squinted, pushing the door open a bit more. "Dark! How many times must I tell you? Playing around in the dark is going to ruin your eyesight!"

"Shut the door. You're what's ruining my eyesight." Dark, clearly in his mid-teens, grumbled at Papaplier from his spot on the floor. He had a rather pale, greyed complexion and eyes blacker than his hair; rimmed with more black as if to emphasize the color. On the floor before him was a pentagram drawn in bright red and ringed by more candles.

This program does not support or condone any form of the occult or occult practices.

Papaplier squawked. "Young man! That better be washable marker you used! Amy will throw such a fit if you ruined her good carpet...."

Ooooooh.

Dark hissed and scoffed, sneering at Papaplier while he slunk further back into the shadows. "I know, pa. It's fine. Just please shut my door and leave me alone." He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously deciding to sulk in wake of the interruption and scolding.

Papaplier squinted for a moment, but then shrugged and turned a smile onto his son. "Of course, of course. I'll let you play a little longer. But Amy is making breakfast, so you better get your butt down there like the rest of us!" He took Dark's grumblings as an affirmative and closed the door.

Kids these days. With their chalk and upside-down stars and candles and weird, dilapidated tomes. Dark needed to get more sun. Maybe he'd look into a summer camp...

He found Host in his room, quietly reading one of his braille books near the window. He was huddled up in his favorite coat and sunglasses, the light glinting off the streak of gold in his slicked back hair. His lips moved with the words and Papaplier felt his heart ache a little. Poor boy, losing his sight at such a young age. The Ipliers were a strong breed, though, and Host was taking the disability in stride. Papaplier was proud of his tenacity.

"Host." Unlike with his other son, Papaplier gave a soft knock on the door. It wasn't really necessary, since Host always seemed to be quite aware of his surroundings, but he felt it polite all the same. He didn't want to scare his boy. He waited until Host's face was turned in his direction before continuing. "Amy's making breakfast. Omelettes. Why don't you come downstairs? You can bring your book if you want."

Awwww.

Host stared at Papaplier for a few moments, before ducking his head in a gentle nod. Silently, he closed his book, then grabbed up his cane and got to his feet. He started murmuring to himself again as he headed out past Papaplier, and the older man sighed softly under his breath.

Well, that was two down. Better pick up the pace if he wanted the whole gang in the kitchen before breakfast got cold. Luckily, he knew just where to find four of them.

Blue, Oliver, Orville and Oxnard, or The Googs as they were affectionately called, were in their room as well. Papaplier attempted to open the door, forgetting about the state of the art security the boys had placed on it for "privacy." Oh, those crazy kids with their titanium and key pads and optical sensors. Papaplier chuckled and rapped on the door.

An intercom beside it crackled to life, and the more matured voice of Blue poured through the little speaker. "Papa, we are in the middle of a very intense project. Please stop by later if you wish to discuss something with us."

"Ohoho, now Blue! I know you kids just love doing your homework and extracurriculars, but there's more to life than studying and science projects!"

"It's not... papa, we're building a quantum vacuum thruster. It's extremely delicate work, and I must insist you let us concentrate. Otherwise, we're liable to blow up not only the house, but the entire neighborhood as well-"

"Oh, you kids! How smart my boys are. I understand, you're very passionate about your little project. Just come down to breakfast and then you can work on it some more later."

This program does not condone the construction of any weapons of mass destruction, nor does it own the blueprints for a working quantum vacuum thruster. Please do not ask us for them.

There was a few seconds of silence; probably The Googs weighing the pros and cons of the matter. Then Blue's voice came over the intercom again. "Affirmative. We'll be down shortly."

Papaplier gave a little nod and, certain he'd be getting no more out of the boys, went off to track down Bing and Bop. They likely hadn't gone far.

He found them messing around with a bottle rocket out back and frowned. Fireworks weren't exactly banned in the house, but they both knew that using any required parental supervision. "Boys!"

This program does not condone the reckless endangerment of children or unsupervised usage of explosives. No children were harmed in the making of this program.

Bing and Bop both jumped, but Bing had already lit the fuse. He gave a sharp cry and ran off, Bop peeling away in the opposite direction screaming absolute gibberish. Papaplier quickly covered his ears, wincing when the rocket shot up into the air with a whistle. It cracked loudly with the force of the explosion and bits of the rocket rained down onto the grass below.

With the immediate threat gone, Bing was right back to whooping and cheering with glee. Bop, while a little more shaken, was quick to imitate the sound of the bottle rocket going off. The two boys leaped around each other, flailing their arms until a shadow came to loom over them.

Papaplier frowned harshly down at the pair, hands firmly on his hips. "Boys."

Ooooooh.

It was their turn to wince, ceasing their celebrations immediately. They cringed away from Papaplier and Bop went back to mumbling gibberish due to his nerves. Bing went for a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh! Uh. Hey, pops. Hahaha... what... wassup?"

"Plergh maja bliff...."

Laugh track.

"No, you can't do something else! We're in this together now brah, you and me!" Bing hissed under his breath.

Papaplier quirked a brow, but his stern expression remained. He changed to crossing his arms over his chest and leaned back to indulge the misbehaving boys with some space. "Bing. Bop. What have Amy and I said about the bottle rockets?"

"Uhh..." Bing scratched anxiously at the back of his head, looking everywhere but Papaplier. "Not... not to use'em...?" He twiddled his fingers together, unable to stop fidgeting. Bop, likewise, continued to mutter nonsense.

"Mychuno."

Laugh track.

"Shut up."

Papaplier's frown deepend. "Bing, don't talk to your brother like that. Bop, don't sass your brother. You're both in deep trouble here, after all." He huffed. "You're lucky no one got hurt!"

"Aw, we knew what we were doin', pops...." Bing grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicking at the grass.

"Neeshga."

Laugh track.

"Bop."

"You're both grounded."

Oooooooh.

Bing and Bop's heads snapped up at that, their eyes wide. Bop immediately began rambling in more gibberish while Bing attempted to protest. "Aww, pops!"

"Neeshga, neeshga!"

Laugh track.

"Ah, ah. Do the crime, you do the time. Go sit at the table and have your breakfasts, then it's straight to your room. And no videogames."

"Ah, maaaan! Lame! Not cool, brah." Bing whined, throwing a bit of a fit as he stalked off back to the house with Bop in tow. "This is all your fault, man."

"Oh moratic!"

Laugh track.

Papaplier watched them go with a sigh. He'd have to clean this up later. He still had half the brood to find, and the next one on his list could prove quite elusive-

A rustle in a nearby tree immediately eased his trepidation. Luck was apparently on his side today. Leaving the bits of rocket for now, Papaplier strode over to the tree. He peered up into its boughs, but couldn't find the source of all the rustling and fallen leaves. King was in his element. "King! King, I know that's you up there. We talked about this."

There was more shifting and the creak of branches, then a face almost identical to his own came into view. There were leaves in his dark hair and a red bandanna around his neck, smeared with peanut butter stains. King blinked owlishly down at Papaplier. "Talked about what?"

Papaplier sighed. "You and climbing these trees."

"But, I love climbing trees."

"Yes, I know, that's not the problem. You just always get stuck up there, and then I need to go ask our neighbors for their ladder to get you back down..."

King pouted and puffed up his chest. "Do not."

Papaplier's expression turned skeptical. "Can you get down, then? Breakfast will be ready soon."

"Oh. Uh." King looked about the branches, his grip on one tightening with sudden anxiety. Papaplier was content to give his second eldest a few minutes, but all King really did was shift around and half-heartedly reach for a lower branch on occasion. "Uh..."

Laugh track.

Papaplier took pity on the boy and finally spoke up. "I'll go get the ladder. Just stay put. Don't fall while I'm gone. Amy would kill me." Without further ado, Papaplier made his way around the fence to the driveway belonging to the neighbors. A couple of fine young men who lived together as roommates. He could spy one of them now, washing their shared car. Tall, stocky and built, the man was quite the specimen with his soft brown eyes and neatly cut brown hair. Papaplier gave a wave to get his attention. "Good morning, Mr. Schied!"

WOOOO!

Mr. Schied pulled back from his scrubbing to return Papaplier's wave, though his expression didn't change much. He was known in the neighborhood for having quite the stoney face. "Papaplier. Good morning. How are you today?"

"Why I'm swell thanks. You?"

"Fine enough. Just giving the car a scrub since it's such a nice day outside. Let me guess, you-"

"Need the ladder again." Both men said in unison. Papaplier chuckled, while Mr. Schied simply gave a bit of a smile to show his own amusement.

Laugh track.

"I'm afraid you know me too well. King's got himself up a tree again."

Mr. Schied shook his head. "Ethan's just in the garage. He can get it for you. Hey! Ethan!" He shouted towards the little side door which had been left open, and soon the head of a younger man popped through the opening.

WOOOO!

"Saaaah Tyler? Oh! Papaplier! I didn't know you'd stopped by." The young man was paler and more lean than the other two, with a shock of blue cutting through his dark hair. His eyes almost matched and sparkled with a cheerful enthusiasm that never ceased to be contagious.

"Good morning, Mr. Nestor. Just came to ask for your ladder again. I don't suppose you could give me a hand with it?" Papaplier stepped over to the door with a friendly smile.

Ethan laughed. "King again, huh? He'll learn some day. C'mon, I'll help you set it up."

Together, they got the ladder to the tree. King hadn't budged from his spot and Papaplier was relieved. At least one of them could... semi-listen. When it counted most. "Just hold her steady for me, will you?" Ethan gave a nod, and with that Papaplier climbed up. "Alright you, let's go. Grab on." This stunt grew tricker with each passing year as King stretched out into a full grown man, but Papaplier was still confident in his abilities. With the teen clinging to his back, he made his way to the ground.

King dropped off the moment it was safe and brushed some leaves off his clothes, smiling at Papaplier and Ethan. "Thank you. I didn't mean to get stuck again, it just sort've... happened."

"It's alright. Just, please. Until you learn how to get down by yourself, don't climb up so high. Now go sit at the table. I still have a few more of your brothers to find." Papaplier watched King run off, then turned back to Ethan with a smile of his own. "Thanks again for the help. Don't know what I'd do without you two."

"Ah, it's no problem." Ethan chuckled, dismissing Papaplier's gratitude with a wave of his hand. "Always happy to help. Just help me get this ladder back in the garage, would you?"

"Of course."

Once that was settled, Papaplier set his sights on the few boys he had left. Luck struck again, as he found two more of them right in the front yard. He shook his head at the rickety old lemonade stand he'd constructed for the older boys so long ago. Of course, if anyone was going to find it and drag it out to use, it would be Ed.

Granted, Papaplier was a little surprised to find "lemonade" crossed out with red marker and replaced with the word "babies" in much smaller print underneath. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he quickly approached the stand, noting how Ed seemed to wilt when he spotted him coming. The eleven year old, sporting lighter hair than most of his brothers, elbowed the other boy standing beside him. Another Papaplier look-a-like, but wearing a cape and gloves.

This program does not condone or support the sale or purchase of babies, or human beings in general.

Honestly, it was almost summer. Papaplier worried about that boy sometimes.

"Jus' act natural!" Ed hissed to his brother, clearly trying to look cool in his sunglasses and cowboy hat. Where he got the Southern accent from was still a mystery to Papaplier.

"I was acting natural, until you elbowed me!" The other boy, Silver, whined and rubbed at his side.

Laugh track.

"And just what are you boys up to?" Papaplier came to a stop before the little stand, hands on his hips. It was his "I'm fathering" pose. One hundred percent effective and foolproof.

"Uh! Nothin'! Jus' sellin' some lemonade." Ed was quick to conjure up an excuse, though his sweating and stuttering hardly invoked confidence in his claim.

"Really? This early? Where's the lemonade, then?" Papaplier would play dumb for now. It was more fun that way.

"It's, ah, it's... Silver!! I told ya ta get tha gosh dern lemonade!" Ed, of course, was all too happy to drag someone else into his guilty spotlight.

Silver, of course, was quick to stammer and sputter and go on the defense. "No you didn't! You said, if I helped you sell some babies, you'd help me get a better costume with the money. You never said anything about lemons!"

Laugh track.

"Silver! Tarnation, you great idjit, yuh jus' don't know how ta be subtle, do ya?!"

"Because writing "babies" on the sign is subtle?" Papaplier cuts in with the barest hint of a smirk.

Oooooh.

Ed's immediate flush tells all, and he hunkers down to sulk much like Bing had earlier. "Well... gotta let tha people know what we're sellin' somehow...." he mumbled.

"And just how did you plan to sell babies?" Papaplier pushed, flummoxed and admittedly curious.

Silver toyed with his gloved hands. "Well, uh, well... we hadn't gotten any yet! But we were figuring it out, and- and- it can't be that hard. They're babies!"

"Tha's right! They practically sell themselves!" Ed concurred, getting some of his steam back.

Laugh track.

"Mhm. Right. I think, you two need to head on inside for breakfast, and we'll talk some more about this later. You know Wilford isn't going to be happy when he sees what you've done to his sign." Papaplier still had no clue as to how the boys thought they were not only going to get their hands on babies, but proceed to sell them. However, that didn't matter. Amy was bound to be finishing up breakfast by now, and he still had a couple of boys to round up. He looked at his watch with a frown.

Ushering the pair inside, Papaplier didn't need to go far to find more of his boys. "Yandere! Artie! What have I said about drawing on the walls?!" Ed and Silver were quick to dash away to the kitchen, not wanting to bear anymore of Papaplier's scolding. Beside the wall sat two boys of clearly different ages. The older, with a violent streak of red in his hair and eyes to match, wore a schoolgirl uniform. His companion was dressed in a cute striped shirt with a red scarf and beret, his long black bangs hanging down into his face.

This program does not condone drawing on the walls.

Yandere, the older of the two, looked over at Papaplier when he approached, but Artie was in his own little world. They had crayons scattered about the floor and were quite happily scribbling all sorts of things onto Papaplier's good, white walls. There was some unidentifiable figure on Yandere's side, smattered with hearts and little pink flowers and sparkles. On Artie's side was a variety, but every little drawing had the mark of a red stick figure. It looked a lot like Artie's doll, which of course wasn't far away.

"Otou-san! I've been drawing my senpai, isn't he just suuuuuper sugoi desu ne?" Yandere blissfully gushed over his drawings and Papaplier winced.

Subtitles available for purchase.

He didn't remember ever teaching Yandere Japanese...

"It's... lovely, Yandere, but I told you not to draw on the walls anymore. We got both of you plenty of paper to use."

"Mm... hai, we know. We just like the walls better!" Yandere started to draw another heart and Papaplier was quick to drop a hand onto his shoulder.

Laugh track.

"Well, look, breakfast is ready. Go eat, and then we'll sort all this out, alright? Take Artie with you, now. You won't do your... senpai... any good if you're starving."

Yandere didn't react right away, and for a moment Papaplier was worried. But then his little angel turned another beaming smile up at him. "Okay! Biju-chan, come on! I learned a new word to say at the table now! I want to see if you can say it too." He grabbed at Artie's hand, dragging the smaller boy up onto his feet.

Artie remained silent, only pausing to grab up his doll and shoot Papaplier a quick stare before stumbling after Yandere to the kitchen. Papaplier scratched at his head, glanced to the colorful mess on his wall, and sighed. "Kids..."

He scarcely had a moment to wonder where to go next before a familiar voice was shouting from the bathroom. "Is he gonna die?!"

Laugh track.

"Oh boy." Papaplier braced himself and headed for the source of the commotion.

"No, he's not gonna die. Doc would've seen it! I might've seent it."

"You wouldn't see if Bim died! It's not a crazy accident or anything."

"Yeah, well, what do you know? All you see is the weather!"

"Hey! See if I warn you about rain next time! I hope you get soaked."

"Newsflash! I wouldn't get soaked, 'cause you'd be with me, and obviously you'd grab an umbrella."

"Yeah? Well... well... you're a poopy head!"

Laugh track.

"Hey, hey, hey. Language, boys. What seems to be going on in here?" Papaplier stood in the doorway of the bathroom, raising his eyebrows at the sight laid out before him. All of the boys in the room shared Papaplier's dark hair and big, brown eyes. The oldest, dressed in the white lab coat he'd gotten as part of a Halloween costume years ago, was crouched beside his junior who was sitting on the toilet seat. All three boys were dressed rather smartly, but the two hovering near the toilet were clearly the youngest.

One of them whirled around to face Papaplier, pointing wildly at the one on the toilet. "Bim hurt himself on his cactus! There was so much blood everywhere!"

"No there wasn't, don't be dramatic." The other boy, who almost looked to be the first's twin, crossed arms over his chest and rolled eyes behind his glasses. "That's my job."

"Well you can't always be the dramatic one!"

"Says who?"

"Says me-"

"Boys, boys. Enough. Bim. Is that true?" Papaplier shifted his attention to the older boy sitting on the toilet, his brows furrowed with concern.

Bim fidgeted a bit, though he couldn't move his hands much since the oldest boy was still applying bandaids. "I... yeah. I almost dropped Matthias, and I got scared, s-so I tried to grab him and I managed to catch him but not by the pot he was in...." The words all came out in a rush. It was obvious Bim thought he was in trouble.

Awwww.

Papaplier merely smiled. "Well, accidents happen. Buck up, Bimmy-boy! At least you saved your cactus. Doc, have you been patching Bim up?"

The oldest boy, kneeling on the floor, looked up at Papaplier and nodded. "I'm only allowed to use bandaids though." He sounded remorseful and despondent, but at least someone followed the rules. Papaplier would need to reward him later.

He clapped his hands together. "Well! I'm relieved you're alright, Bim. Thank you, Doc. And you Jim, Jim, for keeping Bim company. Now why don't you all run along to breakfast?"

"Breakfast!" The Jims shouted in eager unison, not needing to be told twice. Carefully, they grabbed at Bim's arms, tugging him out of the bathroom. Doc cleaned up his mess before following them out.

Silently, Papaplier counted on his fingers. He frowned. "...am I forgetting someone...?" He made his way to the kitchen, where all the boys he'd come across had indeed gathered. He was surprised to see a familiar face sitting near Amy. "Kathryn! I didn't know you were coming over."

WOOOO!

The woman with long, dark hair and glasses smiled politely at Papaplier. "Well, I knew the kids had school off today, so I thought I'd offer some help. I know they can be a handful."

Indeed, there was quite a ruckus going on at the table. Papaplier attempted to get a headcount as he edged to his seat at the head of it. "Dark, Host, Blue, Oliver, Orville, Oxnard, Bing, Bop, Jim, Jim, Bim, Silver, Ed, Doc, King, Artie, Yandere... who am I missing...?" He rubbed at his pink mustache as he sat down, brow furrowed with contemplation while he observed his rowdy family.

Dark was sharing quiet conversation with Host. The Googs- clad in red, yellow, blue and green with eyes to match- seemed engrossed in some kind of discussion themselves, though Orville was taking far too much pleasure in decimating his omelette. Bop was attempting to teach Bing how to beat-box. The Jims were crowded exceptionally close to Bim, asking about his hands. Ed and Silver were practically wrestling in their chairs. Yandere was babbling on and on about that senpai character to Artie, who remained silent as ever and merely drew another red stick figure on his plate with ketchup. Doc was giving King a weird look- probably because King had a fluffy, brown tail sticking out from beneath his bandanna. Another squirrel? Papaplier had a lot of talks to give after breakfast.

Yet still, they seemed to be missing someone. It wasn't until Amy spoke up that he realized.

"Where's Wilford?"

On cue, there was a crackling snap above the kitchen table. A torrent of bubblegum pink burst into sparkles and there he was, the other oldest and the only one to sport Papaplier's mustache thus far. Wilford had bright pink hair to match, and he whooped as he plummeted out of mid-air onto the kitchen table with a wiggling, whining golden retriever in his arms.

Ah. Papaplier had been wondering where Chica went off to.

This program does not condone the use of reality bending abilities at the breakfast table. Or any table. No animals were harmed in the making of this program.

Immediately, all of the food was displaced. Silver and plates and glasses clattered to the floor, drinks were spilled onto laps and more than one person wound up with egg on their face. It was really only a matter of time-

"FOOD FIGHT!"

Laugh track.

Papaplier would never figure out who yelled it, but he supposed that was alright. So long as his little family was happy, then he was happy.

They were an odd bunch, those Ipliers, but the world wouldn't have them any other way.

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pick3mahlord · 7 years

Text

A counter-theory to my previous "Dark is the good guy/Mark is a bodysnatching asshole" theory

because as happy as I am with that, it still leaves a lot of other stuff unaddressed, and the inherent plot holes are gnawing at me.

I know people are broken up about Damien and the eventual betrayal of trust that turned him into Dark, but the two don't seem to fit to me. If Damien is Dark (as is Celine by forced association), then the two of them have summarily lost everything that ever made them human, and all that's left is this burning hatred and possessiveness and willingness to use and destroy anything they can in order to gain power.

That doesn't sound like either of them. Damien did have something of a quick temper and was shown to be easily influenced by emotion, but Celine was much more level-headed, and while they both have a reason to loathe Mark after the events of WKM, I don't see the two of them making the jump from apprehending or taking vengeance on Mark, to basically burning any part of the world they can't bend to their own will. It *is* within the realm of possibility, granted, but it doesn't sound at all like either of them, if their current characters are anything to judge by.

So I've been turning it over in my head all day, and what I've got so far is this: [author’s note: this turned out to be one long-ass post, so I’m gonna save some space for those who aren’t interested.]

I propose that Mark really did start out as the kind and generous youtuber we know him to be, and Celine's initial feeling was correct -- it isn't the man, it's the house. The groundskeeper mentioned something that happened in that house 15 years ago. Something that was bad enough to keep him out of the building itself, but staying on the grounds to keep watch for the next 15 years to make sure it never happens again.

Dark's presence can be felt all throughout the house. Celine sensed it, and was never comfortable staying there. This influence may also work to explain some of the behavior of the others, exacerbating the various flaws in their personalities. Turning the chef into an alarmingly violent man, the butler into a paranoid neurotic fearing his master's displeasure even after he's already dead... Damien mentions that the Colonel is already something of an eccentric, and this fact is *definitely* noted. Damien himself is seen to be usually quite calm and collected, the perfect diplomat, but somewhat prone to random outbursts of emotion, and given his worry and need to apologize instantly afterwards, this behavior may actually be out of character for him.

We know from the Detective's words that Mark was married at one time to Celine, but lost her to the Colonel. It also sounds like he either loaned or outright gave the Colonel a substantial amount of money even after that, and as Damien stated, "he reached out to you." Though it would be pretty understandable given circumstances, this makes it seem like there's no bad blood between them at least on Mark's end, or if there is, it's extremely well-hidden.

There are newspaper clippings in the Detective's study that mention some sort of legal trouble dealing with our Mayor, and I wouldn't be surprised if Mark hadn't leant his support in that as well, either morally or through something more concrete. Overall, he *sounds* very forgiving and like he'd go to the ends of the earth to help his friends. After all, they did grow up together, and they've all been close friends for years.

But I think the longer he stayed in that house, the more whatever was in there got to him. Mark is a sweet and selfless man, but he had to still carry some resentment over all of this, no matter how deeply buried it was. And Dark is a master manipulator. And the longer he was left alone to stew, the worse he got, even if he'd never show it on the outside.

I don't know what Dark would have promised him in return, whether it was power or something to pique his short-sighted curiosity and make him stumble into something stupid. I wouldn't have put it past him, honestly, if there were talk of something truly amazing, that would shock the world and make him even more famous and successful and loved the world over. Oh, he'd bite. Most definitely.

But revenge seems more likely, given the circumstances mentioned by the Detective. Especially after Celine? Hearing the man who took his wife from him ask him for his money, of all things, too? And then having to be there to pull Damien out of whatever trouble he'd gotten himself into, and be there for all his ever-gracious fans as well. Heaven knows what else.

[it's not fair, is it?]

[tonight isn't all about me...it's about you.]

I would typically tend more to prefer the idea that Mark is a bumbling idiot and did something stupid, and let something out that he shouldn't have, but I'm tentatively going with this one, because I think the latter one holds up slightly better and covers a bit more ground than the former.

So maybe whatever was in that house sat and waited for an opportunity to get free again, and it took note of the hidden anger and resentment that Mark held, and it wheedled him and dug at him for as long as it took, and twisted things, and then it promised Mark revenge.

It planned to make him do whatever it was it needed him to do, so it could take over his body for itself. But, for whatever reason, it didn't work. Mark just..ended up dying instead, quite painfully and thoroughly, I assure you. The body later appears once again in the void domain, presumably broken and useless.

**( The cause of death is...odd. It would seem to implicate every member of that party in turn, 6 causes of death for 6 people. Were their various frustrations with him channeled somehow in the process? "[Mark] is a tough son of a --- to work for.." )

Nevertheless, regardless of what went wrong and why, Mark is now definitely *very* dead, and Dark is out of a body. And we know Mark is actually for-real dead, because of the ouija board scene with the Jims. Only Mark would be stupid enough to utilize his one and only chance to communicate with the living to say "Subscribe to Markiplier." That has his name written all over it in big, cringey comic sans.

An investigation ensues, and Dark gets his second chance with the appearance of Celine, the seer. And THIS is what I think is important. Because the house is now inhabited by seven living, and two spirits -- Mark and Dark. After the séance scene with you, Damien and Celine both leave to tend to their own business while you talk to the groundskeeper outside, and I'm assuming their own business eventually means contacting Mark directly. This, of course, would draw Dark's attention quite closely as well.

During this, it sounds like perhaps as they were attempting to channel Mark through one or the other of them (usually the medium, but in this case Damien?), instead of merely speaking, Mark decided to take possession entirely and just...literally got up with Damien's body, and just walked away. Or sprinted away at top speed, as the case may be.

[ --and now that son of a bitch is walking around in *my* body...]

Damien's soul at this point is either an earthbound free-floating spirit in Mark's place, along for the ride in his own body with Mark, or he's been caste off to share a body with Celine, and THIS, I think, is the most crucial point of argument. It *could* easily have been Damien in that body with Celine, but given the aforementioned evidence in addition to what happens shortly afterwards, I don't think it is. I think she *meant* to share with Damien as a knee-jerk last resort, but ended up inviting Dark in because she didn't realize he was there. She was distracted with Mark at this point, and forgot her mistrust of the house, and left herself unguarded.

Things happen. The viewer races into the house just as Celine steps into the doorway, and it's clear at this point that someone else is in that body. People have naturally assumed it's Celine and Damien together, but her expression comes off as much more sinister than it should be in this case, and the groundskeeper's only objective is to keep her from leaving. He reacts immediately, as if he knows exactly what's happening. Celine is locked in the back room as everyone aside from you and the Colonel flees the premises.

The butler warns you to leave too, but directly after he exits, time seems to slow and a voice can be heard ("Hey!.... {unintelligible -- help? look?}.."). The viewer glances back at the door to Celine's room before making their way down in a sort of trance to the Detective's study, where they run into the Colonel.

The Colonel's presence here makes no sense -- he can be heard in the background, already having a slowed-down version of his semi-fatal argument with the Detective as you still stand at the top of the stairs, then becomes enraged by the evidence in the study and enters into the same argument all over again as you trail behind him up the staircase. There's some sort of time loop here, almost certainly triggered by Celine/Dark to bring the Colonel into that room with you and set him off into a murderous fury.

The Colonel, of course, confronts and wounds the Detective and shoots you by accident shortly afterwards, knocking you over the balcony. I don't think we're truly dead at this point, as you can still dimly hear your own heartbeat in the void, but I do think we're very badly injured, and it's probable we're dying. We *did* fall multiple stories to land headfirst onto the marble flooring, after all, and there our vision goes black. A broken neck, almost certainly. A crushed skull, mayhap, which might knock out the vision as well if we came down on the back of the head. We're not dead yet, but we might as well be.

And this was Dark's motive, knowing that the Colonel was a loose cannon. He may not be able to do much by himself, locked in tha tiny upstairs room like he is now that he *finally* has a body, but he does still hold sway over this entire house, and that body was a powerful medium in its own right. On the edge of death, he reaches out to you in a form you might trust: Damien and Celine, cruelly betrayed by someone they trust and trapped here forever, just as you are. Unless you help them. Your body still has *some* life left in it, and the only thing tougher than a medium is an already dead medium.

It's never explained, really, why you would require multiple souls in order to survive and escape, nor why you would have ended up stuck in here with them in the first place. Mark may have interfered directly with them and neither one can be said to have died a natural death, but he had nothing to do with you; the shot didn't even kill you, you merely hit the banister and fell. But Celine brought you here and they can help you, if you so choose.

You consent -- as always with him, the choice really isn't much of a choice to begin with. What else would any sensible person elect to do?

Your vision returns and you rise unharmed, to find the Colonel sitting on the bench beside your body, balancing on the edge of madness through his crimes and driven over it by your miraculous return. He gushes over what a wonderful prank it all was and staggers off to find Damien, leaving the latter's cane behind. A slender hand reaches out - a feminine hand, your own - but we're sharing this body now, and it's Damien's reflection we supposedly see as he adjusts himself, resets a broken neck with that signature motion of his, and leaves you there, trapped behind the mirror as he walks off, presumably to find the Colonel.

What better face to wear than Damien's? Who else is more trustworthy? The Colonel will be so happy to see his dear friend again. And now there's only Mark to deal with, for daring to best him.

#markiplier #markipliertag2 #markiplier egos #Darkiplier #who killed markiplier #wkm #wkm damien #wkm theory #mayor damien #pick's ego theories

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lowat-golden-tower · 7 years

Text

Like Them

Yo guys! I warned you I’d be back with oneshots. I’m in a writing groove again, and I have a bunch of ideas to let loose. Prepare yourselves. This is the first of many.

So @alcordraws has been doing amazing stuff about Markiplier’s egos for ages now. Love’em. Go follow’em. Right now.

Anyway, I got a lot of inspiration from them for these oneshots. Their theorized relationship/history between Dark and Host is just enthralling, and led me to believe “Out There” from Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame would be a fantastic scene/song for them. So I wrote it.

I also parodied the two halves of the song, though the first half shared by Dark and Host was already so spot-on you might not even notice much of a difference. It’s crazy.

So yeah. If you like the egos, and you like Disney, give this a read! And keep an eye out for more. :D

AO3 Mirror

It had only been about a week since Darkiplier brought the Host to Egos, Inc. One week back amidst civilization (somewhat), this time around without his eyes. Adjusting to all of the people and the buzz of activity was... difficult, to say the least. Host had admittedly spent the first few days curled up in his new room of the building: an old library none of the other egos had shown interest in. Host had few personal belongings besides his books, his bat and his violin to fill the minimal space. He didn't mind.

It was quiet. And dim. And no one except Dark ever came there. He was left alone to wallow in his regrets and sorrow, in the endless blood dribbling from his empty eye sockets and the constant visions swarming his head. Dark had taken the time to let Host adjust before bringing him to the headquarters, but still he felt so out of depth with his new abilities.

He missed his eyes. Though the power he now held was greater than ever before- perhaps even greater than Dark's- he had to wonder if the cost was worth it. If sensing the terrified expressions of the other egos, the hurt and disappointment on one pink mustachioed ego, was worth that superiority.

Dark certainly seemed to think so. He didn't enjoy Host's brief, quietly mumbled requests to see the other egos more, to get to know them beyond the meetings. He didn't seem to appreciate Host's interest in anyone but him. Or the Host's desire to acclimate himself to this cruel, confusing new world.

No, Dark only seemed to appreciate and show interest in the Host focusing his attentions and efforts on him and him alone. It was late one night at Egos, Inc. when they had another one of their "talks." Really, it was more Dark scolding Host than anything. If Host spoke up at all, it would merely be a hesitant mumble. Or verbal compliance. Tonight was no different, as Dark circled about him with irritation rolling off his greyed features.

Host had mentioned to Dark how Wilford was looking for someone to host the new radio show they would be testing out, a companion of sorts to the Markiplier TV scheme. He'd confessed to showing interest; to having an outlet for his stories and visions. Perhaps, even, using it as an opportunity to better fit in with the other egos, since he was to be living among them.

Dark hadn't liked it. Dark hadn't liked that suggestion at all, and he didn't hesitate to remind Host of exactly why it was such a terrible idea. His aura crackled and rang in the Host's ears as he began to speak, his deep voice lilting and almost soothing in a way that could only make one's skin crawl.

"The world is cruel, the world is wicked. It is I alone whom you can trust in this whole building. I am your only friend."

Chilled fingers swept over Host's shoulder and he shuddered at the frozen sting they left behind, even through his coat. He gathered it closer about him, feeling the temperature drop in the room. He had no doubts his breath could be seen in the frosty air.

"I, who kept you, taught you, fed you, dressed you. I who look upon you without fear. How can I protect you, Host, unless you always stay with me? Away from them."

Dark stepped up behind the Host, resting both hands firmly upon his shoulders. The frigid burn had been lessened, but now a harsh weight was applied, steadily pushing the Host down, down, down into the dark depths of the crackling aura and his own blinded mind. Static filled his ears until Dark's rumbling tones were the only thing he could hear. "Remember what I told you, Host. You are deformed."

"I am deformed." The words came soft and hushed to Host's lips as he licked them, recalling Dark's statements as his only clarity through the haze.

"And you are deadly."

"And I am deadly."

"And these are crimes for which the world shows little pity. You do not comprehend."

"You are my one defender."

Host swore he felt Dark's sinister, pleased smile at his back. He did so enjoy when his puppets knew their placed and played along to the jerk of his strings. Yet, at the same time, Host knew Dark was right. Dark was the only ego he could without a doubt trust. Dark had saved his life. The others were a mystery; a danger; a threat.

"All of them revile you as a monster." Dark sneered.

"I am a monster." Host's tone was resolved; defeated.

"All they'll do is hate and scorn and jeer."

"Only a monster."

"Why invite their calumny and consternation? Stay with me."

Dark finally released Host's shoulders, but the cold which had gathered there lingered. It clung to him, making it feel as if all that weight which had been pressed upon him was still being applied, even as he felt Dark step around to his front. He knew their eyes would be locked, if Host had them. Small blessings.

"Be faithful to me."

"I'm faithful."

"Grateful to me."

"I'm grateful."

"Do as I say..." Dark reached out to grasp Host's chin and he went stock still with fear, his breath catching in his throat. "Obey..." Host could feel Dark's cold breath fanning across his face as the other ego leaned in to cement his "lesson." The mental image his narrations conjured up terrified him. "And stay with me..."

"I'll stay with you." Host's head dropped as Dark released his face, another cloudy breath leaving his lips. "You are good to me, Dark. I'm sorry." The apology was barely above a whisper, but Dark heard it. He was satisfied- for now.

"You are forgiven. But remember, Host." Dark moved to cradle Host's cheek in his palm. It was a faux show of tenderness, and all it did was leave tiny ice crytals dusted along Host's skin. "I am your sanctuary." Dark's hand slid off his cheek, and with that their little "session" was deemed concluded. He turned his back on Host without a second thought and left him alone in his library of solitude.

Demeaned and demoralized, Host remained slumped where he stood. The temperature in the room would return to normal soon enough, but he knew the chill residing in his veins and within his heart would take longer. The library was silent beyond the sound of his own breathing.

"My sanctuary...."

Slowly, Host turned away from the door, retreating deeper into the room. He ducked among the shelves and books where their musty scent made him feel safe. It was warmer there as well, tucked away from the influence Dark had been exerting. Releasing another hushed breath, Host began murmuring to himself, allowing his hand to run across the spines of so many books he could no longer see.

"Safe behind these bookshelves and these words that I have sown, Gazing at the others from a distance. All my life I watched them as I hid out there alone, Uncaring for their histories or substance."

Host paused to pull a particular book from the shelf. He didn't need to see it to recognize it as one of his own. All of his books had been made with a piece of himself; a piece of his soul. Just being in their presence felt like home.

"All my life I'd memorized the stanzas, Never once an offering of quittance. All my life I'd wonder how it feels to pass a day, Not far from them... But part of them..."

Clutching the book in his hands like a last life line, Host left the shelves, returning the major empty space of the library. He had to pass through it to reach his own personalized corner, but his mental gaze caught the door as he shuffled past.

"And like them, Living in the sun. Give me one day like them, All I ask is one, To hold forever..."

Nonsense. Host wasn't like them. He was different. Created by Mark, but then fabricated to be different... changed... irrevocably twisted. He was chained to Dark and all of them could see it. There was no place for him. No place, except by Dark's side.

"Like them, Where they all live unaware. What I'd give. What I'd dare. Just to live one day like them..."

Oh, how part of him wished, though. How it thought and wondered and conjured ideas of what it could be like. Hanging around, joking and laughing, sharing stories and ideas to garner more attention from Mark's fans. No. No, surely Mark's fans would want nothing to do with him. He was merely a tool. A means to an end.

"With them, Among the androids and the show hosts with their fans, Around the doors and corners I can sense them. Every day they shout or laugh and go about their lives, Heedless of the gift it is to be them."

Host stopped short of his desk area, head dropping forward again. His fingertips ran across the cover of his book; worn and frayed but well loved.

"If I were there with them, I'd treasure every instance."

He shook his head and forced his feet to move. Only a short distance to his desk, and then he could sink down into his chair. Here, alone with his books and with his visions, was where he belonged. Not with them. Never with them. Yet...

"Like them, Strolling through the halls. Taste the freedom like them, Like regular egos, Who freely walk With mayhem."

Oh, wouldn't it be nice. Wouldn't it be a sight to see? If he could see. No, there was no fighting it. No fighting Dark. It didn't matter what he wanted. The other egos were scared of him, they thought he was a monster, and attempting to interact beyond the minimum necessary was... a bad idea.

Still...

"Briefly part of nonsystem, I'll be content Requiem. Won't resent, Stratagem, Blind and bent, No problem."

It would be nice. Host hunched over his desk, still clutching at his book, his knuckles a bone white. Blood was streaming freely from his broken eye sockets, soaking his bandage. He would need to change it. Again.

"I'll have spent one day like them."

Hushed and buried away, alone in his library, not for the first time... Host wept.

#markiplier #egoplier #markiplier egos #the host #darkiplier #got a tag for this series too btw #same as the series name on ao3 #egos inc #like them

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