#predator darkiplier

[infinite-infinite-stars]

...I think I finally figured out how to articulate what I always, like, assumed Darkiplier's whole deal to be.

Now keep in mind I'm basically a filthy casual when it comes to The Markiplier Lore™. I've been like, aware of it since pretty much the beginning, I think, but I didn't really start paying attention until Heist and Space (and even then, those two are what occupy my thoughts the vast majority of the time).

So correct me if I'm wrong I guess, but like... Darkiplier and Wilford Warfstache are both metacognitive, right? Like, I know Wilf is aware of the fourth wall and regularly breaks it, I know that's his Thing and it's (part of) why he's so, y'know. Silly-Wacky. Is Darkiplier in the same boat, at least to an extent? (Kinda genuinely asking here. Like I said, filthy casual).

Because like... Darkiplier and Wilf are both staples of Mark's channel as a whole. They both predate the MarkCU/CYOA series stuff, so they're not "native" to it the way, say, Yancy or Engie or Professor Beauregard or Gunther are.

So with that in mind, whenever Darkiplier is addressing the Viewer, I've always kindof assumed that he's talking to... the Viewer. Y'know? Like it's a Monika situation, where unlike the other characters, who are talking to Y/N the in-universe avatar, Dark is instead talking past Y/N, to the person on the other side of the screen, to us. I figured he understands Y/N is just an avatar. I think Wilf probably does too, come to that. I don't think either of them necessarily care if Y/N, the character, whoever you imagine them to be, has any idea what the hell they're talking about at any given time, as long as you do.

By the same token, whenever Darkiplier talks about Mark, I figured he was talking about Markiplier the youtuber.

Especially when he says stuff like "games were always his forte."

Because, I mean. Who's associated with "games"?

A let's player.

Not an actor, usually. At least, they're not who you're going to think of first when you think about "games".

Who do we know for absolute certain has been "spinning yarns" and making up stories and taking us, the Viewer, on adventures?

Markiplier the youtuber. By creating these videos.

So unless I'm missing something major here-- and it's entirely possible that I am!-- I think the idea is "supposed" to be: Darkiplier is aware that Actor is an avatar for Markiplier, the same way that Engie and Heist and Date all are, and the reason he treats them all as the same isn't necessarily because they're all secretly Actor, or because he thinks they're all secretly Actor, but because all of them, including Actor... are Markiplier. And Markiplier is his real nemesis. Always has been. That was like... the point of his original concept as a character, right? That he's Markiplier's evil counterpart?

...Is this anything??

[plaidpyjamas]

I go to work, I send two emails, I write filthy nasty Darkiplier/Reader smut for the rest of the day, I go home again. Living the dream.

(Would you like any filthy nasty Darkiplier/Reader smut, please, I'm so bored, give me ideas.)

Of course I want filthy nasty darkiplier/reader smut

Let's see, ideas off the top of my head...

Something Something (mis)use of void tencacles

Himbo/bimbofication/reader getting so cock-drunk its making them stupid

Some kind of hide and seek/chase/predator&prey scene? Either they're rping or he's literally Hunting reader tbh either is good

His white suit. Thigh riding. Dark playfully chastising you for ruining his suit or something

[tinystarwatch]

To keep the og tags cleaned up, my elaboration!

For me that's Darkiplier, he's just the most pred to me? Although I'm never not in the fandom, even at times when I'm more occupied with other interests and other predators he's still my default.

Like if someone said "Quick name one pred right now", it would be Dark!

Genuinely I want to know if it's just me or if other people act?? this way??

Also, I've said it before and I'll say it again...

Out of curiosity?

Prey of the community, when I say pred, is there one specific character that comes to mind first for you?

Someone you always sort of think of as the defacto baseline pred, no matter if your still actively interested in the property the character is from, or think about them in any capacity anymore?

[vorish-egos]

To the Dark/DA Fluff Anon

So rando realization, you cool with soul vore? I haven't seen much of it before, granted, and I'm looking into finding more of it to be extra certain about its functions since y/n is after all a soul trapped in a mirror, or were you thinking more of shrunken DA / y/n stumbling into Dark's protective clutches? Just shoot me your answer in asks, so you can keep your identity still safe <3 I've got some ideas either way, so don't feel pressured into choosing something you won't like.

~Zharin~

[creative-robot]

What’s Dark even going to do when he finally catches Actor!Mark like, this man has not committed murder once in his life and who knows what Wilford would do if he was even around. Like Dark I know you don’t really plan shit what’s the move there if you’re alone

[iamvegorott]

Jack: angry kitty! Angry gator! Angry sheep!

Mark: angry sheep? *sees schneep running towards them ram stye* ANGRY SHEEP!!!

My brain went straight to this having the energy of the Antisepticeye vs Darkiplier bloopers with the "Bear! Ethan! *dabs*"

But also Wilford just stepping in front of the two, flashing his tail up to distract the others

Wilford: Strange lot you two are, you should know better than to just strut into a predator's territory. You're lucky JJ can sniff out if someone's bad or you'd be lunch right now

[fgfluidity]

mirror | void (part nine)

Summary: Dark, on impulse, takes the mirror from Markiplier Manor. He hadn’t expected it to still be occupied.

Pairing: Damien x DA (ambiguous), Darkiplier x DA (also ambiguous?)

Warnings: gender-neutral and vaguely described DA; reference to death, injury; depersonalization and identity crisis issues

When he spends time in his ‘office’ for longer than a blink of transport, he finds that the DA likes to stop in.

Well. Likes is a strong word, really, but how else to say ‘doesn’t glare at him or try to shake apart the mirror anymore’ succinctly?

There’s no warning to their appearances. With himself, the air and light will change, a harsh ringing noise before he finally warps in; even at a simple walk, his aura corrupts everything. He’s not the most stealthy of creatures, for all of his backdoors and shortcuts.

He’ll be sitting at his desk, working on something or other— usually plans to kill Mark, sometimes plans to track him— and look up, just for a second, and they’re there, watching him from the glass.

They meet his eyes each time— Damien-the-voice expects a wave, a cheeky grin, anything— lips pulled down into a mild frown, but they don’t try to talk, again. They don’t try to grab his attention.

(They always have it, they always did.)

They watch him like he’s a tiger in a rusted, old cage: fascinated but wary, suspicious of the barrier between them and its ability to keep them apart. Not fearful, which speaks to their inordinate and foolish courage, but cautious.

If they didn’t want to be prey, they shouldn’t look it, he thinks, returning the frown and bending his head back towards the desk. Not that he’s all that much of a predator, contrary to popular belief.

He only has one target, and there are vipers waiting in the grass, after all.

Sometimes they’re further from the glass, shrouded in fog, features indistinct and blurred.

Sometimes, they keep a respectful distance with that same, thoughtful countenance, watching as he moves but never reacting.

Rarely, they press their hands right against the glass, nose just brushing the cracked surface. It’d be silly— not amusing, ridiculous— their face all but smashed against it, like a child trying to get a laugh, but those times...

Those times they don’t look cautious. Those times they look at him like they’re searching, like if they get as close as possible to the mirror, they’ll find whatever it is they’re looking for in his face.

It isn’t hopeful. It’s desperate, and when he doesn’t react the way they might want— he’s not certain how he could, because Damien-the-voice wants them happy but he’s not that, so he just stares, blankly— they just crumble in further.

He can’t stand that pathetic face, the seconds-from-tears. He’d rather face that burning rage all over again.

They vanish before anything spills over, but the next few times, they stay far in the background.

He knows it’s coming, one day. In his periphery, he can just make out handprints, palms flat on glass. If he looks up from his work, turns his head just to the left, they’ll be there, watching him with wide, searching eyes, lean in further when they realize he’s looking back.

He won’t give them what they want, and they’ll—

They’ll just—

He sighs, a deep, weary sound that rustles the paper under his hands, and counts himself down. Three, two, one...

Yes, they’re watching. Yes, they lean in a little. For once, they open their mouth—

“What do you want from me?”

He doesn’t raise his voice, keeps it neutral— a question, not a demand.

Confusion crosses their face.

“Well?” He stands from the desk, coming around the corner to stand before the mirror. “What do you want? You are always so disappointed with whatever you see. Tell me, how can I improve?”

The DA takes a step back, hands slowly lifting from the glass; they shake their head, the smallest movement.

“No, please.” He copies their step, slow and calm. “Old friend, dear friend— what do you want from me? To have a voice again? To be free? To be alive?”

Their gaze is edging towards guarded, the same wary tiger-in-a-cage look, but it’s pained. Still searching, somehow, thinking if they simply look hard enough, they’ll find their prize, find a reason to no longer be so suspicious.

It’s deeply irritating.

“I can provide you with any last thing you want,” he says, and he wants to, the rare moment of his and Damien-the-voice’s desires aligning. “Anything, and gladly— just tell me. What do you want?”

They won’t answer. They never do, and can’t, besides. Perhaps it’s a cruel thing to ask of them, to demand an answer in the guise of helping while knowing they can’t.

If only they stopped looking at him like that, though, like there’s something missing and he has the only key to it, and perhaps that’s why he asks. So he can avoid that stare, and avoid the crushing disappointment that comes afterward, because if he has to see their face crumble and grow damp one more time—

He can be impulsive, these days. He knows that, and knows that it isn’t always the best impulse.

He doesn’t want to even have the chance to break the mirror, though it would make everything so much easier.

The DA doesn’t come back towards him, doesn’t even consider it; that said, they square their shoulders, feet spread and stable, look him in the eye with chin up.

He sees them swallow. Take a breath.

Their mouth moves: one word.

The way their lips move, the shape around the word— he can hear it clear as day in their voice, even without sound. He knows that word intimately, more than any other.

It surprises him, and from the surprise springs forth anger. He grits his teeth. “I can’t give you that. You should know better— you’d have sooner luck breaking free from this mirror.”

The smallest of flinches, just their face, but they stand firm. Three more words from a trembling jaw.

“He’s dead.” He growls. “He’s not coming back!”

They lift a hand, jabbing the pointer finger towards him.

“I’m. Not. Him.” His aura flashes around him, swirling and angry like a storm cell. Faintly, he hears his papers flutter in the surge of power. “Precious Damien died decades ago. There’s nothing left! He’s dead and gone, like you should be!”

Funnily enough, they don’t shrink away under his power, like they might have, once. Even his cool questioning frightened them more, it seemed.

Their jaw remains set, stubborn like an ox, but their brow furrows, nostrils flaring.

The DA spreads their arms. Out wide, to either endless direction. When he doesn’t move, they gesture to their stomach, a twisted gleam of bitter humor in their eye as they say three more words.

They emphasize it, slow and deliberate, to make sure he understands.

‘Then kill me.’

The corresponding wound in his own body twists, burning painfully, and he backs up from the mirror with a snarl.

The heave of their shoulders indicates a scoff, backed up by the sneer on their face. In seconds, they disappear from his view.

They always were good at poker, he thinks, when he’s somewhere else in the void. They’d toy with loss, then clean house with little effort, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. However, a few decades without practice must have rusted their bluffing skills.

He saw their face start to crumble.

[loveislattes]

1 and 10

1. Darkiplier and 10. Primal (Predator/Prey) Play!

Oooohhhh, this is such a good pairing. 😍 Should have this out by tonight!

[thetrashbois]

So first: nsfw Loki with predator/prey, Second: nsfw or sfw headcanon of Loki & Dark taking care of someone with a broken bone like my foot currently is lol.

Heh.

Loki with Predator/Prey Kink NSFW

When you bring it up to him a smirk is instantly on his face.

"So you want to be my little prey?"

Smug af

He sets it up in the palace (king loki bay bey) and makes sure the rest of the area is cleared out so its just you two.

He waits till night so its more of a challenge.

Gives you a 2 minute head start to hide

Once the chase is one he is ruthless and talks the whole time

"Oh come out Darling....you must be curious what ill do when i find you~?"

if you manage to hide long enough he might even be impressed and reward you.

But when he does find you. Oh boy.

Hell spot you from your hiding place and nearly pounce on you. Pinning you down and growling into your ear that he found you.

Takes little time to strip you down and thrust into you. Making you scream his name.

Good thing he cleared the castle right?

Taking care of a Broken Bone SFW

Loki

At first loki dosent take it super serious.

Hes a god after all. Broken bones arent really a thing hes ever had to worry about in his life time.

"Broken? So fix it????"

Once you explain to him though he might try to be a little more understanding.

He s....not the best at caretaking, hes usually the one being pampered. But for you he would make an exception especially when he would see how much pain your in

Hed help you do basic tasks like baths and eating. Hed also do errands for you if you needed anything

All around his main goal though would be trying to keep your spirits up.

Always making jokes and trying to make you smile.

He does his best

Darkiplier

Dark on the other hand is actually quiet good with taking care of you.

His bones constantly give him trouble so hearing you had a broken one he takes it very seriously.

He'd take you to Dr. iplier straight away. Making sure to keep an eye on everything and give you the best care.

Once your home he'd be sure to take a break from work to focus on taking care of you.

Water? Food? Something oddly specific? Anything for his little darling.

He'd be extra gentle with you. Even his voice would be soft.

When you would need a bath he'd be right there, helping you clean and wash your hair. Whispering how proud he is of you for handling everything.

Not to mention he'd hold you close every night, being careful of your injury and keeping you safe

[sandrawrites13]

fifty shades of darkiplier | | darkiplier x reader; PART ONE

request:  Darkiplier X Reader where it's kinda like 50 shades of Gray (which I've never seen) but I've heard it's good. I hope you know what I mean but I would love it if it ended in some kind of fluff. Thanks a bunch! Love you

warnings: this is the first part of a series,, it may be 50 parts (1 for each shade lol), or 5 parts (10 shades each) so TELL ME WHAT U THINK. if enough people like it i will write the next part :) 

in the beginning, you weren’t sure how -- or why -- you found yourself in this predicament. you were currently pacing the waiting room, a camera around your neck, a pen and paper in your hands, waiting to interview the most prestigious business man that your school couldn’t stop buzzing about. 

a lady in a long, pink dress gave you a softened look before leading you into the office of the well-known business man. 

he was mostly well known since nobody knew his real identity. they just knew him as mr. fischbach. rumor says that when he started his business, he never released his first name. 

you were eager to find that out about him. 

-- or, to at least find something out about him. something that the public didn’t know. it would be amazing to come out with that information for the school paper; you would definitely get some notes of intrigue from your professor. 

the lady opened the doors wide, leading you in to follow her. you did with small, gentle strides, pulling your hair back and throwing it into a ponytail as you slid behind her, covered by her. 

as soon as the man behind the desk caught glimpse of you, you found his eyes even behind the woman. he had an intoxicating smile, a grin that you couldn’t get out of your head. 

he had dark eyes, ones hidden behind his razor sharp expression on his face, and a bold voice as he exclaimed to both of you crisply, “you must be the new reporter. thank you, angela. you may step out.” 

“thank you, mr. fischbach,” she said, bowing and then spinning right on her heel, walking out. you were now left helpless, standing in the middle of the room as the man stared you down. 

neither of you made a move. your small eyes were locked with his grizzly ones; full of some intrigue and interest that made a shiver go down your spine. he had nothing but authority and he wanted to make it seen, given the way he moved across the room, floating to where you were standing and locking his eyes with you. 

“hello, y/n,” he said, now inches from your face. when he moved one of his hands to tell you to sit, you jumped instinctively. “sit down, hm?” your heart was skipping a beat, your body paralyzed. you watched him grin, and his smile transform from loose to rough, now dipped with a comforting sense. 

you managed to somehow squeak out a reply and found yourself residing in the chair across from his desk, the paper pad in your hand and your leg bouncing to match your beating heart. 

your eyes flickered to him, back to the wall behind, and then back to him again. you couldn’t shake the feeling he had on you; the intoxicating feeling. you couldn’t move, let alone speak. and you were a reporter, for goodness sake. yet you were paralyzed in the sight of this man, who just peered at you like you were an animal -- or property. 

“do you have something you want to ask me, y/n?” the man asked, which finally made your mind snap back to where you were. your throat closed as you bit your bottom lip in embarrassment. 

“yeah. . . a few things actually,” you whispered out, drawing your attention down to your notepad. you opened it up quickly, looking over the title and then reaching for your--

. . . 

did you. . . 

did you actually forget to bring a pencil? 

after mentally cursing yourself, and swearing up and down that you have a pencil, you were left helpless, biting your lip harder and staring at the ground, occasionally bringing it up only a little to see the bottom outline silhouette of mr. fischbach, who drowsily and slowly clicked his tongue at you with his own amusement. 

wordlessly, he strode to his desk, grabbing a pencil off of it and handing it into your shaking hand. 

you had no idea you could describe the fear inside of your body, except for the fact that it wasn’t going to go away. 

it was there, eating you up, and the way he just looked at you -- as if you were prey and he was a predator. it didn’t fill you with disgust, per say, but it made your chest just bubble with something you weren’t familiar with. 

your blood drenched cold, your eyes sulking down. 

“so, mr. fischbach,” you began, finally glancing up to meet his face as he was now leaning on his desk. “um. . . i know you probably won’t answer me this, but it is worth a shot, right?” you chuckled a little bit, to ease the mood, but all he did was smirk and offer his own light, almost non-existent laugh. 

“everything’s worth a shot, y/n, isn’t it?” he asked in a slow, calming voice. you melted at his words, unable to bring yourself back to the questions. 

“uh, right,” you whispered-- near whimpered-- out. “like i was saying. . . you probably won’t answer this, but um. . . could you tell me your real name?” 

you were gonna be blunt with it. the real, big question you wanted. you hoped and desired.you knew there was no reason he should just give you his name, but you were eager. 

and he knew you were eager. so he gave a smile, leaning forward so he was now staring you down. his deep eyes matched with yours. a sadistic and alluding smirk plastered on his lips. his face just asking you to keep going. to keep acting like a frail, helpless puppy. 

“you’re right,” he hummed, “i can’t tell you that. so for now, my darling, just call me d̷̜͔̜͙̭̻̤̮̲͎͇̫́̀͜ͅͅa̷̢̨̧͙̦͙͍̯̤̰̳̳̗͗̆̓́͗̓͌̌̽̀̉̂̇͜r̴̛̤̝͚̮͔̊͐̂͐̈͊͑̈́̇̿̕͘͝ķ̵̞͉̘͍̘̟̟͇̹͔͎̝̜̄͐͐̊̂́̏.” 

[freckled-words]

Repost: Enjoy the Nightmare

I honestly don’t even remember if this is an edited fic or not, BUT, since we’re in spooky month,  it only felt appropriate to repost this spooky fic.

You never thought it would happen, but it did. 

NateWantsToBattle, AmaLee, and MandoPony brought their concert to a close by city. You didn’t hesitate to buy a ticket. This was probably going to be a once in a lifetime chance for you. 

With a bit of pleading and begging you convinced your friend to come along too. They weren’t really into the music, but it would be a late event and they knew you would have gone alone otherwise.

The day of the concert you were a ball of chaos. You were awake before the sun had even risen, your clothes wound up everywhere since you couldn't pick an outfit, and you had your purse glued to your side so you could keep checking it, to make sure that the ticket was inside. 

Your friend was just about ready to knock you upside the head after an hour in the car. You couldn’t sit still. Your foot was tapping, you kept checking your phone every couple minutes, and even bounced in your seat.

By the time you reached the venue you’d worked yourself up into a jittery mess. You dragged your friend to the merchandise table and practically gave them your wallet. 

Finally the music started and you were screaming at the top of your lungs with everyone else. Your friend caught onto the energy from the crowd and began screaming right alongside you.

Song after song you were both entranced. During the slower songs you took the chance to take a rest. As soon as the upbeat songs began to blast through the room you were jumping, screaming, and trying to sing along. You couldn’t have been happier.

Just as Nathan began to strum the opening chords for ‘Enjoy the Show’ there came a squeal from the speakers. You weren’t sure if it was just your hearing, but you could have sworn you heard a familiar laugh mixed in with the squeal. 

Once it died down Nathan smiled sheepishly, “Sorry about that folks! If you’re still able to hear, are you ready to keep going?!” 

The crowd gave a roar and you would have joined in if you didn’t see the shadows behind Nathan. They weren't moving. You nudged your friend, just as they looked over at you the lights went out. 

There were murmurs of concern and fear. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for your presence tonight.”

You knew that voice. Anyone that knew Nate from YouTube also knew this voice. 

“At this point of the evening we’ll be changing the program.”

The lights came back on. Nate, Andy, and the rest of the band were all unconscious on the stage. Standing in the centre was Darkiplier. 

Your friend gripped your elbow, “What's going on? Is this some kind of joke?!” They were scared, everyone was getting scared. You clutched at their hand, you were just as terrified. Everything still sounded tinny from the speaker squeal, but you could hear your own heart beat just fine. The room had been warm, almost suffocating before. All that warmth was gone, your hand felt numb on your friend’s.

The security force positioned at the front of the stage went into action. They clambered up the stage and rushed at Darkiplier.

One by one they all dropped just as they got within arm’s reach of him. Each thump of their bodies hitting the wood stage jolted you. Most of them fell face first. They didn’t groan, twitch, or anything, they were just still. 

Clutching tighter to your friend’s hand your feet began to move. You didn’t know what was going on, but you didn’t want to stick around to see anymore. You dragged your friend with you as you aimed to get closer to one of the walls. If there was one thing you knew about keeping safe in crowds, it was putting your back to the wall. The people you brushed past startled back, or didn’t even realize you’d touched them. 

“I’m sure you all have many questions. For those of you not familiar with my work, I am Darkiplier.” He gave an elegant bow, a smile, that spoke of amusement, gracing his features. 

The lights flickered and static erupted from the speakers once more. Straightening from his bow Dark’s smile dropped. As the speakers quieted another voice crackled through, “Stop being a fucking showboat, while we do all the work!”

An eerie hush fell over the room. The hair along your arms and on the back of your neck stood on end. 

The wall was in sight, just a bit closer. 

Your hand just pressed flat against the cold stone of the wall when the screaming started. 

Both you and your friend pressed up against the wall. There were more voices, more people crying out. You couldn't tell where it was coming from. The room was designed to carry sound, making the panicked cries impossible to pinpoint.

The man just to the left of you began to cough, you only took notice because it kept going. He was clawing at his throat, you could hear him wheezing with each attempt to inhale. Was he having a panic attack? An allergic reaction? 

There was movement towards the back of the room, people were escaping through a fire exit! Your attention left the coughing man. Holding tight to your friend you pressed forward, your side to the wall the entire time. You had to get away, you both had to get out of there. This was madness, this shouldn't be happening, it wasn't possible! 

The doorway was just up ahead, you could see people disappear through the opening. 

With the house lights on you could see a lot more than when it was just the stage lights. The panic on people’s faces, the tears some of them had spilled. Your lungs froze mid-exhale.

Red.

There was red on their clothes. Their hands, their faces. Some only had a small smattering. Others were coated in patches on their bodies. 

You were right next to the doorway. Your friend was pressed right against your back, their breathing shaky in your ear. 

“You can run kiddies! But ya can't escape!” His voice was everywhere. It was disjointed, pitched, and crackling. 

From the corner of your eye you saw something reflect light. More screaming, this time much closer. 

You couldn't move, against your will your eyes went to the source. 

He stood in a slowly growing puddle of blood. Despite his black clothes you could tell from the way they clung to his body that they'd absorbed a lot of it. His eyes were black, his green hair speckled with red. A large gleeful smile on his face. 

“Oh my god…. Oh my god! (Y/N), go, go!” Your friend’s whimpered cry broke you out of the paralysis. Their hands pressed to your back to urge you on through the door. 

Somehow your sneakers had stepped in the blood. You knew it without looking down. Each step was a squeak of wet rubber on tiled floor. 

The screams were behind you, the exit ahead of you. ‘Just get to the exit. Just get out of the building.’ This was your only functional thought amongst the continued loop in your mind. You blinked and he was there, his blade stabbing into a little boy’s chest. Slicing a teenage girl’s throat. 

The hallway turned up ahead. It lead to the exit, you remembered from when you got here. You forced yourself to memorize the path to the bathroom and stage. 

Your friend got ahead of you, taking the turn just before you did. You were hardly a couple steps behind them. 

The distance didn’t matter. 

You turned the corner and they were on the floor. Black, thick smoke trailing away from their body. They'd fallen, their face turned to the side. Burns coated their lips and nostrils. 

Your threw yourself in reverse, your legs and momentum conflicting and dropping you backwards. 

The smoke moved like a snake, twisting and writhing. It was hypnotizing almost, keeping your sight locked on it as it returned to its source. 

Another man. This one worse than the other two. That face wasn't meant to look so malicious. Those brown eyes shouldn't have grey smoke wisping out of them. That smile shouldn't be a predator’s grin. 

Everyone that had escaped the other nightmare had only gotten this far. They were all dead. Scattered around him in different positions, none of them wore peaceful expressions. 

NateMare stalked forward, “Another little fly that escaped the trap. Lucky me. You're rather cute too, such a shame.” 

His voice was a cooing purr, an entrancing lilt just beneath his words. 

“Why?”

Your voice was a dry crackle, it sounded distant. Not at all from your own vocal chords

He didn't stop until he stood right in front of you. He reached down, you threw your arm up reflexively. His hand wrapped around your bare skin, his touch was scolding hot. Hotter than anything you'd ever accidentally touched. 

You cried out, your skin was blistering beneath his hand. Not seeming to notice he yanked you up and forward, forcing you on your free hand and knees. Leaning in closer he answered in that sickly sweet coo, “We needed some fresh energy. You believers are just brimming with it. You know this is the most fun I've had in ages.” He chuckled, his hand tightening even more. 

You opened your mouth to scream, your mind going blank from the pain. Smoke rushed forward to go down your throat. 

Tears streamed down your face as your lungs erupted with fire, the air they'd been filled with just a second ago replaced with the smoke. 

You gave a shuddering gasp. Your eyes rolled back in your head. 

You sat up in bed. Your body was drenched in sweat. Your breathing was shallow and quick. You scrambled to the side of your bed and hurriedly turned on your lamp. The darkness around you was, once more, just your bedroom. 

Grabbing your phone you checked the date and time. It was 3am on the day of the concert. It’d all been a nightmare. The worst you’d ever had. Your mind had never conceived something so terrifying before.

You rubbed at your face, “Must be my nerves, I shouldn’t have watched all those videos before bed.”

As you lowered your hand back down, something on your skin caught your attention. Moving closer to your lamp a strangled sob left your throat. It wasn’t something on your skin, it was your skin. Blisters and bright pink, burn scarred skin, shaped like a hand.

‘You believers are just brimming with it.’

[thunderstruck-amanita]

if you would like....one that's very self indulgent on my part and very specific: “I think we should stop before I throw up again.” prompt for host and dark (you just write them so well!!) maybe, if you desire, specifically with dark pushing host past his limits with his narration powers/overusing host's powers....but asdjadj only if u want!! dont worry abt it

I love this prompt.  So much.  I loved the details you added and kind of went ham with it.  It ended up getting waaaaayyy longer than I intended, but I hope you enjoy!

~~~

Something was wrong.

Host knew it from the moment Dark had entered his room.  No knock, no greeting.  Just a tension that Host could feel without even narrating it.  Just the crackling of astral projections shooting off of Darkiplier like static electricity even though he normally had them so under control.  Just a frantic energy that Host recognized instantly but hadn’t felt from him in a very, very long time.

“Host, I need your help.”

Host frowned.  On any other day, he would’ve snapped back at him.  Maybe made some snide comment if he was in a good mood or growled and gone back to his radio station without a second thought if he was in a bad one.  But today wasn’t any other day.

Host’s mood didn’t matter.

There was something coming that was bigger than either one of them.

Host slowly slipped off his headphones and placed them on the desk.  One nod was all Dark needed, and the work began.

It was slow going.

Urgent bursts of narration, hushed and hurried thoughts, then fervent narration again.  It went like that for a long time, and Host was beginning to feel the strain.  His stomach lurched in pain, exhaustion tugged at his limbs, old wounds from his countless deaths began to open up again.  He was always losing blood, but rarely did it affect him the way it was starting to right now.  The light-headedness, the dizziness, the sharp, shooting pain in the sockets where his eyes used to be.  He was fast approaching his limit, but Dark showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

“Dark…” Host muttered, interrupting what the other was saying.

Darkiplier stopped talking but bristled in annoyance all the same.  “What.”

Host took a deep, shaky breath.  “I need to stop.”

“Oh.  You need to sSTOPp, do you?” He glitched in the middle of his sentence, throwing the emphasis of the word into disarray.  “Well, we need to SToP too.  Do you know what we need to stop? Hmm? Or did you forget?”

Dark stood up and began pacing around Host’s chair.  Slowly.  Purposefully.  Almost like a wild animal hunting his prey.  Almost.

“WE need to stop that masochistic mANIAC before he ruins our f***ing LIVES beyond repair!”

Dark slammed his fists on Host’s desk, and things shifted.

They shifted.

They were launched into a dark and empty dimension as a multitude of tortured projections erupted from Darkiplier.  They screamed, screeched, scratched the empty air for purchase.  The noise was almost enough to make Host’s ears bleed, and he dryly hoped that at least one of his four senses would be unscathed by the end of the day.

But they returned to the room just as fast as they had left.  Nothing in his bedroom had changed aside from the disrupted dust that was beginning to settle and the microphone that now laid on its side on the desk.

Darkiplier was not to be trifled with today.  He was aggressive, assertive, maybe even desperate… but Host also sensed something in him that a true predator didn’t have.

Fear.

Host wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he knew that feeling.  He had thrived on one side of it and survived on the other.  The thrill of writing stories that would send a reader’s heart pumping, send shivers down their spine, move them to the edge of their seat… and the agony of experiencing it himself.  Every time he had to enter another of his horror stories to serve his penance, he knew what would happen.  He knew every step he took would inevitably lead him to his impending doom.  But knowing the next chapter didn’t stop the fear from clawing at him and staying with him as scars that would never heal.  So Host took Dark’s words, bitter and caustic, and swallowed them down with his own thoughts.  If Dark was this scared, this desperate, then this could be the final stretch to Mark’s demise.  Yes, he knew what it was like to fear, perhaps better than anyone.  And he knew that anger combined with fear would make the sweetest revenge.

So without a word, he picked up his microphone again and continued to narrate.

~~~

It was hardly another hour before the pain became excruciating.  The gunshot wounds, machete slices, and chainsaw gashes were gushing now.  Host could tell that he was pale, that he was going to faint at any moment.

But he didn’t stop.

That is, until he spun his chair around to vomit onto the carpet.

Dark grew quiet as the room filled with a nauseating scent of bile and blood, waiting patiently as Host heaved and heaved until his stomach was entirely empty.

Host wiped the vomit from his chin with the back of his hand and turned to where Dark had last spoken from.

“Well,” Dark stated, unphased.  “Are you done?”

Host growled from his throat as he grabbed the arm of his chair and stood on his wobbling legs.  “Yes,” he replied through grit teeth.  “Very.”

He leaned against anything he could grab onto as he made his way towards the door.

“Then where are you going?” Darkiplier snapped, jumping out of his chair.

“I’m going to the doctor,” Host snarled right back.

“We’re not finished yet,” Darkiplier said.  His tone held a challenge, daring Host to disobey him, to change the rules of the game that Dark was playing.

“Well.  Call me ludicrous, but I think we should stop before I throw up again.”

Host continued to make his way to the door.  It was unsettling, feeling like his body could fall apart at any moment.  He grimly imagined connecting and leaving him in a pile of jumbled up pieces before shoving the thought away.

“I’m not-”

“We’ve done enough!” Host screamed.  It was a wild, guttural, barbaric sound that sucked out too much of his already depleted energy.  “I’ve narrated all f***ing day, and if we’re not any closer to getting Mark, that’s your fault.  Not mine.”

He didn’t even have the strength to slam the door behind him when he left.

He would probably pay for this.  Darkiplier would hate him for a good long while.

He ground his teeth together and focused on getting downstairs.

If that was the case, then so be it.

~~~

It was a week before Host saw Dark again.

He had expected to see him much earlier, to pick up where they had left off.  Then again, the look of rage on Dr. Iplier’s face when Host had collapsed on the floor of his small home clinic should have let him know that Dark wouldn’t be visiting any time soon.

“You were ill.  You warned me and I should have listened.”

Again, Dark had entered without knocking, without any introduction. And the words were Dr. Iplier’s, clearly. He had probably threatened the man to come in here to apologize from the way Darkiplier ground the words out of his mouth, like he wanted nothing more than to be done with this apology and get back to work.  Host suppressed a smirk.  The man’s reluctance only made the apology that much better for him.

“Yes, you should have,” he snarled as he sat up in his cot, holding back a wince.

He was pieced back together again.  Mostly.  Dr. Iplier suggested another few days to rest, but Host was itching to be back in his studio again.  The clinic was fine every once in a while, but it was too spotless for him to think straight.  And the overwhelming scent of citrus-scented cleaning surprise was disgusting.

Dark made some grunt of annoyance, and Host felt him sit down at the edge of the bed.

“Time is short.  Things are happening and it seems like he’ll be coming soon.”

Host nodded.

“I guessed that from your panic,” he stated as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  Darkiplier tensed up again, but before he could speak, Host continued.  “But trust me, I want him to meet his end just as much as you.”

Darkiplier sighed.  “I know.”

They sat for a moment in silence.  It wasn’t friendly.  It was hardly civil.  But both seemed to find comfort in the common hope for revenge that accompanied them.

Host stood up, slowly, before straightening out to his full, intimidating height.  He turned his head to where Dark was still seated.

“Let’s get back to work.”

[vorish-egos]

My fault?! - tiny green haired youtuber yelled angrily within very hearable irish accent.

He couldn't believe in such scenario like this, right he might joked about vore but that, it gone too far. The smell of caffeine made Jack feel a little dizzy, but he swam in one place afraid that soon, he will meet face to face with his best friend alter ego, in the worst way he possible could imagine.

• voreplier

"Of all the things you could have done, you HAD to stick me in your mouth and swallow me whole?!" (Maybe with Jack and Dark???)

Dark smirked but let off a playful nervous laugh, straightening his back and locked his hands behind his back. He flashed a sharp smile down at Jack. “You know i didnt mean to, Jack. I had no idea you were in my coffee, seems like it was you’re fault and not mine~.”

~mun cherry

[bing-fucker]

I Can Write and That Is Everybody Else's Problem

A fic that might or might not be vore that I wrote and am now posting for @ollieoxyn!

Characters: Bim Trimmer, Darkiplier Wilford Warfstache (mentioned)

Pairing: Bim/Dark

Warnings: Cannibalism (maybe vore?), gore, dubious consent on Dark's part.

Bim was hungry, Dark could tell. But then again, it wasn’t actually that hard to tell when Bim was hungry. He tended to snap more easily when he was hungry, and get angrier easily. Of course, Bim would always look at Dark with the same intimidated puppy dog look he always did, but Dark could always see the ferality growing in his eyes.

“Bim, can you stay behind for a moment,” Dark said, dismissing all the others from the meeting. They left quickly, with only a brief mutter from Wilford of ‘Ooooh, you’re in trouble’. Bim remained seated, looking at Dark nervously.

“D-did I do something wrong?” he asked worriedly, squirming anxiously in his seat. Dark almost found it cute.

“Can you come over here,” Dark said, leaving absolutely no room for argument or hesitation. Bim stood and walked over immediately, and that, Dark did find cute. He’d always liked how scared of him Bim was. It made him wonderfully obedient, and rather adorable when he thought he was in trouble.

“Have you been eating properly?” Dark asked, leaning his head on his palm. He knew he very much looked like a predator sizing up its prey but given Bim’s… inclinations, Dark didn’t think he would mind.

“Yes,” Bim said, looking like he very much doubted this was what Dark wanted from him. “I ate last night. A-and I made sure to clean up properly, so if that’s what you’re worried about, it’s okay.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about you,” Dark purred, emphasizing the last word and raking his eyes along Bim’s slim frame. Bim blushed and shuddered at the look.

“S-sir?” Bim said softly, clearly confused. Dark scooted his chair away from the table and gripped Bim’s hips, pulling the young celebrity down into his lap.

“You see,” Dark said, ignoring the embarrassed squeak Bim gave. “I know you’re lying to me, Bim. I can tell when you haven’t eaten.” Dark quirked an eyebrow and rested his hand on Bim’s stomach. “We can all tell.”

“I-I’m sorry for lying,” Bim said, looking like he expected punishment. “I didn’t… I thought… I was planning on eating tonight.”

“I can tell when you’re lying,” Dark sighed, releasing Bim’s hips and reaching up to shrug off his own suit coat and unbutton his shirt.

Bim’s eyes widened in shock as he said, “Wh-what are you doing!?”

“You’re hungry, and I have high pain tolerance,” Dark replied, rolling his eyes like it was obvious. “Obviously I won’t let you take everything, just what you need to make it a few more days until you find a new victim.”

“I- Dark, I can’t do that!” Bim replied, blushing brightly. Dark sighed and rolled his eyes, gripping the back of Bim’s hair and pulling the young celebrity down to his own shoulder.

“I’m not giving you a choice, Bim,” he said firmly, ignoring the heat in his stomach at the whimper Bim gave. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t have something in you. So I suggest you take what you need to make it a few days without an incident.”

“Are you sure?” Bim asked, his voice deeper than usual, and that definitely did something to Dark. The entity smirked and stroked Bim’s spine like he was a particularly murderous, particularly prized pet.

“Very, my pet,” Dark replied. Bim nodded and stood up, lacking any of his usual hesitance as he stripped off his top layers, setting them at his usual spot at the table before taking his glasses off as well and walking back over to Dark. Dark quirked an eyebrow, expecting Bim to seat himself back in his lap, and finding himself surprised when the cannibal placed his hands on either side of Dark on the back of his chair, essentially caging the entity in- or appearing to, at least.

“We do this by colors,” he said quietly, a growl accentuating his words. “This is not a scene, but it is dangerous. I ask for a color, you answer me honestly. Green means keep going, yellow means slow down, red means stop. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Dark purred, watching Bim with more than a little amusement.

“Try not to squirm too much,” Bim said, seating himself back on Dark’s lap and leaning forward, gently nipping along the column of his throat.

Dark’s breath hitched slightly. When he had offered to do this for Bim, he had not been expecting to actually enjoy the idea of it. Dark had always liked pain - inflicting it on others, mostly, but he didn’t mind receiving - but this was unexpected. This was Bim. A coworker at least and a friend at most. A friend whose teeth were currently sinking into Dark’s shoulder deep enough to draw blood. Above him, Bim let out an animalistic moan and Dark settled his hands back on the younger’s hips, tilting his head to the side to allow Bim more access.

Bim moaned again, pulling away from the bite and rolling his tongue over the small rivulets of blood that escaped from where his teeth punctured skin, moaning at the taste. He barely noticed Dark’s hands settling back on his hips, having quickly sunk his teeth back into the injury and tearing the flesh away brutally, chewing and swallowing like it was the last thing he’d ever get to taste.

Dark groaned softly, tightening his grip on Bim’s hips as the cannibal nuzzled his neck gently.

“Not there, my pet,” Dark said firmly, not wanting to have to deal with the tenderness of a healing neck. Bim nodded but didn’t move his head away, and it was then that Dark realized he was kissing, not biting.

Dark smirked, moving his hand to the front of Bim’s crotch and feeling the beginnings of a hard-on. “Ah, I see,” he purred, grinding the heel of his hand against Bim’s clothed dick. “That’ll be why you take so long to choose a victim, won’t it, my pet? You have to make sure they’re pretty enough to satisfy your other needs~”

“They don’t taste good if they’re ugly,” Bim replied, his voice a bit distant as he made his way back to the wound on Dark’s shoulder, lapping and tearing at it, his face practically coated with Dark’s black blood.

“No, I imagine they don’t,” Dark agreed, moving his hand away and allowing Bim to rock his hips against Dark’s. The cannibal groaned softly, tearing off a bit of skin with his fingers and eating it quickly.

It probably said something about Dark’s psyche that he was getting off on his friend - one who always seemed so innocent, no less - eating his flesh while grinding against him. But that was a thought for a moment that wasn’t now, as Dark quickly undid both his and Bim’s slacks.

Bim paused, looking confused for a second. “What are you-?”

“Hush, my pet,” Dark replied, pushing Bim’s boxers down his hips and taking his dick in hand. “I’m already taking care of you. Why don’t you let me do the rest as well~?”

“I-” Bim blushed, moaning at the feeling of Dark’s cold hand stroking his dick. He looked like he might have protested more, had he not been as hungry as he was. Instead, he simply buried his face in Dark’s shoulder again and tore into it, moaning and whining at the taste.

Dark grunted in a mix of pain and macabre pleasure, pulling his own boxers down and holding his dick against Bim’s has he stroked them. Bim whimpered softly- whether from Dark’s movements, or the act of eating the entity, Dark didn’t know. But he didn’t exactly care as Bim tore his shirt open and bit into his chest, right above his heart.

“Color?” Bim said softly, looking up at Dark.

The entity simply smirked. “Green,” he purred, using his free hand to press Bim’s face back to his chest. Bim went willingly, tearing the flesh savagely and letting out an animalistic grunt. Dark cocked his head and stroked Bim faster, wondering how much it would take for Bim to lose control completely.

Turns out, not that long. It only took about five more minutes before Bim was pulling away from Dark completely and standing. He looked a mess. His usually neat hair was completely mussed, his face covered in blood, and his dick hard and out in the open. Dark only had to wonder what he would do for another minute before, in a surprising show of strength that betrayed his wiry frame, Bim hauled Dark out of his chair and onto the meeting table, stripping the entity of his clothes before climbing onto the table after him.

“Oh dear,” Dark said, amused. His amusement melted away as Bim forcibly spread his legs and bit into his inner thigh. “Fuck!”

Bim simply growled in response, tearing the flesh away and grinning up at Dark with bloody teeth. Dark returned the smile as best he could, watching Bim nose at his dick briefly. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about having those teeth near something so delicate, but his body certainly knew how to feel, given he thrust unwillingly up against Bim’s cheek.

Bim growled again and pinned Dark’s hips down, biting his hip as a warning before he went back to properly biting at Dark’s thighs.

“I’m not going to be able to sit comfortably for a while, Bim,” Dark commented, hissing softly. Bim looked up at him, only the vaguest hint of understanding in his eyes. “And I’m not sure how fair it is that I’m not getting anything out of this.” Bim cocked his head, looking far too innocent for a man who’d just been eating Dark and rutting against him like an animal.

Dark laughed and patted his chest, gesturing for Bim to come up towards him. Bim did as requested and Dark wasted no time in tearing the young celebrity’s remaining clothes off. Bim cocked his head curiously for another second, before biting back into Dark’s chest. Dark ignored his own disgust as he covered his hand in blood and carefully slicked up his dick before gripping Bim’s hips tightly and guiding the young celebrity onto his dick, groaning at the feeling.

Bim let out a pained whimper, looking up at Dark with pained and confused eyes, either at the unprepared intrusion, or the intrusion at all. Dark kissed his forehead soothingly and Bim was soon once again distracted by licking up the blood decorating Dark’s chest and shoulders.

Dark groaned softly, not even having to move to make Bim start moving on his dick, the cannibal’s own arousal making him roll his hips down against the entity as he cleaned Dark’s chest of blood. Bim growled and leaned forward, burying his face in Dark’s throat and nipping at it.

Dark growled and gripped Bim’s hair, pulling the cannibal away from his throat, Bim whimpered desperately, hands scrabbling weakly at Dark’s arm. Dark huffed a laugh. He knew Bim wasn’t even close to done eating, but the young celebrity had done quite a bit of damage already, and Dark wasn’t interested in seeing what would happen if he continued to feast.

“Just relax my pet,” Dark said patiently, pulling Bim’s head further back and thrusting up into the young celebrity. It was unfortunate that Dark didn’t take long to spill inside of the younger man on top of him, although it took Bim even less time. Fortunately, the image of Bim so animalistic and willing to do anything was one that Dark would keep with him for a while.

Bim slumped forward as soon as Dark let go of his hair, letting out another pained whimper before he promptly passed out. Dark laughed and lifted the cannibal off of him, standing and grunting painfully in response to his wounds.

“These will take a while to heal, my pet,” he sighed, picking Bim up and tearing a hole through the void to his bedroom. “I’ll punish you for that later.” Bim shifted innocently in Dark’s arms and the entity grinned, stepping through the void and already making plans.

[askyancy]

A choice...

OOC: Below the cut is extracted from the discord. A certain duo paid Yancy a visit in his time of need.  With this, our trio story is finally all wrapped up in a big bow and tomorrow brings a new story! We’ve been planning it for a while now and can’t wait for you all to take part and see what’s in store! Yancy - @askyancy​ Actor Mark - @actor-mark​ Darkiplier - @markimoojackaboi​

YancyYesterday at 7:05 PM

Yancy hadn't come back to his cell yet, having left Sparkles with Jimmy and Hank, a bit of high alcohol content hooch to drown out the worries. Yancy wasn't much for drinking, instead he'd wandered off... through the nooks and crannies, the holes in the walls and floors. Off to a small secluded and rather secretive location that only he knew of. It was HIS place..... His private hole in the wall. Several floors below the prison and so far away from it all that he could sing to his hearts content and not be heard at all. He'd been down here before.. many times... Yancys-studio was as isolated and alone as he could ever possibly hope for.....

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

He was pacing.... Back forth back forth. 7 steps left 7 steps back again. chewing on the end of his thumb. His brain wrought with worry, with conflict. All my fault... This is all my Fault He couldn't stand hearing that Bambam wasn't going to make it. They'd been updated after class. Bambams heart was slowing down... Doctors said it was just a matter of time. Time was all Yancy could hope for now.... More time.. just give them more time and maybe they'll pull through.... It felt surreal and tormenting knowing that there was nothing he could do. Not a damned thing. So he'd pace.... Pace and wear a hole in the concrete floor. The studio was a basement crawlspace of dusty concrete and piping, a support beam stands in the center and the whole little crook sits 2 floors deep beneath the kitchen. The far wall has been fitted with many small mirrors to make up one large dance studio-esque mirror. Not much to look at but it served the purpose. But Yancy wouldn't dare to look at his reflection as it stalked him back and forth across the room. over and over....

The cold basement hide away had almost completely still air, never really changing from part of the room to another. Cold that settled on top of the skin but never penetrating deeper than that. It was dusty. Even if Yancy cleaned it every day it would remain slightly dirty due to it's concrete walls, celling, and floor....

Yancy gave a shiver, the cold of the room prickling but it was more his unstoppable anxiety making his back tense up so much. He paused in his pacing, trying to shift his attention away. Maybe to tumblr? But doing so only reminded him he hadn't even touched it all day... One small post, an update on Bambam.... After he was done he slowly sank against a wall, knees to his chest and just hunched forward a little into them, burying his face to cry alone. He couldn't bare to be up there with the others anymore. Couldnt bare that sight of his own cell or knowing that Bambam's would be empty now. There was no way Sparkles would stay in there alone. Maybe they'd go stay with that Dusty person? He didnt even want to think about losing the rest of his family now Bambam was gone... but what if the gang started falling apart? Tiny was never really interested in any of them, Jimmy and Hank tended to stick together and Sparkles was very different from Yancy, and likely seeing Yancy would only bring up memories of Bambam..... Would he lose them all!?

He slowly pulled himself together and ran a hand over his face, standing back up and eyed his phone again... Maybe he could say hi to the discord folks? They should know too right? Then again he'd alerted the blog. they'd know... He found himself pacing again, the same track...  "You look a little lost, friend."

Yancy whirled around, straight for the exit and paused. .... No one? He spun in a circle, eyes all over the room. Not a soul.  "Wh-......." Had he just imagined it?  "Ohp Don't make yourself dizzy now!"  "Who's dere!?" Yancy growled low, territorial mode sinking in, ready to defend his little hidey hole.  "A friend~"  "YOUSE SHOW YOUSES SELF!"

There was n eerie echo in the room as Yancy's voice boomed out, it seemed to carry more than it should have....

"..... Wow. Angry little Tiger aren't we? " "Sh-shut up... Who are youse?" 

“What's with the weird accent?” "I SAID SHUT UP!.... Tell me who youse is!" "

....................................

 "ANSWER ME!" 

“Oh I'm sorry I thought you wanted me to shut up”

Yancy grit his teeth. "..... Youse just.. leave me alone... I aint in de mood"

Yancy backed up a bit away from the door. 

“Oh c'mon now friend. I came to offer you the help you so desperately need. Don't worry..er.. Yancy was it?”

 "It's Yancy..." 

“That's what I-.... nevermind...”

 "Where de heck is you--" He'd started turning around again but leapt half a mile back when he discovered a man standing directly behind him. 

“Ahaha Oh I'm sorry! Didn't meant to startle you friend!”

 "Wh-How..How did youse-... " His left hand was burning like he'd punched lava. 

“Best not to question the minor details. Just enjoy the ride!”

The man stepped closer and had the most sickening grin on his face. 

“Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to find you?” Yancy started to step backwards, his left fist curling tightly. This guy had the kind of face you just... couldn't trust. Bit of a douche...  "....wait.... y-"

"Oh?” the man grinned, eager to see if Yancy caught on that he'd met him before.  "Youse-.... Youse been looking for me?" Mark's face dropped. Wow what a dumbo. 

“Yes of course. Why wouldn't I wanna find the little "Golden Boy" that everyone's suddenly more in love with?”

".... more?" 

“Ahaha.. not to worry not to worry! We're all friends here at Happy Trails Penitentiary.”

"Yancy shifted slowly into a boxing stance, but kept his fists to his sides for the moment, ready to raise at a moments notice. "Who de heck are youse?" 

“Still talking like that? Youse? Its you. Eesh... Aren't you from Ohio?”

"Sh..shut up" 

“Hold on wait”

Mark pulled a script from his suit jacket and started flipping through it 

“What ending was yours? ... Life Sentence? .... No no....  I want to be free? That was it! Hm... Oh and Dance to the death too. You got a whole three videos how cute. Or was it four?....”

 flick flick.... "Wh-....what are youse even on ab-..." His left hand felt like fire, the skin turning red and he had to shake it off to the side, eyeing the lettering..... "....M... Mark?" 

“Aha! There you are! Took you a while but you got there! You almost remind me of someone ahaha!”

"Wh-....... " 

“Oh don't act so shocked. You already knew I was coming. They went and spoiled everything for you”

"Wh-Who? What? I didn't knows yous...." 

“your discord friends! They spoiled everything! ...Was really supposed to be a surprise but eh... Not like they can see you now.”

"_Yancy went wide eyed "H-.. Youse is on the discord?" 

“Of course I am! Why wouldn't I wanna chat to the wonderful, handsome, famous Yancy! The notorious killer! The brutal violent slaughter tiger! Such a cutie so precious so soft so sweet and so brutal oooof~”

Mark fanned himself and laughed, pacing around the room now. As he walked the floor seemed to change... Concrete turning to wood. Yancy stepped back and away from it, wary to touch it but eventually he ended up pressed against the mirror and unable to avoid it.

"You seem so afraid? Why? Where's all that gusto? All the bravado? the punch and the sweep!”

"Y-YOUSE KNOCK IT OFF"

"Oh calm down Yancy! ... Always the big softie. Youre supposed to be a brutal killer!”

"I aint any o dose t'ings youse callin me!"

"Oh? What about Ma and Pa? What about Frankie? What about-”

"DONT!"

"Oops touched a nerve!”

Mark paced slowly around him like a predator stalking prey. His reflection seemed to shake and show something different entirely.

"Wouldnt want to wake up that killer tiger now would we”

Yancy grit his teeth, stooping down to grab a left over stone from the floor transforming, making sure Mark was too in his own monologue to notice. "

“You're a violent and brutal villain, Yancy. Unlike that Illinois fellow. Or the captain! Both precious angels, heroes! Never did no wrong not to anyone! But you? You've killed FOUR people! FOUR!”

"St-STOP IT!" 

“And yet they fawn over you like a baby... Just like your mothe-”

The rock went sailing right at Mark's face with a fast baseball styled swing, he had just enough time to duck. The rock hit the glass of the mirror, leaving a crack. 

“Oooooooh!!! There it is! Tsk tsk Yancy! You gotta be more careful! Wouldn't want to make it five now would we!”

The mirror cracked and splintered, shards of glass falling to the ground and echoing through the dance space like crystalline wind chimes. It felt like the air was sucked out of the room for a few seconds, almost like an airlock seal breaking. Propped up against the wall was a humble broom that had seen better years. It had stayed in the same place so long that a spider had made its home in the space between the wood and the wall. Without warning, it fell forward, bouncing off the ground like it had been pushed roughly and it clattered with a sound that would be louder and more startling than a mirror cracking.. Yancy jumped and yelped at the crash of the broom. Backing up as far as he could go, his heart racing and his left hand burning like crazy.  "Y-.. L-Leave me alone!" 

“Oh but my dear, sweet, boy! ...... I came to help you~”

"Wh- h..help me?" Yancy's eyes darted to the fallen broom again, his defensive stance faltering, his footwork off, his fists barely tight. Fear gripping him by the shoulders. "I-..I dont want youses help!" 

“...buhuhaha.. You sure? What about poor Micheal?”he paused 

“Sorry.. Bambam. Cute name. Shame Evan and Sarah didn't get to be as involved but that's scheduling for you.”

"Wh-What de hell are youse on ab-.... G.. Go away! I MEAN IT!" 

“Nooooo you doooonnnttt~”Mark sing songed at him 

“Oooh! Nice acoustics in here! aaaaAAAAAaaaaaoooooohh~”

"............... J-...just leave me alone

"Oh alright alright ffffffine. Let Bambam die for all I care. Clearly you dont”

the squeaking sound of glass scraping glass as the mirror cracked just a bit more with every word out of Actor Marks mouth. The reflections seemed to blur and wobble just a bit like a layer of dew began to set in. As the mirror became harder to see through, the edges began to fog up, slowly moving to cover each mirror. The room was cold, unchanging in temperature. But it began to smell... wet. There wasn’t the sound of finger tracing a window, and yet Yancy could see in the mirror next to the mirror that shattered began to have the outlines of a word as if they had always been there.* L I A R

Yancy stared in horror as he watched the actor parade around his little studio. Mark leaned against the beam in the middle, placing a hand on it then watched as it proceeded to get a new lick of paint, slowly flowing over it top to bottom spreading out from where he'd touched. "W-wait..y..youse can..help?" He was watching Mark who..clearly wasn't leaving despite his words. Watching how he was changing his studio to be...better.... 

“We-hehe-ll of course I can!! Why else would I bother looking for you? Can't have previous baby Yancy all distressed now can we!”

Yancy's eyes traced the letters on the mirror that Mark hadn't noticed yet. Was Mark doing that too?  "Y-.........Youse can save Bambam?" 

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeelll...... Not exactly save BUT! I can bring them back. From what I can tell they're noit doing so hot right now. Heart beat's getting slower. Doesn't have long. I'd say maybe.. midnight?”

"Wh- NO!" Yancy rushed forward, paused and Mark grinned. 

“Course if they die, I can bring them back. No strings attached, no deals, no price, no currency, no favors, no nothing. how about it?” Mark held out his hand.(edited)

There was an eerie chill to the air as it seemed into his bones. The fog on the glass seemed to crystallize and freeze a little more. The mirror on the other side had the word.

C H E A T

But whoever was leaving messages didn’t stop at one.

M U R D E R E R

P O I S O N

F A K E

F R A U D

More and more as they began to clutter the available space. Something odd began to happen. The areas around Mark’s silhouette  became more crowded than the rest while the shadow remained unwritten, outlining him in words. Every single one of them being true. A crack from the mirror seemed to also, somehow, be on the wall behind it creeping below the frame... down almost all the way to the floor. Did he really throw that rock that hard?. Yancy couldnt move now as he watched in horror... Nightmare.. Just a nightmare. He got so many of them! That's all this was. He backed up to the wall singking down it and buried his face in his hands.  "N-None o dis is real.. Bambams fine.. I..I can wake up now.... dis is just..my head... ...m..maybe I am crazy" 

“Hey probably. I get told that all the time and yet it never really is true.... you on the other hand. All those murders? The fights? Eesh... How many times have you had a fight with Y/N now? Shall we check hang on”

Mark stepped forward, digging out a red phone.

"Lets see lets see.. how do we find you again...”

 Yancy was so confused, so stressed, he was shaking.

"Err... kay... guns blazing... chopper... rally... no deal.... aha.. 1,670,655 times! Wow! You're a real monster bucko- Wait what about the kills oooh the dance to the death how many kills now? 623,279 YIKES!”

"Wh-N-No I never.. I never killed dat many! I-I just.. deys was accidents! D-de ones I dids de-deys was-" 

“Oh buddy no no no no nooooo these are all documented on video. aha.. er... not that you'd remember them. You black out right? When the tiger hits. Happens.. time lines.. blahbalh wibbly wobbly. It's fine. Oooh that means we're approaching an ending! How about that! Means you get a choice bucko! Lucky you! So I'll make it simple for you" He held his hand out again 

“Deal or no deal? Green or Red. Left or Right. Take your pick!”

DarkiplierYesterday at 11:11 PM

*The Cracked Mirror launches itself off the wall like someone had fired it out of a cannon and against the back of Mark’s Head. It clattered around, shards splintering out and around his face like a helmet that would slice his cheeks or eyes if he moved too fast. The wall behind him had a large black crack, exactly the same pattern as what was on the glass.

You can say no to him.

Something only Yancy could hear even if he covered his ears. It was more than advice, it was permission. No glass touched Yancy, any that fell almost created a ring around his feet. The other mirrors followed suit, toppling off the wall creating a reflective floor of sorts. Broken glass everywhere, but none seeming to leave the frames. A hand shoots out from one just behind marks back, reaches up and pulls him down to the ground. Hard. The room goes black as soon as he hits the floor. The ringing from all the noise never seeming to fade or faulter. A low echo underneath it... stillness. Quiet. “I think that’s enough.” the man with no shadow said. Standing right under the crack in the wall that seemed.. to give off an unearthly glow.

YancyYesterday at 11:16 PM

Yancy cried out in surprise and fear as the world around him changed and altered again. His poor studio! He was curled up tight when the ringing started but when he saw who it was he quickly scrambled to his feet. Fists curling, not alone any more he could defend himself a bit better... Mark let out a growl as he hit the floor but it was quickly followed by a fondness 

“Daaaamieeeeen! Long time no SEE!”

The world around them pulsed, that red and blue stretching outward.... He'd gotten stronger... He was suddenly behind Dark.

"How long has it been? Two? three? ...... Four videos? ahaha~ Don't mind us, just a little chat between pals”

"M-Mr Ipliere?.... I-" 

“yes? .. huh.. oh youre talking t-.. OH! AhahahahahahAHAHHAHA! Really? Mr Ipliere~ cute”

Mark grinned at Dark viciously, dusting off his suit. 

“Ignore him Yancy sweetie. Your little Bambam doesn't have much time left. it's 11:15″

"Wh not it was just-" Yancy checked his phone still tightly held in hand. 11:15.. where had the time gone?

"You have 45 minutes to make a decision. Are you going to let him die and stay dead or do you want my help?”

DarkiplierYesterday at 11:23 PM

Dark’s image wobbled a bit. But he had gotten stronger too. He walked a little away from him and towards Yancy. “He does bad things to good people.” he said firmly. He looked at Mark. “Filling the mans head with more of your lies all to make his friend one of your little... pet projects. You’re lower than dirt.” he rolled his neck and continued walking towards Yancy. “There doesn’t have to be a war over this… His promise is an empty truth that will ensure Bambam’s demise...But... There is still time…Not much. But mayhaps enough.” He wasn’t in the mood for Mark shinanagins right now. He was a bastard and he nothing short of hated him. But there wasn’t time for petty squabbles

YancyYesterday at 11:28 PM

Mark gave an overly dramatic mock offended look 

O! Hey! I do NOT! Here I am offering this poor distressed man a deal of a life time. I'm here to help his friend from the inevitable fate they're spiraling towards. Look! Barely a beat now! They're hanging onto shredded threads!

 He gestured vaguely to the air as if Bambam was right there, but Dark would see that heart beat too...

"Shake my hand Yancy my boy. It's all you need and Bambam will come back fit as a fiddle

 "I-..." He back up. "I don't believe youse.... b-.... But I- I wanted t' speak wid youse again" Yancy put his attention on Dark "c-..Can youse help with Bambam? B-..before deys ..... before anyt'in bad happens?" he had the most puppy dog pleading look. "Y-..youse helped me before I-... Youse made a deal wid me that.. I collect at any time..w-..what if I do dat fer youse in retoirn?" "

Wait you two have met before?- Ohhhh of course you have, your stupid lil codes ugh..whatever... Doesn't matter. .... How do you put up with the dumb accent? The heck is that from.. New Jersey? Boston?

DarkiplierYesterday at 11:36 PM

Darks neck cracked. As he did, the floor beneath Mark cracked too with a loud boom. “Youre offering a vulnerable, terrified man a deal he does not understand.” he felt the heartbeat of the dying friend and frowned. “Yancy,” he said it correctly, “You are a man behind bars. The information I needed from you has already been used... what more could you have to offer-” he looked at Mark then back at him. “Time is creeping on us. Mark will let Bambam die and raise them. I... can stop them from passing. Long enough...” his nostrils flared. He wasn’t a charity worker. “Its his accent. That’s the long and short of it.” 

YancyYesterday at 11:43 PM

Mark rolled his eyes, childishly doing the mocking face and mouthing a copy of Darks words. 

Yes exactly. I can't stop them from dying but I CAN bring them back. Easy peasy lemon squeeze bish bash bosh hunky dory boom done. No fuss. No mess. No deals. No strings. No bargains. No reason of mistrust what so ever. Why is that such a hard offer to take!? I'm trying to help out a fellow Iplier here! Or is my name tattoos on your hand not a good enough reason to trust me!?

Yancy blinked, then his eyes shot down to his left hand. Still burning ridiculously hot. The areas around the letters felt like theyd blistered but they hadnt. Punching Mark square in the face might help.... "I-...." He frowned. Something about this guy. It felt off.. Bit of a douche.. no.. lot of a douche... The closer Mark got the more his tattooed fingers burnt. Kinda like that harry potter kid. "...Mr Ipliere...y-...youse can help Bambam? I dont..want dem to die at all... not evur... p-please..if..if deres anyt'in youse can do I-... I might be behind bars but I can gets out easy enough!"

"That's ilegal. You could go to prison for that

" "...... I-.. we-...." Poor Yancy. He shook his head "Please.. I-.... I'd do anyt'ing..."

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH no no no no nNOOO you do NOT wanna offer that right off the bat eesh. Make him work for it at least! Besides, you can't trust this guy! He's the villain here! Look at him! all...spooky" Mark wiggled his fingers

" That and have you any idea how much fuss this guy has given me? They burnt down my entire home!

Yancy frowned "Sometimes shit happens.. youse gotta forgive the past" 

I COULD NEVER FORGIVE THEM FOR WHAT THEY DID TO ME!!!!

Marks anger was explosive, the entire room rumbling and the crack in the wall daring to shatter again, it felt familiar... at least for Dark.

DarkiplierYesterday at 11:57 PM

Darkiplier listened, weighing his next move carefully. Markiplier was a terrifying man, but an easy to provoke one. One of those faces you can’t trust. Dark looked like he had done some bad things in his life too but wouldn’t lie if he was asked. “Im -your- villain Mark. You spun that fate for me long ago....” It was his turn to roll his eyes, but somehow it looked more dignified on Dark. “I hardly call an en mass extermination of thousands of undead you had created to serve your bidding is truly a crime. Last I looked, your house still stands.” Marks explosion was enough. “What I did to you.... that’s quite possibly the funniest thing you have ever said. And woefully not my problem.” He looked at Yancy. They held a moment together eye to eye. He had already agreed. And suggesting that he would do anything in return, there’s no better deal than that. The room became pitch black. “Im terribly sorry about your hiding place, Yancy... let’s see what else we can repair this night.” Out of the goodness of a changed heart? For the Iplier name?... spite? His motives were unclear. But Yancy would suddenly feel like he was being pulled backwards gently... slowly away from him. 

ITS TIME TO WAKE UP

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

Yancy staggered backward with a gasp, spinning on the spot, confused, dazed, looking around for any sig of the two men he was just with... He wasn't in the studio anymore??? What had just..happen-..... Had he been sleep walking? He turned and spotted Sparkles fast asleep on the upper bunk, an arm hanging down. Their pillow wet and clearly passed out from eventual exhaustion. Poor thing.... His heart was racing but slowly he began to relax. Just.... Just a dream? a nightmare? Sparkles was in his cell though so the ...news on Bambam still rang true?..... His own bed was still made and untouched from the morning. So.. no.. He hadn't been asleep.... Then wh-

"Oh... hey! What're you doing awake at this hour?" "Wh- Ah- I was- I-..er.... Bad dream?" Yancy sounded tired enough to make that believable, that and this was often a case so...  "Oh... you ok? you look exhausted buddy" Officer Free wandered closer "Try and get some rest yeah- oh and er- We were gonna save it for the morning but uh- since youre up. .... They took Bambam off the respirators about an hour or so ago? They say they're really improving. Got a good chance and.. might even wake up in the morning. They're hopeful"  "WH- AH!!" Yancy went wide eyed and rushed to the bars, startling poor Gavin who put his hands up to fight -dumb considering there were bars in the way- but Yancys hands going up in surrender had Gavin put his down again 

"so-sorry officer I j- youse..said deys..gonna be ok!?"  "Yeah! should be right as rain mate!" Officer Free grinned, happy to have been the one to deliver the news.  "er but er... maybe tell ole glitter guts the news in the mornin yeah? Poor geezer could use a good nights rest"  "y-..yeah youse is right.. m'gonna..... try n sleep myself" "Lucky" Gavin smirked and they fist bumped though the bars "No sneakin off. I catch you out I'll whap ya- wapow" officer free swung his baton around but it was in jest and Yancy knew this. Gavin was a good officer...  They parted ways and Yancy sat down slowly and quietly on his bunk .... 

Bambam....... 

They were gonna be ok............ 

 But now that meant he had a debt of anything to pay to the Man With No Shadow....

[voidendron]

Whumptober Day 5: Gunpoint Mirror AU Warnings: Guns Characters: King of the Squirrels, Darkiplier

(( this AU will never not be weird to write and I love it ))

Circling. Sizing up his prey.

The King had learned it by watching the forest’s predators; mirrored the movements he’d studied with careful eyes. He bared his teeth and the older Ego flinched away.

Dark was far too easy to scare.

Clicking his tongue, the King grinned. He rolled his shoulders under the comfortable weight of his cape, curled his fingers around cold metal and plastic tucked against his back; hidden under the folds of that fur cape.

“The little mouse is lost, hm?” he hummed.

The ringing of Dark’s aura raised in volume as anxiety, clear as day on their face, began to spike.

“Now, now.” He reached forward and Dark’s breath hitched when his fingers found too-long bangs. He tucked them innocently behind Dark’s ears so he could look them right in the eyes. “In the wrong city, away from its friends, trying so desperately to avoid the traps before…SNAP.” A wide grin stretched over the King’s face when Dark startled. The grin didn’t reach cold eyes. It never did.

The object behind his back clicked; the older Iplier’s eyes widened.

Cool metal found itself pressed against Dark’s forehead. Their breath stuttered.

A sneer fell over the King’s face as he pressed the gun harshly into gray flesh. “Contact Warfstache and tell him to come here. Now. I have a few…words for him.”