#darkiplier series

[urdadsceilingfan]

WKM- I mean Egotober: Day 13 Mirror

I bet this guy smashes every mirror near him ALSO ITS WKM ANNIVERSARY TODAY!!!!

If someone already did this idea, I’m sorry im unoriginal

#markiplier #markiplier egos #wkm #who killed markiplier fanart #who killed markiplier #darkiplier #my silly art #egotober 2023 #RAHHHHH I LOVE THIS SERIES

[darkscrossfire]

★♛HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARK!♛★

#markiplier #darkiplier #markiplier x reader #markiplier egos #darkiplier x reader #mark fischbach #markiplier imagines #markiplier series #in space with markiplier #iswm

[theknightmarket]

Chapter 1

<> Chapter 1 <> 'You Were An Oh-So-Generous Imbecile' <>

You were pretty sure you hated your uncle. Hate was a big word, but it was a big sentiment that you harbored against him. If he wanted you to hate him less, then he should have actually told you what you were getting into – but he hadn’t, so you didn’t. That didn’t change where you were standing, that being in the front lawn of a rotting, decrepit manor with annoyance and fear steadily growing in your heart, on a beautiful summer’s day when you could have been doing literally anything else. 

What a pain it was to be generous in this climate. 

You slammed the door of your pick-up truck a bit harder than necessary, but it didn’t do as much to quell your anger as you had hoped it would. Instead, the only thing it did was startle the Jack Russel that had been peacefully napping in your passenger seat. The little thing jumped up at the indication you had arrived at your destination, beginning to whine at being in the car without you for more than a second. You rounded the hood, swung the other door open, and watched your pet leap to the dry dirt. 

“C’mon, bud,” you muttered, mentally preparing yourself with a twist of your backpack’s strap, “let’s go see this damage.” 

Buddy yipped at your feet as he trotted alongside you, only picking up the pace to be the first one at the top of the stairs that led to the porch. For him, it was completely silent with his rise, but your weight warranted a few more groans and creaks from the old wooden boards. Hopefully they would stay put until you had unloaded the boxes you brought with you. If they were to fall through, you were pretty sure you would boycott this entire thing. 

However, for now, they were fine, meaning you were free to jostle the loop of keys that hung by your belt. The silver to your pick-up, the square to your apartment, the smooth to your work locker, and, finally, the rusted to the house. You eagerly shoved the key into the lock and twisted, not for want of seeing the interior, but more absolutely despising the texture of rust coming off on your fingers. With one hand, you pushed one half of the double doors and brushed the other off on your pant leg. It was the most you could do before putting on your gloves. 

Buddy marched in before you, nose to the air and nails skittering over the boards. The bridge of light marked by your entrance didn’t let you see far, but it was enough to know that this place was going to be, to put it lightly, a lot of work. In just the foyer, you could see splinters in the floor, furniture scrapings along the baseboard, and too many holes to count in the walls. Half of the banister that trailed unhelpfully up the staircase to your right was snapped off, and a chill spread through your fingertips to the back of your neck at the sight of an extremely spear-like section at the curve. 

You slung your backpack off your shoulder, landing it clean in the dust. Not ideal, but you were able to retrieve the notepad and pen that you had stashed in there from the depths, catching a flashlight and pair of gloves on the way out. Those went on before you pulled the bag back over your shoulder. The items left on the floor you brought with you when you stood back up straight, and, snapping the torch on, you noted down the damage in the notepad. Later, you would sort them out in order of importance, but now was time for inventory. 

Once all your things were in order, and you had figured out a music situation that wouldn’t stop you from accidentally getting attacked by a racoon from not hearing it sneak up on your or you having no hands to defend yourself, you set out on your mission. 

One that, by your count, took two hours, and that was just the first floor. 

Now, when your uncle had offered you the ‘opportunity of a lifetime’ – which, really, should have been the first red flag – you hadn’t asked many questions. Only the basics you got answers to, like where the place was, when you could start, and how big it was. He posed it as a business proposition, you believed it to be a favor, and where did that leave you? Standing in front of this busted-up manor with the unenviable task of fixing it up to a livable condition, that’s where, and with three entire pages of repairs, it was definitely unenviable. 

You flopped against the cardboard boxes in the back of your truck. Ceramics dug into your sides, and cushions cramped you into a box yourself, but it was the most you could relax in clear view of the second floor. A sigh forced itself between your teeth; to recount, there had been 11 rooms: a foyer, a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, an office, a game room, a library, a pantry, a sunroom, and two bathrooms, plus or minus a few storage closets. How this place had been considered a home and not a hotel was beyond you, but you did know that you would kill to live in a place like this. Currently, you were renting a one-bedroom apartment in the bad side of your hometown, though, your uncle was now occupying it while you managed the manor. 

Glaring up at the shaded windows of the second floor, you wondered if you had been tricked, even if you were somewhat to blame for not asking more questions, not least of all how he came into such a building in the first place. Your uncle wasn’t rich, he wasn’t particularly well-liked enough to have inherited it, the most likely scenario that you could think of was that he had broken in and decided you would be the best person to make it all better. 

You glared down at your hands; you were only getting yourself more worked up, and that was doing you no good. The best thing to do would be to check out the damage on the second floor, and then make your next plan of action, which would probably include setting yourself up in one of the bedrooms. 

And yes, you knew that there were multiple bedrooms, only because your uncle had phrased it as being a good place for the family to meet up without having to worry about getting home to sleep. But, knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him to expect everyone to sleep in a tent outside. 

The size of the floor gave you some security in your idea, so you threw yourself out the cargo bed and strutted up to the front door again. As you passed, you tried to keep your eyes off the growing pile of rats, mice, and other pests that Buddy had been delivering to the porch. You had never been gladder to have a hunting dog as a companion, the suggestion of finding all those vermin yourself practically making you gag.

But the journey up the stairs damn-near made you flinch. That spiked section taunted you as you neared it, and, even when you’d moved away by five steps, it felt like you were just one wrong move from impaling yourself on it. You could already feel that being at the top of your list from mere discomfort alone, but that would have to come after looking at the remaining rooms. You only hoped that they would be better than the downstairs. 

When your feet came to a stop at the carpet in the hallway, you were greeted by the lovely sight of not-too-much-damage. It seemed to have been spared from the barrage of destruction that the rest of the house suffered from, with the walls looking good as new. No peeling paint, no scratches, no nothing could be seen in the dim light given by an overarching window. The decorations didn’t look bad either, with the only thing off being a knocked over vase, luckily, empty. The corners of your lips perked up in relief. This wasn’t so bad. 

Or, you had thought, before you took a couple steps forward and your left leg fell straight through the floor. 

You cursed and panicked and flailed, the jagged edges of broken floorboards jutting into your leg and pulling the skin from the flesh of your calf. Immediate lines of pain struck like lightning; the true damage hidden from you by your thigh getting stuck in the hole. The few spots of light that surrounded you only hinted that there was going to be splinters in your leg, and the stinging agreed with that. 

Alongside your squirming, your music played naïvely, not quite a mockery as it was a bystander not realizing they were a bystander. Past that, it was very quickly becoming a hindrance, clogging your brain with innocent lyrics, and tugging your attention in too many places. Your breathing hastened underneath the melody. 

You needed to stop panicking. You knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier, especially when you could feel the beginnings of a trail of blood flow down your leg. Your breathing was stuck between calming down and speeding up, mind desperately trying to keep up with your instincts. It was an unfortunate purgatory that you found yourself in while your body fought with itself to decide your next course of action. The second that you started to shift in the hold of the floor, pain leaped out and stopped you dead in your tracks. You tried to take in a deep breath but even that felt like the wrong move. A million and one questions sprinted through your mind; how were you going to get out, how long would it take, where was your dog, were you going to die? That one was unlikely, but you were understandably scared. 

Which meant that you needed to calm down, and that was somewhat easier now that the shot of adrenaline was emptying out of your system. So, planting your hands against the floor at your sides, you sucked in a breath, held it, and began the task of bringing yourself up. The first seconds were the hardest, since you were also taking the splinters of wood that were still attached to the boards with you. When they snapped, you, trusting that it wasn’t the sound of your bones breaking or something, managed to wedge yourself out and lug your body onto more stable ground. 

You couldn’t help but let out a pitiful laugh. The first day wasn’t even over yet, and you’d nearly fallen through the second floor. You could try and get some compensation for that, but then you wondered if this was even legal, and you were already too tired to deal with your uncle, let alone law enforcement. That left you lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, and hoping beyond all hope that there wasn’t a secret third floor. 

As you let your head loll to the side, another aspect was added to your hopes; that being that you hadn’t somehow gotten head trauma from this whole incident – because, standing at the end of the hallway, bathed in the light from your flashlight, was a person. A full, in-tact, random stranger, who was decked out in a black suit and white dress shirt. A similarly ashen cane was planted next to stainless dress shoes, giving the impression of high-class society. That, coupled with a ribbon on their lapel, hinted that they weren’t actually there. 

You rubbed your eyes with one, dusty hand, and then brought yourself to look in their direction again. They hadn’t disappeared.

Were they real?

You called out a shaky, “Hello?” to which they didn’t respond. 

Not real. 

They blinked. 

Real.

You collected yourself and stood to your feet, albeit without much confidence now that you were once more above the hole, but you managed to take a step closer. Again, they failed to react.

Not real. 

But they weren’t a trick of the light, and your head felt relatively fine, so what was causing this illusion? Was it an illusion in the first place?

“You… nobody’s supposed to be here,” you mumbled, barely loud enough for it to be heard. Nevertheless, it seemed third time was the charm, because this did earn a response from the suited stranger. That being, they twisted on their heel and walked into one of the adjacent rooms, not even the sound of their cane coming down on the floor trailing after them. 

Without much else to do, you pursued. 

“Hey, wait!” you called, skidding to a stop where they once stood, “I’m gonna need to talk to you!” Your own heartbeat overtook the sound of your shoes against the boards as you rushed to open the door that they had presumably closed behind them. “You can’t just—!” 

They were gone. There was nothing else to say, apart from that they were gone, like a fire’s smoke dissipating into the air. You didn’t know how, considering that you were only two seconds behind them, and there was no feasible way out of the room, apart from the door that you were obviously blocking. If there were some secret passage, it wasn’t visible to you, and they wouldn’t have had enough time to close a door behind them when you had gotten into the room.  

You hated this. 

But you still had a job to do, so, having the chance to brush yourself off, you whipped out the notebook and pen from your back pocket, put the flashlight in your mouth, and started to inspect the room. All the while, you tried your hardest to dismiss the stranger as an adrenaline-created illusion. 

It was pretty obvious that the room was another study, a lot like the one downstairs, if not smaller. That would have made it appear cozier, but the tighter constraints were only balanced out by the sparse décor. It was simple; a desk, chair, and – when you approached to grab at the string – a broken lamp were stationed underneath the singular, large window. The draws were entirely empty, save for a fine layer of dust that similarly permeated the air. In fact, everything was coated with the stuff, from the shelf and mirror at one end of the room, to the chest of draws at the other. Why such a thing was in there was beyond you, but, like the desk, they were all empty. It was a good thing, too, because, as soon as you pulled one of the handles, the whole thing collapsed in on itself, as if it had never been stable in the first place. Next to the note of its damage, you scribbled down a reminder to just throw the whole thing out.

Apart from that, the damage in this study was less unique. There were the common scratches along the floorboards and the peeling paint, though those could all be fixed just as the rest of the house. You left that room feeling infinitely more positive about your chances than when you ran into it. 

Those positive feelings were dashed as soon as you stepped foot into the room across from it. 

What looked like it should have been in a hospital instead of an old manor, also would have suited a dump better. Five beds, headboards aligned against the walls, gave the whole place an asylum-esque feeling. The cold metal outside, the spilled first aid boxes, a collection of pill bottles in the corner, and a stain on the floor that you wished was just weird-old-house-juice but was definitely just blood. A horror scene that had happened years ago. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” you sighed. You repeated this as you stumbled through a forest floor of old clothes and spare rags, not a single one looking useful anymore. Picking your way over them, you made your way to the bottles in the corner. It would give you an indication of the furthest this house could have been occupied. 

After locating one with a semi-legible label, you twisted it around to look at the expiration date. March 1995. March 1995. 23 years ago. You quickly dropped the bottle. 

Well, at least it explained the state of the place. 23 years was plenty of time for raccoons or bandits to come along and pick it apart, not to mention the damage it could have sustained from the owner themself, especially given that this specific room looked more like an infirmary than a normal bedroom. It was anyone’s guess as to what the entire manor was used for. 

Your shoes clicked at the door a few moments later, when you were entirely done looking over the room. They weren’t normally this loud, but, when the only other inhabitant of the building was your dog – who was who-knows-where – and a possible ghost, there wasn’t much else to fill the void. In fact, it was an eerie quiet, a worrisome quiet, a something-is-wrong quiet. 

Why had your music stopped?

Your hand trailed to your ear.

What happened to your earbuds?

You patted your backpack’s pocket. 

Where was your phone?

You didn’t have the time to have another freak-out, nor did you want to, so you elected to take a deep breath in and turn back to the infirmary room. You valued the thing that held all your information, contacts, and way out of the manor over your body not contracting some minor disease, so you retraced your steps to the best of your ability. It was like diving without a mask, you would keep coming back out of the piles of stained rags and medicine bottles to get oxygen, and then you’d go back down to try and find your phone amongst the wreckage. Along the way, you discovered a worrying number of bullet holes in the floorboards below – 13, you counted – and a couple cinder marks marring the baseboard. The piling concerns for the building’s integrity didn’t help the fact that you did not find your phone, but you had been sure that you had it when you first entered. Where else could it have been?

Sighing, you admitted that there was a lot of places it could have been, and your not-so-enviable task of searching for your phone was not-so-kindly extended. Ten minutes turned to thirty, thirty minutes turned to an hour, and then an hour turned to two, until you had wasted two whole hours looking in every nook and cranny, even the rooms you had yet to explore. After scouring the hallway, study, and the infirmary for a second or third time, you moved on to the rooms the other side of the staircase. 

The first were quick busts; two bathrooms that would have suited a haunted house more than there, with growing mold spots you were not excited to deal with. The porcelain of one of the sinks had been cracked so much that it would spill any water poured into it if the pipes worked at all. You doubted it very much so, especially for the second toilet that had duct-tape haphazardly wrapped around a portion. It also had you making a mental note to look up when lead pipes were banned. 

Next up was a bedroom. The master bedroom, you presumed, given the larger bed and the adjoining bathroom. You gaped at the red satin sheets when you first entered, marveled at the canopy drawn around them, which were an equally rich color, and let out an expected wolf whistle for the impeccable mahogany posts. Looking at it nearly brought tears to your eyes, not only because of the unimageable design, but because it looked untouched. No damage for you to deal with. You felt the bright light of hope claw itself from the depths of your stomach. If you weren’t still missing your phone, you would have collapsed onto the plush pillows. 

You shuddered with the burden of a sinner when you forced yourself to disturb the room to search – was it worth it, though – and you were quick to leave when you found nothing. When your boots stopped outside the room, you couldn’t help but laugh. What were you, a maid too scared to get caught in the master’s private quarters? 

You stopped laughing when you realized that was just what you were. 

Onto the next room! You scuttled from the master bedroom to the room opposite. What you thought was a room, anyway, a belief that was broken when you opened the doors to see the outside. A balcony that stretched from the door you had just stepped through to the room one over. That same mahogany danced the border between you and the rest of the world, the same as the bedroom, but with notable cracks and divots. Patterns were inscribed in the pillars supporting the roof above, and, for a brief moment, your shoulders dropped, your lungs exhaled, your weight disappeared just like that. With how creepy the manor appeared, you had forgotten that it was still a home. One that people lived their lives in. 

Carved into the banister were notes. Some were small, some were full sentences. ‘Don’t forget Tiny’s birthday’ – ‘violet, moss, garlic’ – ‘o’ slow-winged turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?’. None of them lined up in a manner of tone or handwriting, it just showed you how many people had taken to this place enough to leave something of themself there, ingrained in the wood. You would probably be passing this onto your uncle when you finished up, and, for some reason, that almost disappointed you. Sentimentality was a fickle thing, you had your ups and downs with it, and yet you rapidly found yourself wanting to make the same connection that these people had made, even though you knew it would be short-lived and painful. But maybe that was what it was like for them, too. 

You wished you could meet them. 

Pushing off from the balcony’s edge, you decided that this wasn’t something you needed to fix. Instead, you would focus on getting your phone to finish up the day. It was already getting late, with the sun dipping into the horizon behind you, so it was the most you could do to make use of the light. You only hoped you could find it soon, or else you’d be stuck for the rest of the night in the dark, alone. The mere thought made you shiver as you pulled open the other door along the balcony. 

And then you stopped. 

“Okay, then.” Your quiet muttering was left drifting in the air. You tried to conjure another thought to replace it, something more helpful, but you only managed another, “Okay.” 

The floor space was relatively empty in the room. A single leather chair sat next to a small table in the middle, while a bookcase leaned against one wall. In contrast, the walls were what caught your attention; from one corner to the next, the tanned wallpaper was splattered with mounted animal heads like bullets from a shotgun blast. The largest was a bison, complete with the two horns and furry head. Surrounding it was a wolf, moose, and elk separately mounted. Golden plaques were screwed in below some, though others had either fallen to the ground or disappeared entirely. As you side-stepped a crack in the floor that was barely hidden by a dusty rug, you were sympathetic to the smaller wolf head that had a clear bullet through its forehead, one not taken in its death. Whoever had been in there before you had an obvious distaste for the décor choice. 

The room itself unnerved you. The glossy eyes of dead animals both mocked and pitied you as you walked towards the centre, like the angels of death that couldn’t make up their minds. The lack of… well, anything made you grimace; there was no smell, no sound, no sight for the blackened edges of the room that neither your torch nor the windows could reach. But the feature at the head of it all, the one that had you debating taking off from the balcony behind you, was your phone on the table. 

Your phone, on the table, in a room you hadn’t even known existed. 

Why were you doing this again?

Oh, yeah, because you were an oh-so-generous imbecile. 

Your damn-near jumped out of your skin when your phone started belting a tune to an old song you thought you’d forgotten. It would have been nostalgic in any other situation, but you rushed forward to scoop the offending device up and jump to the door. The eyes of the taxidermized heads trailed your boots, burning holes into your back and bringing a cold shock up your spine. You didn’t look back, refused to look back, until you were safely crashing into the front seat of your truck. The door slammed next to you, making both yourself and Buddy – who had been peacefully snoozing away in the passenger seat – rear up like horses. 

“Damn it,” you mumbled, elbows on the steering wheel and the heels of your hands boring into your eyes, as if, if you pushed hard enough, you could gouge the fear out of your brain. It didn’t work. 

But the adrenaline was leaking out of you now that you were inside something that wasn’t an ancient manor dead-set on giving you a heart-attack. You even managed to crack a smile when you felt the wet texture of Buddy’s nose push against your side. Bringing one hand to scratch behind your ears, you steeled your nerves and stared daggers into the window opposite you. 

You weren’t going to be beaten. Not by a house that could be knocked down by a bad gust of wind. Not here, not now. 

“C’mon, bud,” you announced with a confidence that was half-convincing your canine companion, “let’s go set up shop.” 

You lugged the borderline camping gear out of the bed of your truck, Buddy helping by carrying his dog bed as best he could, and through to the foyer. It was only the question of where you would be sleeping. The bedrooms were no-go, the master was definitely out because you would feel like you were disgracing a 1600s lord, and you were not sleeping in a bathroom. Most of the downstairs rooms were out, as much as it pained you to say it, just from the concerning amount of bullet holes in the walls that meant it was as cold as a grave down there. That meant that the best bet was the study. 

So, that’s where you found yourself, ten minutes later, with an old mattress covered with a comforter you’d found buried in your closet draped over it. A flat pillow marked the top of the bed, while Buddy’s little nest sat next to the bottom. With him with you, you could find relief in there being no rats, at the very least.

It was when you were getting dressed into your nightwear that you received a message from the one person you had been dreading talking to, who was also the someone you’d missed a call from out of your panic.

Throwing your last shirt over the chair, you tapped on your uncle’s contact and skimmed over his message. 

‘Hows it going champ’.

You scowled. 

‘Really appreciate you doing this for me’.

Your fingers moved quicker than your brain, but, at 11 o’clock at night, with your physical and mental energy zapped, that wasn’t an accomplishment. 

‘I hate you.’

His reply was immediate. ‘I know’.

You flopped onto the mattress and pushed your face into the pillow. With your luck, maybe you’d suffocate before the morning. 

But that wouldn’t be the end of it. Not for you, because something in the manor was stirring. While you slept on the second floor, the first floor was alive with whisps of shadow, light, laughter, and graveness. 

This was not an uncommon occurrence. In the past 100 years that this house had stood, there had been many a meeting in its halls. Now, the dining room was being used as the hub for nine very uncommon individuals. 

At the foot of the table, on the right-hand side, sat someone only shadowed by the brim of their hat. A strap stretched from one shoulder to the other, the same color as the table at which they sat, and it ended at a satchel marred with soot, similar to the rest of their outfit. A button-up shirt and, noticeably, two different belts to hold up their pants. As was typical, a smirk was carved into their mouth, like they were getting just what they wanted, regardless of whether they knew what that was or not. What was not typical, however, was that it was closed. 

Opposing them was someone who looked vastly brighter and bubblier. No smirk, just a calm, welcoming grin, almost golden retriever like. Given the late-night mist practically pooling around their feet, their attire was the most suited to where they sat; a beige jumpsuit thrown over a spotless turtleneck, adorned with patches and badges that hinted at a wider experience than what was given by their disposition. A belt wrapped around their waist – just one, this time – but it was decorated with little machines with readings and logs and all manner of technical things that lit up once in a while. In general, they looked happy to be there. 

Next to the first person was a figure hunched over, calloused hands squeezed between their legs. A myriad of tattoos drifted up their arms, breached their neck and curved down their chest, not that all of them were visible. A plain white shirt blocked most, but that didn’t cover the scratches and bruises that dotted their face. A plaster here, a bandage there. Some looked like they had never fully healed, while some appeared as though they had been sewn into the skin. 

That was nothing, though, given who they were across from. The most notable thing about them was the bloodied rag wound around their eyes, the middle pushed in as if the sockets were empty. The trail of velvet dripped down from the cloth to the dress shirt to the collar of their trench coat, marrying the fabrics together. This figure sat straight, straighter than any of the others before them, and yet was just as relaxed. They found comfort in their knowledge, which scattered from their mouth with no sign of stopping.

Continuing on was someone situated diagonal to the blinded. Had there not been a constant flickering of light from their right, one might have thought they were hidden in the darkness, bathed only in the light of the shadows. They were completely grayscale, not a single article of clothing or expanse of skin was natural. A gray hat with a black band – the shadow it threw down nearly invisible compared to the rest of them –, darkened eyebrows that hinted at nothing but curiosity, a tie loosened around their own dress shirt that offered the strictest contrast. Their head was tossed to the side, but it was held aloft just enough that they were able to guide a glass of whiskey to their lips. 

Despite this phantasm being a contradiction of color in of themself, the one perched haphazardly in the seat over the table was an insult to their monochromatic scheme. They were dressed head to toe with a sugary motif, like cotton candy turned to silk. The two shared a drink, however, as one of their hands curled around a martini glass. The bright pink handlebar mustache was a surprise and the fluffy hair that dropped over their forehead threw the only darkness on their face. Even the air around them seemed to pop and fizz with eccentricity; fireworks on the fourth of July. 

A much more arrogant space wavered around the one on the next diagonal. They laid back in their chair, like it wouldn’t dare fall over with them in it, no matter how far they tipped it, something they did with proud elegance. Slicked back hair that tapered out at points less effected by product swayed as they rocked, not a single piece out of place enough to touch the collar of their shirt. Their outfit looked plucked straight out of a catalogue, nothing odd or unkempt or even ruffled. A deep crimson suit jacket sat atop the dress shirt, with a black bowtie peeking out between the folds. Although it appeared without fault, the person donning them looked like they would rather be wearing anything else; otherwise, the scowl was just a permanent quirk of their face. 

Their opposing guest dropped the vibrancy, settling, instead, for the classic suit jacket, shirt and pants that high-class society adorned. Slicked back hair, more so than the previous figure, but the only feeling expressed was a strict somberness. A prisoner accustomed to their fate, their eyes were trained on the reflective surface of the table, their hands fiddled with a cane that was their only tethering to this world. 

All of these phantoms of the night were gathered in the same place, for once in a blue moon, to discuss a single matter. Each had been questioned in turn, and, while some were let off without a comment, others were heavily berated. Often times, they weren’t sure of what these meetings were for, but there were the odd occasions, the rarest of the rare, that it was obvious. 

The dismal creature at the head of the table, sitting with their hands wrapped firmly around each other – as if the last speck of patience they held was caught in their fingers –, had announced the communion for one reason, and one reason only. The room flexed around them, and the blinking of red and blue lights struck lightning into the walls. Their grasp was so tight, not as if they were running out of patience, but because they were. Collected in a black shirt and white suit, ashen skin only rivaling that of the monochrome guest, it was easy to imagine it cracking. 

“Now,” they spoke, slowly rising to their feet in what felt like a millisecond, “what are we going to do about the new owner?”

And crack it did. 

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #markiplier #writing #markiplier egos x reader #series #x reader #wilford warfstache #darkiplier #actor mark #ahwm yancy #ahwm illinois #markiplier host #noir mark #engineer mark #head engineer mark #ghosts #AU #fanficiton #fic

[breakofficial]

Break Chapter 1 Pages 89-94

Welp....Athena forgot to post these for the longest time. AGAIN. Having these double sets always trip me up XD I just just about to reread for consistency before sketching the next set ONLY TO REALIZE I DIDNT POST THESE ONES MY GOODNESS

ANYWAY. I'm sure you will all be happy to see that Ethan finally makes a small debut in Break!!! While this small introduction seems limited, I can assure you that he does come back to officially give Mark that thanks, and maybe some help along the way!!!

Once again though, I do apologize for holding these back. These double sets are kinda new to me for both comics, and I legit just forget that I have more pages to post. Maybe I should just post em back to back instead of spreading them out so I don't forget XD

BUT ENOUGH OF MY EXCUSES, LETS GIVE A HUGE THANK YOU TO THE TEAM FOR THIS SET!!!! THANK YOU TO THESE LOVELY FOLKS FOR MAKING THE MAGIC YOU SEE BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES!!!

A HUGE THANK YOU TO @/chicawubbywoo (insta) for character shading page 90!!

A HUGE THANK YOU TO @iam-unoriginal for character shading page 92!!

A HUGE THANK YOU TO @/chicawubbywoo (insta) for character shading page 94!!

AND A HUGE THANK YOU TO @kelepona for the wonderful fanart yet again!!!

AND THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! Things are getting pretty heated at night, I hope you all enjoy what comes next!!!

See you next time, fellow heroes!!

-Athena

#markiplier #break #markiplier tag 2 #markimoo #comic #drawing #tiny box tim #amyplier #art #fanart #ethan #crankgameplays #au #series #webcomic #night #werewolf #darkiplier

[trappedofficial]

Trapped Chapter 3 Pages 103-109!!!

WHATS THIS?? A SEVEN PAGE SET??? GOLLY!!!

TRAPPED IS BACK IN ACTION!!! And finally, diving into fnaf 4!!

That means after this, there's one ONE PART LEFT of chapter 3!!! Holy smokes!!! I can't believe we've made it that far already!!!

So why not enter the horrific world of fnaf 4 with a BANGER set?? We have a lot of cool people to preesh on this one!!! I have to say, everyone really took the horror theme to heart- the scenes look like something out of a horror flick no doubt!!!

SO DONT BE SHY, LETS GIVE A HUGGGEEE ROUND OF APPLAUSE TOOOOOO~

@bubblegumberry_19(insta) for shading page 104!!

@eyesore-boi for shading page 105!!

@chicawubbywoo(insta) for shading page 106!!

@justmemojito for shading page 107!!!!

@arsonandhubris for shading page 108!!!

@iam-unoriginal for shading page 109!!!

WOW THATS A LOAD OF AWESOME PEOPLE DBJDJBSBKDBK FOR REAL THOUGH GIVE ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT TO THESE GUYS!! I mean it when I say they make the magic happen!!!

I hope you guys all enjoyed this spicy set as much as we did making it!!! We have another cool project in the works now too, its something to commemorate both trapped and break, so stay tuned for that!!

For now though, thank you again for all your support!!! We'll see you next time!!

@fischyplier @markiplier

#trapped #markiplier #comic #fanart #jacksepticeye #series #art #drawing #darkiplier #warfdice #fnaf #fnaf4 #five nights at freddy's #warfbot #funtime freddy #bon bon #king of fnaf #wilford warfstache #webcomic

[abyssal-zone-stares-back]

Liber Sociorum

Lupus Somnia (Darkiplier)

Werewolf!Darkiplier x Fem!Reader

Word count - 4472

Warnings - slight Pred/prey

Please mind the warnings, and if I missed one tell me, I’m not an asshole I’m just stupid /lh

The downpour caught you at a bad time. No umbrella, no coat, not even a collar on your shirt to flip up to protect your neck. You duck into a store overhang for some shelter but it seems like someone’s against you, because the wind shifted and now the rain is attacking you from the side. 

At this rate you might as well just go in the store. You sigh and push the door open. The first thing that greets you is the smell, and the bell that rings to signal someone entering the store but mostly the smell. It’s not bad, it just, smells like an attic. Musty and old. And it looks like an attic too. At least due to the stuff inside it. The shelves reach to the ceiling, towering over you.

Everywhere you look this place is crammed to the gills. Jars full of small things, buttons, pins, shells. McDonalds toys? Boxes of junk, things people didn’t want anymore and it ended up here. Things people probably loved at one point but had to get rid of. 

Wandering deeper, you aren’t even sure if anyone else is in this maze of a place. No one said anything when the doorbell rang. Maybe you’re alone. You pick up a random magazine, TIME blares at you from the cover. Is that JFK? How old is this? You put it back on a random shelf and turn a corner. 

As you round the corner you find an open area, a guy behind a counter looks up from a magazine before looking back down, a bored expression on his face. Ok, so you aren’t alone. You pull out your phone, checking the weather. Rain for the next 20 minutes. Great. You aren’t walking in that. Well, time to waste, well, time.

You spin in a circle. Looking for something interesting. There, those shelves have books. Maybe you'll pass the time buried in one. And if not, well maybe you’ll find some ones that you can sell on Ebay. 

Actually, maybe not. Most of these books look pretty worn and used. The first one you attempt to pick up, the cover falls off in your hands. Whoops, let's just, put it back and pretend nothing happened. That one’s pages are stuck together with wax. You don’t even attempt to pick up the one that's stained a suspicious dark reddish brown on the cover. Oh, hey, that The Fellowship of the Ring book looks rather old. 

You wonder if, oh shit. As you pull it out another book comes with it, thudding to the floor. You wince and look over where the counter is. The guy doesn’t appear to see what the noise was so you’re probably in the clear. You bend down, the book had landed open, the pages to the floor. You gingerly lift it up, flipping it over to see where it opened to. 

Huh? It’s a diagram of a, demon? At least it looks like a demon. Dude with furry legs and horns. Probably a demon. You flip to the next page and are greeted with another diagram. Of a dick. Oh joy. Just what you wanted to see. It’s got a knot? At least if you can read the handwriting next to the arrow pointing to it, that's what it says it is. 

You flip to pages further in the book. Another diagram, this time of a person with wings. Well, if the last one was a demon this one’s gotta be an angel. Is the next page gonna be… yep. You flipped to the next page, another dick drawing on the pages. 

You keep flipping through the book, becoming more intrigued as you read. There's so much stuff in here. Demons, Angels, Gods? And how to summon them? Maybe it’s like a story building book, it sure seems that way. Someone probably wrote it for fun. It’s in a journal type book, you close it and look at the cover. Fake leather bound, Obligatory red string bookmark, a clasp to hold it close. 

You open to the first page, wondering if it’s signed with who wrote it. There’s no name but there is a message. 

If you use this book, Use it only once. You Can Not have more than one. (Unless explicitly stated) [But that is rare] Rip out the pages you used, keep them, burn them, do whatever you want with them. Lose the book. It will find its way to the next user. 

Use the book? What does that mean? And there’s writing next to the note. The “Unless explicitly stated”, and then under that “But that is rare” in different handwriting. What does that all mean? More than one what? More than one book? You’re so confused. You just close the book and tuck it under your arm. You’ll buy it. Why not. 

You check your phone again for the weather. It’s drizzling now. You spy an umbrella, and with that voice in your head yelling at you that it's bad luck, you open it indoors to see if it works. It does. You could probably walk home with this. Unless it gets bad again but that would be, bad luck.

You waste a bit more time as you walk up to the counter. Picking up a few more things that intrigued you. A comic book, from a stack that seemed ready to fall off the chair it was perched on. A small jar of crystals, and a couple of pins grabbed from the bowl on the check out counter. 

The guy behind the counter sighs, looks over your stuff and rattles out the price of everything. $17.35. None of it had a price tag on it. He probably just made up a price, or he’s memorized the prices for everything. 

He’s probably making it up. But you aren’t going to complain. You just pay the price and leave. You open your new umbrella, well, new to you. Stepping out into the rain you begin your walk home.

The book has been sitting on your desk for almost a week now. You haven’t touched it since you put it there. Why not try and read it more, you have some free time. You sit at your desk and grab the book. Opening it to the beginning you’re greeted with the message again. 

You ignore it and flip to the next page. Oh? A chapter list. That’s interesting. Demons, Angels, Gods, Creatures. Hm. Gods seem interesting. You flip it to a random page and the first god you see is the God of Night. Some scribbled notes alongside a picture of what he looks like.

You read about the different Gods for a while before flipping back to the chapter list. You just close your eyes and point at a random name. 

Lupus Somnia (Darkiplier) 

That’s interesting. You flip to the page. 

Lupus Somnia (Darkiplier)

Wolf of Nightmares

Wolf of nightmares, ok. You keep reading. He is one of the more powerful demons in this book. A shapeshifter. Takes on the form of a great black wolf. Well you probably could've figured that one out. I mean his name has the word wolf in it. 

Actually, does it? You use google translate to translate the latin. Wolf dreams. Ok then, well it is google translate. It can’t be completely accurate. You go back to reading.

Can create wolf extensions of himself. Shadow wolves. They look like pieces of a void, molded into shape. To summon him, you must do it on a full moon. Blah blah blah, bones? This is getting weird. You spy a scribbled note at the bottom of the page. Can be summoned with Lupus Corruptionis (Antisepticeye). 

So Darkiplier is one of the ones you can have more than one of. Whatever that means. You’re getting tired. You open your phone, squinting at the bright light. It’s 3 in the morning? What the hell happened. 

You close the book, standing up from your desk and stretching. You should go to bed. You have things to do tomorrow. Sparing one last glance at the book, humoring the random thought of wondering if summoning them would work. Shaking the silly thought from your head you finally go to bed.

The thoughts have been rotating in your head for a few days now. Like food in a microwave. Could you summon someone? The next question you have is who would you summon, but that's easily answered, Darkiplier. He intrigued you. And with some research you find the next full moon is in a few days. So you have time to prepare. 

You collect the materials. The crystals, the herbs, the bones. Thankfully it can be any type of bone so chicken should work. You set it all up, checking it against the book as you do. And just in case you set up some protection on you as well, almost smoking yourself out of your room. You may have overdone it on the smudge sticks and incense. 

You open a window to help clear it out. It’s a strong scent, you don’t wanna pass out from it. When you can breathe again you finish setting up the summoning. Lighting the candles and reading the words from the book. As you read the last word, nothing happens. 

Well, that’s probably what was going to happen no matter what. What were you expecting to happen. The candles to go out?

The candles go out… Oh shit, shit, shit. 

You’re left in the darkened room. The only light being the full moon shining through your open window. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You’re being watched by someone. No, something. You take a shaky breath in and slowly begin to look around your room, afraid of what you'll find. 

You freeze as you finally turn to your closet. There. In the shadows, a figure. You scramble backwards slightly as they reach out for you. Your hand hits the flashlight you left next you and you fumble to turn it on and point at the figure. 

As you do the figure reveals itself to be, a coat. A coat hanging up in your closet. A breeze flits through your window and moves the coat. Making it look like it was reaching for you. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. That’s enough of that. 

You stand, turning on your light and beginning to clean up. The candles getting blown out was probably a gust of wind. And it could also be the source of your sudden chill you got, where the hair on the back of your neck stood up. 

It's been days, and you can't seem to shake the feeling of being watched. No, not just watched. This feels different. Predatory. You feel like you're being Hunted. 

No matter where you go you can’t escape it. It seems to get stronger in your house. Which should be concerning. Maybe you did summon something? No, you couldn’t have. But, just in case. You research more, trying to find out how to banish it, get it to leave you alone. 

Many trials with different plants and crystals and burning candles later you think whatever is here is here to stay. You sit on your couch, laying your head back and staring at the ceiling. You’re tired, and falling asleep like this will definitely hurt your neck when you wake up, but you’re too exhausted to currently care. You drift off easily.

You wake, your neck not hurting like you expected it to. Sitting up you realize that you're in your bed? How the hell did you get here? Sleep walked? You rub the back of your neck and look on your bedside table for your phone. 

It's not there, which means it's probably still in the living room. You debate on going to get it or just going back to sleep, it’s probably like 1 am right? Finally you decide to go get it so you can plug it in. You swing your feet off the bed and make your way down the hallway. The kitchen light is on. 

You ignore it and go to grab your phone, you’ll turn it off when you go back to bed. You check the time on your phone. Yeah, 1:16 am. You turn to the kitchen and freeze. 

There’s someone in your kitchen. There’s someone in your kitchen.

They’re tall, taller than you. They’re not facing you, so they might not know you're there. You have your phone, you can call the police. But you can’t move. Frozen in place you can only watch as they turn, seeing you. They, no, he, smiles at you. “Hello,” There’s a distortion to his voice, barely noticeable but there. 

He moves closer to you and you start to panic. Your heart is beating so loudly he must hear it. “Oh, you poor thing, so scared of me. Scared of your mate.” He reaches out and you finally move, not flinching away, no, your body betrays you and leans into his touch.

“It’s alright, this can be fixed. You’re Mine now.” And with that your brain finally shuts down from the panic and you pass out. 

You jolt up off the couch, heart hammering, gasping for breath like you’ve just run for your life. It was a dream. It was just a dream. You calm down, fumbling the power button on your phone to check the time. 1:47 am. The kitchen light is off, no sign of anyone being in your house but you.

“You’re awake” You startle at the voice, falling off the couch. Except, you don’t hit the floor. “Careful now, I don’t want you to injure yourself.” You were caught by, something. A black mass shifts under you, cushioning your fall. It lowers you to the ground and retreats, your eyes follow it to the man who controls it, the man that was in your kitchen.

He’s sitting in your arm chair, watching you. “You have some strange courting rituals Dearheart. Lots of candles and crystals and incense. Do all humans court this way?”

“Court, courting rituals? What are you talking about?” You shakily get to your feet, not taking your eyes of the man across from you. “You summoned me, after someone is summoned from the book the next few weeks are used to court them.”

“Why would, why would I court you? Wait, summoned you?” You sit down on the couch, your legs shaking too much to hold you up properly. He leans forward, tilting his head as he considers you. “Whomever summons me is my mate for life. Did you really not know that?”

“N-no, i didn’t. I didn’t think, didn’t think anyone could be summoned. I thought it was fake.” “Fake, you thought the Liber Sociorum, the book of summoning a mate, is fake?” He sighs, “No matter, I can fix this.” He stands, flicking his hand away and sending a black blur across the floor and down the hallway. As he walks closer to you, you try to sink deeper into the couch. 

He stops, and sits next to you on the couch. Oh, he's even bigger up close. His eyes are mismatched colors, one red, the other blue. The shadow from earlier is back, it's shaped like a dog, carrying the book in its mouth. Wait, not a dog, a wolf. You remember that from the book. 

He takes the book from the wolf and it dissolves into thin air. He opens the book, easily finding the page he was looking for. “Here,” He points to a place on a page, and you lean closer to read.

This book, the Liber Sociorum, is a mating book. Used to find mates for the people in these pages. If you summon someone, they will be your mate for life. If you find this book and don’t want a mate? Lose it. The next person needs it more than you. 

You take the book from him. How could you have missed this? 

“So, now do you understand? You’re mine, and I am yours.” You nod, still reading and rereading the passage. He’s been the presence you've been feeling. You feel a hand cupping your jaw, and he turns you to look at him. Slowly, giving you time to move away if you want, he leans closer. 

Pressing your lips together, he gently kisses you. You’re frozen in place, and as he pulls away from you he must see something in your expression because he smiles. “You’re gone for me, aren’t you. Almost completely mine.” Your body moves on instinct, lifting your head and bearing the column of your throat to him. Submitting. 

A rumbly growl fills the room and it takes you a second before you realize it's coming from him. His hand is tilting your head to the side more and he’s leaning into your neck. Fangs sink into the junction of your shoulder and neck, breaking skin. Venom pumps into your bloodstream, marking you as his. 

Before you know it, it's over. The wound healed and you felt no pain. He’s pulling back, licking his lips and gently running his thumb over the mark. “There we go, mine forever.” You whine and he shushes you. “Give it a moment, you’ll feel it soon.”

You open your mouth to ask, Feel what soon, but it hits you and you know. A burning feeling starts inside you. You lean forwards in your seat, trying to ignore the pain. But it only gets worse. “It’s alright, the first heat hits the hardest. Luckily starlight, I’m here to help.” 

He moves, gently picking you up in a bridal carry. You don’t know where you're going, where he's taking you. He walks across the room, going for the hallway and hopefully your room. You sneak a glance at the hallway, it ripples, the walls distorting and shifting. It makes you nauseous to look at so you just bury your face in Dark’s shirt. 

There’s a faint sound, not one you could place. A coolness washes over you, your pain dispersing. You lift your face from Dark’s chest. Where in the nine circles of hell are you? Dark chuckles. Did you say that outloud. “You aren’t in Hell little mate. I would never take you there.” 

It’s nothing, just a black void. You glance down, and regret it. There's no floor, just an endless abyss below you. You hold tighter to Dark, afraid of falling even though it's probably not possible. 

Your surroundings warp, the previous black void shaping around you into a forest. Shades of greys and blacks are the only color, besides you and Dark. You get let down, your feet sinking slightly into the peat of the ground. His hand gently caresses your cheek and you shudder as a chill runs through you. 

“I’ve delayed your heat for the time being, it will return but I want some Fun first.” 

You step back away from him, unsure of what's happening but you can’t look away. The darkness and shadows of your surroundings seem to pull towards him. Tendrils make their way across the ground, congregating at his feet. They wind their way up his body, and wrap around him. Dark starts to change, or perhaps he was changing the whole time and you just noticed. He’s taller, his teeth sharper, nails elongating into claws. 

His shirt rips and tears, falling off of him. His pants end up the same way. A snout pushes its way out of his face and your eyes meet burnished gold ones. 

If you thought Dark was big before, he’s huge now. Towering over you as a werewolf, he tilts his head watching you. “Oh, little mate, it would do you good to Run” You stumble backwards away from him and turn slightly, still keeping him in eyesight. His tail swishes behind him as he sits back on his haunches. “I’ll even give you a head start, 30, 29, 28,”

You start to run, not looking behind you as you duck and weave around the trees in the forest. “23, 22,” You can’t outrun him. Maybe you should start to look for hiding places. But where, there's nothing but trees and an occasional fallen log. You skid to a stop, fallen log. Maybe you could, “10, 9, 8” There’s no time, you have to. 

You climb over the next log you see, hiding on the opposite side of it. You dig out dirt from under it, making a small hollow that might shield you more than just laying next to the log. “4, 3, 2” You close your eyes, trying not to make a sound as Dark goes silent. 

A howl rings throughout the forest, sharply cutting through the silence. You flinch, a quiet whimper escaping you. “Oh? Now what could that have been.” Dark doesn’t speak again, and you don’t hear any footsteps getting closer. The silence is frightening. You open your eyes, he’s not next to you like you expected. “Where ever could you be?” 

That time his voice sounds like it's just meters away, on the opposite side of the log. Dark growls, but this time you don’t make a sound. The pain from earlier returns, your heat returns. You inhale sharply at a stabbing pain. The log above you is ripped away. You don’t know what happened to it, Dark probably threw it. “Found you.”

Dark grabs the front of your shirt in his teeth, lifting you off the ground and setting you on your feet. His grip was gentle, and you appreciate that. You barely keep yourself steady on your feet as the world around you ripples again. The forest you were just hunted in changing around you, being replaced with a bedroom.

You try to look around but Dark nudges you with his snout to the bed. You obey easily, he’s your mate, he can help you. Take away the pain. You clamber into the bed and immediately whine. It’s not right. Not set up correctly. You need to fix it. Pushing and pulling blankets. Rearranging pillows and taking the ones Dark offered you. A nest, a den, a place to be bred.

You place one last pillow, deeming it finished. Dark was still on the outside of the nest and you whine, wanting him to join you. He chuckles, joining you on the bed, in the nest you made. Dark moves quickly, surprising you as you get pinned below him. 

His claws make quick work of your clothes, ripping through them easily. “Mine, my mate.” You moan at his touch, arching up into him. “Yours,” His cock head notches easily at your entrance, your heat causing you to slick up for him. 

Your slick eased his way and made it effortless to slide into you. Then he freezes, just holding still. You feel the stretch, and some part of your brain registers that it should hurt without proper prepping. But it doesn’t, you’re slicked up enough from your heat that all you feel is full. 

You shift under him, trying to get Dark to move. “Please,” You whimper. The burn is starting to return and you need him to move. “Please what?” “Please Dark, move.” He chuckles darkly above you. “Who am I to deny my mate when she begs so nicely hm?”

Dark pulls your legs up, hooking them around him. He starts out slow, the drag of his cock on your walls making you squirm. Either to get more friction or to get it to stop you aren’t sure yourself. His hands move from your hips to trail slowly over your body. His tail slowly wagging behind him as he watches you.

“Please Dark, fuck.” You moan as he pulls almost all the way out. He just hums above you. “You want me to fuck you? Oh, sweet thing, why didn’t you just say so.” He thrusts back into you, shoving you slightly up the bed with the force of it.

His thrusts get faster, and you moan loudly. “Does that feel good starshine?” You nod, not trusting your voice enough to answer him properly.  “Do you want more?” This time you speak up, “M-more?” You question him and Dark just grins at you, all sharp teeth and fangs. “More it is then.” He rumbles.

His thrusts grow rougher and harder making you gasp. The drag of his cock is delicious, stretching you wide, bumping against the spot that has you keening. He hits it perfectly and you all but scream for him. He adjusts his position, getting the perfect angle to keep you making all those pretty noises for him. 

You’re more preoccupied with, other things, so it's understandable that you didn’t notice one of his hands finding its way to play with your clit until it's too late. His fingers play with the bundle of nerves, and your hips jerk. 

The combination of internal and external stimulation is enough for sparks to fly behind your eyelids. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. A wordless plea for more. You buck up into Dark, trying to get even closer. The heat you feel is subsiding, but you need more of him. 

Part of your brain is worried that if he stops it'll come back. You need him to keep touching you, keep fucking you. He hits that spot in you just right and, combined with his hand on your clit, it sends you over the edge and you cum around him. 

Your cunt clamps down around him and he grunts. Dark keeps thrusting through your orgasm, slowing down slightly to not overstimulate you too much. He adjusts his position above you, sitting up and watching you come down from your orgasm. “Oh fuck sweet thing, where do you want it.” He growls, his thrusts starting to stutter. “In, in please.” You manage to get out.

Dark looms over you before leaning down, his teeth quickly meeting your shoulder again as he cums. Over the mark from before. Not breaking the skin this time, just holding you in place. His thrusts slow down, pumping gently as he releases inside you. A knot blooms at the base of his dick, locking him, and his cum, inside you. His teeth remove from your neck, his tongue licking at the imprints. You whine at him and a rumbling purr starts up in Darks chest. He rolls the two of you over so you’re laying on top of him. His snout nuzzles you. “Mine,” You’re quickly falling asleep, the adrenaline from being hunted and your orgasm making you tired. His warmth beneath you sends you into your slumber. You fall asleep to his purr, with his knot locked inside you.

#markiplier egos #darkiplier x reader #abyssal's writing #abyssal’s nsft writing #darkiplier #reader #fem!reader #Liber Sociorum #Liber Sociorum series

[echo-echo31]

Hello, little songbird Dark from Songbird in a Cage

#echo art #songbird series #darkiplier #markiplier #markiplier fanart #dancy

[effloradox]

one tragic end to a million stories

darkiplier x captain!reader + wilford x da!reader

summary: the poker night at markiplier manor all those years ago has left scars on everyone who was present. it's hard to navigate those scars whilst avoiding getting caught in the actor's web once again.

it's not the same as it was

↳ same snake, different skin. you couldn't remember who said those words to you, or even when it had been said to you. you're not even sure why they've come back to you now. it makes you pause for a second as you try to remember, but the words fade away and all you're left with is the nagging sense that you've forgotten something (or someone) important (0.8k)

the show must go on

↳ coming soon

everyone i know (goes away in the end)

↳ sometimes it's hard to be around wilford. the man has good days, but he's also privy to very, very bad days. everyone in the manor knows your shared history with him, so it's no surprise that when he appears back in the grounds in a frantic state after being gone for almost a month, it's you that's called to check up on him (1.2k)

#my writing #series #darkiplier x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #in space with markiplier x reader #who killed markiplier x reader

[sugaraki-tenko]

#darkiplier #markiplier #youtube #darci mason #dc comics #superman the animated series #I know she’s too obscure to win

[d-ama-ien]

Heyyyyy it’s been like four years but I finally wrote a conclusion to my Google Whump series. Check it out if you’re interested!

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Markiplier TV (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bingiplier/Googleplier (Markiplier TV) Characters: Googleplier (Markiplier TV), Bingiplier (Markiplier TV) Additional Tags: the long awaited comfort part of this hurt/comfort series lol Series: Part 4 of Google's Voice Summary:

The conclusion to the Google's Voice series.

Google learns to process and recover.

#googliplier #bingiplier #darkiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier ego fanfiction #completed series #me? finishing a series of works years after ditching them to rot? it's more likely than you'd think! #don't put my shit into an AI i'll delete my AO3 if you do <3

[graphic-hawk]

“Let’s make this quick. I have a meeting to get to.”

My Darkiplier from my ‘He’s coming for you’ series :)

Reblogs, likes, follows and comments always welcome!

Don’t repost/steal

#jacksepticeye #fanart #septicart #therealjacksepticeye #anti #septic #ego #jse #jse community #darkiplier #markiplier fanart #markiplier #iplierart #iplier #iplier egos #ipliers #mark iplier #antisepticart #antisepticeye

[aestheticsquirmles]

Darkipleeeeeee + Faith the unholy trinity

❤️🖤💙

This was 100% inspired by Faith: the unholy trinity

I was watching the series over again and I couldn’t get the hand scene out of my head- then I thought- that scene…. But- DARKIPLIER! So this happened- but two hands cuz of Celine and Damien.

(This was also a little pose practice and it turned out better then I previously thought it would :>)

(Im paranoid that someone else did this already, so if anyone did- please let me know🌸💗✨)

#markiplier #darkiplier #markiplier egos fanart #markiplier egos #darkiplier art #a heist with markiplier #darkiplier fanart #faith the unholy trinity #someone help him #shove the hands back into his face hole #use flex tape to cover it back up or somethin idk

[eiks1997]

MERRY CHRISTMAS! 🎄As promised this is PART TWO of this series! (Click HERE to see the previous image.) If you’ve missed the previous Snow Globe, go back and have a look!

Unlike that image, I wanted to draw Dark dancing with someone he’d actually enjoy dancing with, and it could only be Wilford! 🥰 I love the two so much and I’ve missed drawing them. It’s been far too long since I’ve drawn my bubblegum duo. 🖤💗

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year Everyone! 🎉

But that’s all for this one! If you like my art or want to see more Markiplier fanart, stick around for more! 😊 

[Previous Image]

Want to see more Ego Fanart? Click the Links! 👇

Egos1, Egos2, Anti, Robbie the Zombie, Darkiplier, Female Darkiplier, Darkiplier Shirt Cut Meme, Wilford Warfstache

This was a FANART piece. Creation of these Egos goes to the beautiful @markiplier , sending all my love! ❤

Program used: 

Clip Studio Paint Date: 2022

Find me on Instagram:  #EIKS1997

DO NOT REPOST

#EIKS1997

#EIKS1997 #art #my art #artist #Illustration #digital art #digital artist #Digital Illustration #artists on tumblr #clip studio paint #Fanart #markiplier #mark fishbach #markiplier fanart #markiplier egos #a heist with markiplier #Damien #in space with markiplier #Darkiplier #Dark #female darkiplier #darkiplier fanart #Wilford Warfstache #wilford warfstache fanart #wilford motherloving warfstache #egos

[lounaticm]

OK, I have to ask... do you have any headcanons - any at all - for Married!Captain x Darkiplier?

Yes, this is definitely inspired by that one piece you did a while back (and the series of pieces you'd done of them before). I know you said that the ring just *happened*, but it spawned so many brainworms for me, and I have to ask if it did for you, too. I need to know from the source himself.

Well, considering I view the Captain as some form of reincarnated or relocated DA, removed from the mirror in some way or another and ending up in a separate universe, putting Dark back into the equation like I have done was rather inevitable, being how I am. 😂😅 (Though I will confess that my using the Captain version of the viewer character in those pieces was more for the ease of allowing anyone to view it as themself, what with the identifiable gloves and not showing anything else and whatnot.)

So far as I have in terms of a timeline of events regarding these pieces, Dark first shows up sometime around when the Captain is hitting a low point in trying to fix the paradox, feelings of despair and hopelessness growing, exhaustion setting in. To the Captain - their memories of that prior life locked away at that point - it simply seemed like this bizarre yet somehow familiar stranger showed up, offering reassurances, at the best possible moment by sheer happenstance. But Dark had been watching for a while, just in case this was another of the Actor's little 'games'.

When he saw how that former DA was starting to wilt under the pressure of it all, he had to step in, despite his own worries on the possibilities of his interference having any sort of negative consequences. He found it something of a relief - as well as a disappointment - when he wasn't recognized... though the glimmer of familiarity in their eyes didn't escape his notice.

He soothed and assured the Captain, urged them back to their feet (whether literally and/or metaphorically) and then disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived, with no sign that he'd even been there at all. After a while, the Captain almost starts to think that they'd simply imagined that oddly grey man. But, as they began to bump into others that also seemed so familiar, they began to rethink that stance.

Dark appears again to give the Captain a white rose during one of the few moments of calm in the Wormhole Incident, the date the Captain had ended up in being, ironically, Valentine's Day. Despite it having been quite a long time from the Captain's side since they last saw the grey man, they still remembered that last encounter with crystal clarity... and overwhelming gratitude, for they're very certain that they wouldn't have ever made it this far without his kind words.

They could swear they almost remembered something else, though. A different appearance, a different attire, a different place, but still the same feelings of comfort and safety just being near him provided.

And then he'd handed them a white rose, the thorns clipped off, and all thoughts about that had been replaced with encompassing fluster... and the sudden, seemingly sourceless thought - brimming with certainty of its truth - that giving someone a single white rose was a means of expressing an intent to court them. Almost rapid fire afterwards came more. White symbolizing purity, young love, eternal loyalty, a lack of thorns denoting love at first sight, a single rose in full bloom proclaiming 'I love you'.

They didn't know where such thoughts were coming from, but something in the back of their mind was saying it had something to do with the man in front of them. They found it a wonder that they could even stutter out a thank you, so consuming was their fluster.

They managed to hold onto the rose for a few abrupt trips through more wormholes, but they did eventually lose it, the devastation of such more than they'd been prepared for.

Once the paradox was resolved, and everything had settled enough for the Captain to return to their cabin... they found a small vase sitting on their dresser... with a familiar, thornless white rose placed inside.

Even before the multiverse snapped back to the pre-paradox way of things, the Captain had started to remember things. Things they shouldn't be able to, for it wasn't them who had experienced them... and yet, it was. But having everything collapse in on them and Mark in the Warp Core... something about that just made all those memories more clear, dragging ever more to the surface, clicking into place like missing pieces they hadn't ever known were gone in the first place until they were finally back.

The vast majority of them were filled with a man that every ounce of their being was saying was the grey-skinned man. Damien, as he was called in their memories.

By the time they'd finally set foot on their new planet, they were starting to think they weren't going to be seeing him again. But they recalled the rose, recalled how it hadn't been 'necessary' to keep them going. If he was only trying to keep them on track to fixing the paradox, why bother with that? So, first chance they got, they took a walk off by themself, into the woods or down by the coast. They're moments away from simply speaking aloud to ask if he's coming back - hoping that he might somehow be watching - when he finally shows up.

And the first thing the Captain does is smile and call him by that old nickname they'd given him back at university.

Whether the proposal happens in this interaction or later on, not even I know because, well, it had just happened, lol. And I can see either being the case, because it's really just continuing the feelings they'd both had in their prior, stolen lives. (Whether they ever told each other or not, though I'm of the mind that they're both oblivious fucking idiots lol)

I... don't really have anything for Cap x Dark married life or anything like that. All that came to mind was this (effectively) synopsis of what led up to it. I hope that's alright. 😅 Sorry this took so long to get to, lot of shit getting in the way of me being able to properly sit down and ponder this.

@kiwibubbles5

#lou's writing #voices from the abyss #markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier #iswm captain #iswm #beloved void man 🖤 #mirror revenant 🪞

[breakofficial]

Break Chapter 1 - Page 83-88!!

HELLO EVERYONE!!! Sorry for the long wait on these!! We actually have another full set of 6 pages coming to you quickly, as we did two sets back to back which is why this took so long!!! Hard work takes time 😤

But!!! We finally get some more weremark content, of course Amy had to bump into him at some point. She seems pretty chill with Mark being a werewolf and all that~ Lucky him!!! Not sure how the rest of the open public will feel about it though XD

We also get to see that Dark has been stalking Mark for a bit here, updating Will on his corruption progress. I guess he's too wimpy to do the hard work so he made Dark go instead.

This is just the start though folks!!! The next set I think you guys are gonna go wild for, cause we get to meet a certain cranky boy and his doggo too!!

===============================

LETS GIVE A HUGE THANK YOU TO THE FOLKS THAT CHARACTER SHADED THE PAGES FOR THIS SET!!! In order!!! A big hand and big preesh goes toooo

@feelixte (Insta) for character shading page 83!!!

@kelepona for character shading page 84!!

@bubblegumberry19 (Insta) for character shading page 85!!

@tealiet_yt (Insta) for character shading page 86!!!

And @feelixte (Insta) for character shading page 88!!

Also!! Additional thanks to @feelixte and @kelepona for the AMAZING fanart you see at the end of the pages!!! You guys are so kind these look kickass!!

We hope you enjoyed reading as much as we did creating these pages!!! Stay tuned for the next set coming your way in the next coming days!!!!

Keep adventuring, heroes!!

-Athena

#markiplier #break #markiplier tag 2 #markimoo #comic #drawing #art #fanart #sketch #doodle #amyplier #amy #tiny box tim #darkiplier #au #markiplier au #series #werewolf

[trappedofficial]

Trapped Chapter 3: Pages 98-102!!!!

TRAPPED IS FINALLY BACK!! WITH MORE DARK AND WILL AND ANGST GALORE!!! My apologies for the lateness here- I really thought I could pull through in October but college has been so crazy that the fresh new start was pushed to November!!! But now everything is back on track and I couldn't be happier!! This set is starting chapter 3 part 4 with a BANG as Dark fucks around more with Marks mind- the guy just can't seem to catch a break!!! Not to mention the funeral of Warfbot (very tragic, I know) but don't worry, she'll come back sometime!!! For now, I hope you enjoy this amazing set the team and I have pit together for this month!!! LETS GIVE A HUGE PREESH TOOOO:

@eyesore-boi for character shading page 98!!

@/marlos_doodles (insta) for character shading page 99!!!

@/bubblegumberry_19 (insta) for character shading page 100!!

And @arsonandhubris for character shading page 102!!!

MORE TRAPPED IS ALWAYS ON THE WAY!!! hoping to do more animations and cool shit in the future!!! Thank you again as always for reading, we all hugely appreciate it!!!!

Take care everyone!!

@markiplier @fischyplier

#trapped #markiplier #comic #fanart #jacksepticeye #series #art #drawing #darkiplier #warfdice #fnaf #fnaf 4 #fnaf 3 #au #markiplier egos #warfbot #omgitsbeensolong #collegebecrazy #sorryforthewaitcrew #iamorganizednowlol