#markiplier egos x reader

[softladyhours]

Inspired by @your-local-eddie-munson-slut ‘s Matt Murdock version—I couldn’t resist lmao

#markiplier #markiplier memes #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier x reader #markiplier meme

[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

[thegayestmferintown]

hi! i just found your blog and i’m excited to read more of what you’ve written :) could i request a markiplier x female reader (established relationship) where the reader has a bad parent situation but hasn’t told mark yet, and he one day brings up meeting her family and she’s all hesitant but he pushes, not realizing the reason she’s hesitant, so they go to dinner with her parents (who she doesn’t talk to often) and they are awful to her and mark and they leave early so he can comfort the reader? sorry for that literally being so long hahaha

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐥.

𝐀/𝐍 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬... 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲-𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 ��𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠... 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 (𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬)

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬/𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

You and Mark had been dating for roughly a year and two months.

He was probably one of the sweetest, and best, things you could ask for.

Your relationship with him was.. practically perfect.

Except for your parents.

You had a decent job, your dream job.

And yet, that wasn't acceptable to them

You made sure to keep your parents away from Mark, despite having met his mother.

You had kept your distance from your parents for some time, until Mark asked the question.

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬?" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝, "𝐔𝐡. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞." 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Although, he continued to pester you. Not that you minded, you just.. didn't want him to meet your parents.

Eventually, he convinced you to give in and ask about having dinner that weekend.

Mark wasn't home when you asked, mostly because you knew how your parents would respond.

And your assumption was correct.

You told them you had a boyfriend, they asked how long you'd been together, you'd told them.

Then they started to yell at you, as expected.

Eventually, they agreed to the dinner. But you could just feel how your mother rolled her eyes, how your father stomped off as they both did when you were young.

At the dinner, you subtly made motions to show Mark that you'd rather die than stay there longer.

Your parents continuously made rude and harsh remarks that made Mark... kind of astonished that any parent could say that to a child.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

Once you both got home, he took you inside and sat on the couch with you.

And then you broke down.

It pained him, deeply, to see you react like that.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, rubbing gentle circles on your back and humming a soft song.

Once you were calmed down enough, you explained everything to him.

And he comforted you.

Then, the two of you sat on the couch, binge-watching all of your favorite movies, and eating popcorn.

#markiplier x reader #mark x reader #markiplier x y/n #markiplier x you #markiplier #mark fischbach #a date with markiplier #ahwm #in space with markiplier #who killed markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #x reader #romantic x reader #romantic #lovers #dinner date #asks #anon ask #requests #requests are open

[gaymingwriter]

Valentine’s Day Headcanon/Drabbles

I’m very slow with requests but I’m currently working on them! I just wanted to write something for Valentine’s Day. Also I don’t usually write Date Mark but since it’s Valentine’s Day I think it fits

Characters in Order: Darkiplier, Damien, Googleplier, Date Mark, Illinois, Eric Derekson, Jameson Jackson

Category: Fluff

Pronouns: They/Them, not used directly

Warnings: Writer’s favorites are obvious, swearing, somewhat spicy reference in Illinois’s but it’s not much

Darkiplier

- This is one of the only holidays he actually plans for and looks forward to

- He actually takes the day off for once to spend time with you

- Would wake you up with your favorite breakfast in bed

- After you’re done eating he cuddles you for a while

- Then he takes you shopping. He’ll buy you pretty much anything you want

- (He’d think it’s really sweet if you got him something too though, so you should do that. It doesn’t have to be expensive)

- Takes you to your favorite restaurant for lunch

- Y’all go for a walk and go to the library/zoo/aquarium (or whatever you prefer)

- He takes you to a fancy restaurant for dinner

- Y’all cuddle and watch movies when you get home <3

Damien

- Y’all stay in for the most part

- Cuddling and movies all day

- He got you flowers and a small gift

- He’d be happy with anything you got him <3

- Makes breakfast and lunch for you

- (Though he will love it if you both cooked together)

- Took you to a nice restaurant for dinner

Googleplier

- He didn’t really understand Valentine’s Day?

- He does his research though

- Goes probably too hard with it

- Ends up planning way too much

- When he wakes you up, he excitedly tells you about everything he planned

- …you very gently let him know that all of his plans would be incredibly stressful

- He’s a little sad at first, but he doesn’t want to stress you out, so he changes his plans to be a couple things

- You get each other some gifts

- You go out to your favorite restaurant for lunch

- Y’all spend the rest of the day cuddling

- Takeout for dinner

- He’s honestly really flustered the whole time

- Even if it isn’t exactly as he planned, he’s still really happy with how everything went <3

Date Mark

- This fucker lives for Valentine’s Day

- The whole speech he gave during ISWM about all the things he planned for the date?

- Yeah, since that didn’t happen, he saved it for today

- He’s actually a real sweetheart when Actor isn’t using him as a character

- Gets you a bouquet of roses, a teddy bear, a box of your favorite kind of chocolate, one of those heart lockets with a picture of both of you in it, and a little heart that he knitted for you

- He sobs of joy and appreciation when you get him something, no matter how small it is

- He takes you to dinner, the fair, and a movie

- And you both hold hands <33

- Y’all binge watch shows and cuddle for the rest of the night

Illinois

- He may be a flirty bastard

- That’s it that’s the sentence

- He does plan an adventure for the day!

- …y’all don’t really leave bed for a while though

- Most of it is cuddling!

- He ends up just taking you to the zoo or aquarium

- He almost cries in public when you get him a gift at the gift shop

- Dinner at the zoo/aquarium food court isn’t the most glamorous, but it was perfect for both of you

- Afterwards you watch cheesy romantic movies until you fall asleep

Eric Derekson

- He made plans! He’s just incredibly nervous to tell you!

- For this reason, you made sure he knew that you’d prioritize any plans he had, but you still had your own ideas

- He shyly brought up that he wanted to have a picnic

- You loved the idea, and your lunch was spent on a blanket in the park <3

- You got him a gift and it made him feel so loved it was great

- He got you some flowers and something you’d had on a gift wishlist

- He was so afraid you wouldn’t like it but he was reassured when you hugged him

- The rest of the day was just the two of you being sweet and romantic with each other

Jameson Jackson

- Gentleman of the year, honestly

- He crocheted some hearts and a little plushie for you

- Turned on some music and danced with you for a while <3

- He made you breakfast, and you make him lunch

- Y’all watched some of yours and his favorite movies for a while

- You gave him some flowers and chocolates

- He loves the classic gifts <3

- You order from y’all’s favorite restaurant for dinner

- The rest of the night is spent chatting and watching movies

#date mark’s gifts brought to you by shit I have gotten my girlfriend #well I like date mark now I might add him specifically to my requests #don’t ask how he got you to the fair in february #gaymingwriter #darkiplier x reader #wkm damien x reader #damien x reader #darkiplier #wkm damien #googleplier x reader #googleplier #ahwm illinois x reader #eric derekson x reader #jameson jackson x reader #ahwm illinois #illinois x reader #eric derekson #markiplier egos x reader #iplier egos x reader #x reader #date mark x reader #date mark

[groven4]

I've been procrastinating for months on end, so here's a little headcanon for my fanfic writers out there who...ya know, actually write stuff:

Dark has the ability to silence all noise a person can hear by touching them. This comes in handy when/if one of the other egos or the da is feeling overwhelmed, especially if they're sensitive to loud noises.

He doesn't often know how to comfort people, but he understands what it's like when your mind becomes too loud to handle, so the only thing he can think to do is give them some relief.

He usually just...puts a hand on their head or something. He's got chronic pain and trust issues, what'd you expect?

#markiplier egos #darkiplier #markiplier egos headcanons #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos & reader #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier & reader

[zee-stars]

Reader and egos as love tropes

So basically I looked up love tropes and I'm gonna be writting the egos that I think fit into them :)

Rivals:

I'm thinking like Actor Mark after the events of WKM and like you guys go for each others throats but you were in love with him before WKM and you still kinda are.

Maybe also Dark but not so much in my brain.

God x worshiper:

Obviously god of night. He is literally a god and you are his worshiper. Do I even need to say more??

Has a dark side × loves them anaway:

Obviously Dark. Like you were there for WKM and after the events you always find a way to go back to him because you love him but he thinks you shouldnt cause hes evil and you're like "stfu"

Dumbasses in love:

Wilford x reader%

I think this one fits it perfectly. There is not much else to write about it. Just when I think of this trope that is exactly what I think about.

Sunshine x sunshine protecter:

Yancy x reader and probably Dark x reader.

I feel like for Yancy it could go either you being the sunshine or him being the sunshine I think it works both ways.

For dark he is definitely the sunshine protector. I can just imagine you're talking to someone and hes just standing behind you giving them a death glare.

Super cocky × tried not to fall for them but did anyways:

Illinois x reader. Man is so cocky. Like Imagine you are trying so hard not to think about him and his stupid smile or about how much you would love for him to hold you that you try to avoid him during adventures. He catches on to why its happening and then one day he just like kisses you or something idk. Idk about you guys but if that happened to me I'd just about die.

Friends to lovers:

Yancy x reader, Damien x reader, Head engineer x reader. I think this fits so many egos but these are my top three. Like when you first meet them you guys get along really well and become best friends but eventually you both catch yourselves falling for the other. Then you guys get together and you are the happiest ever.

Second chance:

Tbh I love this idea with Dark. Like Imagine you and Damien you're together or married if you would. But then everything goes down in WKM and you lose him. A while later you run into Dark and you instantly see Damien in him. At first Dark is against starting anything with you but he has Damiens heart and his heart calls for you so you start dating Dark and maybe get married again, if you will.

Fake Dating:

Damien x reader. This is before WKM. Imagine he is sick and tired of people trying to hook him up with their daughters or whatever at parties and one day he says he has a wife. Many people are shocked and they start bugging him about it. They ask for his wife's name and he says your name by mistake. They say that next party he has to bring you so now hes trying to explain what happened to you. You agree to be his fake wife for the night. You both have an amazing night and at the end of the night as he is bringing you home he starts confessing and stuff and then you kiss him.

Flirt x oblivious:

Illinois x reader. He is very flirty but you are kinda dumb and just don't pick up on it. He literally would say he loves you and you're just like "I love you too!" But he can tell that you mean it in a platonic way. Eventually when you confess to him this is how it goes.

"Look, I've liked you for so long but I was scared that you didnt feel the same way"

"I LITERALLY HAVE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR MONTHS"

"Friends do that"

"I SAID I LOVED YOU"

"Friends do that"

"what about that one time when we were walking through a narrow path and we almost kissed while you were pressed against me?"

"Okay maybe friends dont do that..."

Overthinker x never thinks:

Head engineer Mark x reader. Let's be honest. There is not a single thought going on in Head engineer Mark's head. With the captain on the other hand thinks to much. There is not a single second that they aren't thinking about something. Especially when they think about something going wrong with the ship. Luckily for Mark the captain is there to think for the both of them.

"You do realize that it's not supposed to be like that?"

"What do you mean? Was it not always like that??"

Talks x listens:

Head engineer Mark x reader. Kinda goes back to the last one. I feel like there are many times that the captain and Mark are together and he will just be rambling.

"Oh, I'm sorrry captain, I dont mean to be a bother with my rambling."

"No, I want to know why you hope the new plant has a beautiful sky."

Long distance:

Yancy x reader. I'm thinking like during iswm. Reader is up in space doing Captain stuff and they miss Yancy so much. They told him that they were going to space camp cause they didnt want to explain what was actually going on. In case he started to worry. But they found a way to still keep in contact and write letters. It was tough not getting to see him in person but they knew when they got home Yancy would be able to come with them.

Temporarily one sided:

I feel like this one could fit many egos but I like Yacny x reader the most.

So you stayed in the prison with him and you guys were really close. You shared a cell and spent all day with each other. You had fallen for Yancy. It was easy too. He was clingy in a good way and always made you feel heard and comfortable. You didnt know how to tell him. He didn't realize you're feelings and he didn't recognize his at first. He didn't think it was love. He didnt really know what love was cause he had been starved of it for so long. Tiny helped him figure out and after awhile he told you.

Fell first x fell harder:

This but with Damien.

You and Damien were very close. He was you childhood best friend and now you worked by his side. His crush on you definitely started around you guy's teen years. Mark and William definitely teased him for it and Celine tried to convince him to tell you. But he never did. Around the time you guys graduated high school, you started to fall for him. You were completely smitten by him. Confused by how you went this long without noticing. It was hard to keep it in, so you told Celine.

"Omg finally. Tell him. He is in love with you and has been for years!"

After you did and you guys got together it was easy to tell that you were completely in love with him. You're guy's friends (Will and Mark) teased you by saying you were worse then Damien. It was true. You fell so hard for that man. (We all did. He's so pretty)

Workaholic x clingy:

I think this one fits Damien x reader and head engineer Mark x reader.

For Damien he is the workaholic and you are clingy. Like he'll come home from work and be like "I have work to do."

"Is it due tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then we can take a nap first."

And if the work is do tomorrow you'll but wrap up in his lap while he gets it done. Usually you fall asleep while he's working and he'll carry you to bed after.

For head engineer Mark you are the workaholic and he is clingy. You can not get work done around him. Especially if it's late at night. He will beg you to go to bed with him or pay attention to him and if that doesnt work he will pick you up and carry you to bed or away from your work.

That is all of them. I plan on writting actual stories for some of them so expect that. If there is any that you just want me to write let me know and I probably will if I wasn't already planning on doing it. Also I found the best photo of Damien earlier and I want to share it with you.

ISN'T HE BEAUTIFUL!!!!! I WANT TO GIVE THIS MAN THE BIGGEST SMOOCH!! God I love him so much.

#markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier ego #markiplier egos #a date with markiplier #markiplier x reader #a heist with markiplier #actor mark #actor mark x reader #engineer mark #head engin mark x reader #head engineer mark #in space with markiplier #space mark x reader #adwm darkiplier #wkm darkiplier #darkiplier x reader #damien x reader #mayor damien #wilford motherloving warfstache #wkm wilford #wilford x reader #i am a simp #i love damien #AHHHHHHHHHHH #i love them all so much

[coff33notforme]

hihi my birthday is coming up soon! i was wondering if you could write how darkiplier, damien, or even engineer mark would react of them not knowing and finding out the day of that it’s my b-day! i hope it’s not too confusing…

A/n: HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY ANON!! I hope you have a great one! ^^, I hope you don't mind that I just did Engineer Mark, I was having trouble writing for the other two, but enjoy none the less!

Would feel incredibly bad if he found out it was your birthday and didn’t know

Especially since the whole crew knew and had been wishing you well and presenting you with gifts throughout the whole day, much to Marks confusion 

He’s on his hands and knees for forgiveness right now

He’ll do absolutely everything to make it up to you no matter how much you reassure him he’ll insist, so there's no real point in arguing with him

There's not that much you can do in space, and even if there was there's certainly not enough time when your the Captain

But Mark is determined to make your birthday a great one, anything you want or need he’ll do it for you

Hungary, but don’t have enough time to make something? Marks got you, Necks cramped but you don’t have time to take a nap? No problem

He’ll try to whip something up for you the day of, but it probably doesn’t go as planned, it was a nice thought though

And even when the days done, Mark hasn’t finished everything he set out to do

Before you settle down getting ready for sleep Mark knocks on your door

Confused you open it, immediately skeptical as to what could have possibly brought Mark here at this time of night 

He’ll simply hush your questions and concerns as he leads you to a distant room in the ship

But as soon as he reveals what he was planning to you, you gasp in delight

In the room Mark set up a small picnic blanket, covered with your favorite snacks and homemade desserts, you don’t know how he managed to acquire all of the sweets but frankly you didn’t really care

Marks eyes twinkled as he watched the excitement spread across your face, Mark let out a surprised yelp when you threw your arms around him, before he chuckled, hugging you back with the same intensity, smiling as you held each-other

“Happy Birthday Cap.” 

SPACE BIRTHDAY WOWOWWO

#iswm x reader #iswm #iswm captain #iswm fanfiction #iplier egos x reader #engineer mark x captain #head engineer x captain #head engineer mark #engineer mark x reader #fluff #headcannons #markiplier egos x reader

[mildly-intrusivethoughts]

Trying to Get You to Bed

A/N: I’ve been sleeping bad, so I decided to make some little fics on it. Made it GN for the besties. Enjoy <3 Word Count: 635

Wilford: “Oh dear!” Wilford was rambling on about who knows what when he finally notices how late into the night it had gotten. He turns to look at you, asking if you were ready for bed but sees that you clearly were. You had arranged yourself on the armchair with your legs propped up on one end of the armrest and your head on the other. You tucked your arms into your body so they wouldn’t dangle. He debated taking a quick picture but instead locked it away in his memory, deciding that it indeed was time for bed. He walked over to you and rubbed your shoulders, gently kissing the top of your head attempting to wake you up to go to bed. You turned away from him, mumbling “Okay, let’s go” but made no actual effort to get off the chair, instead turning in more to try to get comfortable. Eventually, he carefully picks you up and takes you to bed, kissing your face softly saying how silly you were, the words barely making it past your ears.

Actor!Mark: It was only 08:30 pm. You both were lounging in the living room, it was a quiet night. He was on one end of the couch looking over scripts while you were on the other side, browsing through your phone trying not to disturb him. Then with one long exaggerated sigh, he gets off the couch and stretches loudly, letting out a pleased hum as his joints crack. You look up from your phone with an eyebrow arched, “Where you going?” You can tell he heard you but he didn’t respond, instead he sauntered over to the few lamps that were on in the living room, twisting the knobs to ‘OFF’ one by one, till the only light from the living room came from your phone. His barely visible figure moved towards the doorway of the room. Realizing you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch he finally responded back, “Well? Are you coming to bed?” and left the room. You quickly hopped off the couch after him.

Dark: It was late into the night and you were still typing away on your laptop. The emails seemed never ending and you couldn’t stop yourself from replying. Dark simply watched you from the other side of your office space. ‘Better to finish replying now than to open up to a full inbox’ you had told him, by this point it seemed like it was hours ago. There was something that frustrated him as he watched you hunched over your laptop, screen practically inches from your face. Your eyes were clearly strained, now that he remembered, weren’t you supposed to be wearing glasses? Glancing up at the old clock in the room, he decided that you’ve had enough. You barely glanced up at him over your screen. Before you had a chance to tell him you were almost done, Dark’s fingers slid up behind the laptop’s screen and began pushing forward, slowly closing it down until they barely touched down on your hands, “I think you’re done for tonight” he said. “I was almost done” you said, laughing a little as you were caught off by his actions. Dark stood unwavering, his aura growing slightly more intimidating as he pressed a little more lightly on the laptop. Your eyes met with his, hoping you could puppy eye your way for more time but there was no room to convince him you still had time for a few more emails. With a defeated sigh, you pulled your hands off the keys and slumped back into your chair as Dark rounded the table to your side. “Let’s go,” he said a little softer this time, pulling your hand to get you out of your chair.

#mildly-intrusivethoughts #tidbit thoughts #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #wilford warfstache #actor mark #darkiplier #wilford warfstache x reader #actor mark x reader #actor mark x y/n #wilford warfstache x y/n #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x y/n #markiplier egos x y/n #wilford warfstache headcanons #actor mark headcanons #darkiplier headcanons

[rat-that-writes]

Play-Wrestling the Egos | HCs

a/n: i finally acquired the braincell

taglist: @softladyhours @chaos-carnation

tw: 2 references to sex but theres nothing explicit

🖤Dark🖤

sometimes he cheats and uses the shadow void tendril thingies

but most of the time he likes to watch you struggle to push him off you

he lets you sometimes just to see you all proud and determined but then just squishes you again

if you get him while he’s not focused on Squashing You then you could maybe win if he’s tired

8 times out of 10 you are getting folded though

evil evil evil boy /aff

💙Damien💙

ALWAYS lets you win hes a gentleman

he loves seeing you so proud of yourself

although he does put up a bit of a fight so you’re even more proud when you do win

hes usually the one to initiate it

just tackles you into bed sometimes

one time you wrestled on the sofa downstairs and the poor butler almost had a heart attack he thought unsavoury activities were taking place

you both ran upstairs blushing and giggling

❤️Actor Mark❤️

always loses

even if he’s physically bigger and/or stronger than you he will lose every time because he doesnt know how to fight

he just pouts and tells you if he doesn’t get kisses he will die immediately

baabyyyyyyy you’re gonna mess up my hairrrrr

you could fold him like a wet towel and he couldn’t even do anything about it

sopping wet pool noodle of a man /aff

💛Illinois💛

“awww, darlin, you look so cute trying to be tough”

sometimes he lets you win because you look so cute all proud

but you also look cute all pouty when you lose

hes enjoying it immensely either way

but if you wear his hat he’ll be too distracted to win

but that involved stealing the hat first and he knows what you’re going to do if he gives you his hat

CHASE him for the hat

🤍Yancy🤍

lets you think you’re winning then BAM you’re underneath him and he is GRINNING

apologises with kisses

“i’m sorry angel i just love the squeaks you make when i flips youse over”

tell him hes mean and he will smother you in kisses

he will tackle you without warning if he’s consumed caffeine

🚀Engineer Mark🚀

its 50/50 with him

sometimes he’ll let you win and sometimes he will remind you about all those muscles underneath his space suit

“come on Captain, you can’t fight me off? you’re adorable. Maybe i’ll let you win next time.”

but if you REALLY try he will let you win because oh my god thats even cuter look at youuuuu

celci caught you two once and didnt speak to mark for 6 days she was absolutely disgusted /hj

to be fair she did also think you were indulging in unsavoury activities

🔪Murdock🔪

if you ask him if he wants to play wrestle he will chase you first

with no warning

“hey murdock wanna wrestle-“

*gets up and bolts towards you menacingly*

then when you’re too tired from running to fight back he gently holds you down and smiles so evil at you

awful bastard man /aff

but sometimes he lets you win if he’s really tired and you’re already in bed

he does little growls when he’s tired

he pretends to fall asleep once you think you’ve won then he flips you over and sleeps on you

nasty terrible boy /aff

🌌God of Night🌌

“why are you trying to fight me”

“because it’s fun!”

🧍🏻‍♂️

he doesn’t know what to do about this

you are pushing him and dragging him with all your strength but hes yknow a GOD so he’s just

🧍🏻‍♂️

eventually picks you up like a wet sponge and kisses your head

its like a “good effort” sticker

🏃🏻‍♂️Heehoo🏃🏻‍♂️

why would you even try this

he is winning the second you put your hand on him

you are getting tumbled around like sack of onion

one onion

your brain is the onion

if you let him he’d throw you up in the air like pizza pie

he makes sure to keep you from getting any bruises or injuries though

careful boy even if he is treating you like a tennis ball

#markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos/reader #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier/reader #mayor damien x reader #mayor damien/reader #damien x reader #damien/reader #actor mark x reader #actor mark/reader #illinois x reader #illinois/reader #yancy x reader #yancy/reader #murdock x reader #murdock/reader #god of night/reader #god of night x reader #heehoo x reader #heehoo/reader

[goosedoes-fics]

Quiet

Wilford Warfstache x nonverbal!Reader

Content warnings: Gender neutral reader, use of y/n, boss and employee relationship, what the fuck is a slow burn

Notes: this is another re-upload. errrmmmm wilford the silly

~~~~

"[Y/n]!"

A loud voice jolted you out of your imagination. It was a very slow day, the kind that you'd spend curled up in a blanket by the fireplace, but of course you had to spend it at work. Typical.

You turned expectantly to your jovial sounding co-worker. What you had assumed was correct, as usual. The boss himself, Mr. Warfstache.

To call Wilford a "friend" would be an odd choice of words. You preferred to think of your relationship as strictly professional, but Mr. Warfstache seemed to consider you as a close pal.

Wilford plopped himself unceremoniously next to your seat at the sound booth. A wide grin was present on his face, as usual.

"So! The day's almost over, yeah? You ready to head home?"

You shrugged slightly, hoping he would leave you alone. It's not that you disliked him exactly, but more that he didn't really understand your aversion to conversating. As usual, he paid no mind to your wordless response.

"Me and a few a' the guys are headed over to a fancy li'l resteraunt in the area. And y'know of course I had t' see if you wanted to come along!" The eccentric man grinned wider, maintaining eery eye contact with you.

Naturally, you didn't respond verbally. Honestly, you didn't respond at all. You gave Wilford a strange look, turning your head towards the soundboard and flicking off the power switch for the night.

Wilford leaned forward, trying to catch your eye again. "But, hey, if you don't want a crowd, we can just go by ourselves! The two of us!" he piped up hopefully, his odd voice taking on an even odder tone.

That... actually didn't sound too bad to you. You turned to face him once more, hesitating for a moment before giving him a small nod. His face immediately lit up.

Wilford jumped out of his chair, running a hand through his hair to adjust it. "Well! Let's go now, then!"

With a small sigh, you lifted yourself from the chair, stretching a bit before gathering your belongings and heading for the studio door. Wilford trailed close behind you, locking the door as you exited the building.

The walk was about how you expected it. Wilford chattered away, nearly talking your ear off, but thankfully stayed away from anything that required you to speak. The sun was starting to go down now, painting the sky with a lovely gradient from blue to pink. You took a moment to admire the beauty of the scenery.

It was a little while before you began to realize the two of you had been walking for quite some time. Wilford had piped down a bit, and was glancing around in confusion as he scanned the streets.

"...coulda sworn the damn thing was this way," he muttered, seemingly embarrassed. "Yeah there was... that big ol' sign? And further down was the restaurant, right?"

The odd man seemed quite nervous now. Bits of sunlight filtered through the buildings on the horizon, but the streets were dimly lit as the lamps littering the sidewalks had yet to turn on.

After a moment, Wilford sighed heavily, turning swiftly on his heels. "I don't want us to get lost. Let's just head back." He hung his head sadly. Something told you he had been looking forward to this for a while.

You reassuringly pat his shoulder, making Wilford jump slightly, as if he had forgotten you were there. He looked back at you, giving you a small smile. "Don't you worry, I know where the studio is from here."

The walk back was much quieter than before. Your boss was so uncharacteristically quiet that it startled you half to death when he protectively wrapped an arm around your waist. You didn't protest. The closeness was quite comforting.

Eventually, the two of you managed to return to the studio. It was dark out now, and Wilford dejectedly retracted his arm as he turned to look at you.

"I'm sorry this turned out so boring, [Y/n]," he commented sadly.

You patted his arm again, this time letting the touch linger a bit more than you realized. You swiftly brought your arm back to your side, gazing at the sidewalk with embarrassment.

When you looked back up, Wilford was a bit closer. You felt your face heat up immediately as he drew you into a strong hug. After a moment of shock, you put your arms around him and hugged back.

Wilford pulled away with a deep breath. "Ta be honest, I was really looking forward to spendin' time with you. I didn't mean to get all lost like that."

You blinked in confusion. Wilford was talkative, sure, but he never tried to "spend time" with you outside of work.

"Actually, I'm really sorry for a lot a' things. I know I talk a lot an', I mean, you don't." His words began speeding up as he started to ramble. "You always seem so... uncomfy when I talk to ya. Did it feel like I was pushin' the whole outin' on ya? Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about that, of course it must've felt like that. I'm your boss and you're always so quiet. I wish you had told me, not that this is your fault, but I mean-"

You put a finger over Wilford's lips to stop his rambling, and he cut off quickly. He stared at you for a moment, and as you realized what you had done, you quickly pulled away. You gazed at him and shook your head to indicate his worries were incorrect.

You both stared at each other for a moment. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment once again.

Wilford gently placed a hand on your waist. "Is it okay if I kiss you?" he asked cautiously.

Your face was now evidently reddened. After a moment of processing his words, you nodded slowly.

Wilford brought his face closer to yours, eyes narrowing slightly as he slowly planted his lips on yours. For how rough his hands were, his lips were comfortably soft. The way he kissed you made it seem as if he'd been waiting to for quite some time.

Slowly, he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours in a caring gesture.

The warmth of the embrace lasted some time before you stepped back, earning a sad whine from Wilford. You smiled slightly.

"It's dark out now. Can I walk you home?" he asked hopefully.

You nodded, grasping his hand firmly as you began leading the way.

The quiet of the night gave you some time to reflect. You realized how easy it was to communicate with Wilford, as you didn't have to say a single word. That was very comforting to you.

Maybe one day you'd even be confident enough to speak in front of him. You smiled at the thought.

Maybe the talkative man wasn't so bad after all.

#wilford warfstache #wilford #wilford markiplier #wilford warfstache markiplier #wilford x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #markiplier ego #markiplier egos #markiplier ego x reader #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier

[leighsartworks216]

Your Captain

Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Requested by Anon:

"Sweet! Can i request a angst and fluff fic with engineer mark? Where captain overworks themselves, not taking care of themselves at all, marks sees it but doesn't want to bother them too much about it

And eventually they get really sick and collapse infront of mark

With angst prompts #12 and #17 thank youuuu"

12. "You could have died."

17. "No, no, no, you can't close your eyes right now!"

Tbh this fic started as a completely different concept but I think it fit really well with this request so yah

Warnings: loss of identity, mentions of the warp core events, mentions of death, overworking, exhaustion, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 3906

Masterlist

Tag List Form

The realization is slow. Not in the way a predator creeps on an unsuspecting victim. Nor in the way an illness would, slowly taking over your body and mind until you can no longer ignore your decreasing abilities. No. It’s not even noticeable at first. Little hints here and there, indicative of something bigger.

And then it dawned on you. Suddenly. Like a spark igniting a rampant fire.

It happened when you looked up. The sky was different here. Strange. Nothing like Earth’s. There were no constellations - at least not yet. Two moons circled and twirled around the planet. Your new home.

You had neglected to look up since you landed. You couldn’t blame anyone. There was simply too much to do - buildings in need of building, resources to discover and study, maps to draw up of the surrounding area. Not only that, you joined your leads wherever you could.

You assisted Celci as she and her team revived colonists. You welcomed each new citizen with a smile and Welcome to our new planet! All 100,000 of them. Celci told you to take a break, get a nap, eat something. You would argue that everyone deserved to be welcomed, and it helped you get a grasp on just how many carpenters, engineers, scientists, medics, gun hands and others there actually were. She gave you a worried and disapproving side eye, but she couldn’t do anything to stop you.

Gunther worked to set up a perimeter where the first buildings could be set up. You helped to plan out which buildings went where, and exactly where your borders should be laid. And when he started setting up armed droids to keep an eye out for raging wildlife that could threaten your new beginnings? You were all too happy to put yourself to work, hauling the heavy automechanicals to each designated spot. If he made a comment about exerting yourself, you ignored it and kept on working.

Burt, with the lack of necessity for warp-core engineering (the thought made you flinch), helped out in home-building. He acted as foreman, making sure each sheet of metal had its place. As the framework finished, he and his team went in to affix lights and other electronic necessities. A few engineers even took plumbing jobs. (There was, unfortunately, a lack of those sent over from Earth.) Quiet as he was, the only time he pointed out your willingness to dive head first and help build foundations, framework and walls, was in a poetic waxing after a rather large building neared completion. You said it was a beautiful poem, but you didn’t quite understand its meaning. (You did.)

And Mark. Oh, god, Mark. With each new job you threw yourself into, he was always right there, running around like a headless chicken trying to help. If you were building a wall, he was right behind you (sometimes even right next to you, holding the metal in place as you bolted it in), keeping you up to date with the progress of the colony, messages from Earth, and other such things. He worried over you the most out of anyone else.

You couldn’t blame him, honestly. After the… adventure you both went on, you wouldn’t give yourself the time of day to even close your eyes. Once dark settled in, you threw yourself into paperwork and managerial nonsense. You couldn’t stop.

It had been one of these nights when you realized. You just finished talking to Celci, discussing the discoveries being made. The scientists just started working with the security crew to go out on excursions to study the flora and fauna. They just brought back a strange plant that they believed could be medicinal. It was exciting, truly.

But Celci had been short with the discussion. She had her arms crossed the whole time, shutting down branching topics with quick retorts. You need rest, she’d scolded. She shoved a protein bar in your hand and sent you to your tent, with orders not to do any work tomorrow. When you tried to protest, she enacted a rule that stated she - as lead officer for medical - could confine you to your quarters if you were not at your peak health, physical or otherwise. You couldn’t argue with her, and so trudged like a pouting child toward the temporary camp of tents everyone was staying in.

That’s when you looked up. You stopped, staring at the unfamiliar stars, the strange moons that lacked craters. The Invincible could just be seen, hovering in the atmosphere. You were waiting for orders from Earth to know what to do with her. You refused to dismantle the grand spaceship. Most likely, it would continue to remain high above the planet, run by a skeleton crew. Forever up there. Alone.

That is when the realization overcame you.

It was slow. And then it all came crashing down over top of you like a tsunami. A growing sense of guilt filled your chest. Was that it? Guilt. No, maybe it was… loss. Yes. A powerful sense of grief within you, bubbling to the surface.

Maybe it had always been there. You couldn’t rightly tell. But it was powerful. It grew, bubbling like a thick paste within you until it reached your tear ducts and buckled your knees. The ground was warm beneath you, and the sky full of strange new stars blurred into a swirl of watercolors. Maybe this was how Van Gogh saw the world. Through tears.

“Captain?”

Your lip trembled. You couldn’t look at him.

A warm body knelt next to you on the ground. His dark eyes burned into your skin, searching desperately for answers. Why were you crying? Why were you sitting out in the middle of the camp, staring at the sky? When he glanced up, following your gaze, he caught sight of the Invincible. He mentally damned the ship.

Was it because of the ship that you were crying? Far too often to be healthy, he, too, stared up at the ship. He remembered the warp core. The mistakes he made, and the ones he caused.

He had no idea what you saw up there. You never spoke about it. Now he wished he had. He wished he asked. He wished he knew what worlds, what alternate realities, what different timelines you’d witnessed. Maybe then he could understand what was wrong.

“Cap…?”

Your eyes were red now. Your face crinkled with grief and sorrow, fighting back the onslaught of tears. You gasped in a shaky breath. Out came a whisper. He thought, perhaps, you would tell him about the things you’d seen. You witnessed thousands of deaths; he had, too. But that was not what came out of your mouth.

“I don’t remember my name.”

Mark was stunned. Shock and confusion overtook his body. Your name? Well, of course, your name was… It’s…

Confused and frustrated, he remembered the IDs on file for every single crew member. He sifted through so many every day, trying to keep track of who was who. It took a few taps on his wrist pad to pull up your ID. He skimmed it for himself before holding out his arm to show you.

The image was fairly recent, only from a few months ago. But you looked… brighter. Hopeful. Determined. Your hair was a little shorter then, too. The bags under your eyes from rigorous study weren’t as prominent as they were now. You looked like a hollow shell of who you once were.

And, yes, that was your name. Or… was it? Was it really your name after everything that had happened?

No. That was their name.

You shook your head and furiously wiped at the tears on your cheeks. Every crass name, criminal title, and disparaging nickname flooded your mind. No. They didn’t have those titles. They didn’t deserve the hatred and vitriol that followed you through that wormhole. They were not the Captain. And you were not them.

“That’s not my name anymore,” you croaked. You shook your head again. You looked like a child having a breakdown in kindergarten over a broken toy. “That’s- That’s not me anymore.”

Mark couldn’t say he really understood why. The image of you, all crooked grins and academy-fresh confidence, was you. He remembered you gushing to him over flying your first airplane, and going through the rigorous training of outer-space flying. He remembered because it was you who gave him the idea for all those stupid windows. When you gushed over being so close to the night sky you felt you could reach out and pluck Polaris right out of the inky black.

But when he looked from the picture to you? He was reminded of the hardships. How you jumped from universe to universe, wracking up casualties, just to save him. And he started to get it. You went through too much to be even near the same plane of existence as your young, naive self.

“Who am I, Mark?”

When you fell to press your face unceremoniously into his shoulder, he wasted no time wrapping you up in his arms. The ID flickered away as the screen turned off. He tried to hold on tight enough to physically stop you from shaking with your sobs, but it was impossible.

“You’re our Captain.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. But they were the only words he could find.

Anybody who passed by pretended they didn’t see anything. He hoped, anyway. He couldn’t meet their eyes. All he could do was hold on, as you had done for him once. Your sobs turned into stifled cries, and then only whimpers. He wasn’t concerned at first. In fact, he was a little relieved you were beginning to calm down. Until you became completely limp in his hold.

Even then, he still paused a second, before pulling you back until he could see your face. Had your skin always been so dull?

He shook you slightly. Maybe you were just sleeping, right? Your eyelids didn’t even flutter. Panic shot through his heart.

He shook you again, harder this time. No response.

“Captain?” Another shake, perhaps a little more vigorously than he intended. Your body was a rag doll, flopped in his lap. “No, no, no, you can’t close your eyes right now!”

His mind, scared and jumping to all the worst conclusions, raced to figure out what to do. He laid you on the ground and pressed an ear against your chest.

…

……

Okay. There’s a heartbeat. A little weaker than he thought was normal, but it was there. And your chest was moving, albeit slowly, with each breath. He pulled away. His hands, calloused with years of fiddling with wires and heavy machinery, floundered in the air. He didn’t know what to do.

Desperate cries for help, for Cici, for anyone were ripped from his lungs. He was gasping for air by the time half the camp rushed out to see what the commotion was. He couldn’t catch his breath until you were safe again.

He just needed you to be safe.

-

Word spread about the Captain’s health quickly. Mark couldn’t say he was surprised. Actually, he was sort of embarrassed.

That night - almost a week ago now - Celci had rushed to his side. She was the rational and cool-headed one. She commanded medics to grab a stretcher, to ready an IV, prepare a bed and equipment. All the while he screeched like a banshee, whaling for his old friend.

Uncharacteristically, though, she didn’t say a word about it. Nobody did. (Or, at least, not when he was within earshot.) She grabbed him a chair, some water and snacks, even a blanket. And as he sat by the Captain’s side, a permanent frown etched within his features, she kept him up to date on your condition and on the colony.

He knew his fears were wholly rational. After jumping through wormholes and witnessing first hand what consequences it brought, it was only natural for him to fret over the permanence of life now.

How stupid he’d been. Really. How many times did he grab your hand and jump back into the wormhole? More than he could count on one hand. The way he would be torn apart by a black hole or exploded by a supernova, and still step out of that pod with a giddy little grin, asking, almost begging, the Captain to jump in again. And again. And again.

Vaguely he remembered an airlock.

Neither of you were immortal now. Honestly, he hated immortality. It seems to amazing in theory…

He drags a hand down his face with a sigh. His shoulders are hunched. He leans his elbows against the edge of your bed.

He’s tired. Not like before. This wasn’t an exhaustion fueled by some silly false heroics or nonstop building of a catalyst to all your issues. No. He was exhausted with worry, and fear, and- God, emotions he didn’t even have words for. It all sat heavy in his soul.

Guilt, he decided to call it. But different. Guilt if it was slightly to the left.

Celci told him you just passed out from exhaustion and overworking yourself. Maybe he felt guilty for not picking up on it sooner, or for stopping you before it got so bad. It’s not as if the bags under your eyes were invisible, or that the way you carelessly rushed in to help every single person in need was subtle. He should have noticed.

Maybe then you would remember your name. Or, he thought back to your ID, believe you’re still you.

He wished his mind could shut up, for once.

A distraction. That’s what he needed, yeah.

He dragged his eyes from your face to your monitor. He was never very good with medical stuff. The numbers were odd. Was that blood pressure normal? Too high? Too low? Hell if he knew. Was your heart beating fast enough?

He contemplated for a brief moment the components that went into a monitor like that. The wires, connectors, screws, bolts, etc. And then he remembered this machine was making sure you were still alive. The idea of dismantling it was no longer appealing.

He turned to the IV next. A slow, continuous drip of fluids, hooked up to your arm. Needles always gave him a bad feeling. He felt nauseous looking at it.

Strange flowers caught his attention next. There were no roses or tulips or irises out here. Just… Well, they didn’t have names yet. The exobiologists were working on formulating latin names, genuses, and everything else that came with cataloging different flora. They were still beautiful, he couldn’t deny it. Bright orange petals with neon blue stamens that glowed at night. Razor-leaved stems that started as purple by the bloom and morphed into an odd black hue. They looked poisonous, actually. He was sure they wouldn’t be allowed in here if that was the case.

Paper was becoming a luxury at this point. Not that it mattered much, with everything accessible at the press of a button on their wrists. Still, they thought it would be best to ration out the remaining scraps throughout the colony. And everyone, seemingly unanimously, decided to use the rare material to write get well soon cards.

The little folds of parchment filled every possible surface. With 100,003 people writing get well and thank you, at some point the excess of good will notes had to be tucked away in a bin to be read later. He caught a nurse, once, rotating out the cards.

His frown softened when he thought of the very human way in which they cared about you. How human to utilize a precious resource just to say Thank you, wake up soon. How human to see something beautiful in nature, and to display it tenderly next to you. We found something beautiful, it made us think of you. How very human for those who stopped by, who saw him ever at your side like a steadfast protector, rested a hand on his shoulder or patted him on the back. You are not alone in your pain.

He wished, desperately, that you could be awake to witness the love humanity so freely handed out. Maybe then you could rediscover who you were.

“You look like shit.”

Mark startled awake. When did he fall asleep? Ah, dammit, it was dark outside. He must have been out for hours. He scrubbed at the exhaustion crusting his eyelids shut.

Wait…

His body froze. He was too scared to breathe. His heart was racing.

He couldn’t have heard that. He couldn’t have.

Heart in his throat, he slowly removed his hand from his eye and dragged his eye along your frame, still tucked safely under the blanket. Sure enough, when he finally reached your face, there was a smug grin waiting for him.

And with a jolt, his body came back to life.

You watched, half-amused as Mark threw himself from his chair to press a Call Nurse button on the opposite side of your bed. His eyes were wide and frantic. His hair was a mess. Bags under his eyes carried the weight of the world, tears of relief slipping down his cheeks before he could even think to stop them.

“You’re- You’re awake!” he croaked. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your shoulders. They were trembling.

You tried to reach up to hold onto his shoulder, maybe even his face to feel his concerning amount of stubble, but it felt so heavy. You held onto his forearm instead. “How long-?”

Celci came storming in, looking about as frantic as Mark, but better put together. Once she saw you were conscious, her expression morphed to be somewhere between joy and fury. Uh oh.

“Captain!” The only freedom from her intense stare came when she checked your vitals. Mark backed away so she had plenty of room to do so, but he kept a hand on one of your shoulders. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet. “I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’, but I told you this was going to happen if you kept pushing yourself so hard!”

“What exactly happened?”

The cryonics lead faltered. Mark gave her a pleading look. She realized, for the first time since stepping in here, that he had been- no, was crying. She had never seen him cry before.

Celci sighed and tapped a few things into her wrist pad. “I’m assigning you to bedrest and low-effort work until you decide to put your needs before those of the colony.” She leveled you with a concerned stare. “The colony needs you, Captain. You can’t be everywhere at once, helping with every last fiber of your being, no matter how much you want to. Let the rest of us carry the responsibilities we were sent here to carry.”

Mark turned away to wipe away his tears before she could glare at him next and give him a lecture, too. She huffed, nodded to you with a Captain, and left.

The air was thick. Things unsaid hung around in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam - everywhere you look and hard to ignore.

Mark didn’t look at you as he tried to gather himself together. The motes would continue lingering until he was ready to answer your questions.

Deciding to give him some space (as much as you could while bedridden), you looked to the side. The hordes of cards was utterly overwhelming. Each one was different from the next. Some had Captain written on the front in neat cursive, heavy-handed scrawls, or chicken scratch. Some people did their ‘C’s differently, or slurred their writing together in their plain-text handwriting. Other cards simple said Get well soon! or Feel better! You could see small paragraphs of writing inside the folds.

A rush of warmth flooded your chest. All of the command leads, all of the colonists - everyone thought about you. Maybe the idea of being thought of was just so foreign, but you didn’t think in any earnest capacity that this many people would care. The Leads, sure, you spent so much time with them up on the ship (more than they realized), but the most contact the vast majority of the colonists had with you was the simple welcome you gave them as they were thawed. And yet. Despite it all. Everyone had left a card.

Everyone cared about you.

The warm feeling in your chest turned sour as you remembered your conversation with Mark last night. (Was it last night?) The way the stars glimmered back without a care for you. The way you squeezed that protein bar so tight it became mush in its package. The way Mark held you.

I don’t remember my name.

Who am I, Mark?

You squeezed his arm, as much as you could in your weakened state.

You’re our Captain.

Reddened eyes met yours. His eyes were so dark, but they held a thousand thoughts, emotions, and ideas behind them. You remembered looking into those eyes, as you held onto him, refused to let him go even as he called you hateful names and ripped the crystal from your palm.

“You’ve been asleep for a week.” He sniffed. His hand trembled as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Cici said… You were overworking yourself, pushing yourself past your limit just to be there for everybody, and you weren’t taking care of yourself like you should have been and she said-” He swallowed thickly, fighting to speak through the lump in his throat. “You could have died.”

Oh. It had been that bad? You couldn’t recall feeling weak. Though, maybe it was from the endless running you did during the warp core fiasco. How long had you been awake during that endless nightmare? Your body had recovered once the cycle was broken, but your mind…

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could say. His shoulders fell. “I didn’t…” Your voice was quiet, almost too soft to be a whisper. As if you were afraid to say what was on your mind. “When we were in the wormhole, I was so tired. We both were. But it’s like, I don’t even know what it’s like to feel tired anymore, because nothing compares to what happened.”

You looked up at him, like a child seeking approval. In your eyes, he saw universes colliding, supernovas, and someone who never gave up hope. For the briefest hint of a second, he saw that same determined graduate from the ID.

“Does that make sense?”

He nodded without thinking. His hand left your shoulder, following the length of your arm to hold your hand. You didn’t have gloves on. It was… odd. He ignored the calloused scar that brushed against his palm. “I feel the same. I remember building the… it. I didn’t sleep at all, then. And now that I can, it feels… wrong. I’m not tired, but I am. I can’t explain it better than that.”

“I think we both need a nap.”

He huffed. It was nice to see him smile again. “On your orders, Captain.” His grin flickered, eyes darkened. “If you’d like, you can choose a different name. It wouldn’t be too hard to change your ID.”

“No,” you said. You smiled. “You were right, all along.”

“About what?”

“I’m your Captain.”

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@hyperfixat

@cryptidjester

@your-voice-is-mellifluous

#fanfic #fanfiction #request #requested #iswm #in space with markiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #iswm mark #iswm celci #engineer mark #head engineer mark #engineer mark x reader #head engineer mark x reader #engineer mark x captain #head engineer mark x captain #captaineer #angst #hurt/comfort

[theknightmarket]

Something something Actor being the King in Yellow and Wilford being Ln’eta and Dark being Nyanlathotep from that Sucker for Love game.

My mind is crumbling.

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #writing #markiplier #one shots #x reader #actor mark #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #sucker for love #that Cthulhu game

[peachyloveswriting]

u do murderiplier with a reader that has ADHD please im begging you????? like the reader just has a hard time sitting still and just like remembering things and is always jumping from one thing to another and is just like cant focus plllss

FOCUS --- (Murderiplier x reader)

SUMMARY: Being ADHD does not help when you a killers apprentice. Yet here you are, sobbing your eyes out to a man who might not even care.

CONTENT: angst, self doubt, fluff.

NOTES: not so fun fact, I am severely ADHD so I just based this off of how mine can get sometimes. It's a little sad ik but there's a cute ending.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Pinching the bridge of his nose Murdoc sighed. Even through his darkened sunglasses you could still tell he was disappointed. The best killer in the world and his apprentice can't even match his level. You knew you shouldn't have started working with him but you'd already tried everything under the sun. He finds it difficult to deal with you enough as is and you know he's going to kick you out soon enough. Now, everytime he speaks you jump. Your lips fall into a thin line and you advert your gaze else where. All you ever did was cause the man issues and you knew he just has to hate you. Sometimes you'd find him staring at you in what looked like disgust. Nausea crawls up your spine, the thought of yourself like a bad after taste.

"Fuck." He groans. Wiping the blood from your brow, you bite your lip and turn to leave. Splices of pain alive through your feet with every step reminding you just how annoying you are. Knowing the cops will arrive soon, you make your way out the door sluggishly taking the knife with you while Murdoc watches you with a pitiful gaze. He knows you can't help it when you get excited, and he can't be mad at you for that but you cost him a lot now. Not that you cared enough to pay any attention to that once you got into those self deprecating state of minds. Dreading what's to come he trails after you to the car and gets in with you.

Once you got moving on the road everything was a blur, the thought whirling around your head like a tsunami if hatred and embarrassment. Jumping out of the car was a better choice than this, but no matter how hard you fight to reach for that handle the fear clings to you more. It's all you can do not to scream your fucking lungs out. Murdoc senses your lingering disappointment, the silence is gagging him like a noose. You're just a kid, you don't belong in his line of work and you don't belong with him. At the same time he knows he should let you go but he just can't do it, not when you're so much like him.

"Kid I-" The silence is sharply broken by a dull and broken voice. "Do you hate me doc?" You ask. Your heart throbs in your chest as choked sobs slip past your wet lips. It's hard to keep contained when all you can feel is a compression of such depreciating and sad thoughts. A need to be swooned like a baby, to be held on someone's arm take you whole and you curl into yourself. Looking at you sparing he rests a hand on your shoulder and squeezes firmly. It's never been this bad before. By now you should have been on a completely different subject, telling him all about the thing you know and ideas you hold in that big ol' brain of yours.

"No." He finally says. Looking back at the road he takes a moment to recollect his thoughts. His singular work however didn't help your case anymore. Looking out the window you watch the buildings rush by, they remind you just how fleeting each moment it. It's quite similar to your thoughts, in fact you can't help but look on in disarray as you mind jumps from place to place.

"Can we pick up something to eat?" You quietly ask. He frowns at how quiet your voice is. The small rasp at the end tugs his heart strings even more. You've dealt with enough of his bad support today as is, he can't handle seeing you so down when you're normally not. "Sure kid. Of course." Your heart thrums happily in your chest and you wipe your teary eyes. "Really?" You ask. It's almost like you expected him to say no, you've never asked before though. When he glances at you his stomach does flips, you have a small smile tugging at your lips as you look at him with adoration in you eyes. "Thank you."

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Smells of fast food fills the car as home grows closer. You're smiling and dipping you hands into the warm bag of food in your lap. Looking over at you Murdoc feels content with himself, a feeling he's long forgotten since child hood. To see you bring this back to him warms him with joy. In a way, you're like his kid more than his apprentice and he could never trade you for anything. Even if you're hyper sometimes. "I love you kid." The sound of his gruff voice pulls your attention to him. Eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights you stare at him in awe. When he looks over to see your face he cracks a smile. "Don't look at me like that squirt."

You chortle as his choice on nickname. "Squirt?" He nods and stares out at the road ahead. "You mean like mad dad did to my mom when he-"

Muffled cackling ensues as he slaps a hand over your mouth. "Too far!" He claims. You just stick your tongue out to lick the palm of his hand. Giggling like a loon you watch as he vigorously wipes your saliva on his pants. "Really?" He exclaims. Snorting, you cup your own hand over your mouth to take a deep breath before letting out another wheeze. "It's not that funny." He deadpans. Letting out one last giggle, you smile. "I love you too, doc."

#Murderiplier #markiplier x reader #markiplier egos x reader #ahwm x reader #iswm x reader #markiplier cinematic universe

[jokingmisfit]

Bro, I told my therapist that I write a lot of stories. I made a mistake and told them how sometimes my writing reflects my mental state... Now they want me to bring some into to share! HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO GROW THE BALLS TO BRING IN X READER FAN FICTION TO MY THERAPIST!? WHAT HAVE I DONE!? WHAT DO I DO!?

#fanfic writer #funny #supernatural x reader #batman x reader #hannibal x reader #reverse flash x reader #markiplier egos x reader #sanders sides x reader #dr.strange x reader #wtf is wrong with me #why is this my life #how do i fix this!??! #WHAT DO I DO #HELP ME PLEASE #fan fiction writer #writer problems

[softladyhours]

how egos respond to u going “pspspspsps” at them

dark: i mean it gets his attention but he will be grumpy about it afterwards

damien: the boy is so clueless as soon as he hears it he is looking around all concerned then he sees u and just “darling!!🥰💕”

actor: is GREATLY offended that u would do this to him. absolutely heartbroken. he still responds to it tho

yancy: he does it BACK AT YOU like a CHALLENGE

illinois: IMMEDIATELY responds and walks over to u, what a good boy

wilford: will put out his gun, probably

I’m LOSING my MIND over this oml

Dark would give you a death glare but I think if you pet him affectionately he would begrudgingly accept his new role of house cat

DAMIEN!!!! Y/N and Celine would have a running bet to see how many times Y/N can get his attention that way without him noticing anything wrong. Let’s just say Celine owes Y/N a LOT of money

Actor would be such a pissy bitch baby about it but I think as long as you gave him some good love and affection he’d forget about it quickly lol

YANCY???????? The mental image of Yancy and Y/N aggressively spspspspss ing at each other has me ROLLINGGG

I think illi would lowkey like it just bc he’d feel special being the only one you pspspspsp at sjhfjejsj

yea Wilford’s a simple man. You spspspsp and he pulls out his gun idek skdjjdjs

#I want to spspsps at dark SO BAD #markiplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #darkiplier x reader #yancy x reader #illinois x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #actor x reader #thanks for the ask! #softie speaks #RAT<3

[simpofmanymen]

MARKIPLIER EGO HC

Both mark and dark are completely in love with you not just attraction but just you, but in different ways, Mark is obsessed with you which is his reason to make himself be the hero for you, he's really obsessed with you, like one yandere levels. dark just wants to hold you, wants you to realize it's just a story. Is. not. Real. he's yearning for you to break from the game as mark portrays him as the bad demon man

IDK the artists so if you do plz tell <3

thank you @that-very-tired-writer0

art credit @the-tragic-hero-and-you

(don't ask about the bruh lol i forgot about that)

#darkiplier x reader #markiplier egos x reader #actor mark x reader #markiplier x reader #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #markiplier egos #wkm #actor mark #who killed markiplier #damien wkm #actor mark x y/n #actor mark wkm #actor mark hc #markiplier ego x reader #markiplier ego hc #ego hc