#darkiplier fanfiction

[weirdlyhornyforegos]

Be Greedy

This idea is over a year old and self indulgent, so you know, par for the course ;p Was fun to write :3 Darkiplier x amab reader

Wordcount: 1200+

Tags/warnings: Somno, frottage/grinding

You know Dark doesn't sleep much, and that the few times he does, he really needs to, so you should let him.

Pressed close under the covers with you, he's still and relaxed.

You really should let him sleep.

But, in your defense, he's very warm in your hold, his bare back pressed against your chest, his boxer covered ass pressed snugly against your crotch.

You're barely awake, but your cock is already fully hard, a wet dream you're already forgetting the cause of that hardness.

But not the warm body pressed against you.

He might be asleep, but he has more than once said that you can take what you want, almost whenever you want.

And you want.

Oh, you so very much want.

And he should stay asleep.

So, carefully, slowly, you start to grind against Dark's ass. Just the tiniest of movements at first, testing the waters.

He doesn't stir, still and fast asleep. You press your face against the back of his hair, smelling your shampoo that he stole last night. It makes you smile as you keep rocking your hips, now with a little more force and purpose.

Dark's ass is firm against your cock, and every drag of your hips against it sends sparks up pleasure of your spine.

It's a simple motion, but it feels so good, knowing that it's Dark you're rubbing against. Certainly a lot better than your hand, or a pillow, or the mattress.

As your hips move you move your head so you can kiss his back, tempted to bite down and mark that pretty grey skin.

But you don't, instead just breathing against him as your hips keep pressing against his ass. You bite your lips to keep moans from escaping.

Dark doesn't even need to do anything to make you feel good. Him just being in your arms is enough. You squeeze your arms around him, and though for a moment he stirs and makes you hold your breath and stop, he doesn't seem to wake, so you resume.

You can feel your orgasm build up, your cock leaking, dampening the fabric of your underwear and his.

With every roll of your hips you get closer and closer, and it's getting harder and harder to keep quiet. Part of you wants to shove yours and his underwear down so you can get skin on skin, and cover that pretty ass of his in your cum, but part of you also wants to cum in your underwear like this, the taboo feeling of it all heightening the pleasure.

You don't try to control your tempo at all at this point, moving your hips as fast or slow as you feel like, a little less concerned with Dark waking up with how close you are to cumming.

You squeeze your arms around him once again, and to just a little surprise, one of Dark's hands moves to squeeze one of your arms.

"Taking what we want this morning, are we?" His voice is rough, still filled with sleep, you're not even sure he's more than half awake. You only answer him with a hum, not stopping or even slowing down. You are so close, so close to tipping over that final edge that little else matters. The act of getting "caught", if anything, heightens it all.

"Greedy." Dark yawns and stretches, the move rubbing his ass against your sensitive cock, and finally sending you over the edge.

You cum with a grunt of Dark's name, and clutch him as tight as you possibly can. He just chuckles low, letting you press against him as your cum dampens both of your underwear even more.

You both just lay there for a few moments, you basking in the feeling of your orgasm, Dark turning a little more awake with each passing second.

"What a greedy little thing." Dark comments, and you can't help but snort into his back, planting another kiss against warm skin. Like he hadn't encouraged you multiple times before to do just this.

Dark pokes at your arms, making you loosen them up so he can turn around in your arms. He grabs your face, just inspecting it for a moment while you try not to grin like a fool, which you are sure you fail by the way he scoffs, but he drags you into a kiss anyway.

It's slow, his lips pressed against yours for a few seconds before they move, leading into more and more kisses, both of your breaths turning heavy.

Tossing away the duvet, you drag Dark on top of you, making him straddle one of your thighs. Your hands clutch his hips, encouraging him to drag his hardening cock against your thigh from the second he's settled. He stops kissing you, but keeps himself pressed down, mouth going to kiss over your neck before moving slightly upwards.

"You want me to cum like this? To cover your thigh with my cum?" He speaks low right next to your ear, chuckling as you nod, squeezing his hips tight.

"How uncouth." He remarks, pretending he's above such an ask only for a moment before he starts moving his hips against you. His cock is hard, but his mouth is soft as it moves over your neck, placing kisses as he goes.

Part of you wants to drag him into kisses as he rubs himself against the meat of your thigh, but you don't want to let go of his hips for a moment, so you don't, letting him fully set the pace.

His hips are moving with decent speed, for once seeming more set on cumming rather than drawing it out for as long as possible.

Or maybe, he's in one of his moods where he wants to cum as many times as he physically can.

That would certainly help him rest and sleep afterwards, though he is clearly not resting now, his mouth moving from kisses to bites and hickeys while his hips keep moving.

His cock leaks over your thigh, with every passing second making it easier and easier to slide against your skin, even through his boxers.

He's never been the most loud, but you catch those small moans and grunts between the ones he makes you let out as he marks up your skin.

You only let go of one hip to scratch your nails against his back, having let them grow long enough since you know he loves the slight sting. He hisses against you, and as you scratch over his back a second time, he cums with a low growl of your name.

You grin, pressing down on his back as he cums, keeping him in place as hips stutter to a halt.

He breathes heavily for a few moments, before pushing against your hold so he can sit up and lean back, looking down at you with black eyes.

"Certainly a good way to wake up, no?" You ask with a grin, eyeing the damp material of his boxers and your own underwear.

"Certainly." Dark dryly remarks, but you can tell he's trying to hide a smirk. He gets up and out of bed, although only after giving you a pinch on the thigh not covered in his cum.

He takes his underwear off, throwing it into your laundry basket, not even giving you a glance to check if you are following him as he heads towards the bathroom.

He doesn't need to check, because you are right behind him, peeling your own soaked underwear off as you do so.

He's not hard again yet, but you know as soon as you get into that shower you are going to make it your mission to make him be.

#darkiplier fic #darkiplier x reader #amab reader #darkiplier x amab!reader #darkiplier x amab reader #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier smut #dark smut #dark fic #dark fanfiction #lemon #my writing #smut

[whitesuitdarkiplier]

The brain rot has begun.

#darkiplier #markiplier #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #ahwm yancy #iswm noir #illinois ahwm #markiplier egos #and if you have suggestions feel free to tell me

[itsyourimaginaryworld]

Winter Nights | Darkiplier x Gender Neutral!Reader

Ship: Darkiplier x Gender Neutral!Reader Requested by: @fluffyfranny Warnings: horror (mild) Summary: Reader walks home alone on a winter night and Dark decides to mess with them. Notes: Posting this almost an entire year later, but I hope you still enjoy. I will write everything in my inbox eventually! x Words: 591

                                                      ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Winter season had its pros and its cons. You had your snowy nights like these, which depending on how you looked at it, could be a good thing or a bad thing. You had hot chocolate and a cozy fireplace to look forward to when you’d get home, and you could sit in your blanket all snuggled up and reading a book (or more likely, scrolling through tumblr on your laptop.)

The cons, though... First of all you were incredibly cold, which had you cursing yourself for not bringing a better jacket for this weather. And second of all, the nights came way too early. The clock had barely hit quarter past five and it was already pitch black outside, not even a little bit of light from outer space to guide you, giving you a sense of fear as you walked through the empty streets by yourself.

Only a few more blocks to go. At least the snow had stopped falling down. You stopped for a second to brush the flakes out of your already wet hair and off of your jacket, when your eyes suddenly landed upon him.

The man in the suit stood under a flickering streetlight. Darkiplier, is what he had called himself. You’d only seen him a few times before, always during the nights after you watched horror movies, and while he had never hurt you, his presence was deeply unsettling to say the least. He had a red and blue glitchy effect around him, splitting him up in a sense, something you could only categorize as paranormal. But you knew in your heart that he was real, and not just a part of your wild imagination.

Because he had told you. He had showed you.

Tonight, however, something more was going on. Perhaps it was your already paranoid nature, but you needed to get away from him immediately. The two of you had already locked eyes, but maybe, it was not too late for you to turn around...

So you hurried off, adrenaline starting to surge through your veins now that you had turned your back on him. Into an alleyway you went, and you could hear footsteps behind you, closing you in.

“(Y/N)...”

His voice was so familiar and so nearby. You swallowed, tears now sparking into your eyes. Your fight-or-flight response started carrying you and you ran and ran, only to be faced with a dead-end at the end of the alleyway.

Oh no... God, please no—

“(Y/N), there’s no need to be so rude.”

You screamed as you turned around, covering your face with your arms and backing yourself into the brick wall as much as you could. Dark simply stood there, arms crossed over each other and a cold-blooded expression on his face.

He reached out. You prepared yourself for whatever was coming, hoping your death would be quick and painless. You closed your eyes tightly as the tears rolled down your face.

Dark put his arms around you and pulled you into him, your face buried in his neck now. While you were still scared, a part of you was met with surprise, and a sense of comfort that felt so misplaced. You felt his warm body against yours and his strong arm around your back, then making its way up to your head.

His other arm went to your chest and he rested his hand on your racing heart.

“You’re so easily scared, (Y/N),” Dark said with a chuckle as he brushed his fingers through your hair. “Don’t you know by now that I would never hurt you?”

#darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #darkiplier x gender neutral reader #darkiplier x GN!reader #darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction #reader insert #reader-insert #darkiplier x y/n #markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #mark egos #y/n x darkiplier #masc reader x darkiplier #fem reader x darkiplier #darkiplier x fem!reader #darkiplier x male!reader #horror #horror fic #markiplier ego fanfiction #markiplier ego reader inserts #markiplier cinematic universe

[oswinunknown]

ok tho on all that is holy, dont imagine finding dark during iswm p2 but theres no lore, no hidden codes, no games. like wilford, he gives you a chance to rest from falling through the wormhole over and over again.

like:

you cant remember the last time you slept.

in the grand scheme of this whole wormhole problem, sleep was far from your concern. every turn you took, every decision you made, all the lives you sacrificed. that made it very hard for you to get rest when the opertunity arose. it made you feel guilty for trying to rest when millions across the multiverse were suffering at your hands.

so, you kept on marching forward. a captain has to do what they must after all.

it seemed like a century ago when the novelty of visiting different universes died out. an eternity when you lost hope at finding answers, let alone a familiar face that didn't want to kill you.

it felt like several lifetimes have passed where you were blamed for this whole mess, and believed it.

as you floated wildly down the wormhole, you saw another split end to choose.

in a small fit of emotion, you closed your eyes and let your body be propelled to wherever it chose. not like wherever you landed mattered.

you felt the small jolt of arriving in another dimension peel your eyes open.

your standing in a small wooden cabin somewhere in the woods. outside the window, lushiouslly green grass was flowing with the wind, the sun accenting each blade with a touch of colour. a small patch of blue and red flowers not far from the home. there were the sounds of birds flowing overhead, the faint drone of a cricket somewhere over yonder, and the low but calming noise of a waterfall near the trees.

"fancy seeing you here, captain."

you swirled around frantically as you raised your hands to shield yourself. the past ten or so dimensions have been less than passive towards you, one might say.

"calm down captain," the man droned deeply, his body moving away to show no hostility. "its just me, relax."

your ears finally picked up on the high pitched rining and your felt your shoulders relax. "dark?"

the man nodded, his eyes raking your body for the first time. "you look like hell."

"it feels like it." you groaned, turning back to the window. "i can't remember the last time i slept."

behind your form, dark stilled at your words. he's heard something eerily similar.

closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to soak in the peace of this world before you were called elsewhere. it was rare to get a place as peaceful and as quiet as this.

"hey." dark called out, oddly soft-like as he extended his hand to you. "come with me."

it wasn't a choice. might as well.

taking his hand, the man opened the door out to the view you've been seeing. the small gust of wind against your face nearly knocking you out with comfort.

dark lead you through the wide field of flowers as you approached the woods. arriving on a paved road you could hear the sound of nature surrounding you in its tranquility.

eventually, you arrived at a quaint gazebo nestled between a few sturdy trees. the roof blooming with flowers of all kinds and colours drooping down to accent the white wooded platform

inside, you saw two small benches built against the railings, and a small table with simple foods like sandwiches and juice. on the floor was a small basket of blankets and other items you couldn't tell.

dark sat you at the bench closest to the woods and grabbed a sandwich from the table. "here, eat."

you shook your head, glancing at the glowing warp crystal in your palm before showing it to dark.

the man sighed. taking your hand and gently holding it with both of his own.

"no." he mumbles, gruff yet tenderly as the glow from the crystal dies out.

you looked at him in awe and exhaustion. "thank you."

the man gives you a small smile before handing you the sandwich he had earlier. "don't mention it, now rest up. i'm sure the multiverse will be there when your back."

as dark took a seat down a bit to your left, you took a weary bite.

you nearly collapsed right on the spot from how good it was.

this continued for quite some time, you eating your sandwiches and drinking your juice, all the while telling dark of some of your adventures to different universes. despite his rather intimidating aura, you found yourself in pleasant conversation with the man as he listened intently to your stories.

he told a few of his own. how wilford managed to convince the other egos to make a TV show called markiplier TV, the excitement around the arrival of yancy, illinois, and captain magnum. you can't remember the last time you laughed that hard at bings' antics.

as the sun was beginning to set and your food was long gone, you leaned against dark with your head in his shoulder as your eyes were fighting sleep.

"captain?" dark asked quietly, he knew you needed your sleep but couldn't help but ask. "why don't you take a nap?"

you hummed in protest. "guilt."

"what for?"

"everytime i close my eyes. everytime i try to rest, to find comfort in this wormhole. i-"

dark wrapped a comforting arm around you.

"i can hear all their screams, their cries, their anger at me. their blood is on my hands."

dark turned to you. "this is not your fault. you can't save everyone, captain."

"i have to try." you added lamely, your voice breaking slightly at the wave of tiredness that washed over you.

dark pulled you into a warm embrace. "and that is all the universe can ask from you." he whispered, taking your words in before reaching for the blanket.

"you look tired. i think you need to get some sleep."

nodding half heartedly, you allowed dark to place a blanket around your shoulders and lean against him for the night.

as you felt your mind begin to fade into unconsciousness, you smiled softly. "thank you dark, for all this."

the man smiled, "anytime, captain."

tomorrow, you would wake up in the arms of comfort and peace.

tomorrow, you would go back into the wormhole well rested and determined.

but that was for tomorrow.

and for the first time in an eternity. you slept.

#iswm #iswm spoilers #markiplier #in space with markiplier #iswm part 2 #darkiplier #dark #iswm fanfic #fanfiction #markiplier fanfic #markiplier imagine #in space with markiplier fanfiction #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #y/n the captain #captain y/n

[weirdlyobsessedwithegos]

Darkiplier x reader

Anons: 96. “I hate you.” “Why? I’m lovely.” w/ my fav blorbo,, dark & 66. “It’s a good thing you’re cute when you’re angry.”w/ our edgy man dark <3

Angry with our fav blorbo, Dark! And no worries, all is good in the end <3

Dark can be a very calm being. Very composed as the world shifts around him. Collected as things doesn’t go his way.

But even he has his limits, and when that fuse is gone, it’s gone.

Which is why, one day when you stop by his office, you’re not too put out by the Jims telling you that you should stay away from Dark’s office, as he has been in a foul mood all day. They had even heard a few crashes, and you leave them to wonder what he could be doing in there as you make your way towards Dark’s office.

You don’t bother to knock as you enter his office, one of the very few that can do so, and you’re using that privilege to not let Dark compose himself before you can see him.

As you enter, he looks up from where he is angrily muttering to himself, and you think you hear something about a fire. You don’t think you want to know.

“What are you doing here?” You hold back a grimace, the ringing in the room is loud, and Dark is splitting quite a bit, angry flashes of mostly red behind him.

“Just wanted to stop by to ask what you want for dinner tonight.”

“You could have texted.” You shrug.

“I could have, but I prefer this.” Dark narrows his eyes at you, then moves his attention elsewhere, picking up an open folder. The ringing is persistent, and every so often you can hear a creak from the air around him.

“You should leave.”

“No.” He looks at you again, taking you in where you stand with crossed arms in the middle of his office.

“Leave me.”

“No.” He sighs, throwing down the folder in his hand with such force that it scatters papers all over his desk. He stands up, rounding  his desk as he straightens his tie.

“I said, LEAVE.” The air around him fracters with multiple forms of him, the ringing is loud, and his voice is booming at that last word.

You know you should be scared, that you should be covering, or actually leaving. It’s what most people would do, but then again, you’re not most people. You care too much for him for that.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute when you’re angry.” That stops Dark right in his tracks, leaving the man squinting at you, assessing your words and the seriousness behind them. You raise a brow at his silence, and in return in he strides over to you, crowding into your personal space so you are forced backwards, and then find yourself with your back against the wall, Dark bracketing you in with his arms on either side of you.

“I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely.” You’re quick to quip back, grinning as Dark closes his eyes with a sigh.

“Darling, your optimism is insufferable.”

“Only the best for you dear.” You say as you loop your arms around Dark’s waist. He lets you pull him close, and goes with the hug you give him.

As he leans back, you give him a quick kiss on his lips. His lips feel like they’re coated in static like an old TV-screen, which is not good, but the ringing in the room is dying down, so that’s slightly better.

“Takeout?” You suggest into the silence. Dark snorts, untangling himself from you and stepping back.

“You and your food.”

“Hey, a lot of good can come from good food and a full stomach.” A few beats where neither of you say anything, and you just listen as noise in the office turns back towards something more normal. “So?” You prompt.

“Very well, takeout is... acceptable.”

“Acceptable my ass, you love that little Chinese place around the corner, don’t you deny it.” Happy with an actual response, and for the fact that Dark have calmed down somewhat, you turn around to leave.

“Acceptable ass indeed.” You look over your shoulder, and spot Dark looking at your ass without shame. You poke out your tongue at him, and you barely catch the small grin on his face as the door closes behind you.

#darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #dark fanfiction #Dark Fic #dark #darkiplier fic #Darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction #reader insert #reader #readerinsert #gn!reader

[elenavr13]

Hypnotizing Music

Darkiplier x Reader

Warning: None

Y/n is exploring the ego’s mansion when a haunting tune catches their ears.

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

Y/N’S POV

The pink sun, setting in the distance, shines through the widows as I walk down the hall. I love this place. Everywhere I look is a beautiful display of gothic architecture & nature.

A faint melody reaches my ears. It entrances me so I follow it. It leads me to a door that is slightly ajar. When I peak in, I see shadows dancing around the room while the flames on top of candles twirl their red & orange ruffled skirts. A small speaker, sitting next to a stack of books on the corner of the desk, emits the alluring tune. The song is what I can best describe as dark instrumental. The notes are relaxing but at the same time, eerie. 

My mind wanders to an old graveyard overgrown with vines as I stand in the doorway slightly swaying back & forth, hypnotized by the music. The cool wind rustles my hair as I brush my fingertips against the smooth stone embedded in the grass next to me.

“Hello doll,” Dark purrs from behind me. The corners of my mouth turn up. He always brings a smile to my face whether he is spending time with me or I am just thinking of him. Suddenly I realized that I did not just imagine Dark’s voice & I am still lingering in the doorway of the mysterious, enchanting room. I turn around to face Dark but end up hitting my forehead on the door frame because of my disorientation from reality crashing into me.

“Ow,” I place my hand over my left eyebrow where I banged my head, instinctively. Dark’s head is slightly cocked to the side as he observes me. I begin laughing a little. “Sorry, lost in thought.” His face expression relaxes & his lips form a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it.” My brain registers that he is standing about a foot away from me which causes me to become self-conscious yet again. I am even aware of my breathing. Because I am unable to read whether he is annoyed at me for sneaking around or not, I attempt to distract him just to be safe.

“I didn’t see you in the library today. Where were you?” After those words leave my mouth, I secretly cuss myself out. Why would he tell me that? God, I wish I could turn invisible & run away right now. If I was having this encounter with Wilford or really anyone else, I would be able to easily make up an excuse & leave but for some reason, my mind is malfunctioning. Why can’t I think properly when around him?

“I had a bunch of work to finish & didn’t have time to read.”

“That’s alright. I should probably go now. I have a…uh…Wilford asked me to help him with something so I should go. It was nice to see you.” I try shuffling around him but he grabs my arm & leans down to my height. Holy shit, if he doesn’t kill me, I’m going to have a heart attack & die anyway.

“You don’t really have anywhere to be right now, do you?” I hesitate before slightly shaking my head no. His hypnotic, onyx eyes glance down for a second before finding mine. “Come on.” He tilts his head towards the door I was previously admiring before he lets go of me & enters the room. My feet follow his footsteps inside.

Once I walk to the center of the room, Dark outstretches his hand to me. He remains silent as I stand there looking at his open palm. I watch as my own hand places itself in his & as his fingers gently close around the dorsal of my hand. His right hand slithers around my back, settling right below my shoulder blade, & pulls me close to him. I realize that he just asked me to dance with him & I accepted. My heart rate spikes but I ignore it as I place my free hand on his shoulder, compelling him to begin leading me around the room.

The orange light in the room sways with us as we dance. Occasionally he spins me around & my skirt twirls in the air. He is a phenomenal dancer & an excellent leader. I haven’t really danced with anyone before yet the steps come naturally to me with his lead. I have never felt so alive before; it is exhilarating. The awkward situation only moments before has escaped my mind & I am filled with bliss & delight.

#darkiplier #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier x reader #markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier fanfiction #markiplier ego x reader #youtube ego

[faeriescorpio]

People like “what does Dark do, what paperwork does he possibly have” the answer is he is now a lawyer. Yes I am going to be writing a dumb little fic about the concept of Lawyer! Dark and it will be maybe a little sad

this is what ive got so far written:

It started out, as all things do, against his will.

“What the fuck is this.” Dark stared at the open letter in confusion.

“Jury duty,” Google stated, having brought Dark the letter.

“No, I see that, but...” Dark blinked in disbelief. “How.”

“You’re a US citizen over the age of 18. You qualify.”

“No, how did they find me?” Dark glared at Google, who shrugged.

“You own this mansion. You own the fake company Wilford and Bim produce their shows for. You have addresses under your name, even though its a fake name.”

“It’s not a fake name,” Dark snapped immediately. “I’m borrowing it from... a friend.”

“right... Y/N L/N is a real name.” Google raised an eyebrow. “And this is friend exists?” Dark looked away.

“...Not anymore.”

“...Fascinating. Totally believable.” Google didn’t flinch at the fierce glare Dark gave him. “Okay, discussions of imaginary or real friends aside, how are you going to get out of jury duty?”

Maybe it was that the district attorney’s name had been invoked. Maybe it was boredom. Or perhaps it was something else entirely that let Dark respond.

“I’m not.”

Google stared at him. “What do you mean, you’re not?”

#and then dark enters the courtroom and is like: ah. i belong here. (becomes lawyer) this is going to take forever (cries) #yeah have fun ever seeing me finisht his lmao #darkiplier #markiplier #lawyer dark #i guess will be the tag if i do anymore of this #darkiplier fanart #markiplier egos #markiplier ego #markiplier ego fan art #markiplier ego fanart #darkiplier fan art #darkiplier fanfiction #markipliertv #googleplier #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos fanfiction #codi don't look #just in case #wkm da #wkm y/n #wkm #wkm references

[romanticallyghosting]

ooooo now that makes me curious, can we have fave sweets hcs? celebratory for your dad (happy birthday to him btw) angel anon

The Egos' Favorite Candy

my real birthday gift to my dad is my Markiplier Ego fanfiction in honor of his birthday/j

also i didn't know which egos you wanted to see so if you want me to add any I'll try my hardest :)

DARKIPLIER��-

he wont eat sweets often

he just doesn't find them super appetizing

but when he does dark chocolate is his go-to.

i mean its basically in his name

and he's just as bitter

so frankly its a match made in heaven

He's not too picky though and would take almost any kind of chocolate

2nd favorite is probably hard candies

but he absolutely will not eat anything sugary

if you give him like cotton candy or smth

he will hunt you down in the dead of night and make sure you won't be around anymore to make that mistake

also the type of person to believe he's objectively right

so he genuinely thinks Wilford is inferior to him because of his sugar-eating habits

WILFORD♡-

speaking of wilford

he'll eat like any candy you put in front of him

he complains about the kind of candy dark buys

but if you leave him alone in a room with any sort of candy

you'll come back to wrappers strewn all around the room and chocolate smudged around of his face

but if he goes to buy some on his own

the more sugary the better

YANCY♡-

hasn't had candy in years

so when you smuggle him some jolly ranchers one third sunday

he goes completely hyper

like

he's practically bouncing around on the walls and he seems so happy

next time he writes you he's definitely telling you to bring some more

he likes m&m's and skittles the most

no I don't take criticism

he doesn't eat super-sugary candies

but unlike dark, its not because he is snobby about it

but because there's no way he's sleeping if he takes even just a bite

ILLINOIS♡-

he likes butterscotch 100%

i don't know what else to say

he carries a big ol jar of them in his supplies whenever he goes out adventuring

and will pass them out to the other egos like a sweet old grandma

he doesn't know why

but they just help him focus and stay calm even in high stress situations

MURDOCK(MURDERPILER)♡-

running out of things to say i think lol

he's a mix of dark and Illinois

so he likes butterscotch and dark chocolate

but he won't eat sweets too often

also would never admit it but he eats lollipops and thoroughly enjoys them

#ghostly writes #anon :) #ghostly answers #angel :) #darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction #markiplier wilford #wilford warfstache #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #wilford fanfiction #warfstashe fanfiction #yancy markiplier #yancy #yancy fanfiction #illinois markiplier #illinois #illinois ahwm #illinois fanfiction #murderplier #murdock iswm #murderiplier #murdock fanfiction #markiplier fandom #markiplier egos #markiplier #in space with markiplier #a heist with markiplier

[melancholypancakes]

These are some of my favorite romantic love scenes from @destinys-dreamer fanfic of Darkiplier x Fem! Reader sunrises on the lake ☺️

I used my Y/N ( Ruth) as the reader in the drawings, it took a long awhile and I’m kinda focus on the sandman fandom so some markiplier tv fanart/ animations might take awhile too

#y/n #darkiplier x y/n #markiplier tv #i am a simp #darkiplier #romance #darkiplierxreader fluff #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier fanart

[ipromiseicanexplain]

Until I Found You - Chapter 1

Notes: darkiplier x reader, I tried to keep it gender neutral. This first chapter is just setting up the story. I'll try update soon to actually get into it.

TW: violence, blood, assault

You woke up on the cold, hard, stony floor of an alleyway. You pushed yourself off the ground and rubbed your eyes. It was dark enough that a few stars were visible but there was still some colour in the sky. You looked around and realised you didn’t recognise anything around you. Your head seemed perfectly clear. You felt fine, but you couldn’t remember very much. You didn’t know where you were or how you got here. There were people dressed in all black with masks over their faces and eyes. You wouldn’t be able to ID any of them. You felt a drop in your stomach as they started stepping closer to you, drawing out small knives and holding them out ready. You looked around for a potential exit but they had you surrounded. Your stomach dropped. There was no way for you to get out of this. One stepped forward in front of the others and started speaking to you in a low gravely voice.

“Y/N. You have to come with us. Now.” You shook your head and stepped a small step back.

“No, no. You- you must have the wrong person.” he chuckled lowly and stepped closer to you again.

There was a stabbing pain in the back of your head and the sound of a glass bottle smashing filled your ears. You fell to the ground and your vision started going out of focus and hazy. Not so hazy that you didn’t notice the flash of yellow in front of you. A massive contrast to the world around it. You thought it was talking to you. It snapped at you and things came into focus again. It was a man. With a pink moustache. He had a yellow button-up shirt, light brown khaki pants, and pink suspenders.

“Hey there friend, nothing to worry about. We’re gonna make sure everything’s alright” One of the other people there started to move towards him but he pulled out a gun and shot them. They fell to the ground and the blood started to seep from underneath them. You looked further down the alley and there was another man fighting your attackers. From what you could see, he was wearing a dark suit. He slashed at someone’s throat with one of his daggers and twisted his body towards you. A small piece of hair fell down in front of his eyes and he paused for a moment before twisting back around to slash at the person again. He had the same face as the man standing in front of you. You looked back at the man who had spoken to you and found that he was staring at you with raised eyebrows, expecting something. Did he ask me something?

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“My name is Wilford Warfstache.”

“What is going on, I- I don’t know where I am and these people! Who are these people” your face was heating up and your heart started to beat faster and faster as you realised how weird this was. Wilford and the other man had continued to fight a lot of the other people there but the last of them ran away. Wilford started to race after them, gesturing with his gun as he ran.

“Wilford. Get them, let's go.” Wilford grabbed my arm and in a split second we were out of the alley and standing in the doorway of a house. A big house. Wilford opened the door for you and bowed at you playfully and gestured for you to enter first.

“They’re back”. There were 6 other men in the living room through the door on the left, and they all had the same face as the two men who came to get you in the alley. There was someone dressed in a doctor’s coat, another like Indiana Jones, someone dressed in a trenchcoat with a bandana over his eyes, one of them was in a dark blue shirt with a ‘G’ on it, another with a black singlet that said ‘bing’, and the final person was in a plain white shirt and black jeans. You were soon acquainted with Dr Iplier, Illinois, The Host, The Jim’s, and Yancy. The Doctor took you into the medbay to check up on how you were doing. You stepped into the sterile white room and the Doctor gestured towards one of the beds and asked you to take a seat. He gently cleaned the wound on your head but luckily you didn’t have a concussion. Other than that, you were a pretty healthy person. After you had been given the all-clear, Dr Iplier left the room and came back with Darkiplier.

“So, you’ll be staying here with us. Any questions?” Darkiplier said as he stepped closer to the bed you were sitting on.

Wilford, Yancy, and Illinois took you around the manor, giving you a tour of where you’d be staying. They finally took you to your room. You were on the same floor as Darkiplier (as well as his study), Wilford, Illinois, and Yancy. The Host, Dr Iplier, and the Jim’s were on the next floor. They explained that they ate dinner together every night, with everyone taking turns to make it (With Wilford making desserts when he wanted to) and had a movie night at least once a month. They left you in your room understanding how tired you would be.

#darkiplier x reader #markiplier egos #fanfic #darkiplier fanfiction

[weirdlyhornyforegos]

Kinktober Day 6- Underwear & tentacles

MINORS DNI!!!! Day 6 of Kinktober is: underwear & tentacles - Dark X gn!reader. Lingerie counts as underwear right? ;3 Also posted on AO3 Kinktober masterlist is here

Wordcount: 1.2k+

Tags/warnings: tentacles, oral, penetrative sex

You get about three steps out of the bathroom before tentacles wind their way around your ankles and waist, lifting you with ease.

“You’re so impatient.” You tease Dark as his tentacles move you so you hover at the end of your bed.

“Can you blame me? I was the one that got it for you after all my darling, and I want to see.” Dark hums from where he leans against the headboard, fully black eyes clearly watching you, taking in every inch of your lace and strap covered body.

It’s always a little harder to tell exactly where his gaze is when his eyes are fully black, but you’re sure he appreciates the way the lace hugs your hips, how the cloth straps criss-cross your chest alongside the lace, and how the matching garter belt keeps up your thigh high stockings.

Dark doesn’t say anything for a little while, letting the silence linger in the room as he just.... takes you in you suppose.

You wonder what is going on in that head of his, and if he’s getting any ideas. You can surely think of a few on your own, which makes you try to squirm in his tentacle’s grip, eager for him to do more than just watch.

“Such a..... lovely sight I have in front of me.” Dark’s grin is sharp as he tilts his head, a single lock of hair falling out of its place.

“Sure would be a shame to ruin it.” He can’t actually think he’s just gonna keep you up like this here all night?

But no, that is clearly not what he thinks, because seconds later a tentacle slithers up your thigh, slipping inside of the lace it finds at your crotch, another doing the same from behind.

The one against your front brushes against your arousal for a moment, just resting there as the one from behind, already slick with something, sinks inside of your hole with ease.

“Gah, fuck, Dark!”

“That was the idea, yes.” He sounds so smug. The half-heated glare melts into nothing as the tentacle inside of you starts with shallow and small trusts, while the one against your front moves just the way Dark knows will work so very, very well to turn you into putty.

“Look at you, all on display for me, looking so perfect as you get fucked.” You suppose you could offer him some sort of response, but all you can focus on is the tentacles inside and against you.

You grip the tentacle around your waist as you have nowhere else you feel they could got, but they are quickly moved behind your back and kept there by another set of tentacles.

It makes you arch your back, making heat travel up your face. He really wants to look huh?

Well, if he wants a show, you’ll give him one.

You throw your head back, moaning loudly and rocking downwards against his tentacles as one moves against your arousal, while the other fucks into you from behind. Well, you’re rocking down as well as the tentacles holding you allows, but it makes a satisfied smirk form on Dark’s face as you glance at him.

“Is my darling enjoying themselves?”

“Ah, yes, fuck, very much so.” You pant out, a slight grin on your face as you can see the tent that has formed in Dark’s pants.

“Good, because I intend to enjoy the show that you all will make.” He works over his pants fast, fishing out his cock, giving you a good view as he gives himself a few languid strokes.

Suddenly, the tentacle inside of you slams in, sinking deeper inside of you and growing. You groan, finding another tentacle at your mouth seconds later. You open for it so easily, and it slips inside, coating your tongue and mouth in the slick it produces.

The one inside of you slips almost all the way out, sliding in and out so teasingly slow at first, but quickly setting a rather fast pace. You feel the lace covering you slip to the side, but you hardly pay it any mind as the tentacle in your mouth starts to move as well, matching the tempo of the one on the other end.

The one against your arousal keeps its movement from before, but now a lot faster.

It’s all so slick and wet, filling the room with the most wonderful noises as they fuck you. The noises mingle with your own moans and sounds as pleasure fills your body.

It feels like every nerve ending is filled with it, and as you open your eyes and look at Dark, you see him watching with rapt attention as he strokes his cock, speed matching his tentacles.

The sight makes arousal pool in your gut, adding another layer to the almost mind numbing pleasure you feel.

Warm, wet, and firm tentacles start to slither over more of your body, but all making sure to slip under your lingerie, not keeping any hidden from Dark’s steady and heady gaze.

You twitch and shake, trying to rock down or move against one or more tentacles, but it’s hard with how you’re being held and fucked, so in the end, you just let yourself enjoy the ride, feeling the pleasure that runs through your veins and is making you shake wonderfully.

When you cum, your orgasm comes in waves, making you clench around the tentacle inside of you, and almost sob with good it feels around the one in your mouth.

As you come down from your high, the tentacles get out of your body, making you take a few deep breaths, and clench around nothing for a moment.

You’re not left empty for long however, as the tentacles shift, moving you up onto the bed, dropping you in Dark’s lap.

His cock sinks inside of you with ease, so stretched out and ready for him. The tentacles don’t let go of you, instead starting to bounce you up and down on his cock. You whimper, a little sensitive, but it always feels so good to be filled by Dark’s cock.

“What a perfect show for me darling.” His hands join his tentacles, gripping your hips hard as they and the tentacles slam you down on him as he cums, filling you in another familiar way.

“You need to get some more lingerie .” Dark says as he keeps you on his cock, his words a little breathless, and as his tentacles retreat, you can stroke your hand through his hair and get that errant lock of hair back into place.

“Oh I do, but I think you should as well.” You tease. To your surprise, Dark hums, seeming to be giving it some actual thought to it.

“Perhaps. But for now, let us get you out of those and into a bath.”

“Sounds like a plan, but only of you join me.” Dark helps you off his cock, and you feel his cum drip out of you as you move.

“Well, of course, I do need to get out of this suit after all, and what better excuse to do that than to take a bath with my darling.”

#dark #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #Darkiplier #darkiplier smut #dark smut #darkiplier fic #darkiplier fanfiction #my writing #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #smut #lemon

[whitesuitdarkiplier]

Darkiplier x reader who finally confronts him for stealing their body and leaving them behind? Sobbing and filled with sorrow and rage as they scream at him, and Dark has the crushing feeling of remorse, because he had become so broken and bitter over the years that he hadn’t truly thought about what he and Celine had done to the reader. He hadn’t stopped to think about it, because he knew if he ever did that he would never be able to keep up the bitter rage to complete his mission of revenge against actor mark.

IDK, I just like the idea of the actor maybe starting out of getting the reader from the mirror and putting them in his stories, but that the memory wipe isn’t as good as he thinks it is, because the reader, every time they start to remember, chooses to stay, because at least actor came back for them. Because while actor mark is Dark’s villain because he stole his body and left him to die, technically, Dark did the same thing to the reader. So, Dark would technically be reader’s actor mark. So how can they ever be what they were before? How can they? Every time the reader looks at Dark, all they see is their own walking corpse.

Anyways, I like pain and angst and think that would be cool to be explored.

Prompt: “He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what? I don’t need you anymore.”

This was so emotional to write. Thank you for this prompt! Angst is good for the soul sometimes. I hope you really enjoy it!

You and Mark had been on many adventures together. Many crazy situations you didn’t know how to escape, many fun times you never wanted to end…and all the while, he thought it was because you couldn’t remember who you were, what had happened—what he had done. Whatever he did to purge you of your memories faded more and more with time. There were inklings of the truth always there, always an option to leave and never look back. To leave the demon to his demons and rest your own soul.

But even though by now you remembered everything, knew what was going on, you stayed. You stayed by his side. You said yes to him, you never split up, you held on. Because despite the sins of his past—he always did the same for you. He found you, lost and broken, alone where your once best friend had left you. He picked up those shattered pieces and made something new, gave you a starring role right by his side. He called you friend.

Perhaps it was all a lie. A way to keep someone else trapped with him in this never ending purgatory; misery does love company, after all. But even so…he never abandoned you.

You were back in the void again, a familiar ringing, a familiar face. Dark stood before you, and you’d met him a thousand times before. But now was different. Now, you wouldn’t remain silent.

“I know the feeling of being trapped in his games,” Dark said, almost pleading with you to wake up, “But we don’t have to be.”

“We?” You scoffed, something in you set ablaze, “There is no ‘we’. You left me. You promised we would fix things together and then you left me.”

You start to shake. You’re standing before your own broken and battered corpse. You try to see Damien and Celine beneath it all, but…you can’t. Not anymore. All those years of solitude and pain boil to the surface in rage and sorrow.

“Do you have any idea how long I waited, scrounging my mind for even the smallest bit of hope that you would return for me,” tears quickly form in your eyes and spill down your cheeks, “You were so caught up in your thirst for revenge that you discarded me like an old cloth and left me to rot! But you know who found me? You know who saw my broken soul and helped me? Mark.”

You took a step forward, your anger fueling you. “Mark gave me a second life. I’m not trapped in his games, Dark. I’ve chosen to stay because he actually gave enough of a fuck to come back for me!” You glare at him. “You talk about him and his sins, but you’re the same as him. You betrayed me. Your friend. I trusted you! And you tricked me and stole my body. You’re just like him.”

Dark scowls, staring at you, but he says nothing. He has no defense, no excuse. And for the first time in so, so long…the burning rage is dampened and in its place are the cold ashes of remorse. He’s never felt more pain than this moment, when his friend…former friend, pierced him with the ugly truth. He never stopped to think of you left in that mirror because of him. He convinced himself that somehow you were in the mirror because of Mark. But it was him. The two of you could have left that manor together and tried to pick up the pieces, leaving Mark alone with no story to tell. But he played into his hands.

“So he’s gotten what he wanted,” you say bitterly, “You are the villain. And he’s the hero.”

Dark’s she’ll cracks into a million versions of himself, screaming in agony and rage. Still, he says nothing.

You turn and start walking. Just as you could choose to leave Mark at any point…you can leave him in his void. Mid-step, you stop and turn around. Fire still burns in your eyes, and your next words are a knife to Dark’s heart.

“He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what?” There’s venom in every syllable. “I don’t need you anymore.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re standing in the control room of the Invincible II, staring out the window into the cold vacuum of space. You’ve let go, you think. You’ve accepted your role, took back some semblance of power over your own life. But still…it’s a hollow victory.

“Thank you,” Mark says beside you, looking towards your new home planet. You look at him, his eyes so sincere it makes your heart ache. So much that you don’t stop to wonder if he’s just being a good actor.

“For not giving up on me,” he says with a soft grateful smile.

You reach out and grip his shoulder in a friendly gesture. Your friend. Your captor. Your hero.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#darkiplier #in space with markiplier #markiplier #who killed markiplier #a date with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #iswm part 2 #iswm #iswm darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier x reader #ahwm darkiplier #engineer mark #actor mark #wkm darkiplier #wkm actor mark #actor mark x reader

[fdq666roadie-blog]

Prompt: Tentacles Relationships: Darkiplier/AFAB Reader Characters: Darkiplier Tags: Tentacles, Double Penetration, Blow Jobs, Consentacles, Cum Inflation Sorry for the slight delay!

#markiplier fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #darkiplier x reader #reader x darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction

[theknightmarket]

"What do you get out of this?"

In which Dark finally reunites with his victim in the mirror. Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - AO3 TW: cursing Pages: 27 - Words: 11,500

[Requests: OPEN]

As it often was, the manor was silent. The staircases lost their breath long ago, the floorboards coped with the expected and constant weight, and the doors fell into disuse to the point that they faded into the walls. Altogether, even the rats were too spooked to enter those abandoned hallways, for fear of exciting ghosts or ghouls from the mist. Nothing went in, nothing went out. 

And that was just how Dark liked it. Society had moved too fast for him, leaving him in the dust as some poetic punishment. Some part of him had always been alone, another part abandoned, and the last part dictated by it. He didn’t want any part in a thing that would only work against him, so he was content to stay in the confines of the manor, not that leaving it was ever an option. If he could, he would have by now; he would have escaped and found some quiet shelter where the memories of his actions couldn’t haunt him. 

From time to time, he would be reminded of the events all those years ago by three simple things. Or, rather, people. The first of which was anything but simple – Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache had not visited the manor in quite a while, instead, roaming both space and time, looking for his next interviewee. Dark had heard about a robot he constructed, or stole, that he used to get his next, for lack of a better term, victims. He knew of one person that had already perished from the faulty wiring, and he was not planning to be his next, the fact that he couldn’t die notwithstanding.

The second was someone less dramatic. In fact, despite him definitely being around, Dark never saw hide nor hair of him. Benjamin was an elusive creature, skulking around the corridors and making noise in the kitchen at the most random of times. When he had first arrived, he went about making meals and snacks for the ‘new masters’, but what with Wilford never being there and Dark not needing to eat, his habits were just that: habits. The faint smell of baking cookies was ever-present though, which made a venture by the kitchen a pleasant treat on a hard day. 

And, as he passed that room, it was indeed needed.

Because, for the third and final reminder, not only memories lurked around the corners, but consequences, too. Cruel, despairing consequences that almost had Dark turning tail and rushing back to his office. His still heart was in his throat as he moved through a hallway, unnecessary breath quickened when he glided under an arch, and, when he stepped foot into the foyer, he felt as though he would pass out then and there. 

At the side of the entrance, as it always had been, was a mirror, one that he had never touched or looked at in the last hundred years. Just the thought of it made the room seem colder, if it were possible, because one thing was undeniable; this one was his fault. He had trapped a dear friend in perpetual darkness for nearly a century, acted as though he had no knowledge they still existed, and went about his business. 

He wondered if you could ever forgive him. 

Although he would never know if he didn’t do the one thing that struck fear into his heart like lightning igniting the ground. He would have to talk to you. That was, if you even wanted to talk to him, because – despite Dark’s lacking social skills – he knew that conversations had to be a two-way street, and he wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to cross that line. 

But first things first.

Heaving a dramatic breath was harder than the 12 labors of Hercules, but Dark managed it anyway, if only to get over the first hurdle, and carefully brought his fist to the corner of the mirror. If this went well, he could finally get that nagging part of him to quieten down. 

One knock was easy. Simple. Almost instinctual. The second was much less so. The brief pause between sounds was empty of condemnation or acceptance, but the quietness that followed his next knock was damn-near painful. Was he doing something wrong? Had he already messed everything up? 

He supposed he did that when he locked you in the mirror in the first place. 

“Hello?” he spoke numbly. Some part of him wanted you to come right out and yell at him, curse him, do whatever just to show that you were open to confronting him. Another part perished the thought. It couldn’t bare you emerging from the darkness with unquenchable wrath towards him, a thirst for vengeance that he couldn’t manipulate his way out of – so give him the calm you, the one that would listen to him when he apologized, probably scold him some, and then let your relationship build back up again. Notably, that was the part of him that reminded him of what had happened every time he crossed the foyer. And then there was the smallest section of his heart, nestled at the very bottom and buried beneath years of guilt and denial… that didn’t want you to appear at all.

But that would negate his reason for being there in the first place, and fleeing with his tail between his legs was not Dark’s forté. So, crossing his arms over his chest and digging his heels into the floorboards, he stood his ground. 

“Hello?” he repeated, confidence creeping steadily into his tone. “We need to talk.” 

Technically, that was a lie. You didn’t need to talk, nothing bad would happen to you if you didn’t show up, but there had been a steadily creeping feeling of distress for Dark that urged him to take some action. Obviously, you wouldn’t be doing much initiating from behind the glass, so that left him standing before you. Hopeful, hesitant, alone. 

“I have matters to discuss with you.” He reasoned to himself that he could communicate, if not as a friend, then as a business partner. The cold logistics were his strong suit, after all, and it negated the risk of developing an emotional attachment. It did mean ignoring a large part of him – the part of him that wanted to make that connection – but it was better than the alternative. 

However, as he waited, it became apparent that he didn’t have to worry about that struggle. You weren’t going to appear, it seemed, the seconds ticking by on the grandfather clock behind him. The damned thing taunted him, and he was sick of it as soon as he noticed. If you didn’t want to talk in that moment, fine, but you wouldn’t be getting away with the silent treatment that easy. 

Besides, it wasn’t as though he had gone into this interaction with any kind of plan, and that was what he was good at, planning. So, the only reason why this hadn’t worked first try was because he hadn’t thought it out well enough. Tomorrow, then, you would talk, he would make sure of it. He couldn’t fail twice in a row?

He failed twice in a row. The next day, after Dark had knocked again at the wooden edge of the mirror, watched the glass in the frame shiver ever so slightly, you didn’t appear. You denied giving him even the slightest hint of recognition. 

“We need to talk,” he insisted, acutely aware that he was repeating words from before, but what else could he say? He wasn’t one for patience, and you would find him dead thrice over before he begged. No, you would have to take what he gave you, accept that he wasn’t going to throw himself before you in desperation. 

It didn’t make this any easier on him, though. The seconds that shuffled past him felt like wading through mud. They grated on his nerves, pulled at his skin, his hand leapt to his jacket to fiddle with the edges. Normally, it was enough to ground him and keep him from acting out, but, as before, Dark was not one for patience. 

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” he started, relatively soft in comparison to what he could be, “but we don’t have time for it. I don’t have time for it.” 

He understood that creating false urgency was somewhat backhanded, but he really did have to speak with you. Perhaps overexaggerating the situation, if it was needed, was something he was prepared to do. 

He pressed on, “I came here to talk to you and that is exactly what I’ll be doing. You’re not going to get me to stop just because you’re acting like a child—” nothing, “—because you are! You are a child, and, right now, you are not helping anyone by staying silent.” Still nothing. 

The air around him flexed and popped as Dark grew more and more agitated. Red and blue bent around each other like oil in water, droplets and sparks and smoke that curled over his shadows. He was racked with indecision, the three parts of him threatening to tear him apart, drawn and quartered, just to have their own way. He hated not being able to make up his mind, because that left him not entirely focused on the thing in front of him. In such an important moment, he had to be, lest he say some undesirable things. 

“What are you doing?” As such, it was unfortunate that he was indeed undecided, “Are- are you throwing a tantrum in there, are you sulking? I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me!” A crack spiderwebbed itself in Dark’s little bubble. The sound of a sharp fracture echoed through the manor’s halls. Despite Dark straightening his back, dropping his shoulders, adjusting his grip on his suit jacket, the crack remained. “Okay,” he huffed, “I accept that I’ve made mistakes, but they weren’t horrible. This was for the best, and, frankly, I believe you’re being selfish. Three lives are more important than one, and, yes, I admit that our method was… backhanded, but that doesn’t give you the right to ignore me for it.” 

He gave it ten seconds before squinting his eyes. Goading hadn’t worked, pseudo-apologies be damned, what else was he supposed to do? He refused to stoop so low as to concede his wrongdoings, far more there were in your opinion, leaving him with nothing. He stared at himself through the glass, clear as day, practically crystal. 

“Fine. Act like that,” Dark muttered, “You’re the one who’s trapped, not me.”

A beat passed. The glass didn’t change. Just plain indifference.

“Oh, be quiet.” With that spat towards the mirror, he turned on his heel and marched back to his office. 

Four times. Four times. When the clock struck nine for the past four nights, Dark would make his way towards the mirror in the foyer, disregard anyone and anything in his path, and knock on the wood, never to receive an answer. Four times over. 

And it wasn’t as though it was getting any easier to wait; self-restraint was being exercised more than patience, because it was all he could do to keep himself from shattering the glass even more than it already was. The other mirrors were not as safe. Those in the bathrooms, library, and two of the bedrooms fell victim to Dark’s frustration, leaving messes of shards and splinters where they used to hang. They were disposable, your mirror was not, nor the one that met his eyes across his office. It was cleaner, less fancy that the one in the foyer, and he found it the only one that he could handle being in the presence of, and the only one that could handle being in his presence.

Although, one living being did manage to hold his own in the same room. 

“Oh, Dark! I’ve been looking for you.”

Wilford had been flitting in and out of the manor recently, more rapidly than before but just as unreliable. Dark didn’t know what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to waste time asking him outright. The man could straddle a fence all he liked, he had more important things – not that they were working out any better. 

But now that Wilford was confronting him directly, he didn’t have a choice in talking to him. If only you saw it the same way…

“I’m where I’ve been for the past century, Wilford,” Dark responded, eyes not moving from the documents in front of him. 

“Hmm—” he pulled himself onto the desk, “—Is that so?”

He didn’t bother to hide his sigh as he dragged his glare up to his friend’s face. The look on his face spoke more words than he could be bothered to say. Confusion, annoyance, a general ‘get on with it before I kick you out’ sort of tone. 

Wilford was unaffected. “Well,” he drawled with that unpinpointable accent, “I’m just saying that there’s been a few times I’ve popped in when you haven’t been here.” His hands darted for the pen stand on the desk. “Though, the mirror was definitely a surprise.” 

Damn it. If there was one thing that Wilford and Dark had in common, it was a certain omniscience for things in the manor. Whether he had actively seen his attempts to talk to you didn’t matter, he would know either way, like a nosy child. He was quickly growing tired of childish antics, but that could have just been the permanent mood for the week. 

The weariness not only had Dark pushing his chair away from the desk to swing one leg over another, but it also halted his reaction time, if only for a millisecond – unfortunately for him, that was all the time Wil needed to notice. 

“What were you doing, anyway? You haven’t spoken to our friend in the entire time we’ve been here, and you weren’t there to worry about your appearance.”

His permanent sugar-coated smile turned sour, the edges pulling taught and his teeth sharpening. The knowledge of everything and everyone in the building doubled into annoyance at not knowing a secret. Wilford liked to be in on the joke.

Dark wouldn’t let him in that easy, not when his attempts had gone wrong every time. “We were only,” he paused, “talking.”

“You certainly were!” Wil’s chortle came out boisterous, clashing with the shadows of the room. “I can’t say the same about them, now, can I?”

Dark never liked giving in to his more dramatic urges, but rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics was the very furthest he would go. Always turning things into a joke, stripping them of severity and seriousness. Sometimes, on the very oddest of occasions, he could understand it. He’d seen his mental break when he stole your body, and he had accepted his denial for the next month or so, but there was a point when things had to matter. Getting you to talk to him mattered. 

Wilford looked over his shoulder at the mirror. His smile barely softened as he raised one hand to send you a wave. You hadn’t fully appeared, you never did in Dark’s office, but there was the faint outline of some shape that hinted you were at the very least listening in. Of course, you didn’t say anything back. Wil thought you were both similar in some respects - for instance, you were both as stubborn as a mule. You’d decided to look into the office, so you were interested in what was going on, and Dark’s last week of trying to talk to you proved his persistence. Another thing you shared was a hatred for Mark – and, no, he wasn’t going to censor that man’s name in his own train of thought, he was a big boy – so if you both agreed to work together, Dark might actually make some headway in his search for the criminal. You could finally put that combined pig-headedness to good use. 

“I’m trying to get them to respond, but they steadfastly refuse to.” Dark’s fluid complaint had Wil swinging his head back to him. 

“I can’t say I blame them.”

Alarm shot over one’s face while the other looked pleasantly calm. Siding with someone you refused to even look at him was a surprise, but it shouldn’t have been so shocking; the manic time-traveler was the definition of a wildcard, he always had been.

As he spoke, Wil snatched a pile of papers from a semi-open drawer to rifle through. “From what I’ve heard,” he began, “you were being quite rude last time. Calling them a child, really, what did you expect?”

“I was expecting some kind of answer.”

“Ah, so you were goading a response out of them. Not at all releasing any pent-up aggression, eh?”

Dark didn’t like this. He didn’t like the sudden turn of the tables. Wilford had gone from the eaves-dropping child to the parent giving their own a scolding. He didn’t like the loss of control he had over the situation. But what he disliked the most was the idea that he was lying about his intentions. Too many people had been accusing him of that, neither straightforward, and it was becoming an unfavorable pattern to him. 

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Wilford.”

“Oh, but I’m not insinuating anything! I’m only suggesting that this was not the most effective way of getting them to talk. If you wanted them to play nice, you’d better do so yourself.”

“I am playing nice.”

The words came out with his namesake in mind, a volume walking the line between a growl and a yell. His ashen knuckles became as white as snow against the edge of the desk, Wil was surprised he couldn’t see inactive veins underneath his skin. Although he didn’t meet his eyes, they were sure to be glaring daggers at whatever he was looking at. None of this worried him. Noisy neighbors, stray dogs, the occasional estate agent who thought this looked an easy sell – they all were topics of Dark’s anger. This, though, was something a little different. 

The blue and red that echoed around him fought against itself in a desperate attempt to both stay close to Dark and throw distance between the colors. The dangerous aura of power surrounding him was getter less and less stable with each passing day, and he had some theories on what could be causing it – undoubtably, it was you, that much was obvious. However, he didn’t know whether it was him going near you or staying away that created this unpredictability. What he did know was that he would have to sort it out soon, or risk something happening that was out of his control. 

The least he could do for now was rein himself in, so, almost begrudgingly, Dark straightened out the lapels of his jacket and contained himself to his chair. Wilford watched him all the while, not scared, but with a knowing look on his face that made Dark want to kick him out of the manor entirely. 

“I’ll try again in the morning. Now, I have business to attend to, and I would appreciate no distractions.” The excuse was not subtle, but it worked in getting Wil to slide off the desk and ready himself to leave to whatever time period tickled his fancy. Dark, meanwhile, immediately dropped his gaze to the paper in front of him, not sparing him a second glance. 

Wil called as he began to strut out, cheery as if nothing had happened, “And don’t forget your manners, Dark!”

He merely huffed in response. Pale acknowledgment he was known to give even in times of calm, though, a thing he lacked now was attentiveness. He directed all of his focus to ignoring Wil, meaning he also ignored his next words sent towards the mirror. 

“The same goes for you, old friend. It’d be nice if we all got along,” he spoke. Both his tone and expression were imploring, something you had not seen for a good while. Hell, any emotion beyond crazed carelessness was a rarity, so it would be a lie to say you were going to disregard the change in behavior that easy. 

You don’t say anything when Wil passed by, nor when he lets the office door fall closed. Normally, you would leave the second he did; you weren’t a fan of being in the same room as Dark for longer than entertained you, and, without someone who knew you were there, it became boring. Why this day was any different, you didn’t know, but your subconscious urged you to stay behind. Watch. 

You nearly laughed at yourself, even though it would give your position away. You yourself were practically a subconscious, a physical body long gone thanks to the very person in front of you. You couldn’t interact with the world outside the mirrors, you couldn’t leave the manor, you couldn’t do anything, that was his fault. 

The very faint lines of a figure dispersed like a cigarette’s smoke as you left the room, a single thought that sent you fleeing. 

Why did it feel like you were trying to convince yourself?

Nine o’clock. Wilford had tried to get him to come earlier, but a routine had been established, and Dark, although he would never admit it, did find himself using the time to mentally prepare himself. That, and his space-faring friend had only appeared ten minutes before to see the interaction through. 

Speaking of which, that very man was standing a few feet away from him in the kitchen’s archway, an encouraging and pleading grin marring his face. He hadn’t asked why it was so important to him that you get along, his sudden interest seeming suspicious, but he wasn’t about to try and get an answer out of two stubborn mules. 

His fist met the wooden frame three times. His feet shifted on the floorboards. He waited with bated breath. 

“I would appreciate if we could have a civil conversation.” 

One, two, three. 

“I’m sorry, but my mommy told me not to talk to strangers.”

It had been such a long time since he had heard your voice that Dark flinched at the sound of it. It was bitter and hostile and mocking and a part of him damn near blushed. He quickly shut it down with a swallow and grab of his lapel, but, for a brief second, he couldn’t deny that he was happy. You showed up. Progress.

But the look on your face didn’t suggest there was going to be much more. It was his job to fix that, and, from Wilford clearing his throat somewhere behind him, he was going to have to do that without getting into an argument. 

Dark thought for a moment. Just like before, it was difficult not having his full attention on something. He couldn’t lose this opportunity to talk to you, but it would help to collect himself. The best he could do that was by talking slowly and clearly, and under no circumstances could he lose his temper.

“I apologize for calling you a child. I had planned to talk to you, and it,” he sighed, closing his eyes, “annoyed me that I couldn’t do that.”

Good news: you were still there when he opened them again. Bad news: you looked expectant at best, still pissed at worst. 

“And what else?”

Dark squinted, back tracking the lecture he had given you and your history together. “I apologize for calling you selfish.”

“And what else?”

The corners of his lips tugged downwards harshly into a frown, the most he could do while he resisted rolling his eyes, but he managed to choke out, “What else? I apologize for everything I said last time I spoke to you.”

He wouldn’t deny that he felt smug. It wasn’t a look he liked for himself, but it was a good feeling. Knowing that you had outsmarted someone was enjoyable, and that someone being a person you’d recently got into a disagreement with was even better. 

He did not feel smug when you repeated for the final time, “And what else?”

In fact, he spluttered, a fish pulled out of water. What else could there possibly be? He hadn’t spoken to you for nearly a century, he can’t have done anything to insult you without ever interacting with you, could he? Or were you trying to outsmart him back? That sounded like you, you were the district attorney, after all. You were probably hoping he would admit to something that you didn’t know he did. Well, he wouldn’t play your game. 

“What else is there?” Dark asked, staring you dead in the eyes. 

You stared back. 

There was something about the mirror that made it impossible to look at you. Every second, the image of you was switching out between your hazy form and his own face. Both equally ashen, both equally annoyed, both equally inhuman. In one hundred years, the pair of you had gone from friends sharing a cup of coffee, talking over that one unenviable case, to bulls waiting to see who would make the first move. Neither dared move, not for fear, but for displaying weakness. 

Your pupils were the first to shift. While the rest of you remained stock-still, they dragged up and down his body. From the face to the suit to the legs, it was almost as though you were cataloguing everything that he had changed from what you used to look like – until you brought your eyes back up to his. 

“Well, thank you for apologizing for that.” 

That sentence had his shoulders relaxing somewhat. You had taken his olive branch, it was the second step in constructing a partnership that would, hopefully, turn out to be mutually beneficial to you both. Dark could move in the manor, sure, but you had the void, a place where he spent a lot of his time. Maybe he left some clues, or even a body—

“I don’t forgive you.”

You snapped the olive branch between your cold hands. 

“What?” Dark hissed, practically outraged, “I’ve already apologized for everything I did, what else is there?”

A strange sort of enragement flashed over your eyes at his words. You kept your cool, but there was no doubt that, had you the option, you would have strangled him. Although he didn’t know what he’d done this time, the snarl beginning to curl over your mouth and the flexing of your hands gave more than a hint. When you moved them to gesture wildly around the void, Dark thought you were going to give it a try anyhow. 

It didn’t make him think any deeper about it though, him simply answering to your silent point, “I’ve covered that.”

You let your arms drop to your sides. “Yeah, and then you had to apologize for it, so you obviously didn’t do a good job.” 

What was meant to be a helpful little chat, maybe that would grow into something else, was rapidly collapsing in on itself. A snake eating its own tail to satiate its hunger. Except, this time, it satiated nothing, save for the want to have the last word in an argument. Both of you suffered from that fatal flaw. Stubbornness ran like a virus through inmoving veins, without mercy or pity. Maybe if it had been only one of you, you could have gotten along, but that was not the case.

“I’ll reiterate, then,” Dark began as he straightened himself out, “Mark stole Damien’s body and one entity of this house commandeered Celine’s. That left three spirits wandering the void: Damien, Celine, and the remaining entity. Are you keeping up with me?” He needed to slow down. “Good. Now, and I feel the need to emphasize this, it was coincidence that your body was left unoccupied when you were shot. We didn’t plan for that.” He really needed to slow down. “We didn’t plan for any of this, but it’s what happened, and we took it in stride. The next course of events is simple. We appeared to you, you agreed to let us occupy your body, and so we did.” Pump the brakes, pull the plug, slow the roll. “Don’t talk because I know what you’re going to say. Two spirits in one body is pushing it, three is dangerous, but four? It’d be a waste of a perfectly good host; it would self-destruct as soon as the brain caught up.” Stop talking! “So, I’ll ask again. What else is there?”

Had he been alive, Dark’s heart would have been beating so hard that you might have been able to see it through his suit. Of course, he wasn’t alive, and neither were you, so he wouldn’t have been able to see yours trying to force its way out of your ribcage, either. If there ever were a chance that you would feel sympathy for this man, he had wiped it out just like that. His little monologue might have felt nice at the time, but you promised that you would make him regret it. Talking to you like a child, who did he think he was? 

“For someone so high and mighty, you sure are dumb,” you spat back. Explaining it in a more courteous sense had crossed your mind, but it was stamped out. 

An annoyed “What?” was the only response you received. 

“Do you think that I’m mad at you for stealing my body?”

“I wouldn’t call it stealing, but yes, I do.”

You scoffed. All that preaching and he wasn’t even right on what you were pissed at. “I don’t care that you, fine, inhabited my body without me—” Even giving that little leeway was painful to you, but you struggled through it, “—I’m mad that you left me in here.”

That gave Dark pause, something that no one had been able to do for quite a while. Sure, they could get him to quiet down, mostly through annoyance in Wilford’s case, but it was an achievement to get him to stand and contemplate someone’s words, genuinely. He didn’t understand what you meant entirely. 

“I couldn’t do anything else,” he settled for saying. 

“Of course, you could.” Your voice had fallen quiet. Where that had been fire and fury and blinding stubbornness, you seemed to have slipped into a smaller volume. Simple. If he didn’t know you any better – and after such a time, there was a chance he didn’t know you at all, anymore –, he might have said there was a hint of pleading. 

“Like what, for example?”

“You could have spoken to me, you- you could have stopped to look at me, for once!” You were rearing up again, the collapse of the walls hadn’t lasted very long, making Dark wish he hadn’t asked for that example after all. But even though you were on the offensive again, once the dam had broken there was going to be no fixing it. Going without anyone to talk to for so long completely disregarded all of your social skills, and, apparently, keeping your emotions and real opinions to yourself were some of those skills. “It’s been terrifying being trapped in this mirror, alone, in the dark, without anything to do but think. The number of times I’ve had to recount the night we died or else I’d do insane is too high for me to count.”

If you lost track of the events, you might end up wrongly forgiving some people and wrongly villainizing others.

Despite you showing a bit of weakness in admitting you were scared, Dark was not an emotional man. Hell, the only person he’d spoken to was an insane murderer, so give him some slack if he didn’t pick up on every feeling you showed. Thinking back on it, he would have accepted some of the blame instead of shifting it to others with a snarky, “I’m not the only one here, I hope you know.”

You bit back, “Wilford and Benjamin, how could I forget? Except Wilford actually has gone insane from denial, and Benjamin has said one thing to me since I’ve been in here, and it was an insult to my clothes. Neither of them is around enough to talk to anyway.” The last bit you muttered quieter to yourself, but it didn’t slip past Dark. 

“How would I be any better?”

“Oh, cut the self-loathing. It’s not a good look on you, and it’s pissing me off.” He had half the mind to ask what didn’t piss you off at this point – decorative language that you’d picked up from real estate agents notwithstanding – but he held his tongue. “I thought we were in the same situation, victims of Mark, together. Apparently, we’re not.”

And, with a shift of your attention to the edge of the mirror, you followed it up with, “You’re less like me and more like Mark.” 

That set Dark’s red and blue waves alight like a rabid flame doused in gasoline. The crack from before splintered itself along his frame even more so, sending high-pitched squeals into the air. All parts of him were having different reactions, from outraged to regretful to accepting, leaving the final physical output a frigid glare. Your own eyes flitted around him, watching the energy strike out of control, and, for a brief moment, you wished you had stayed silent. 

It was an odd feeling to see someone you once considered a friend – whom you knew fully well wasn’t that same friend – respond in such a way. The visage that used to belong to Damien sent your subconscious wanting to comfort him, but, the logical part of your brain knew he wasn’t the same. Trying to be kind to him now would be fruitless, and an insult to your past together. 

You let yourself sigh the smallest breath that you could when he managed to corral himself. The waves of light returned to the surface of his skin. He blinked.

“I suppose a century is bound to do some damage—”

“A fucking century!?”

That was the last straw for you. 

“You’ve been avoiding me for a century!?” 

You knew that you couldn’t force your way out of the mirror, but this delightful news threw all reasoning out of the window. The glass barely flexed with your shoulder pressing against it, nor the fist you chucked, or even launching a foot into it. With no clue, no night-day cycle, no nothing, you had no way to tell how long you’d been abandoned for. Only your shattered view to the outside world helped, and even then, nothing in the manor would change for you to tell how much time had passed. A vague internal clock was no help either, leaving you to a guessing game. A month, a year, maybe a decade or so. 

Instead, a goddamn century had passed with barely a word from this man who stood in front of you, wearing your friend’s skin and using your bones. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Pitiful. An entity with so much power that some part of him could help bring someone back from the dead. 

“You’re a coward, Dark.”

He was starting to dislike how he looked – not for any insecurities, but because whenever he was looking at it, it only meant that you were not there. His reflection tried to goad some spat out of him, but the only thing there was an emptiness that was quickly spreading to consume all the anger and resentment that had been there before. The voice that had originally urged him to talk to you was silenced, sure, but he didn’t feel any better. He felt worse if that were possible. 

A whistle broke the silence behind him. 

“That was quite the fit you two had.” 

Wilford stepped beside Dark, both gazing at the mirror, and just the mirror gazed back. It felt wrong. 

“Do you understand what I said before?” He punctuated his question with a twist of his heel.

“Oh, but you got an answer out of them this time,” Wil slapped a hand onto his shoulder, “that’s progress, friend!” 

“Progress is arguing to the point of storming off, then?” 

Walking away from the mirror felt, to Dark, too much like giving up. Having indeed received some kind of response, regardless of whether it was positive or negative, just made it more of a failure to leave without succeeding. At least when you hadn’t appeared entirely, he could blame it on you not wanting to talk – this time, though, you were there, and you had spoken, and, because of something he did, you left. 

Approaching the staircase closest to his office, he fought back the thought. 

“Progress is getting a verbal response,” Wil called after him, rushing to catch up, “and you can make more if you so choose, which I highly implore you to do.” 

With a huff, Dark caught hold of the banister. “Why don’t you try? They might be more susceptible.” 

Wil practically chased him up to the landing, refusing to let him go and sulk in his office that easy. “I spoke to them within the first year. The only thing stopping them from coming out to play more often is you.”

Having just rounded the corner and with his hand hovering over the doorknob, Dark found himself wishing that he were ever-so-slightly quicker. Maybe if he had skipped the last step, not paused at the bottom, or simply sprinted for his door – maybe he wouldn’t have had to hear that. Wil’s tone may have been sugary and light, but he wasn’t dumb. Saying such a thing had him struggling to maintain a cool exterior. Was what he did really that much of a problem? He assumed that your outburst had come from him finally showing to you, but had you gone so long without any interaction?

He twisted the handle. 

“Does it matter that much to you?” 

“Of course! The manor could use a little activity, I’d say,” Wilford spoke as though he’d already won the battle, and, as Dark stepped over the threshold, he had. 

A brief pause, in which he looked around his bleak office – the desk, the bookshelf, the mirror – and then he answered, “Alright. I’ll try once more tomorrow.” 

Wil practically erupted into fireworks. He clapped his hands together, spun around on the heel of his shoe, and announced, “Splendid! It’s a date!” 

He was gone a second later, leaving Dark to himself. The minimal amount of light that had breached the room was dispelled with a closing of the door. He had a lot of work to do, but, for once, it had nothing to do with tracking down Mark or keeping the authorities away from the manor. No, because this time, it employed the quant, little library that Celine had made for herself when she lived in the place. With no one having gone in or out in the past century, there wasn’t even dust along the shelves, nor disrepair of the books. Everything would be pristine, just how she left it. And, matched with the knowledge of where everything was, Dark knew that this would be a piece of cake. His plan would go off without a hitch.

Although, that had been his belief when he had prepared to confront you, and look how that had turned out.

Surrounded by darkness, listening to darkness, seeing darkness, you had a lot of time to think. For most people, the ennui of an eternity might soften them up, or make them think differently. Not you. In fact, you were certain in any and all of the convictions you had at the very moment of your death. Resentment built up under the surface of your skin like rot, and, without the ability to leave the void, you were never given a chance to clear yourself of it. 

There were the odd opinions that barely hardened, but there was also a good amount of them that solidified into steel. Kings of them all were the reasons you were trapped in the mirror in the first place. Though, as said before, you didn’t begrudge Dark for keeping you there, only that he ignored you. 

Mark, on the other hand, you would gladly beat with a stick the second you saw him, or even your bare hands if you lacked anything else. The thought of touching him made you grimace, but you would struggle through it, if only to see that monster of a man dead at your feet as he should have been years ago. 

That was the worst thing about the void, beating out the loneliness and the silence, was the fact that – if you were to look at a very specific place, your head placed just so and tilted within a fraction of a degree, you could see the familiar and infuriating face of one man. He was still dressed in a satin robe, splayed on the ground, arms held out like a false idol. 

Mark’s body had long since gone cold, abandoned just as you were, to the place in the mirror. When he had taken Damien’s body, he’d left his behind, a literal shell of a man. You would see it sometimes when you moved your head quickly. A flash, a strike of lighting. It was still there to this day, but you’d never gotten the bravery to get any closer to it. It wasn’t as though you could trip over it, so why bother?

Between reliving the memories of your demise and thinking of how much you hated those two figures, you wondered if this was a punishment. The body was placed there to remind you of your loneliness, while the mirror taunted you with a glimpse of freedom that you would never reach. It gave you the only sense of direction in the void; a roughly 3 by 2-meter screen with decorated edges that just hung there. You had once tried to knock it down, but that just served to dent the corner. 

You had… mixed feelings about the window. On one hand, it let some light in. It let you see your hands, your torso, the body at the edge of your vision, your legs. You could appreciate that part. And, although not overly effectively, it gave you a sense of self. You existed, you were present in time and space, you hadn’t just disappeared, as much as you were otherwise convinced – which led you to the other hand; it mocked you. Constantly. You could see out, people could see in, but it was rare that you acknowledged one another. Wilford waved at you a few times, and Benjamin had insulted the outfit that you’d died in. The one to give you the most attention overall was Dark.

Your head snapped to the mirror.

Dark. 

He said he would try again tomorrow, didn’t he? Was it tomorrow yet? You weren’t good at keeping track of time, it seemed, but the draining and filling of the light outside that you, for once, stayed awake long enough to notice, gave you some indication. Shadows danced from the windows, the rise of a sun, and the fall of a moon. A day had passed, it had to. Timing always got finicky after six o’clock, when you couldn’t discern when it was getting brighter or if clouds were just passing through. Just to be sure, you decided to watch the screen for a bit longer. He normally appeared when it was darker – you sometimes laughed to yourself about that kind of thematic symbolism – but maybe today would be different. 

The next minutes were not different, which was to be expected, so you sat yourself down for a little longer. The next hours were not different, but you had waited a century, you could wait some more. The rest of that day was not different, though you could assume that he was just busy – stuck in that suit all day, talking of nothing but paperwork, he had to be busy. 

But the day after that was not different, either, nor was the next. Flittering between the few remaining mirrors didn’t help, because, for once, Dark was not in his office. He had to be somewhere that you couldn’t access, and, for a moment, you wondered if this was his plan. Questions about his real intentions stuck into your mind like darts on a board; had he meant to trick you, had he wanted you to get your hopes up? The idea that it was all for fun briefly topped your theories, but it couldn’t be right. You didn’t think that fun was a part of Dark’s vocabulary, regardless of the nature of it, so you knocked it down to the bottom of the possibilities. 

However, after yet another fall and rise of the sun, you stood before the screen of the void. A prisoner staring out at the world through their iron bars. Only one notion remained, a small, simple notion that you had harbored since the beginning. 

He was a liar. He was a coward and a liar, and he never cared about you, not one bit. Everything was fake, he wasn’t sorry about anything he said, and he didn’t care about you being alone. He threw people to the wayside the second they weren’t useful anymore, and whatever he needed you for had solved itself, so there you go! Brushed to the side like an inconvenient pile of trash, because he was Dark, and that was what Dark did. A selfish, lying coward, he was worse than Mark—!

You lifted your foot. Glass littered the ground. You didn’t hear the mirror smash, and yet, the evidence was there. A slice of the screen carved out hastily and let fall to the floor of the void. The space it had occupied before was now empty upon you putting your hand through it. 

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself. You still weren’t full comfortable with the sound of your own voice. Too scratchy from disuse. 

The couple of shards of glass that were somewhat intact on the floor reflected something back at you as you moved. Carefully, you crouched down to cradle one, and then promptly fell backwards.

You couldn’t remember what you looked like when you were alive. When you thought of yourself, all you could see in your mind’s eye was a blank slate of a face and a line downwards, like a stick-figure. Staring into the thing in your hand, you questioned again if this were a punishment. 

Smoke. Smoke in the vague shape of a person. That was all you could see, and, no matter how you tilted or twisted the glass, that was all it would show. The billows of gas threw themselves around over one another, cascading down along the side of a face and then shoulders, like waterfalls creating a path with no end. A misty hand brought to your face conflicted with the image. It felt like there was something solid there, your hands felt solid, as well. You didn’t know what to trust, but that was the same age-old story, wasn’t it?

The tears looked like smoke, too. 

Nine o’clock. The day had passed painfully quickly. Normally, that would be a godsend, but it only reminded you of the hiatus when things actually happened. Not anymore. It changed very quickly back to what it had been before, like your mind was trained to accept abandonment. 

You weren’t mad anymore. At least, you didn’t think you were. The office had gone uninhabited for the past four days, so you didn’t have anything to direct your anger towards. It was more as though you were frozen, back to spectating the manor through a sheen of frosted glass with your legs crossed. You’d give anything to feel the snow again, or any change in temperature at all. The void was completely neutral – maybe 15 degrees if you paid close attention. It didn’t matter to you anymore.

You were drifting. Your train of thought kept straying from the subject, and reliving the memories gave you no satisfaction, no sadness, no fear. Frozen. To the point that you barely registered that someone was standing in front of the mirror. 

You wouldn’t admit that you clambered to your feet, nor that you jogged closer to the mirror to strengthen your image. Did you look like smoke to him, too? You shook your head, that didn’t matter. Attention roving his body, you inspected Dark for any sign of what had taken his time up so much. You got your answer quickly when your gaze landed on two books, one in each of his hands, though only the right was open. The other’s cover, meanwhile, was exposed to you. ‘The Lady in the Lake’ it read, in a striking, slightly yellowed font. On a positive note, you felt some sort of coherent emotion stirring within you. The bad news on that front was that it was anger that was returning. Had Dark ignored you, again, for a fiction book?

“Hello to you, too?” you risked speaking. No reaction to you; instead, he began muttering something that you couldn’t make out, not for lack of trying. You suddenly found a blockage between the words he was saying and your brain, as though he were speaking complete gibberish with English intonation. You struggled to rationalize anything until a mass of gray and red and blue flocked to the fiction book. A smoky substance danced around the cover, under and over Dark’s hand, like a swarm of flies. It wasn’t long before they drifted to the ceiling, leaving an empty space behind. 

And then something in the void changed. For once, something new was added, and it was right at your feet. You weren’t going to question what his book did – you were trapped inside a mirror, after all, less explainable things had happened. You damn-near cried again when your hand brushed the paperback while your heart went while in your chest. Had you been able to, you would have lunged at Dark to hug him, but you couldn’t – for one, the mirror, obviously, but you were still somewhat annoyed with him. You schooled your expression as best you could from awed to simply appreciative.

Dark, meanwhile, didn’t bother trying to hide his smugness. 

Tentatively, you drag your attention away from the gift and ask, “What is this?” 

“A book.”

Your chest instinctively cramped with a bark of laughter. Short, solid, and, to someone on the other side of the mirror, sweet. A grin spread over your lips with such a reaction that you hadn’t felt in years. That someone preferred this look to your spiteful sarcasm. 

You looked down again, finger spreading across the indented title, and then your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t want to break this already brief moment, but you just had to know…

“What do you get out of this?”

Dark’s shoulders set straighter. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t sound defensive, just confused, which helped to settle your concerns, but it wasn’t enough. So, you prodded, “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything.”

The conversation may have been over, but the interaction was not. Dark stood there with his hands now clasped behind him and his book resting on the side table. A subtle smirk played on his mouth, though it didn’t exude the sadism you’d come to expect from it. This time, it just looked natural. He stayed unmoving as you looked him up and down, once, twice, before you let your own shoulders sag. Your posture bent and your eyebrows flattened. 

This was all reversed when Dark whirled on his heel and started to walk. 

“Where are you going?” Keeping your voice stable took all the energy in the world from you. 

“I’ll be back in a moment,” was the answer you received, alongside his disappearing steps as he took himself away from the foyer. 

You didn’t like that. It left a foul taste in your mouth – not for him leaving, but for the way that you felt about it. It stirred something in your gut and squeezed your heart with a vengeful vice grip. The next few minutes that Dark was away you spent arguing with yourself.

One side of you reminded you of how things had been for the past hundred years; you hated that man because he left you alone, he trapped you in this mirror, he stole your body. Without him, you would be dead and buried, allowed to rest, finally. And, with him, you were here. An endless void, eternally missing and ignored by the world. You should hate him. 

But the other side of you pointed out that you should hate him. But you didn’t. Dark had apologized, he’d given you a book, he was trying to atone for the pain he had caused you. Why go to all the trouble of ignoring him when he could be your only viable interaction? You were here to stay, so it would be a waste to disregard him that easily. Besides, you had another person to be mad at, one that was more deserving than someone who was also a victim of his actions. 

Weighing the options, you asked yourself if this was what Dark went through every time that he tried to make a decision. If it were true, well, you should have been grateful that he’d agreed on talking to you. It was difficult, and your conclusion definitely upset some part of your brain, but that didn’t stop you from making it concrete in your mind. 

That you would give Dark some time. 

Your body jolted in alarm at the knock that broke you free from your thoughts, but the shock was quickly remedied when you focused on the return of Dark at the front of your mirror. Likewise, he was brought to the front of your mind, and the choice to trust him was left to settle. 

“You’re back,” you stated. 

“No need to look so surprised.” 

Your eyes searched him efficiently as he situated himself. Though, it didn’t take long for you to see what was different. The most glaring thing was that he had retrieved both a chair and a new book from who knows where. He laid the seat surprisingly gently on the planked floor but did not actually sit just yet. Instead, he stayed standing, almost awkwardly, as if waiting for permission. 

A curious look you sent him bid him explain. “I thought we could read.” He cleared his throat, barely met your eyes. “Spend some time together. I think it would go better than talking, given our record.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected that. You appreciated the book, you really did, but offering to read withyou? Briefly, you wondered if Dark had been replaced in the time he’d been away, it would explain all the weird personality shifts, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

As you flopped to the ground, one leg crossed over the other, you hissed at the part of your mind that whispered that you should. It took you all of one minute to get it to quiet down, and, from that second on, you were engrossed in the book that you and Dark now shared. 

Nothing amazing happened during that first session. You read, he read, he asked what you thought, you told him it was good, and then you both parted ways. Such a pace was set for the next few nights. Nine o’clock became a very cherished time, not that either of you entirely noticed it. On your part, you didn’t even notice any of the times of day. Dawn, noon, evening – those were what you measured the passing of time by; now that you had a reason to do it down to the day, you paid more attention. Dark, meanwhile, had made it a habit to leave his office at 8:50, make it down in five minutes, and always be slightly early for the meeting. Maybe it was residual mannerisms from the 1920s, or maybe you were both still warming up to each other, but you didn’t start before nine. 

It was the fifth night that a little thing changed. A subtle volta in a poem that you would only understand if you looked hard enough, and, by now, it was definite that Dark was. He’d read this book before, he knew what was before, what was happening, and what was to come. He enjoyed rereading things in his free time for just that reason, but this was a new experience that added something else to the matter; you. Being aware of the plot meant that he could spare some of his attention to send your way. That attention was used to watch the corners of your mouth crease at a part you enjoyed, to watch the flickering light in your eyes flare when there was a twist, to watch your nose scrunch if you took in new information. Pride coursed through his abandoned veins whenever you expressed any kind of emotion, but it was what you said after finishing the most recent chapter that made him react differently. 

“I don’t like Eddie.”

Dark paused, a thumb brushing against the corner of a page. “Me neither.”

And that was it. That was all that was said before you drifted back into a white noise of flipping paper and shuffling. You continued to read, but Dark was caught at the start of the next chapter. His hand hovered over the edge of the pages, he willed it to move, but it steadfastly remained there. He tried to at least skim the ink printed words, nothing stuck, and his pupils ran in circles around the irises. 

You had agreed on something – together. Feelings about one person were the same. You matched. 

For the first time in a hundred years, Dark was hopeful.

It took a month for something substantial to happen again, not that Dark was complaining. He rather enjoyed having someone to talk to that wasn’t insane or his employee. He rather enjoyed talking to you, whether it was about the book or something interesting that had happened outside the mirror. It gave him a grim joy to see those sparks fly in your eyes when he mentioned how an aspiring real estate agent had tried to evaluate the place. You liked hearing about people the most, but they were few and far between. Most of the time, you settled for listening to him about the family of raccoons that lived in the wine cellar that Dark refused to touch. It got you laughing, and that was good enough for him. 

You had just wrapped up the third to last chapter of ‘The Lady in the Lake’, the theories you muttered under your breath as Dark marked down the page number had him chuckling to himself as he drew his chair back to the wall. It was originally from the library, but there wasn’t much point in dragging it up and down the stairs whenever the clock struck nine. 

After placing the book on the arm of the chair – thankfully wide enough that it wouldn’t topple off the side – he reeled back the eternal business at the back of his mind to the forefront. Something had gone wrong with his latest research, meaning he had to start again from photo-evidence. He didn’t like doing it, but he took it upon himself as a duty to the manor, to himself, to… you. If he knew where he was, he could protect the things he cared about. It didn’t help when he had to do it all over, but it was undoubtably better than giving up. He had made it this far, after all. 

However, the second that he was angled away from the mirror, your voice punctured the finality of the moment. 

“Hey, Dark?” 

He turned again with a curious hum. 

You were standing, as you always were after you finished for the night, but your hands were held cautiously together in front of you. Your pupils flitted about in your eyes, avoiding him, his now-concerned stare. You took in a breath and then made two, simple statements. “I just wanted to thank you, for the book and for spending time with me—” you briefly looked him in the face, as if to gauge his reaction, “—and I’m, uh, well, I’m sorry, for being so cold to you when you first spoke to me.”

His concern melted into understanding. “You had your reasons.”

“And so did you,” you rushed to continue, “and, and I ignored them because I was angry. A hundred years passed for both of us, I can’t think that it didn’t have some of the same effects on you as it did me. I assumed that you were just being petty when you didn’t come and see me, but… you weren’t, and I’m sorry for treating you like you were.” 

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

The apologetic intent hung in the air between you for the next few seconds. Your eyes met, Dark willed the sincerity to cross between the glass, and it seemed like it did when you risked a tentative smile. He gladly returned it. 

You offered half-joking and half-genuine, “A truce?”

“If this last month hasn’t been a truce, I’m eager to see how you act when there is one.”

“Oh, be quiet.” 

Another agreement, even lighter than before. Dark couldn’t help but feel giddy, a jolt of adrenaline running through him. If his veins weren’t so vacant, a blush might have revealed more than he wanted to in such a peaceful time. Luckily for him, the fear of that escaped him, but, unluckily, it was because he wondered something else. 

This sounded an awful lot like a goodbye. 

“Is everything alright?”

Despite the grin that had grown on your lips, you cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

Another pause. 

“No reason.” Dark shifted an inch forward, like it would help him see past a disguise. It didn’t do anything, save give you a chance to poke fun at him. 

“Well, go on, then,” you gestured behind him, “go commit tax fraud or whatever it is you do in your study.”

Ah, much better. The feeling lifted from him as fast as it had come. 

“I’ll have you know that my paperwork is entirely sound and legal.”

“Hmm, keep telling the IRS that, you might just get away with it.” Your amused laugh faded into the void with your body, leaving the clean reflection of Dark himself behind. He was still smiling as he pushed a curl of his hair away from his eyes, an image he hadn’t seen in a good while. When you weren’t present, the mirror looked just that. A mirror. Nothing special about it, just a slab of glass in a frame. Not that it wasn’t, and he hated to say it, a very pretty mirror. Ornate, he would say. The glass, not as much, but the wooden border was. Nonsensical designs carved into the flesh of an oak tree, swirls and sparks and curves reaching around it like a snake. Whoever had been commissioned this had put in enough effort that it looked impossible to recreate. 

Dark brought a finger up to trail one of the indentations. A gorgeous cage for a gorgeous bird. 

Oh.

Oh.

He wasn’t sure if anyone had ever run in the halls of the manor, but he had already broken three norms, what was one more?

The manor hadn’t heard the rapid click of shoes for quite some time; leisurely walks or a slightly rushed jog, sure, but downright running through those halls was near impossible. Dark had done so on his way up to the library, and he was now doing it again to go back to the mirror. It had taken him fourteen hours, two glasses of wine, and reluctantly recruiting Wilford to find what he was looking for, but they were sacrifices he was willing to make. Even if it didn’t work, it was a step in the right direction. 

Maybe he was acting irrationally, and maybe he should have spent some more time making sure this had a sliver of a chance of working, however, he didn’t care. Cautiousness be damned, this could help you, and he was willing to do whatever it took to do that – he made sure that he sped up his pace so that he wouldn’t have to ponder the implications behind that. Rounding the banister, hope overtook him and propelled him forward away from certain important conclusions. 

“Darling, I have great news!” Skipping past that one, too. “Now, I know we’re not scheduled to meet until this evening, but this is more important.” He was too busy dodging the archway to the foyer to think about that, either.

He practically skidded to a stop in front of the mirror, only able to stabilise himself with one hand against it. The other was occupied by a book, but not one of fiction this time. No, Celine had left this one on a different bookshelf, the top section, at the edge of it. It seemed to thrum with energy in his hand, power growing underneath the leather binding the closer that he brought it to your prison. 

When he had properly calmed himself down – or, as calm as he could get when excitement lived in his heart – he knocked once, and then twice, and a third time when he couldn’t resist another. Nothing happened at first, but that was to be expected. It was barely midday, and an enthusiastic Dark was not a common sight. You were right to give showing yourself to him a little thought. 

“Darl—” he caught his word before it could throw itself out of his mouth. Clearing his throat, he fixed his slip-up. “Old friend?”

An unabashed grin spilled across his lips when he saw the faint sign of smoke rising from the void. It was sometimes hard to make it out against the background, he thought that he was getting better, anyhow. Though, it would do him some good to practice if he couldn’t make you out after a few seconds. 

He stepped forward to look closer. If he’d taken his glasses down, it might have been easier, but it wasn’t supposed to be this much of a struggle to see you. The smoke had all evaporated now and yet he couldn’t see anything. 

All it took was another inch forward, the smallest step, for him to see what had happened; all it took was a second for him to get angry. 

You hadn’t appeared, but something else had. ‘The Lady in the Lake’ was laid out on the ground of the void, the title almost blazing with light on the inside cover of the book. A sombre idea that you were trying to give it back without confronting him crossed his mind, though it didn’t stick with the knowledge that you wouldn’t be so cowardly. Instead, it was pure rage that took its place at the sight of the next page over. Where it had used to be blank, slightly stained with the effects of time, it now had a hideous, taunting, crimson name besmirching it. 

Mark’s signature. 

Anyone else might have acted poorly, impulsively, and dangerously. Dark was not anyone. He didn’t act poorly as he inspected the view of the mirror for any more clues of what had happened, he didn’t act impulsively as he stalked from the foyer to his office – but, oh, did he plan to act dangerously. 

The wooden handle of a desk drawer splintered with his white-knuckled grip. He drew it open with trained coolness. Slowly, painfully slowly, he retrieved the map and rolled it out on the surface. The edge that he pulled his hand from was marked by a slit.

He was going to be dangerous, but he wasn’t going to be stupid. Not again. He had thought it a mistake. The hotel a few streets away from the manor wasn’t the place Mark would associate himself with. It barely passed the mantle of motel, let alone the fancy, ivy tower places he frequented. Knowing he wouldn’t be caught dead in such a place had him brushing the destination off as a fault in his research. Dark was a fool to believe he knew the man that made façades and disguises his life’s work. 

But that didn’t matter anymore. Whether he truly understood him or not, it didn’t matter to him, because he did know one thing. 

One hundred years was far too long, and he was going to make it up to you, even if he had to slit Mark’s throat himself.

[Being peer pressured into writing a multi-chapter shot is for the weak. And I, am very weak]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #writing #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #one shots #x reader #actor mark #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #da #district attorney #darkiplier x da #no kisses #we die like real men #mirror mirror

[fgfluidity]

mirror | manor (chapter 11)

Summary: After the events of Mirror | Void, a newly-christened Dark has two goals: take revenge on Mark, and, hopefully…

Find the DA.

Pairings: Damien/Dark x DA; Actor x DA (Implied, could be read as gen)

Warnings: none

Tagged: @opprose @volbeast @statictay @otterlyinluv @buc-eebarnes @flerpdederp @mirrorslament @hapikiou (if anyone else would like to be tagged hmu!)

i'm sorry this took almost three years to come out-

find it on ao3 | donate to my kofi

Dark knows the game.

Of course he does— he read the script.

He just expected them to see through it.

Then again... they haven’t seen through anything Mark’s done. They just don’t remember.

He can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.

He sticks to the shadows as they approach, entirely too darling in what amounts to a burglar’s costume, as they wriggle their way inside.

Mark is his own brand of buffoon, and the ‘guards’ he hired match it to the letter, not a drop serious or truly threatening.

(“Sorry I didn’t message you first,” he says, brushing out bits of glass from his hair. “I tried to jam the cell signal and, um… it’s just broken.”)

Imbecile.

Even the dog is there, playing a role. How droll.

Even if she is a very good girl.

All throughout this, he watches for the guard’s radios, for a television screen, for— for anything that he might use to sway the DA, catch their attention without Mark noticing.

If he can just separate them—

The thing is, though, Mark is either ridiculously prepared for his planning, or is completely thoughtless about small, realistic details; throughout the entire museum, no guard has a radio, no wall has a screen.

Not ones that work, anyway— not a connection to anything remotely electromagnetic. Props at best. It’s the least technologically-advanced modern building Dark has been in since…

Well, since he left that manor, but that hardly counts.

The point stands that he’s unable to do much of anything but watch as the DA rolls their eyes and smiles at Mark’s antics, creeps quietly along while the man makes a fool of himself, face set and focused.

He’s seen that look. Pre-trial look. All business.

And they called him too serious all that time ago.

So fondly…

At any rate, their supposed treasure is both easy to get to and utterly unremarkable. A wooden case, carved but hardly special wood, the gem plastic even from his vantage point. A prop, like everything else.

And yet…

Mark lifts the box, and—

This is the end of the script. A successful heist, hightailing it out before they get caught, a seemingly-sincere thanks for help.

But there’s something. Like a little nudge, something like how he feels using the void, how the Earth seems to shift when the Host speaks creation.

The alarm trips.

Mark gives them a choice. Sneak out, or face the guards.

Perhaps... perhaps he overlooked. Perhaps he was given a working script, not the final draft.

Perhaps it’s another of Mark’s machinations.

There was no choice. Why is there a choice?

Why do they get a choice?

It doesn’t matter, really, because the DA picks exactly as he expected they would.

“We have to sneak out, it’s too dangerous, otherwise,” they say, just barely audible over the blaring alarm.

Mark’s face crumbles into a pout. “You’re no fun,” he whines— like a toddler; Dark half expects him to start stomping his feet— but he dutifully uncovers the sewer entrance, grumbling all the way.

The DA just watches, arms crossed. Petty.

They didn’t used to be so petty, but Mark deserves it, if anyone.

Dark very well understands that the entire thing is engineered, a massive staged undertaking to fool the DA and entertain an audience, unseen to his eyes but present all the same.

It doesn’t stop the trip through the sewers any less harrowing, doesn’t prevent him from using his unique position to draw attention away from the DA if ever they come a hair too close to getting caught.

It might be fake, but…

He doesn’t put it past Mark to introduce some very real danger. He’s a method actor, and he’d want his players to follow accordingly for maximum effect.

Dramatic ass.

They follow dutifully behind the entire way through the dark, though— and he notes it with a point of pride, one he chalks up to just how put out Mark seems— with a good amount of non-verbal sass. They cross their arms, roll their eyes, and stubbornly march right along behind Mark.

Not that Mark doesn’t try to get rid of them— oh, he tries to shake them like gum stuck to his shoe, and it’s a thrill to see him huff and grumble when they simply shake their head. He pouts— at several points! So very childish.

Then—

Hm. Unsurprising that the creator of this convoluted mess would whip up some way to surely remove them; if there’s one possible thing they’d listen to above anything else, it’s a worksite safety sign.

Not for lack of effort, though. “I… I really don’t know if we should split up, Mark,” they say, casting an uneasy glance back at the tunnel they just left. “I know it says only one, but if something happens—“

“Nothing’s going to happen! Nothing bad has happened even once!” His bright grin only gets a— astoundingly dry— look in return. It’s nearly impressive that he barrels on, anyway. “It’s for safety, buddy! You’re all about safety— and! We’re synchronized! In five minutes you just follow me over. Or I follow you, whichever.”

Mark gives them a once over, all while grinning, and if Dark wasn’t looking— wasn’t incensed at the familiarity— he wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have cared. Alas.

It’s too… possessive. Too pleased.

He doesn’t need Damien in his head to stoke his rage, it seems, not anymore. The only thing that stops him is what Mark says next.

“You have a choice, sunflower.”

A choice. There it is again, more choices, as if giving them the power to change any of this. Giving them a say.

So they don’t feel trapped.

Aren’t they, though? If Mark wrote everything, created everything, what kind of choice is it?

However…

They glance back at the shadowy tunnel again, frowning, worrying at the sleeves of their top in a too-familiar pattern. If they turn back, they’ll be away from him. How far apart can they both get in five minutes?

How far apart do they need to be for him to intervene?

This is his chance. It may well be the only one he’ll get, and the margin of error is far too slim for his liking— he must get this right. He must say the right thing— and pray they don’t hate or fear him.

Thankfully, time goes a little off-kilter in the Void, or else he’d have to make a very quick plan.

He’ll have to ease them in. See what they could possibly remember from that night, prod what needs prodding. It’s an easy enough parlor trick to conjure up a memory these days.

After that… what could he say?

Damien— he— was never short for words in his past life. As mayor— as councilman, as law student, as debate captain, as his father’s son— he simply had to be good with them, and he was.

Not quite so smoothly charismatic as Mark, not as bombastic and warm as Wil, but— well, he didn’t make mayor through his familial connections, whatever certain parts of his constituency may have believed. He delivered his speeches, his debates, with calm strength, something personable but solid.

Hell, he—

He used to write them for fun. The person— people, really— standing right outside this pocket of Void once teased him.

How are you writing a paper now? Finals are over! Come on, live a little!

Even I don’t want to spend all summer in a library. Won’t you come with me? There are new flowers in the arboretum!

The memory comes unbidden, and throws him off-balance; thankfully, he doesn’t fall out of his incorporeal state or ruin any of his planning.

Such a memory… but how? That’s more of Damien’s—

He hasn’t heard him. Not since that agonizing split when he entered their dream.

Mayhaps they didn’t split.

Mayhaps—

“Well… if you’re sure, Mark,” they sigh, hardly thrilled at the idea. “But it has to be five minutes. If you disappear on me—“

“Relax! It’ll be okay, you’ll see me. Sheesh, you’re so serious.” Mark huffs— then straightens himself. Smiles, even as they turn away, towards Dark. “Yes, alright! You go down that tunnel, I’ll go down this tunnel. If you see anything, and I mean anything, you just turn that sweet little tuchus around and—“

He’s had about enough of that. With hardly more than a thought, he whisks Mark away elsewhere, wherever elsewhere may be, and rolls out his Hall of Memories.

And prays.

They used to pride themself on being unflappable, before, and he can see shades of it, now: their face remains the same, alert but not startled as they take in the paintings, the dust swirling in the beam of their flashlight.

He knew the truth of that, though, and it, too, remains; you need not look at their face for their feelings, but their hands.

Though one holds the flashlight, all ten fingers are in motion— tapping the length of the flashlight, curling and uncurling in their sleeve, the belt loop, the zippers and buttons of their bag. Moving for comfort, perhaps— certainly no expression of joy, as the rest of them is ramrod-straight, stiff with each step.

He longs— longs, what is happening to him— to say something to ease the anxiety, raise the darkness, but he can’t. This is no matter he can explain with soft, comforting words and a pot of tea. His powers aren’t of light at all.

They can, though, reach an electromagnetic signal, and now that they’re alone, he pushes through his thoughts.

Finally, you’re away from him. Aren’t you tired of it?

What?

He’s running you ragged. Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

That’s not what he said— not quite, anyway.

They won’t tell you anything. No one seems to question it.

Why can’t he change it?

I know you’re in there. But I thought you’d see through it.

The final painting, of the monster himself, grinning like a fool. It begins to crumble before them both— they step back, fingers tight around both phone and flashlight— and Dark gets a split second of pure dread before—

Before—

My villain. I wrote everything. Even you.

It’s not painful. It’s not— it’s not even close to the searing split of the dreamworld, nothing to the pain in his stolen body, nuts compared to his shattered leg almost a century ago. It doesn’t hurt at all.

He almost wishes it did.

“Same snake, different skin,” he muses, and something inside him quails at the sight of fear— truly, rare fear— in their eyes when they turn to take him in. “Always spinning his yarns, his webs, his lies.”

He means to say it. He means to say he’s nothing but a monster in human skin, that they’re being dragged one way or another at his whims— he doesn’t mean to sound so… angry. So—

Villainous.

He screams, though it doesn’t come out— not of this body. Instead, there’s the discomfort of a fragment, juddering, lashing void in every direction. He only keeps enough sense to keep it away from them.

Without him— without him!— his body paces, a smile too similar to Mark’s on his face. “Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already, and you simply don’t remember it. Perhaps you’re tired of me repeating myself over and over and over and over again!”

He’s seen them a hundred times, but have they met? Has he said anything to them, his desperate wish for them to remember and leave simply that, a wish?

No. This is Mark’s doing, but he’s far from the only one with power. Dark pushes past the discomfort, past the fragments that shatter out of him, and tries to touch it. Tries to see what, exactly, controls him.

It’s a web.

Not unlike a spider’s, really, glimmering threads of words in several different directions, coalescing into bright points of light wherever they meet.

Ah, the choices. Planned for, then— prolonging the make-believe.

He sees an island man. He sees a brilliant scientist. He sees a pirate, an adventurer, a prisoner. He sees their end a dozen times, more, always coming back to the start.

He sees himself— but his point, his thread, is loose.

Not so in control now, are you, Mark?

They must know. They have to know.

With what little wriggle room he has, he reaches out— and changes a couple letters. One at each point. Nothing shifts, nothing breaks, but something is different— hopefully, different enough for his clever attorney to find.

They’re the sharpest he’s ever known. If anyone could, it’s them.

He settles back into his body, still speaking without him— without him!— and pacing before a desk. It doesn’t feel so wrong with his newfound confidence… in fact—

“You want answers.” He smiles to himself, happy to have control again, and for the hell of it, picks up the glass of wine— seemingly, so kindly provided for by the writer. “Well, games were always his forte.”

He’s not sure of the vintage, or even sure of the varietal, given the monochrome nature of his Void, but he takes a sip, anyway.

He tries hard not to gag, but can’t hide his wince. For all his budget, Mark hardly splurged on something decent, it seems.

Suppose that’s the loss of his wine cellar at work.

“But allow me this one moment of self indulgence.”

He sets the wine down. Neither of them will be partaking of it.

“Excuse me—“ 

He stops, holding the box— the conduit in this little foray into pretend— and looks at them from atop the desk. They’re— smiling a little. Not big, but it’s theirs, and if his heart still beat— “Yes?”

“Why’d you pick that wine if you didn’t like it?”

He wants to laugh. Oh, he wants to laugh at that, because in the face of— quite frankly— something frightening and beyond their control, they’re teasing it. He loves them.

He loves them.

“I didn’t,” he admits, truthfully. There’s something so warm in his chest, something he can’t prevent from showing on his face, so fond. “Sometimes we take what we’re given, for better or for worse. This game, for instance. This box.

“So much trouble, all for something so small.” He looks to them curiously, smile fading. “Do you want to know what’s inside this box?

“I didn’t imagine we’d have to be in sewers to get it,” they add dryly. “After all this, I definitely want to know, and it has to be something worth it, or else.”

He’d laugh at the thought, them tearing into Mark for dragging them over hill and dale, but he’s seen what lies ahead. They’ll have time to do it, and the nudging at his body indicates he’s rather short of time himself. “Well, I know how much you like a good game, so throughout your… adventures, I’ve hidden codes. Several codes. Find them all, and you’ll get your truth.”

They don’t look especially pleased at that, but the light comes into their eyes despite the slump of their shoulders— the light that kept them up all night with an encyclopedia or three, classes next morning be damned. “More games. Why am I not surprised?”

They eye him for a few long seconds, brow furrowed, even as the Void rumbles and sparks around them both. It’s too familiar, as if they’re reading him down to his core. “You aren’t Mark, are you? Not some character. But… you’re so familiar. Who… who are you?”

He could give them his name. It might spark something for them, kickstart whatever process they need to regain their memory of what happened. He wouldn’t even care if they screamed at him for all he put them through.

The Void, though, shakes and cracks, and he shakes his head with a slight frown and a mountain of regret. He has a modicum of control, still, but not fully. Not right now. “That’s all I’m going to give you.”

They open their mouth, but the Void winks them away, gone to their next run.

All he can do is sit and watch from here.

#fg writes #wkm fic #wkm fanfiction #ego fanfiction #darkiplier #actor mark #other markiplier egos #y/n district attorney #mayor attorney

[romanticallyghosting]

yes :) it is exactly what i wanted and the engineer one just makes me want my stuffed animals to be his stuffed animals’s best friend. a cuddle pit shall be formed! now im just picturing what kind of stuffed animals they’d all have though

oooh another fun hc, mind if I share my thoughts?

(this took me way to long please like comment and/or reblog)

-DARKIPLIER

not me headcannoning that wilford got them matching little sheep plushies

dark's one has black wool and just kinda looks pissed

jim tells all the other egos about it too so Dark just tells them he put fire to it

he did not.

he named it socks and he'll cuddle with it from time to time when he gets lonely

also his and wilford's stuffed sheep go for tea parties together every thursday at 3:45

-WILFORD

like I said, he has his sheep plushie who he named Sherbert

(his is pink and has a little mustache)

but the list doesn't end there

he has a mountain of different pink plushies stacked up on his bed

one of them is a bubblegum pink whale he named Sally

also I do imagine that in this universe he somehow acquired a plushie of him in a dress (like that fanart that I drew a little bit back)

no one has any clue where it's from

but its just there

-YANCY

won't admit to it at first, but he too has his own little collection of stuffed animals

most of them are birds

kind of ironic how birds are so free

and yet he's still trapped in the prison waiting for parole

his favorite one, however, is one you smuggled in for him

It's a bright sky blue bird, with little buttons for eyes

he named it cornflake <3

(no thats definitely not the name of a kenku npc in a dnd one shot i dmed and that one of my friends brutally murdered and that im writing in here to honor and that you guys can send an ask about if you want to learn more about them no wdym)

your the only one he trusts with his stuffed animals and if you have any he offers that they can go on playdates on visitation day

-ILLINOIS

doesn't have that many stuffed animals actually

he actually only has one

but the one he does have is very dear to him

literally

its a deer plushie

in all seriousness, his mom gave it to him for his 6th birthday

not many people know of it's existence

even less have actually seen it

he named it apples and its always on his person somewhere

its one of those little mini stuffed animals so he made it into a keychain for when he can't carry it anywhere else

he trusts like 2 people to actually look at it and if you make fun of him for it you two are no longer friends and he will be very upset with you

-MURDOCK

the only reason he has some in the first place is because he always likes to take something to remember his victims by

in a rush to get out, sometimes he'll just pick up a stuffed animal and bolt out the door

that's the story he swears by

and while it not exactly wrong, he's grown more attached to the stuffed creatures than he likes to admit

his favorite is a plain dark brown teddy with a red ribbon around it's neck that he named Teddy (wow murdock so original /j)

It's old and rather well loved

but it gives him a feeling of home even when he's on the run

-ENGINEER

ah yes, where it all began

has too many to count

his favorite however is from his captain

its a giant golden retriever that he named snuffleuflekins

the captain said they gave it to him because he's like a golden retriever

and while he's not to sure what that's supposed to mean

he takes it as a compliment

also he'll definitely arrange stuffed animal playdates

or eagerly explain how he got all of them, their names, backstories, and relationships

#no i do not take criticism #/j #i do take criticism actually #ghostly writes #ghostly answers #ghostly rambles #markiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier fandom #yancy #yancy fanfiction #darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction #wilford #wilford warfstache #wilford fanfiction #warfstashe fanfiction #illinois #illinois ahwm #illinois fanfiction #murdock iswm #murdock #murderiplier #murderiplier fanfiction #murdock fanfiction #engineer mark #head engineer mark #engineer mark fanfiction #how do you tag