#takethepainawaybae
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12 trickshot
Tags: @darkstache-iplier @redraspberrycats @cookieface678 @bing-iplier @storm337 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @pixelenchanter @itsjustkyss @darkiplurrr @darksaceofshadows @moonysmayhem @xpouii @projectwkm @sororia04s @purple-anxiety-blog @tried-my-best @endangered-cryptid-reblogs @skatle-skootle-demon-noodle
Prompt 12: “I can’t see.”
“Can you see through that blindfold?” Chase had to almost shout over his kids as he finished tying off a loose knot, settling the scrap of fabric over Marvin’s eyes. “Alice, Ben, ask Marvin if he can see.”
“I can’t see a thing.” Marvin’s grin could only be described as cat-like, his tone a low purr. He sat perfectly still in the chair even as the kids scrambled around him, reaching out with grubby hands to touch his shimmering cape or satin shirt.
Chase’s kids didn’t know any better; at five and seven, respectively, Ben and Alice weren’t allowed to stay at home by themselves while Stacy took a business trip, and she hadn’t been able to find a sitter. So it fell to him to watch them for the weekend, a task made only better by the fact that his boyfriend wanted to join them.
“Perfect.” Chase went for the deck of cards in his pocket. He knew what was coming, but still he asked, “Now what?”
“Give one card to Alice and one to Ben,” Marvin instructed, “but don’t tell me which cards they are.”
The kids giggled as Chase obediently doled out cards and exaggerated hiding them from the already-blindfolded magician in that triumphant way only kids could be.
“I think,” Marvin announced dramatically, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees, then his head in his hands. The tips of the ears of his mask gleamed under the warm glow of the living room lamp. “That Alice has the Jack of Spades, and Ben has a Ten of Hearts.”
The kids glanced at each other. “Wrong!” Alice announced, holding out her Queen of Diamonds while Ben turned his card around, proudly displaying his Three of Clubs.
Marvin frowned. “Give me that.” He flicked his fingers and Ben’s card flew into his hand, then Alice’s. He lifted the blindfold, squinted. “No, I was right.”
He held out the cards, presented a Jack of Spades and Ten of Hearts, then magicked them back into their hands.
Chase choked back laughter as Alice’s jaw dropped and Ben stared, wide-eyed. There was a few beats of silence before both of them crowded forward, surrounding Marvin like paparazzi after one of his shows.
“Make us fly!”
“How did you do that?”
“Calm down,” Marvin said, standing and untying the blindfold. He dropped it to the floor, and raised his hands. “I will make you fly.”
Green light spread down from his shoulders, to his elbows, to his hands. It filled the air, emerald and glittering. It surrounded Chase’s kids, lifting them into the air. Then, with a dramatic flourish of his arms, he tossed them both onto the couch.
—
“You could have just started with levitation,” Chase said later, once the kids were tucked into bed and sleeping, exhausted from an afternoon of being thrown around like sacks of potatoes. He laid his head back against the arm of the couch, lifting a hand to absently tease at Marvin’s hair. “What was the point of the card trick?”
“Everyone loves a good card trick.” Marvin’s voice came drowsy and half-muffled by Chase’s shirt. He too, was exhausted, and so lay draped over Chase like a blanket. “Sometimes you have to warm up your audience.”
Chase snorted. “Not my kids.”
Marvin laughed, a tired, content laugh. “No, not your kids.”
#trickshot#marvin the magnificent#chase brody#bro average#jacksepticeye egos#writersofjack#fanfiction#ego shipping#lostandwandering#my writing#lost writing tag#writing prompts#fluff#humor#asks#takethepainawaybae
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MY TURN FOR A REQUEST- I had a lil hc that Dark doesn’t like to be shirtless in front of ANYONE. The scars on his body being one of the big reasons. He was afraid that he’d be judged for them. So one day when maybe Bing absolutely ruined his t-shirt one day, he was forced to take it off and he didn’t realize how many people were looking and it causes him to begin to freak out.
Instead one of them says “You’re ripped?! Aren’t you old?!”
“Dudes, more dudes, and Yan-Yan,” Bing dramatically greeted everyone in the room, standing at the entrance to the kitchen so that everyone could see him. Everyone was present except for Dark, who denied the invitation to the presentation. “May I introduce you to the glass that can hold a full bottle of wine.” Bing gestured at the ‘invention’ in his hand, the large wine glass filled almost to the brim with deep red wine.
“Isn’t that already a thing?” Bim asked.
“Who would drink a whole bottle of wine in one sitting?” Yandere asked as well.
“My ex-wife,” Chase muttered, quickly flashing Marvin a smile to show that he was just joking when Marvin placed a worried hand on his leg.
“Anyway. This wine glass isn’t just large enough to hold a full bottle, it also~” Bing sang as he turned the glass around, showing that part of the glass stuck out and went all the way to the bottom. “Has a straw!” Bing paused, waiting for applause that didn’t happen. “Oh, come on dudes.”
“Who drinks wine with a straw?” Anti asked with a chuckle. “Dark would call that sacrilegious”
“I also don’t think a glass straw that thin is really safe,” Edward said.
“If you made all the glass thicker, it might come across less dangerous,” Google suggested.
“You like it?” Bing perked up.
“It’s an interesting idea.” Google glared at Anti when he started to make kissing sounds.
“Alright, what’s going on-” Dark was suddenly behind Bing, scaring him a little and causing him to suddenly turn around. The glass slammed into Dark’s chest and shattered, soaking the entirety of Dark’s white shirt with the wine. The one time he decides not to wear his blazer and this happens.
“Oh, shit!” Bing cursed and quickly tried to get the glass off of Dark. “I’m sorry, dude! I’m so, so, sorry!”
“Stop touching me.” Dark slapped Bing’s hands away before undoing the buttons to his shirt, the feeling of the glass poking him and the wine already feeling stick made him forget about the others as he took his shirt off. He just let it drop to the ground, deciding to deal with that later and he went stiff when he heard gasps.
Dark felt his head drop to the very bottom of his chest and his throat tightened. He did not want to hear the pity, the ridicule, the comments about his scars.
“What the fuck?” Anti was the first to speak and Dark was ready to throw insults back. “You’re ripped!?” Dark’s guard went down in surprise.
“What?” He found himself saying.
“If I would have known you were that fucking stacked I would have started flirting with you more,” Anti said with a chuckle.
“You can flirt more?” Chase teased.
“Oh no, did I forget to tell Dark that Bing was holding a wine glass?” Wilford ‘tsk’ed as he looked at his phone. “I guess that’s one way to show a certain someone that he looks fine.”
“Wilford.” Dark crossed his arms.
“Yes, Dark?” Wilford smiled.
“You’re grounded.”
“I know.”
#takethepainawaybae#some#danti#bingle#and true friendship is being a lil shit and knowing you're going to get 'grounded' for it#it's also grounding your friend for being a lil shit
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Plz tag me when the Dark The Demon Fuck Machine story is posted, because I don't wanna miss that. Idc how long it takes 🤣
Got'cha!
Hopefully it's not that long of a wait XD
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Jfjkakjdldlkfg im sorry but that cross over was something I didn't know I neEEDED-
I mean, same, I just thought I wanted to make Aziraphale and Wilford meet because of bowties and wow now there's a story here, I guess
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I would like to be added to the darkstache prompt list 👉👈😌
Sure thing! I just added you! Thank you for the interest!
- Mod Sam
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Anti with B1?
GOD digital art becoming a pain cause my usb ports are starting to malfunction but here is a bas at r d
#jacksepticeye#antisepticeye#Bee's sketches#I should either try to get this one fixed or get a new one entirely#takethepainawaybae
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Speaking of Google boi- do you ship him with anyone? UwU
i love quite a few google ships hell yeah! my top three to ship him with are bing, bim and chase but im open to like. almost every ship tbh. at the minute my personal fave is bimgle but i am also super weak for bing/chase/google like,,,,,, somft boy gets doted on by his android boyfs (and they also work together to absolutely wreck him)
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I Have Just One Question (Part Two)
You pull up and get out of the car, immediately checking your watch. You’ve just barely made it in time, with mere minutes to spare.
You walk up to the house and run into a man dressed in a military uniform. He’s staring at the door, his hands folded behind his back, clearly nervous. He keeps glancing at a new, sleek, expensive-looking black car in the driveway.
You hesitate, not wanting to disturb him. But he hears your footsteps and, after jumping a bit from realizing he was no longer alone, he turns and greets you.
“Ah! You must be the district attorney! I am Colonel William, a pleasure to meet you. You’re Damien’s friend, yes?”
You nod.
“I wasn’t aware that you knew Aria.”
You’ve only met her a couple of times, you tell him. You really barely know her at all. You aren’t even sure why you’ve been invited to this party, or what the occasion is.
William pales. “Not a happy one, I’m afraid. But... best to leave our hostess to explain things, I think.”
He clears his throat and steps aside. “After you.”
You walk up and ring the doorbell. The butler opens the door, smiling. “Bonjour! Welcome to Markiplier Manor. It’s a pleasure to have you with us. May I see your invitation?”
You hand it to him.
“Thank you. Please, feel free to look around. The mistress will be down to start the festivities shortly.”
You thank him and walk into the house, hearing the butler repeat his words to William.
You walk into a den and find none other than Damien, holding a framed photograph and staring at it. You walk up, and look at the photo.
It’s of him, William, and the late actor Markiplier. They’re all smiling, looking as though the photo had been taken as they were laughing about something.
Damien’s eyes are watering.
You put a hand on his shoulder. He jolts, and yelps.
“Oh! It’s just you.” He wipes his eyes. “Sorry, old friend. It’s... just a difficult day. It’s been a year, now, since he... passed.”
Oh. So that’s the “occasion”.
You pat him on the back and offer your condolences. He smiles and wipes his eyes again.
“Thank you. It’s... I’ll be fine, I think. This place just... has a lot of memories.” He sniffs. “I-I’m sorry, if I could just... be alone for a moment.”
Of course, you say. You give him a quick hug and then walk away.
You go into the kitchen, just wandering aimlessly until the party begins. The chef is... preparing a meal? He’s sharpening his knives, so you hope that’s what he’s doing.
“Hey!” he barks when he notices you. “Stay out of my kitchen! I’m busy! The party’s out there!”
You put your hands up and back out of the room.
Benjamin walks up to you, tray of drinks in hand. “Help yourself, the mistress is almost ready. If you wouldn’t mind waiting by the stairs?”
You take a drink and go to the bottom of the stairs. Damien, William, a woman in a black dress, and a man in a detective's cap all join you.
The woman keeps her eyes on the stairs, standing straight and stiff. William keeps glancing at her, and you can’t tell if it’s with longing or anger. Perhaps both.
The man in the detective’s cap focuses on his drink. With all the tension in the air, and the strange solemn energy the group is radiating, you decide to follow suit. You take a sip of your drink, eyes widening at how strong it is. You shrug, and down it all as fast as you can.
Damien holds his in his hand, but doesn’t sip. It’s the first time you’ve seen him even touch alcohol in nearly a year.
“Welcome, welcome, one and all!”
The voice captures your attention, and you turn your eyes to the stairs.
A woman descends halfway, grinning. She’s wearing a simply gorgeous red silk dress, the color of fine red wine. It’s skirt is a simple, flattering cut, going down all the way to cover her feet. It’s torso is decorated with black lace, and there’s a white ascot curled around her neck and tucked into the front. Her hair is done up into a neat, perfect bun, and her lipstick is the same rich red as her dress.
“It’s wonderful to see you all again, dear friends!” she says, still grinning. Her voice is captivating, loud and clear, commanding attention.
You glance over at Damien, who seems just as shocked as you are.
The few times you’d met Aria, she was... quiet. Friendly, but quiet. Not one to draw attention to herself.
She puts a hand to her chest, her grin becoming a more serious expression. “As you all know, one year ago today I lost my dear husband. He was an amazing, gifted man. He was the light of my life, my beloved. He was a happy man, and though he had his struggles, he persevered.”
“And then, on this fateful day, I found him... dead. At the bottom of a balcony, at a party not unlike this one.”
Everyone around you shifts uncomfortably. Damien grips his glass tight enough for his knuckles to go white, and you can see he’s holding back tears. William looks down at the ground, shutting his eyes tightly. The detective looks at Aria with concern, mouthing “What are you doing?” at her. The woman in the black dress looks down at the ground, a tear slipping down her face.
“The police ruled it a suicide,” Aria continues, her serious expression becoming... hardened. “They said my husband threw himself off that balcony. They said he likely couldn’t take the stress of seeing his old lover and old friend, together and happy, after all that he’d been through when they’d left.”
William lets out a sob. The woman in the black dress sniffles and wipes her eyes.
“But they were wrong.”
At this, everyone stiffens. All eyes raise to Aria.
She’s staring at the group with a cold, steely gaze. “I don’t believe my husband took his own life. I believe he was pushed over that railing.”
“Aria, what are you-”
“There were only four other people with us that night,” she continues, cutting Damien off. “You four.”
You glance around, unsure as to why you’re there as well. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the butler standing guard in front of the front door, keeping hsi eyes on all of you. You see the chef doing the same, standing in the den entryway, freshly-sharpened knife in his hand.
“Which means that one of you did it.” Her voice is hard and cold, like ice.
“Tonight is no party, my friends,” she says, hissing the word. “Tonight, I have just one question.”
She reaches behind her, and pulls a gun out from behind her back. She points it down, drifting the barrel in front of each person’s face. She scowls.
“Who. Killed. Markiplier?”
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(Is this any good? It’s 5 am, I can’t tell. My eyes hurt.)
Iplier taglist: @victory-cookies @beerecordings @septic-dr-schneep@sadcat5555 @a-humble-narcissus @kangaroo-roux @kairomancerr@miishae @lonelyseiren @takethepainawaybae @immabethehero @quagswag-the-great @lordjim777 @projectwkm @musical-in-theory (hey so @eternallyanxiousandstressed asked to be on the taglist but for some reason I can’t tag them so... if anyone could do that for me I would appreciate it.) @hypnobakerysharkskeleton
#Markiplier#Who Killed Markiplier#WKM AU#wkm district attorney#wkm y/n#suicide mention#Markiplier egos#Aria's an OC obviously#wkm damien#wkm celine#wkm william#wkm abe#fanfic#my attempts at fanfic
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Isolation
It’s quiet in the box.
Jameson curls up in the cabinet, tucking his knees closer to his chest. It’s smaller than his booth. His neck cranes against one wall and his toes press against the other. His breathing is slow and shallow, conserving oxygen exactly as He taught him. He needs to be smaller, tucking tighter, tighter, tighter until he’s hidden away where no one can find him.
The confined space soothes him. Four walls means no surprises. Small spaces means no strings. No doors means no-
“Jamie?” A soft voice, a knock on the door. He jumps, his head knocking against polished wood, and the voice grows louder, more concerned. “J, are you alright?”
Marvin.
It’s a trick, his thoughts whisper, scratching at the back of his skull. You don’t know what’s real.
It sounds like Him. When he pulls his fingers away from his head, they’re coated in blood, just like Him.
JJ shakes his head. His breath quickens, wheezing and whistling out of his nose as he clamps his mouth shut. No noise. No sounds. Only He gets to decide what you do. You don’t have a choice-
The knocks grow louder, more insistent. “Jamie, please come out. It’s Marvin, okay? It’s not Him.”
He buries his face in his knees, trembling as he refuses to answer. He knows that trick. It was used against the doctor too many times to forget it. The second he steps outside the booth, he’ll be shoved back in, scrambling, crying, pleading-
The door opens.
He hides away, sitting in the cramped corner as far from the door as possible. The voice sighs, but he barely notices, too stuck inside his own head to see the danger, danger, danger, danger-
A hand brushes against his shoulders. An arm tucks under his knees. He lashes out, body thrashing and nails clawing at skin. He won’t go back to being a puppet. He won’t. He won’t!
A hand presses against his forehead, warm with lifeblood yet cool against his clammy skin. He leans into it, a murmured word soothing him and draining all the fight from his system. Shame boils in his stomach. The hands grab at him, holding him tight to a chest, and he sags, limp limbs dangling as he’s carried out of the cabinet.
If he’s forced to be a puppet, he may as well act like one.
@averyancora @sarinoxious @cest-mellow @help-trashbin @bunchofdoodlesinspace @abyssshifter @eridangan @jaysflight @skyewardlight @wildhorsewolf @chey-doodles @midorree @unadventurousjulie @kairomancerr @kitnkas @gray-avidan @glixbitch @novelistgeek @worm-does-shit @mad-men-inc @honestlyitsjustkenna @megasepticfan @immabethehero @miishae @darkiplurrr @humblecacti @beerecordings @taikeero-lecoredier @dumbthinmint @lildevyl @anotheregofanficblog @caori-azarath @viostormcaller @takethepainawaybae @d-structive
#jacksepticeye#jameson jackson#marvin the magnificent#jacksepticeye fanfiction#writersofjack#river’s writing#whumptober2019#no.7#isolation#jameson jackson’s jolly jaunts#Yes I know Whumptober is over#But I’m still using the prompts#Sue me
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Hide and Seek
I’ve never seen Friday the 13th, but I know @takethepainawaybae‘s favorite slasher is Jason. So, my friend, I have written you some Jason Voorhees x reader.
Merry Christmas <3
---
You bolt from the bushes and race across the snowy clearing, your gasping breaths heaving out puffs of fog that leave a dissipating wake, a trail that can’t be tracked the way you fear your footprints will be. You do your best to weave an erratic path around rows of crumbling cabins– several of which have caved in on themselves, succumbing to nature and time– before plunging into the woods.
Ducking swinging, snow-laden branches and hopping over half-obscured logs makes it difficult to listen for your pursuer. You don’t hear him yet. This does little to reassure you; every broken twig, every waving branch and gust of snow out of the corner of your eye hurtles you in the opposite direction, creating a zig-zag path through the woods. The lake remains, a passive observer, in your left periphery.
Fifty-seven, fifty-six . . . all the while you count, zero feeling far away but coming up faster than you think, especially when you hear footsteps crashing through the undergrowth.
Panic surges through you and with a burst of adrenaline you take a sharp left toward the lake, reversing right at the water’s frigid edge. Your footprints don’t match exactly, but it’s all you can do as the sounds of pursuit get louder. As quickly as you can you launch yourself into the arms of a low-hanging tree, scrambling up its wobbling branches until you can’t be seen at eye level.
Just as you pull yourself into position a large, hulking figure barrels past, slashing with a large, gleaming machete at anything that might get in his way and shaking the ground with the force.
You clamp a mittened hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing and wait, statue-still, as the figure wanders down to the lake’s edge, inspecting the footprints embedded into the mud. From this angle, it’s difficult to discern whether or not your pursuer has fallen for the ruse.
Your stomach sinks when he spins, tromping back up the embankment to circle the area. You hope he can’t hear your thundering heartbeat or hear your shallow, rushed breathing as you glance around, searching for a better hiding spot. All he has to do is look up, and you’re perfectly visible, yellow jacket stark against the white-brown of the forest.
Shifting your weight as slowly as possible, you reach for the branch hanging just above your head; it offers better cover and less chance of being seen. You suck in a breath when your arm brushes a neighboring branch, scattering snow to the ground below.
You freeze as Jason’s head snaps up, his hockey mask catching the weak, electric-cold shine of the mid-afternoon sun. His clothes are plastered to him, lake water soaking through his heavy jacket. He looks half-frozen.
I win! He signs, and you scowl. “Because you cheated.”
How did you get up there?
“I climbed. And you cheated. You didn’t count all the way to zero.”
Jason ignores you. He drops the machete to the snow. Jump. I will catch you.
You do, dropping yourself from the tree. True to his word, Jason catches you; however, instead of setting you down, he flops you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, bends down to scoop up his machete, and sets off toward Camp Crystal Lake.
“Jason!” You yelp, pound on his thick, stupid back. “Set me down!”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter. He does not set you down. You’re stuck there until you get back to the cabin, then he’ll deposit you on the bed like you weigh nothing.
Show off.
#jason voorhees#jason voorhees x reader#friday the 13th#camp crystal lake#lostandwandering#my writing#lost writing tag#fluff#horror#humor#gifts#takethepainawaybae
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I'm sorry but I can't stop thinking about Dark working out with the kid/s hfhsjaksk him laying on his back and pushing them up and down with his hands, or using them as little weights around his ankles as he moves around the house hfjdjdjska
Dark's just trying to get some tea and he's got a toddler on each ankle
"I wasn't expecting a workout right now but here I am"
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I am laughing my ass off rn bc I was scrolling through your account and I found the Dark The Demon Fuck Machine stuff again and I just-
I'm never going to have a better idea then that. Ever.
Also yes, that was me who paved the way for that glorious idea and I don't regret a single thing~
Maybe we'll get to see that come to life for kinktober this year XD
No promises but I'm hoping to be able to do the whole thing this time
#takethepainawaybae#dark the one demon fuck machiene#that was a whole-ass thing#and i wanted to create that chaos properly XD#but that's gonna be a LONG fic#and i was not ready to do that with kinktober yet X#RIP my ability to do projects
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👏 LET 👏 DARK 👏 BEAT 👏 ACTOR 👏 WITH 👏 DAMIEN'S 👏 CANE 👏 👏 👏
Actor: I told you I would-
Dark: stfu bitch *THWACK*
YES YES YES YES YES
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The True Entity; pt. 1
Summary: What if in Markiplier Manor there was a different entity, one with a louder voice pulling the strings? What would be the same? What would be different? A story where Remus Sanders is the entity of the house. (Warnings: Described suicide attempts) Enjoy~
The Actor fell to his knees as he watched the cab spin away. She had had her bags packed for most of the day, just sitting by the door. Waiting for the right time to leave. Mark had watched her pace the house, touch all the walls, all the pieces of art or furniture she'd never touch again. And it was hard, and sad, for them both.
She wouldn't let him touch her, or talk to her for that matter. He had to keep his distance, watch her from afar. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be." "Nothing you say can change my mind." "Please, don't ask me where I'm going." "No I don't want your money." "I'm not your concern anymore."
And it destroyed him.
Mark got to his feet and took a shaky breath. He clenched his fists, then slowly relaxed them, finger by finger. He turned and faced his large estate. He once boasted its vastness, a perfect demonstration of his wealth and his success as an actor. A hometown hero in his own right.
But now it felt empty; cold and hollow. It lacked the warmth, the spark, that their newly wedded status had brought. It wasn't anything but a place for him to rest the meat sack he called his body.
He sat and stared at his feet. He had given up everything for her. And now…
"You should find her, and make her pay for the pain she's caused you."
Mark jumped at the voice. He turned around sharply, the lights behind him casting a long shadow. "Who's there!"
"You should hurt her in return, in a way to prove how much she's hurt you."
Mark stumbled back a bit as he watched his shadow split into two figures, eyes unable to comprehend what he saw.
"Have you ever thought about… killing your best friend?"
And Mark watched, unable to believe his eyes. One shadow held up a knife, and the other held up its hands in a begging motion. He flinched as the first shadow plunged a knife into the second's heart, and the second fell to his knees and perished.
"Kill… killing my best friend?" He whispered. "No, no never!" He shouted. "Whatever the fuck you are," The Actor's face twisted up in rage, which masked his fear. "Get out of my house!"
"Ooh but why not, Markimoo~?" The voice taunted, as the shadow reformed in the shape of a woman, who swooned into the arms of a man wearing a rounded hat and spectacles. "After all, didn't he steal your precious beloved right out from under you? Why hold back your rage, hm?"
Mark's anger only grew, and his fear was gone. He turned away from the shadows in embrace, and shouted, "Show yourself you spineless coward!"
"Well if you insist."
Mark jumped and spun back around once again. A man laid across his arm chair, legs folded over an arm rest. He wore a black, almost royal get up, complete with lime green stash across his body and matching ruffles on the shoulders. His mustache was curled up at the tips, and his eyes looked manic. A twisted smile stretched across his lips.
"What are you." Mark demanded. "Tell me now."
"Oh little old me?" The man swung his legs over the chair and got to his feet. "I'm a spirit of creativity!"
"A spirit… of creativity." Mark repeated, tone dull and flat.
"A malicious one, depending on who you ask. My friends call me the Duke, but my name is Remus." He tilted his head as he spoke, and his smile didn't waver.
"Remus." Mark's tone oozed disbelief. "The Duke."
"Yes!" He did a quick spin. "Now, back to the matter at hand. Killing your best friend." He rubbed his hands together, looking absolutely malicious.
Mark shook his head and turned, walking away. "It doesn't matter. Killing him… it wouldn't change a thing. I'd still feel hollow." He kept walking, and Remus watched him go. "It'd be more effective for me to kill myself."
A pause, then an absolutely horrid idea crossed Remus' mind. He smirked as he made his way after Mark.
"Then, why don't you?" He hissed. "Go ahead, kill yourself."
Mark stopped. His heart raced. "What?"
"Kill yourself, Mark. Just finish it off, if that's what you want."
"How… how would I even do it?" He asked. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"Well there's a pool, isn't there? Drown yourself. If need be," His spindly fingers gripped his shoulders. "I can help."
"I…" Mark lost his nerve, and caved. "Okay."
-
He felt the water rush around him, as his constrained, weighted body fell to the bottom of the pool. He felt his lungs fill with water, and his body, against his will, fought to live another day. He wanted to go. He was ready when the darkness swarmed his vision. And then, it was done. He was done.
And then, he wasn't.
He woke up as a hand slapped him hard across the face. "Wakey wakey!" Remus' shrill voice rattled in his ears. "Oh come on, Markimoo. Did you really think I'd be done with you that easily?"
And that's when the Actor decided he really wanted to die.
Taglist:
@fleecal @smol-gay-werewolf @that-odd-writer @theluckoftheclaws @ifwewerehistory @jhbase01 @meowizerkat @takethepainawaybae
#tw suicide attempt#tw suicide mention#tw attempted suicide#tw remus sanders#remus sanders#ts sides#sanders sides#wkm#who killed markiplier#the actor#actor mark#long fic#876 words#nancy's writings
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Darkstache Week 2020
Rules and Prompts
It's that time again! Time for Darkstache Week 2020! Before we list the prompts for this year we need to go through the rules so everything goes smoothly!
RULES:
No explicitly NSFW content! Implied is perfectly fine but don't over do it as it makes people uncomfortable and we won't reblog it for that reason.
Tag all necessary trigger warnings for the safety of others. If it is not tagged appropriately, we can't reblog it for the sake of others safety.
Be kind and supportive of one another throughout this week (and just in general!) Reblog other people's work and comment on them! Leave them a nice message to brighten their day!
A couple general reminders:
This event isn't just for written or drawn pieces of art, feel free to make mood boards or photo/video edits or crafts! Whatever you want to do, we want to see!
Each day has two prompts, they can be combined if you wish but the intention was for you to choose the one of your liking and use that one. However, feel free to use both!
And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for;
PROMPTS:
May 10th, Day 1: Moonlight / Roadtrip
May 11th, Day 2: Balloons / Flowers
May 12th, Day 3: Feeling blue / Favourite things
May 13th, Day 4: Tradition / Video
May 14th Day 5: Cryptic / Danger
May 15th, Day 6: Dinner / Picnic
May 16th, Day 7: Ordinary people / Partners in crime
We are posting the prompts this early so that you have time to plan and prepare!
We can't wait to see what everyone creates!
Remember to tag us or tag it with "#ProjectDarkstache2020" or "#DarkstacheWeek2020" so we can find it and reblog it with comments!
Tag list:
@northwest-wind @pharaoh-writes @mentally-dumb @dorothyannewise @lostcybertronian @whatsamistrial @demon-dark-666 @takethepainawaybae @62watermelons @dumbthotonly @xpouii
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Submitted by @takethepainawaybae : What about-
A boop noodle that just turned one year old? She's my babey.
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