#Leader | DARKIPLIER

[southerndragontamer]

Egotober Day 17: Flower

Ever since Damien could remember he’d had powers, they were just more subtle than his sisters. A silver tongue, a charm that helped people let their guard down around him. A way of understanding lies that came on instinct rather than experience, the ability to pick apart words and find every little hidden message and emotion. He had gotten his position as Mayor honestly, but well…if no one knew about it then it wasn’t cheating was it? He was just using what was at his disposal like everyone else.

But after William had returned from the war…he’d found out that this came with a price. He had felt this aching burn in his chest, this longing and desire so strong it almost took his breath away. Like it had been there and festered until it burst. He coughed and gagged, retched into the sink. Petals crawled up his throat instead of bile….Sweet Williams, Red Carnation, Pink Camellia, Thyme and Gladiolus plopped into the sink.

Gallantry. My heart aches for you. Longing for you. Courage, Strength. The Flower of the Gladiators, Integrity, Strength, Victory.

Damien just stared at the bundle of flowers for a moment as he got his breath back, half in shock and half fearful numbness that swirled in his head. He knew what this meant, he’d heard of Hanahaki from when he borrowed Celine’s books. It was very, very rare because magic itself was rare in humans, but it did happen. He knew that it should’ve been only petals in the initial stage….unless he’d so repressed his feelings as a teenager it had been impossible for them to come out?

He buried his head in his hands, now that it had happened he felt the way the vines curled in his chest, the scent of the flowers beautiful but almost cloying in how intense it was in his lungs. The squeeze around his heart that made every beat just that bit harder. He couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t…for one it would be too dangerous for them both if anyone found out and more importantly….he saw how William and Celine looked at each other. He wouldn’t break their happiness…Damien could deal with it. It wouldn’t be that bad…..

Dark’s head swam with the memory as he tried to push it back. He was hunched over the sink, panting hard as he looked down at the large bouquet that had fallen from his lips. There was a mix of pained longing, guilt and regret that rolled in his stomach. Damien’s flowers were still there, but there had been new ones added to the mixture after Dark’s creation.

From Celine, there was Witch Hazel, Red Orchid, White Acacia, Striped Carnation and Purple Hyacinth.

A Magic Spell. Fire, Romance, Desire, Passion. Secret Love. Wish I Could Be With You. Please Forgive Me, Sorrow.

Celine had indeed loved William, even if she might not have told him directly. She had used a spell, a subtle one in her perfume that night she’d decided to try to get her heart to stop hurting over Mark. It hadn’t been such a twisted thing as a love potion ti take his mind, it had merely dropped his inhibitions a little to let him act on his desires. It had meant that their relationship had been very much focused on desire and passion and romance. A relationship that caught quick and burned them both in the flames but that they didn’t care….until it had been too late. She had wished for the ability to be with him but she hadn’t had the chance and she felt horrible for all that she’d done to him.

From Dark himself there was Astragalus, Forget Me Not, Purple Hydrangea, Clematis and Red Rose.

Your Presence Softens My Pain. Don’t Forget Me. I Want To Understand You. Mental Beauty. I Love You.

Dark did love William-Wilford as his own person. As much as he felt guilt for how he’d caused his mental fracturing, the fact that he had looked for Dark after a point. That he’d been willing to come with him despite being effective strangers to each other, how they’d had to learn each other all over again…it had just happened. And the shadow hadn’t been able to stop it. Will had this warmth to his presence that never failed to make Dark feel better. Even on the worst pain days where he just wanted ti curl in bed and pass out, when Will eventually found him, he always helped the pain.

He wanted to understand Will, to know how his beautiful mind worked so he could appreciate the world the same way. He wanted to be something someone Will would remember, even during the worst of it. During the days when his mind wasn’t kind to him and he felt lost and confused, when he needed someone more than ever…Dark wanted to be there as a comfort.

Dark rubbed his throat as he finally got his air back and grimaced at the ache there. He picked up the bouquet to throw it away when the worst thing happened.

There was a poof of cotton candy pink, the sweet scent of sugar instead of flowers. And Wilford was right there, in front of him. Dark felt like his heart, constricted by vines as it was, skip a beat as mental panic began to set in. What would he say, would he even know what it meant that Dark had been in the bathroom and there wasn’t any way for him to have gotten flowers besides coughing them up? Would he realize they were for him, had always been? Outwardly the shadow cleared his throat.

“Wilford, I can explain-”

There was this confused, sort of shocked look on Will’s face then he tilted his head and blinked as so many things flashed in his expression. And the soft, so sweet smile that covered his face made Dark melt and his breath caught even worse. Will leaned in close enough for their noses to touch, one hand gently took Dark’s free one.

“I think…this would be a better explanation over coffee, not a bathroom Darkling. I have a recipe for espresso chocolate caramel brownies I think would be a good treat for us too. Would you like that?”

Dark felt hope-twisted, fragile, sweet, aching- hope flutter in his chest and he couldn’t properly focus for a few seconds as he tried to get hold of himself. Then he smiled too and curled his fingers around Will’s, they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. The weight of the flowers in his chest began to ease a little, a step in the right direction.

“Yes…yes I’d like that very much.”

[miketheme]

Damien’s subtly, melancholically told character arc will never let me go! All these specific climactic changes in his development, they make themselves present in the Darkiplier he is controlling (as much as you can call it control). It just makes so much sense, especially after DAMIEN, and I love how much it makes my heart crackle.

His leader-to-rebel arc.

His pawn-to-prisoner arc.

His peaceful-to-vengeful arc.

His “We’ll go through this together“-to-“We don’t need the others” arc.

His sweet-to-intimidating arc.

His inviting-to-deprecatory arc.

His optimist-to-mysterious-pessimist arc.

His “We can do it”-to-“I am so tired of this” arc.

The way he cares less and so much more at the same time.

The way he is misunderstood.

The remaining constant is his want for justice. His honesty. His will to make things right.

THIS MAN WON’T GIVE ME A BREAK.

[fromthedeskof-darkiplier]

i wish Dark was the one who crushed my dreams

That can certainly be arranged.

-D

[sweetestlittledarling]

Peppermint Oil

For @jim-news ‘s Ego Christmas thingie, prompt #13: Peppermint

This was inspired by @punknerdmusings with their list of Damien headcanons (here) in which they list that Damien has an injury which can get worse on days.

Also dedicated to @damiendeservedbetter because I have been kind of inspired by their fluff XD. Hope you enjoy...

You watch Damien up on the podium. He seems confident, his body straight and his voice strong. If someone didn’t know what they were looking for they probably wouldn’t know anything was wrong with the mayor. But you can see it, because you have come to know the signs. The way he grips the podium, the way he is keeping favoring one leg over the other, it’s all telltale signs that he’s fading fast. But you know that he would want you to wait until he is done with his address, it’s important that no one sees that he is in pain. You wish he didn’t have to pretend, especially about this. Still, you wait, ready to move at a moments notice. And the moment he finishes his speech you do so, moving quickly from the wings over to Damien’s side. “Ready to go?” you ask, not wanting to give anyone any reason to doubt.

             Damien nods, his smile forced. “Yes, thank you,” he says as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He has his cane gripped in one hand, but you figure that it looks a little less obvious if he leans on you for support. To anyone else, it looks like the mayor is simply being friendly, but you are supporting more than just yourself at that moment. You move as quickly as you can give the fact that you don’t want to cause him any more pain. You can feel Damien’s grip tighten as you make your way to his office. You can’t imagine the immense pain with each step he takes. Finally, you are at the door marked ‘mayor’ and you help Damien hobble inside. Finally, out of sight of anyone who would judge, Damien lets out what sounds like a near scream through his gritted teeth.

             “I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself like that!” you say, giving him a side look of concern.

             “I’m fine,” Damien grunts.

             “No, you are not,” you say as you help him over to his desk.

             He lets out a sound of relief as he is finally able to sit down in his chair, his entire body trembling as you go looking through his desk drawer. You know where he keeps his painkillers and quickly pull out the bottle. You give him two and he takes them, quickly swallowing them down without water. After that, he sighs leaning his head back as he spends a moment taking in deep breaths. You hate seeing him like this. You place a hand on his shoulder.

             “Again, I really wish that you wouldn’t push yourself like this.”

             Damien places his hand on yours, giving a gentle squeeze. “I know old friend, and I’m sorry.”

             “No one would think less of you if you admitted a little weakness Damien, and even if they did I would punch them in the face! You are human, and they should understand that.”

             Damien chuckles. “That being so my dear, I do believe that as the mayor many people see me as more than human. They need me to be strong and any sign of weakness would invite others to destroy the good we have done for this city.”

             “I understand that,” you say, lying just a little. You can see the faint sheen of sweat on his brow and the paleness of his face and it makes your stomach turn. You give his shoulder a squeeze. “I still don’t like the idea of you killing yourself simply, so others can think your strong. You are plenty strong without having to hurt yourself like this.”

             Damien smiles as he looks up at you. “If only others were as good as you old friend.” He winces as he shifts a bit trying to sit up more in his chair. “Will you go back into my drawer and find my peppermint oil?”

             You nod, opening the drawer again and pulling out the nice smelling vial. You hand it to him and look away as he undoes his pants. A moment later he lets out another sigh of relief as he rubs the oil onto the aching muscle. “Thank you,” he says placing the vial on the desk and rebuttoning his pants. There is a lovely smell of peppermint in the air and it makes you smile.

             “Well, at least we can say you smell Christmassy now,” you say giving your friend a wink.

             Damien laughs as he squeezes your hand again.

…

Years Later…

             “What is that smell?”

             Warfstache nearly dropped the bottle he was holding as Dark spoke. He had been sitting in his vanity in his very pink room, and hadn’t heard Dark slink in. “It’s peppermint,” he said proudly, showing Dark the bottle. “Our dear friend the former district attorney gave it to me.”

             Dark’s face remained unemotional although his eyes focused on the bottle in Warf’s hand. “First of all, they are not our ‘friend’,” Dark said sneering at the word, “and two, why would they give such a thing to you?”

             “I told them I liked it and they said I could have it. They said they too liked the smell, and that it reminded them of an old friend…” Suddenly Warfstache eyes seemed rather distant, as if he was traveling somewhere in his own mind. He also looked somewhat sad. “Actually…this scent does remind me of Damien, he used to use peppermint oil for injury...we used to joke that around this time of year he was rather seasonal…”

             Dark’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed the bottle from Warf’s hand. “You are not to go anywhere near the district attorney again, do you understand me?”

             Warf’s bottom lip jutted out as he pouted. “Why? They are nice to me and they like to share their ice cream!”

             “Because they are a bad influence!” Dark snapped, gripping the bottle so tightly in his hand it looked as if it might crack. “You are not to go see them again and that is final!” And before Warfstache could say another word, Dark walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Out in the hallway beyond Dark looked at the bottle in his hand. For a moment he thought about smashing it. He lifted it high above his head, gripping it so tightly his hand trembled. But he couldn’t do it. Instead, he lowered his arm. He popped the top open and took a sniff. The sweet minty smell…somewhere deep inside himself, he felt a strange sensation. He was still angry, forever a raging storm, but under that was a strange sensation…is this what someone else might know as calm?

             Dark closed the bottle and put it into his pocket. One day he was going to have to do something about that district attorney, they were getting to be dangerous for business.

[elenavr13]

Hypnotizing Music

Darkiplier x Reader

Warning: None

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

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

Y/N’S POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Unravel (Chapter 16/20)

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Wilford learns about the power Celine holds, and it’s up to him to help her hone it in preparation to use it against Anti. But her power over the void keeps reminding him of what he’s lost - to say nothing of what Celine’s presence makes him feel. Warning: Sexual content 

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

If Wilford’s head was swimming before, it’s practically drowning now.

Anti’s attack still weighs on him, especially since the egos Anti killed still show no signs of waking. Wilford’s the leader right now, it’s his job to keep them all safe. Dark trusted that Wilford could do it. Yet three egos are dead, and the whole building is suffering. He has Google giving him near-constant updates on Plus and Oliver’s repairs and whether any changes have happened with Dr. Iplier, looking for something to do. He feels as though he’s done nothing but wring his hands and turn the fight over and over in his mind ever since the fight happened. If he hadn’t allowed Jackie to pull him into a brawl, then he could’ve focused on Anti and stopped him from killing. But at the same time, he knows things could’ve been much worse. He’s heard from Yandere how he was Anti’s first target until Dr. Iplier stepped in, he’s heard from Host how much further the fight would’ve deteriorated if he hadn’t used his narration to freeze Anti and his puppets in place. It could’ve been so much worse, and what could Wilford have done? What can he do now? Nothing and nothing. Wilford hates this. He hates how helpless he’s felt since Dark died.

As if all that wasn’t enough, now Celine is awake. Wilford remembers hoping she’d stay asleep, remembers hoping she’d never have to see what he became. He can see the glances he gets from her, intrigued but a little bit sad, too, a little bit worried. It doesn’t help that Wilford still loves her, having her awake has only magnified it. But it was their love that ruined everything in the first place. The house may have poisoned Actor to start with, but it was Celine and William’s betrayal that sent him off the deep end. Now Celine is here, and Wilford is here, and Wilford has no idea what to do about it. He’s getting more and more used to not knowing what to do, but he still doesn’t like it.

Eventually, though, he does get something to do. Some time after Celine wakes up, she asks him and Host for a private discussion. They talk in Wilford’s studio instead of the conference room; Wilford can’t care about going through formal meetings anymore.

“What did you want to tell us?” asks Wilford.

“It’s something I’ve known since the day I woke up,” Celine begins, “But I wanted to wait to share until I had…the full scope of things.”

Wilford and Host look at her questioningly, and in response, Celine waves her hand around and conjures a black, writhing orb. She moves her hand back and forth, moving the orb through the air accordingly. It’s hard to make Wilford speechless, but this comes close.

“Woah,” he mumbles.

“The manor changed me,” Celine says by way of explanation, moving the orb higher, over her head. “I could do things like this in the past, but I never fully explored it.”

Celine continues to demonstrate. She can move her orbs more forcefully, launch them forward or backwards. They make dents or holes when they hit the wall, but Wilford can’t find it in himself to be upset about it. She can pull the orbs apart, creating two orbs from one without having to conjure more. She can dissipate them instead of throwing them at things, letting them vanish as quickly as they appear.

“You can just create them?” Wilford asks once she’s gone through all she can do. “Or do you pull them from somewhere?”

“I’m not fully sure,” Celine admits, letting the orb currently in the air disappear. “I can’t make anything but these orbs, though I’ve tried, so I’m not sure if they come from myself or elsewhere.” She pauses. “I know that most of Dark’s power came from his aura, which Anti has now.”

“But the aura came from the mansion,” Host interjects, speaking for the first time. “If the mansion is what changed you, you may have some of the power that eventually became Dark’s aura. The Host can sense that there’s more you can do that’s yet to be discovered.”

Celine grins at that, and it’s such a familiar expression that Wilford is taken aback. It’s a piece of her old fire, that spark that made Wilford love her. Celine always said she didn’t abide flattery, but that wasn’t really true; she just didn’t like the conventional compliments she’d get from men about her beauty or manner. She preferred compliments about her humor, intelligence, or other things more substantial. She first took an interest in William because he picked up on that sooner than most men did.

“We gotta figure out what else you can do,” Wilford says, grinning, “Because it’s cool, but more importantly, it might help us stop Anti next time he shows up.”

“The Host still hasn’t figured out when that will be,” Host says, “But it does not appear to be soon.” Host shudders slightly. “Jackie and Marvin may still be dead, the same as our own are.”

“I’ve heard that Dark could travel using a sort of…void dimension,” Celine muses, “Is there a possibility I could use that place as well? Or was that exclusively tied to his aura?”

Wilford considers, and comes up with an idea.

“Make one of your orbs again,” he tells Celine, “And float it towards me. I want to test something.”

Celine looks confused, but does so, conjuring an orb and moving it gently ahead of her until it’s resting a foot away from Wilford in the air, at the level of his shoulders. This close, Wilford can hear the sounds it’s making, can see it better than he could Celine’s other orbs. It’s not a solid mass, nor does it look as liquid as it did when Celine split her orbs in two. It’s a writhing mass of deep black smoke, churning over itself and emitting a sound like quiet, rustling wind. Wilford leans closer, reaches his hands up around it. Celine’s expression shifts from confusion to alarm, and Host, narrating the situation quietly to himself, seems just as perturbed. Wilford doesn’t quite touch the orb, knowing it would probably hurt him, but he cups his hands close around it, so close he can feel how the orb disturbs the air around itself.

The sounds the orb is making, the look of it, the feel of it in the air, all of it is familiar. Wilford’s been in Dark’s void a hundred times, either as a means of traveling with Dark from one place to another when Dark didn’t want to go through Wilford’s void, or as a means of punishing Wilford for some transgression. The place is the complete opposite of Wilford’s pink, fluffy dreamscape, where there’s hardly any gravity and the sky is always light. Dark’s void is quiet, but it generates whispering and wind that can only barely be heard. So does the orb floating before Wilford now, and the more Wilford leans forward, the more he can hear it. Dark’s void has the same inky quality of the orb, the same deep blackness that still churns and moves when it’s gazed at too closely. Dark’s void is cold and numbing, less frostbite but more novocaine, and the air around the orb feels the same.

This orb, this little black ball, is a piece of Dark’s void, a piece of something all his own. It’s as if Wilford is holding a tiny part of Dark in his hands. After going so long without him, so long without even a body to mourn over, the knowledge of what this orb truly is strikes Wilford as though the orb itself hit him in the chest.

“Are you alright?” Celine asks, worried. “Let me dissipate it, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’m fine, it’s…” Wilford takes his hands away from the orb, and Celine lets it disappear. “Your orbs come from the void. Up close, it was like a chunk of it.”

“Truly?” Celine asks, eyes getting wider.

“If it looks like Dark’s void, sounds like Dark’s void, and feels like Dark’s void, there’s not much else it could be.” Wilford tries to grin. “Maybe if you practiced more, you could figure out how to directly access the void with your magic.”

“I’ve already experimented with telekinesis,” Celine muses, “But I never got anywhere, so to speak.”

“What about teleportation?” chimes in Host, “Have you tried to transport other people or objects interdimensionally?”

“No,” Celine admits, “I’ve only ever tried to move things within the space in front of me, never through another dimension. It never crossed my mind that I could.”

“You could practice it,” Host says, “Perhaps Wilford could help you.”

Wilford wonders if he could take it, working with and developing a skill so connected to Dark, who he still misses so much. But who else could help Celine with her power? Host and Bim don’t have any void magic, and though Wilford can’t access Dark’s void specifically, he knows how to cross dimensions and how to move things in and out. There’s no one better than himself to show Celine the ropes.

Maybe if he can focus on how nice it is to spend time with Celine and see her in her element then he can ignore his feelings about Dark.

“Of course!” Wilford exclaims, forcing away any misgivings. “You’ll be the best magic-user in the building when I’m done with you.” He pauses. “No offense, Host.”

Host shrugs. He doesn’t smile, but that doesn’t mean he took offense. He hasn’t smiled at all since the fight, and Wilford can’t blame him.

“When do we start?” Celine asks, eyes bright with excitement.

“Whenever you want,” Wilford replies, a little softer than he meant to.

Wilford can’t help but wonder how this will go.

~~~

Progress is slow at first.

Even though Wilford is the only one equipped to teach Celine about her void powers, that doesn’t make him a good teacher. He’s shown Yandere how to fire a gun in the past, but that was child’s play compared to this. For one thing, Wilford and Yandere could both use the same gun. Wilford can’t access Dark’s void space; he has to articulate how he moves through his own void and what he remembers of Dark’s utilization of it and try to get Celine to follow suit. But Wilford’s bad at it; he’s never given much thought to the void magic he does, it was never something he had to practice or hone. He didn’t always have control over it, but he never struggled under it. He let it carry him around until the day he realized he could harness it, and it’s come naturally to him ever since – and it’s deceptively hard to explain.

“Just visualize the void, and concentrate, and go,” Wilford says, for probably the seventh time that day.

“I’ve tried,” Celine sighs, “I hardly know what to visualize. It isn’t working.”

“Well, I’ve described it to you, and you’ve held one of your orbs close and really seen what’s it’s made of, so just…put it together, but into a location. And then you’re there!”

Celine looks at him, unimpressed, but closes her eyes and tries it again anyway. Of course, it doesn’t work, and they keep going in circles.

There’s also the elephant in the room getting in the way of their lessons: Wilford and Celine’s relationship. Yandere was already one of Wilford’s best friends when Wilford started teaching him how to use a gun, and working together was easy even when the lessons weren’t. Wilford loves Celine, but he doesn’t know how to talk to her anymore. It’s been so long, and though he senses that she still cares, she’s always been mysterious and a little hard to read. That used to be part of the fun; attuning himself to Celine’s body language and quick glances and tiny smiles to figure out what she liked, and grabbing onto the occasional concrete bits of information she gave him to keep him interested. It was like tracking an animal, or weaving between landmines on a battlefield, and it was exhilarating.

But now, that same excitement and thrill is making it difficult to be a good teacher. Wilford doesn’t want to push her too hard, but he knows she’d resent him for going too easy on her. He still wants her approval, but Celine is stubborn and hates to be told what to do. Yet if she never learns how to figure out her powers, then that’s a potential weapon against Anti lost.

To top it off, it’s all so familiar. Celine continues making orbs, trying to make them bigger and stronger, trying to imagine the void with them, and Wilford keeps seeing Dark in them. The whispers call to mind Dark’s voice scolding Wilford for causing trouble, the temperature calls to mind how cold Dark’s shoulders were when Wilford threw a casual arm around them. Teaching is frustrating and repetitive but sad, too, and Wilford is just waiting for things to click for Celine the way they did for him – and hoping that they will click for her like that.

Eventually, they decide to scale back. Instead of teleporting herself to the void, Celine sits at a desk in the studio and starts trying to teleport a pen to the void instead. Demonstrating how to do it is just as hard for her to conceptualize, though. Wilford still can’t explain it well, he still can’t show her the mechanics easily. If anything, teleporting objects is even more rudimentary than teleporting himself. He is, after all, capable of conjuring objects at will thanks to reality-bending. Moving the objects around is as simple as picking them up and moving them by hand. But it’s only that simple because it’s ingrained in Wilford, not so for Celine. Once again, they get into a frustrating loop of repeated directions and futile efforts.

“This is hopeless,” Celine mutters, irritated, after several lessons of failing to teleport a pen. “If I can’t manage this then how can I possibly help fight Anti?”

“You’ve got to be able to do this!” Wilford exclaims. The only person more stubborn than Celine is him. “This was a part of Dark, and you were a part of Dark. It’s all connected. It’s in you to do this, I know it. And Host thinks you can, too. He keeps telling me to keep working with you.”

“If he can predict the future and bend reality, can you see if he’ll make the future happen now?”

“He can’t. I’ve asked him that already.”

Celine smiles a little at that. She picks up the pen in front of her and clicks it once, twice. Wilford is sitting beside her; the desk is long enough for them both. She’s tired, tired of this, they both are. But what choice do they have but to keep trying?

“To think I’m so close to all this power,” Celine says, voice quiet, now twirling the pen in her hand. “Yet I can’t manage to grasp it. I can only imagine how this would go if it was happening back then.”

“What do you mean?” Wilford’s stomach turns just a little to remember the past, but Celine continues, expression wistful.

“I was so confident, so sure that I could handle the forces I was stumbling into. And then those forces swallowed me whole, and took all of us down with them. Even in the cabin I didn’t learn my lesson, I thought I could beat Mark back forever.”

“You almost did,” Wilford tells her, “You kept you and Damien alive for so long. You protected him from Mark.”

“I almost destroyed us both.” Celine shakes her head. “I thought I was strong enough to fight against our reality. I was too stubborn to let Damien help me until it was almost too late. And now…” She chuckles, bitter. “Now I can’t manage to learn void magic. Maybe I finally need to know my limits.”

“You already do,” Wilford insists, scooting closer to her. “You’re letting me help you; you never would’ve let me help you with something like this back then. You would’ve done it alone.”

“That’s true,” Celine admits, “But I just…I can’t help but be sure that I’ll fail again. No matter what you or Host say.”

They sit together for a while in pensive silence. Wilford thinks for a few moments, and then speaks.

“You’ve changed a lot more than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Celine looks away from the pen in her hand to meet Wilford’s eyes.

“I mean, since when did Spitfire Celine ever think she couldn’t do something?” Celine rolls her eyes, but can’t help but crack a smile. Wilford grins back. “And when did she ever give up on something she couldn’t learn right away? When did she ever turn down the chance to learn more or get even stronger than she was already?”

That’s what half the men in town called her back then. “Spitfire Celine,” muttered under their breaths in annoyance at her assertive manner and refusal to settle for the men not worth her time. Wilford remembers how Celine grew to love the title, how it kept mediocre men from approaching her, how she enjoyed the playful, affectionate way it would roll off William’s tongue. Maybe Celine is remembering that too, because her smile stays, and she chuckles again, this time with genuine humor.

“You’re right,” she admits, grinning, “It’s just easy to feel a bit crazy, trying to do something over and over and failing every time.”

“You’re not crazy,” Wilford says, with sincerity that surprises even himself.

Celine looks at him. They were already sitting rather close, but their chairs are nearly touching now, and Wilford is utterly captivated by Celine’s gaze. Her eyes are the same color they were back then, the same rich, deep brown, so dark they’re almost black. He knows his own eyes are a lighter, simpler brown right now. He wonders what Celine would think of his eyes if she saw them go pink.

“You’ve changed, too,” Celine murmurs. “But it’s been so long, it’d be strange if you hadn’t.”

You and Damien are the ones who changed me, Wilford almost says, but decides not to.

“It’s been a hundred years, or ten, or four, depending on who you ask,” Wilford quips.

“I don’t follow.”

“You haven’t watched the important videos yet, then. Google can give you the list, there’s too many for me to keep track of at this point.”

Celine’s brows furrow, not annoyed but confused, and she looks back at the pen. Wilford does, too.

But there’s nothing there. The space where it was is empty.

“What��” Celine begins, looking around on the desk to see where it rolled to. Wilford glances around, too. It’s not on the desk, or on the floor, or under the notebooks or keyboard or computer monitor on the desk.

“Pens do have a way of disappearing on you,” Wilford muses. “Luckily, I can just poof it back to me!”

Wilford does so. He does the magic he always does to put an object he wants in his hands. But his hands remain empty. He frowns and tries again. Nothing. The pen remains missing.

“Now where on earth could this pen possibly–” Wilford cuts off his own frustrated ramble before it can start.

“What?” Celine asks, still looking around.

“Celine, you’ve done it,” Wilford gasps.

Celine stops searching for the pen. She turns to look at Wilford.

“I’ve…done it?” she asks, confused.

“You teleported the pen into the void!” Wilford exclaims, half-laughing. “That’s why we can’t find it, and why I can’t make it appear! You’ve done it!”

“I’ve done it!” Celine repeats, laughing as well. “I didn’t even notice, it must have been while we were talking.”

“I’ve always found that magic is easiest when you don’t think too hard about it,” Wilford says, still grinning. “Seems you needed a distraction, so you’re welcome!”

“Oh, how gracious of you,” Celine laughs, speaking in a way reminiscent of (and mocking) the beguiling tone she’d put on for parties back in the day. “You’re very considerate, Mr. Warfstache.”

“Why thank you, Celine,” Wilford replies with a wink, in the same tone, “I am always and ever at your service.”

The pair are too close together again, and Wilford thinks that he ought to pull back. But Celine is still smiling, and Wilford couldn’t possibly look away. He could drown in Celine’s dark eyes. Her lips are painted black to match. What would the harm be, really, if he leaned in a little closer and–

“Well, now what should I try?” Celine asks, interrupting Wilford’s thoughts. He considers her question for a moment.

“Now you gotta get the pen back,” Wilford tells her.

“Ah. I suppose that’s reasonable.” She holds her hands up, looks at them, and…nothing happens. “Oh, for the love of…”

Wilford laughs, he can’t help it. Celine shoves him, but there’s no venom in it. As Celine begins trying to get the pen back from the void, Wilford can’t help but wonder when exactly she was able to teleport it in the first place. He wonders if it was when their chairs were close, when their shoulders were almost touching, when they shared that gentle moment.

And he wonders if, during the second time they got too close, when he was thinking about getting closer still and breaking the tension between them, if she wanted to kiss him, too.

~~~ 

Void magic doesn’t quite click for Celine after that in the same instantaneous way it did for Wilford, but she progresses in skill much more rapidly than before. Only a day after first teleporting the pen away, she manages to get it back from the void. It’s cold in that familiar way Dark’s void is, but no worse for wear, and it encourages Celine to practice harder, to give herself bigger challenges. In a few days, she’s teleporting objects of all kinds, and doing so fast and easily. It’s impressive, but Wilford knows there’s one more challenge left, the one that she’ll truly have to master if she wants to help defeat Anti.

“Teleport a person?” Celine asks. Another person might be nervous at the prospect, but Celine’s eyes are alight with ambitious spark.

“Now that Anti has Dark’s aura,” Wilford explains, “He’s been using Dark’s void to get around. He used to be only able to travel through electricity or wifi. But with Dark’s void, he can travel much easier, and he can take his puppets with him anywhere in a snap.” He knows his face falls a little, but he can’t stop it. “That’s what he did before you woke up. Brought all his puppets here, killed three of us, and almost destroyed us completely. If we can – if you can stop him from doing that again, we have a much better chance of defeating him.”

And turning everything back to normal, which includes Celine leaving again. Wilford doesn’t say it, but he knows Celine must be thinking it. Yet it doesn’t dampen her energy at all. Her brows furrow just slightly, but in confusion, not sadness.

“I understand that,” Celine begins, “But if I need to practice teleporting people around, who can I do that with? I’ve heard how Dark used his void as a punishment, and if it takes me too long to get someone out, it might drive them mad.”

“Simple,” Wilford says, “Teleport me! I’m used to Dark’s void by now, and between you and me, I don’t have much sanity left to lose.”

It’s the truth, and it’s an eventuality Wilford expected. He’d known that Celine would need to practice on a person, and he’d known that he’d make the best guinea pig. Dark’s void doesn’t scare him; it never truly did.

There’s something in it, though. There’s a reason he keeps telling himself over and over that this was inevitable, that there’s nothing to fear in Dark’s void.

For several minutes, Celine tries to get Wilford into the void. It’s difficult, not just because he’s a person and not an object, but because he’s magic, too. Wilford’s aura can sense Celine’s power, can tell what she’s trying to do, and pushes her back without Wilford even trying. The air around himself is pink with it before long, the room starts to smell like cotton candy. Celine can feel Wilford’s aura fight against her, Wilford can see it in her expression of concentration and strain.

“How did you end up with so much power?” Celine huffs, “You barely understood my magic in the past, and now you’re stronger than I ever was.”

“It sorta just happened,” Wilford says with a shrug. “I never had to practice like you did.”

“Lucky you,” she grumbles, though Wilford can tell she’s not really annoyed. He chuckles a little, and she can’t help but do the same, grumpy expression quickly fading. She looks at him, smiling, hands still out, power still winding around her fingers, mingling with and fighting his own.

A split second later, Wilford is in the dark.

Wilford blinks, surprised. When Dark put him in the void, it was always in a burst of smoke, a flourish. But Celine did it so fast Wilford wonders if he merely blinked out of existence on her side. Either way, he’s in Dark’s void now, in that same cold, dim place he’s spent many a punishment. He grins to himself.

“Bully, she did it,” he says. “So fast, too.”

And she was looking at me and smiling when it happened, Wilford remembers. As he’d told her before, new magic works best when the user isn’t thinking too hard about it, and it can help if their focus is on something else.

Wilford doesn’t know how long it will take Celine to get him back out. The pen took longer to poof away than poof back, but that doesn’t mean it’d be the same for a person. But it’s not like there’s any rush. Wilford still isn’t scared of Dark’s void, he’s still used to it. The worst thing that could happen to him here is getting bored, and maybe a little hungry if it really takes Celine a long time to get him out. There’s a non-zero chance that Wilford could encounter Anti here, of course, since he has use of the space now, too. But the void is void; two people could be in it for days and never cross paths, and Wilford doubts Anti cares enough to explore.

So Wilford walks nowhere, whistling a little, waiting until he’s back in reality.

The void has its way of worming in. And Wilford still recalls Celine’s orbs, those little void chunks that brought Dark so readily to mind. He’s not sure when he stops whistling, but eventually, he’s left listening to the whispers of the space around him. The words are indistinct, and Wilford knows that listening closely won’t make them any less so. The voices don’t sound like Dark, but they sound like his aura. And the space has that same cold. It’s Celine’s orbs, but more, worse. Wilford is surrounded on all sides by reminders of Dark.

His best friend.

His dead best friend.

He shouldn’t have left him alone. He’d been so worried about Dark after Infelix hurt him all that time ago, a part of him feared what could happen to him while he was vulnerable. Yandere had still been missing then, and Wilford hadn’t wanted Dark to be next. And he’d been right to be worried. After all, Dr. Iplier was the one who convinced Wilford to leave the clinic for Dark to heal. Dr. Iplier was the one who killed Dark when they were alone. It makes Wilford’s face hot to think about it, but mostly it just hurts. Dark suffered; he died painfully and never even got to see Yandere come home.

The hours immediately after finding out what happened to Dark were some of the worst in Wilford’s life. Not the very worst, but far too close. He’d never felt so fragile, so shattered, so mentally unwell. He’d never hated being crazy until the possibility of losing Dark arrived to drive him mad. He’d never hated missing chunks of memory until those memories came back to bite him in the form of Damien and Celine. He’d wondered, while he locked himself in his room and tried to get back some sanity, if this was how people normally felt when they lost someone. If this was how normal people reacted when a loved one died, instead of shrugging it off and assuming they’d be back tomorrow. Grief lodged itself in Wilford’s chest, so huge he couldn’t breathe. Even after he managed to pull himself together and start trying to figure out what happened, even after he was able to feel joy that Yandere was home and Damien was back and Celine was awake, the grief stayed. Smaller now, but present, beating next to Wilford’s heart, always. Wilford hates grief. He hates how familiar it’s become, he hates how that familiarity still hasn’t given him control over it.

Wilford misses Dark, he misses him so much, he wishes so much that he were here still. If he were here, the egos who died would still be alive, Yandere would be happy, Anti wouldn’t be dangerously powerful, there’d be no problem at all in the first place.

And Wilford wouldn’t be here in the void, in a graveyard that looks and feels and sounds like his closest friend, getting that same gut punch he got from nearly touching the orb Celine made, over and over.

Maybe he was wrong before. Maybe he does have a mind left to lose.

In a sudden second, Wilford is back in his studio, blinking against the fluorescent lights, the cold of the void still in his skin.

“Finally!” Celine exclaims from a few feet away, “Sorry it took me so long to find you, I – Wil? Are you alright?”

Wilford isn’t crying, amazingly. But he must still look terrible. He tries to shake it off with a laugh.

“I’m perfectly peachy, just disoriented,” Wilford says with a grin, “Dark always teleported people with smoke and fanfare, you do it in a blink!”

“I try to be efficient,” Celine jokes, grinning much more genuinely than Wilford is. “I hope you’re ready for more of the same, though.”

“Lunch first! I’m starving, how long was I in there?”

“A few hours. Perhaps dinner would be preferable now.”

“Either way, I’m making pancakes.”

“At this hour?”

“It’s never a bad time for pancakes! I’ll show you!”

He does. He tries to cook pancakes the normal way, burns them, and then poofs good pancakes onto the table instead. Celine’s amazed that they taste so good despite appearing from thin air, and Wilford’s happy to see Celine warm up to pancakes as a dinner food. They talk and laugh until the moon is out, about the other egos at first, and about Damien being a worrywort over Celine using her powers. Once those topics run dry, they reminisce, drawing up the grand old parties and movie premieres, the manor’s hidden rooms and secluded poolside, the days they snuck away to the fields around the building or went for a night in town.

“Bully, those days,” Wilford murmurs, “We had fun, didn’t we?”

“A bit of an understatement, isn’t it?” Celine asks, laughter still on her lips. Wilford would like to be there, too. “I felt like a child, some days,” Celine continues, “So carefree, and…careless.”

There’s no better way to word it. It’s how Wilford’s spent his whole life ever since everything fell apart, isn’t it? He nods before getting up from the table with a yawn.

“Well, it’s hard to wear me out, but you’ve managed,” Wilford jokes. “I’m hitting the hay, you should, too.”

“Certainly, but what about the dishes?”

“Oh, those?”

Wilford snaps his fingers, and the dirty dishes disappear.

“Weren’t those from the cabinet?” Celine asks.

A pause.

“Eh, I’ll put ‘em back tomorrow,” Wilford says with a shrug. “Meet me in the studio again in the morning?”

“Of course,” Celine replies, “And, Wilford?”

Wilford stops as he’s about to poof away. Celine wheels herself away from the table and close to him. Her arms on the wheels aren’t as thin and delicate as they used to be; they’ve built some muscle from moving herself around. She’s also been borrowing blouses and sweaters from Yandere instead of continuing to drown in Dark’s dress shirts. Above all, Celine is beautiful. She always has been.

“Yes?” Wilford manages to respond. He hopes there weren’t too many seconds of dead air.

“We should do things like this more,” Celine says, her smile gentle, “Even after I don’t need to practice my magic with you anymore.”

“Ah…yes, we should,” Wilford says, hardly able to get the words out. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Celine’s expression is still gentle, and familiar.

Wilford poofs back to his room before he can let himself act on that expression.

~~~

As with the pen, once Celine manages to teleport a person once with ease, it soon comes to her naturally. Still, Wilford has her practice more than she did with the pen; teleporting people is a much more important skill to get right than teleporting objects, after all. As her magic improves, she practices a bit with others (mainly Damien and Host), but Wilford is still her most frequent test subject. Wilford begins to use his own magic to actively fight against hers, trying to see if he can keep her from teleporting him. It works at first, but she gets stronger quickly, and figures out ways around and through it.

Wilford spends a lot of time yo-yoing between Dark’s void and ordinary reality, and it gives him near-constant whiplash. Dark’s void is still Dark’s place, it still reminds Wilford of Dark, still gets him thinking about what happened and how awful it feels. Granted, Celine is still distracting in herself, she’s still beautiful and powerful and Wilford’s heart is getting harder to ignore. But his heart is constantly torn between two extremes, constantly feeling torn apart. Celine is sharp, though, and she continuously notices Wilford’s expressions, notices the way the teleportation is affecting him, and the more Wilford tries to play it off the less she seems to believe it. And why would she believe it? Wilford’s told her about how his own void is a cavalcade of catastrophe; why would Dark’s still, quiet void be disorienting to him? Wilford knows he’s on borrowed time with her. The Celine he knows wouldn’t let something like this sit and go unspoken. He hopes they can finish off their last lessons without him letting anything more slip.

But Wilford’s been running on empty for too long, and Celine isn’t one to let anything go.

It’s the end of that day’s lesson, not nearly as late in the day as their impromptu pancake dinner a few days back, but the sun outside is most likely setting. Wilford has been flung back to reality yet again, and is trying not to show how relieved he is to be done.

“Alright, I think…I think that was enough for today,” Wilford says, trying not to gasp. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Celine admits, “But are you sure you’re alright, Wil?”

“Of course!” Wilford says with a grin, knowing full well he can’t manage a convincing fake laugh now.

“Let me rephrase that, then,” Celine says, wheeling herself closer to him. “You’re not alright. I’ve seen it every time I’ve brought you back from the void. What’s going on?”

“Celine–” Wilford tries.

“Were you lying about being able to handle the effects it has on people?” Celine interjects, eyes narrowing.

“No!” Wilford exclaims. “At least…” He sighs. “At least not the way you mean.”

“What are you talking about?”

Wilford looks away. He knew he’d end up here, but he still doesn’t want to tell her anything, still doesn’t want her privy to his inner war.

“Wilford.”

Celine wheels forward a little further; Wilford can hear her chair move. He doesn’t hear her arm reach out, though, and is surprised to feel her hand on his forearm. His gaze travels there, to her slender fingers on him. Even through his shirt, her hand is warm. Her nails are neat and short and black like night. There’s electricity in her palm that Wilford knows he must be imagining, because he was imagining it back then, too, back when she touched him fleetingly and quietly, back when she still wore her ring when they were alone. But this is not fleeting. Celine’s grip isn’t harsh, but she holds on.

“Wilford,” Celine repeats, and her voice is so soft it doesn’t doesn’t sound like her.

Wilford looks at her, and her sad brows and worried mouth are unlike her, too.

“Dark’s void…has so much of Dark in it,” Wilford says, unable to manage above a whisper. “Everything about it reminds me of him. And when I think about him I remember that he’s dead, and how he died, and how Anti’s wearing a piece of him as we speak, and…the void is like that piece. It’s cold and dark and quiet like he is. Was. He…god, I keep having to remember that he’s gone. Being in the void is like being next to him. The void is him. It’s the closest…” Wilford shakes his head. “I know how this sounds, I know I sound crazy–”

“You’re not crazy,” Celine says in a voice just like her hand still on Wilford’s arm; gentle but firm. “You’re mourning.”

It’s amazing that this is what makes Wilford’s eyes tear up, after every emotional high and low over the past days of teaching Celine how to use her magic. It’s amazing that this is what gets him closer to sobbing than anything else that either of them have done.

“I’ve…” Wilford begins, then restarts. “Everything is too clear, now. There’s so much. I thought nothing could ever be too much for me.”

“These lessons are too much,” Celine murmurs. “I’ve gotten so good now, maybe Host could be the one I work with.”

“No.” Wilford shakes his head. “It’s not his job, and he’s…he’s got his own things to deal with. I’ve lost my best friend, but he’s lost the man he’s in love with.” He finds himself moving one of his hands to cover Celine’s still on his arm, but he can’t make himself stop. “I’ve got Damien, at least, and I’ve…got you.”

Celine’s eyes are kind and concerned, yet there’s something inscrutable in them. There often is. There often was, back then. Wilford couldn’t ever fully figure her out, and it kept him coming back until he stopped feeling bad about ruining Mark’s marriage.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” Celine says, quiet and contemplative. “After I woke up, before I saw you, I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

“We thought you’d never wake up,” Wilford replies. He ducks his head. “I sort’ve hoped you wouldn’t, so you wouldn’t…see who I am now.”

He’s not sure why he’s admitting this to her. Maybe because of her hand still on his arm and his hand over hers, and ducking his head only made it easier to look her in the eye, and she might be sitting up straighter and he might be bending just slightly, and their faces might be just a bit closer together than they were a minute ago.

She doesn’t respond to Wilford right away. She doesn’t rush to comfort or condemn him, simply looks back at him with that deep, gentle gaze. After a few moments, she finally speaks.

“I’m not the same either, am I?” She holds up her free hand, conjures a little black ball, filled with the thing that started this conversation in the first place. “We’ve all changed. We’re not better or worse, only different.” She lets the orb disappear.

“You’re not that different,” Wilford lightly scoffs, “You’re still you. You’re still the person I remember.”

You’re still the woman who captured my heart.

“So are you. Really!” Celine insists at Wilford’s repeated scoff. “You’re still so loud and brash, yet such a perfect gentleman to me. You’re still strong and smart, and you still treat me as an equal. You still encourage all my bad habits, and all my good ones, too.” She grins. “You’re still terrible at taking hints and making the first move.”

“What?” Wilford asks, but a part of him already knows, because he doesn’t move away or protest when Celine grabs Wilford’s suspenders with both hands, pulls him down to her level, and kisses him.

She tastes like fire, like smoke and brimstone, like perfume and lipstick and late-night bourbon that they’d blame for whatever happened after, like sunset and sunrise, like dreams and memories, like no one Wilford ever kissed before or since, like forbidden fruit, like coming home.

Even after she pulls away, Wilford feels like he’s drowning. They look at each other, and Celine’s dark eyes are glittering in a familiar way.

“Is this a good idea?” Wilford asks her.

“Since when has that mattered to either of us?” Celine counters, voice hardly a breath. 

She’s right, and Wilford already knows it’s too late to stop what’s been set in motion. He can’t hold anything back anymore.

What happens next is not quite the same as how it used to happen in the past. There’s no ornate manor to run through, no carpeted hallways to dart between. There’s no need to stifle giggles or speak low enough not to echo. There’s no one to avoid running into, no one to catch them in the act of sneaking around. There’s no need to sneak, there’s no need to borrow a room or a table or even a wall, for those times they couldn’t wait. The studio has no one in it but the two of them, and Wilford’s room is close enough by that there’s no need to rush to it. There’s no need, but there is desire, so they do anyway. Celine can’t run ahead like she used to, can’t playfully dodge an outstretched hand, can’t elegantly slip out of her dress, tantalizingly bare. Instead of wheeling herself forward, she allows Wilford to carry her for speed’s sake, allows him to help her undress, allows him to set her on his bed. But she is the one who pushes her own legs apart and tells Wilford not to be gentle.

Wilford never could refuse her, and he still can’t now.

But why would he want to?

It’s not the same as before. It isn’t hushed and hidden; they don’t bother keeping their voices down. There’s no way for anyone to hear, and even if they could, why would it matter? They don’t have to be careful and concerned about accidentally leaving marks where someone might see, so who cares if they do? Wilford always hated how restrained he had to be, how he had to stop just short of leaving bites and bruises on Celine’s pale skin, lest Mark notice them later. Now, though, he can paint her red and blue, and Celine encourages every hint of teeth. There’s no need to make it quick, either, they can take as long as they want here without fear of discovery. So they do, long and hot and languid.

It’s not all different. Celine can’t wrap her legs around Wilford now, but she can still claw up his back like she used to then, the only place she left her mark on him, where no one could see. Wilford remembers exactly what touches Celine likes and does them all again, painstaking and smoldering as embers. They laugh too, once or twice, at themselves or their situation, a memory of the quiet giggles they shared long ago.

It’s everything Wilford dreamed of, everything he remembers, everything he wanted from this, from her, and the way she gazes up at him, eyes heavy-lidded and glittering dark, makes him think this is all she dreamed of, too.

They don’t clean up right away after they’re done. After such a release of tension (physical and emotional), Wilford doesn’t have the energy. He reclines in bed beside Celine, who pulls herself into a sitting position with a sigh.

“Wish I had a cigarette,” she says idly.

“That good, huh?” Wilford quips, poofing a cigarette into one hand and a lighter into the other.

Celine rolls her eyes but grins broadly. She takes the cigarette from Wilford but eyes the lighter with a note of confusion. Wilford flicks it on for her, and Celine puts her cigarette to her lips for Wilford to light. He does so, and Celine draws back to inhale. The whole sequence of movements is so mundane, yet it’s graceful and mesmerizing when Celine does it. She leans forward so as not to get ash on herself, and doesn’t bother covering her chest with the blanket. Wilford can’t help but stare. Celine notices his gaze nearly immediately, and gives him a sidelong smirk.

“You just had these two to yourself for an hour, do you want more already?” she asks playfully.

“No,” Wilford replies, “I just like looking at them.”

I like looking at you.

Celine seems like she’s about to respond with another quip, but stops upon noticing a bit of ash float off the end of her cigarette onto the bed.

“Oh, hell,” she mutters, brushing the ash away and looking around herself.  “Sorry, there’s no – ”

Wilford poofs something onto the bed between them.

“ – ashtray. Thank you,” Celine says, tapping the end of her cigarette into it. “Do you not smoke anymore?”

“Nope,” Wilford says, “I’m more of a drinker these days.”

“We all have something,” Celine muses, inhaling once more.

Wilford would be drinking a lot, these days, if not for the responsibility on his shoulders. He can’t very well get hammered every night while the other egos are relying on him for guidance and protection.

Celine is looking at him.

“What now?” she asks, not unkindly.

“What do you mean?”

“You keep getting this look on your face lately. Like you’re a thousand miles away, or at least, like you wish you were.”

Wilford, evidently, is even more of an open book than he’d thought. He hadn’t known he was wearing his struggles so clearly. But how can he not? He shrugs.

“There’s a lot on my mind lately,” he answers, trying to sound casual. “I doubt that’s surprising.”

“No,” Celine admits, sighing out a puff of smoke, “I suppose I could’ve guessed. But you know how I am with these things.”

Wilford does. Celine can never let something lie, she always has to figure things out. Improve them if she can, understand them completely if she can’t. It’s how they ended up here in bed in the first place. Not for the first time, Wilford is comforted by how little she’s changed.

“I said before that I was worried about you waking up,” Wilford says, suddenly unable to look at her, “But…I’m glad you did. I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Mm,” Celine replies, noncommittal.

That makes Wilford look at her. Her expression is neutral, but Wilford knows her well enough to see that it’s a look she’s putting on, and not her true feelings.

“I was expecting ‘me too,’” Wilford says truthfully. “Why just ‘mm’?”

“I…” Celine starts, then stops. She takes another drag, looking away.

“Oh, come on now,” Wilford cajoles gently, “I’ve already spilled my heart out to you tonight, can’t you be honest with me, too?”

Celine chuckles a little.

“I suppose that’s only fair,” she says, but her smile fades quickly. “It’s…it’s not that I don’t enjoy being aware again, or having my own body and thoughts, or being able to see and speak and move – well, mostly move…” She taps one of her motionless legs with the hand not holding her cigarette. “…But the world is so different now. Everything has changed. I fell asleep so long ago, and the world kept moving. I can’t help but feel that I’ve been left behind.”

“Life comes at you fast,” Wilford mumbles, unsure of what else to say. “Time is just wobbly.”

“For you, maybe,” Celine says, “But it’s too much for me. I don’t know any of these modern gadgets, even the lighter you used a minute ago is strange to me. I don’t know half the magic you and the others have, it’s not instinctual like it is for you. I don’t know anyone here but you and my brother…” She pauses to take another drag, expression stony and contemplative. “I don’t belong here anymore. I wasn’t meant to be here.”

“Celine…”

“And Damien–” Celine huffs in frustration. “Damien’s in denial. He doesn’t ever want to talk about it. About how we’ve lost our place.”

“Celine, you have a place.” Wilford reaches over and lays a hand over hers. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Celine looks at him, with those same eyes that intimidated him and intrigued him in equal measure back when they were still strangers. Then she scoffs.

“You sound like Damien, now, so idealistic. It can’t work like that, Wil.”

“Celine–”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. About how Damien and I will have to go back to being Dark again or else you and the others will never have him back.”

There it is. Wilford sighs now, looks down.

“I don’t…I’ve tried not to think about it, for sure,” Wilford admits, “I love having you and Damien here, I love you, helping you figure out your magic has been amazing.”

“But you miss Dark,” Celine says, “I can see it clear as day. And you aren’t the only one. Everyone here needs him back. I’ve learned since I woke up that he made this place, he’s responsible for everyone living here, and he’s respected as much as he’s feared.” Celine takes another drag, searching for the right words. “Dark belongs here. Damien and I are meant to be a part of him, and…and I don’t think I’ll mind going back, not really.”

“What if you never wake up again?” Wilford asks, suddenly aware of how small and quiet his voice sounds. Celine shrugs.

“I’ll never know, will I?” she asks in return, “And the alternative is Dark never coming back.”

Oh, that thought sends a jolt of terror sweeping through Wilford’s mind, and it must show on his face. How can he help it? He said he was Celine’s place, but Dark is his own place. He still wants Celine to want him like he wants her, he remembers that dark-eyed look she gave him just minutes ago, how it felt like maybe she already wanted him like that. Maybe she did in that moment, the same way he meant it when he said he was her place. But the glamor and romance of the sentiment is fading faster the longer he sits here, his mind is clearer than it’s ever been, and he knows acutely that he and Celine can never have again what they did before. Maybe she does love him back, but it hardly matters. Wilford loves Celine, and he also loves Damien, but he loves Dark, too, and at this point, he’s loved him longer than he’s loved Damien and Celine combined.

Celine looks down, smiling sadly.

“Maybe you were right before,” she says, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray still between them, “I’m sorry for this.”

It takes Wilford many moments to remember what she’s referring to, and by then, she’s turned away from him, and it seems pointless to start another conversation. There’s nothing else to say at all.

[iwouldfuckdarkiplier]

I’ve been digging through the older asks and the ones where Dark answers the questions honestly make me think that everyone on this blog is just part of his harem or some shit (not complaining whatsoever, I’d love to form a harem in his honor) -✨🦚

I’d like to say that the mods are the leaders of the Darkiplier harem but at this rate I think Devil Anon will usurp us within the week

[krabmeat]

WHAT IS FEUDALISM

OMGOMGOMGOMG I AM SOOOOOOO GLAF YOU ASKED BITING BITIBG BITING

OKOKOK SO FEUDALISM WAS A SYSTEM THAT WAS MAINKY PROMINENT BEFORE THE RENAISSANCE IN EUROPE !!!

it was a system that was kinda weak in terms of stability because ot relied on the subjects loyalty in the king. BUT THERES A POWER TRIANGKR TEEHEE !!! okokok so basically kings are at the tippy top of the pyramid right??? king give a bunch of rich people land and shit (theyre called lords) and is basically like "ill give yoy guys a shit ton of land as long as you be my sugar daddy and give me profit and food and shit"

so THEN the lords higher knights that look over the lords and the land INCLUDING the bottom of the pyramid- the peasants !!! the peasants are the fellas that do all the labor for their lords like farm, mine, make clothes, that kinda shit but it was kinda like a form of slavery because they were bound to the land and essentially worked til they DIED

BUT NOW HOLD ON !!!! CAUSE THERES ALSO TUE CHURCH AND THE BISHOPS AND THOSE FUCKERS LOOOOVE THEIR RICH PEOPLE !!! THEY CATERED TO THE RICH AND MADE THE POOR BELIEVE THAT IF THEY DID ANYTHING WRONG THEUD BE DOOMED TO DAMNATION !!!

and yknow youd THINK that since the king is at the tippy top of the pyramid then he would be the most powerful, right?? well i mean TECHNICALLY since hes the one providing land and shit and mansions or whatever BUT!!! remember at the beginning how i said it was very much so a loyalty based system??? yeah, that means a lord coukd basically be like "ayo king heres all the food my people harvested and shit (but teehee!!! you dont know that i am NOT loyal to you and im keeping a lot of the food to myself cause i do nit care about you!!!silly!)" yeah lords could basically just like NOT be loyal and if the king didnt find oit then theyd have a shiiiit ton of power.

AND ALSO!!!!!

IVE BEEN SO UPSET THAT PEOLKE DONT KNOW WHAT A SHITTING KING IS TO AN EMPEROR

okay so a king is the punier one of the two. kings rule over ONE kingdom, maybe two, three is a stretch. kings rule over their OWN people. so like if youre a say, roman king and you rule over some romans and shit.

now an EMPEROR is where the BADDIE SHIT starts going down. emperors are the fuckin big dogs of ruling shit, think of em like the ceo of a company, and the king a mere regional manager. emperors rule a BUNCCHHH of different people at once, thats why emperors dont rule kingdoms, those bitches have EMPIRES. BIGASS MOTHERFUCKERS!!! like if you were a roman king but oh!! you also rule over some french!! and say, some germans or some british. THATS when youre an emperor, my friend.

(just so you know i got obsessive over the difference between king and emperor because i read this fic where demon!darkiplier was a dictator and demons infiltrated earth and took over and dark became "king of the world" because he was the most powerful and im assuming took out most of the puny human world leaders EVEN THOUGH HE WOULD TECHNICALLY BE CONSIDERED A FUCKING EMPEROR BECAUSE HE RULES OVER THE WHOLE ASS WORLD!!!!! IT MADE ME SO SHITTING WACKY FOR SOME REASON AND IT IS A BIG PART OF THE REASON AS TO WHY THIS IS MY CURRENT HYPERFIXATION)

[southerndragontamer]

WE DO NOT NEED TO SEE THE HAPPY MASK SALSEMAN OF THE IPLIER EGOS AGAIN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH CHEEKY FAE!

Only an hour LEFT until the big show!! BE SURE TO PUT YOUR MASK ON FOR OPTIMAL VIEWING PLEASURE!!

[even-more-incorrect-ego-quotes]

Im not really. Up to date about all of the egos. Can you explain them? I didnt know there were so many of them

Sure, no problem! I’m guessing you mean Mark’s egos since he’s the one that has so many, right?

(This post contains spoilers for the characters from the Who Killed Markiplier? series)

- The main OGs I’m assuming you already know: Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache, Google, Bim Trimmer, King of Squirrels, The Host/The Author, Dr. Iplier (If you don’t know one of these I’m happy to explain them too & link you their origin videos, just send another ask if that’s the case!)

- The lesser known OGs: Silver Shepherd - A goofy costumed superhero from the Super Infidelity skit by Cyndago | Ed Edgar - A Southern salesman that has a baby selling company from the Ed Edgar Adoptallott’s Baby Bulk Buy skit by Cyndago 

- All of the OGs appear in Markiplier TV on Mark’s channel

- The Who Killed Markiplier? egos: Damien - The mayor who later becomes Dark with his twin sister Celine || William J Barnum - The colonel who goes mad and later becomes Wilford || Actor Mark - The host of the house, once best friend to the mayor and colonel before he betrayed them || The Jim Twins (Reporter Jim & Cameraman Jim) - The chaotic twins that report about the murder that happens in WKM, they are from DEMONS JIM, DEMONS and a few other videos

- The A Heist with Markiplier egos: Yancy - The leader of the prisoners at The Happy Trails Penitentiary who has a fake New Yorker accent || Illinois - The adventurer who is charismatic and a parody of Indiana Jones || Captain Magnum - The pirate captain looking for treasure and sailing the seven seas || Heist Mark - Same as Actor Mark and the Mark from ADWM, now just trying to steal an ancient artifact with Y/N

- The Markiplier’s BIG HONKIN’ Christmas Charity Livestream egos: Eric Derekson - A very anxious guy making commercials with his father for charity merch || Derek Derekson - Eric’s abusive father and owner of his own Charity Warehouse || Randall Voorhees - A construction worker in New York also helping to sell charity merch

- The Google Gets an Upgrade egos: Bing - A cool skateboarding android/robot based off the search engine Bing || The Googles (Blue, Red, Green, Yellow) - Four androids/robots that consist of the original Google

- The unofficial ego: Yandere - An obsessive, lovesick stalker and killer based off the character from the video game Yandere Simulator, seen for the first time in Markiplier Animated | YANDERE SIMULATOR and MAKING LOVE FOR SENPAI | Yandere Simulator #12

- The newest ego: Annus - The newly deceased ego from the now deleted channel Unus Annus that dressed in all white while his counterpart, Unus, dressed in all black, they both spoke a lot about the temporary nature of life and how we must remember death so that we may remember to live

- The joke ego: HeeHoo - A feral naked creature that used to be Mark and now roams the woods, from the [redacted] video on Unus Annus

I hope that cleared some things up for you! I know there are a lot of egos, I recommend using the links if you’d like to get to know them and their stories better! If you’d like me to give more in-depth explanations for any of them, just send in another ask and I’d be happy to do so! If you’d like any explanations for Jack’s egos too, I can also do that!

[gamesline]

Tomorrow, 12/26/21, 9pm EST, Christmas may be over but Megachristmas lasts forever. Waluigi will finally defend his title against his biggest, baddest, and scariest opponent yet, the man who's singlehandedly killed the most wrestlers in VGCCW, John Cena 3. Plus: Cleo Dragalialost WILL defend the Gamr Grl title, but how will she fair against someone with home field advantage in Frozen Elsa? Homero Hulk issues an open challenge for the Interdimensional Championship, Good Rx and Arthur & Buster defend both of their tag titles respectively against mystery opponents, a newly resurrected Mario is ready to get back to action and his first challenger is... his brother? That's right, the leader of the Wallet Club, Waluigi, has tasked Luigi with taking Mario out AGAIN. And finally: Delgo's Last Chance. Delgo has been on a losing streak, losing every single match since he's joined VGCCW. If he doesn't win this next match, he'll be taken out of the rankings for good. However, it won't be a cakewalk, as Delgo's opponent? One of the sickest fucks in the entire VGCCW roster. Delgo vs Darkiplier: Delgo's Last Chance. Let's slam. https://www.twitch.tv/vgchoochoo

[lildevyl]

📂 for Darkiplier! or any character you want to do :D

Darkiplier is the Most Powerful Ego in all of the Iplier egos.  Wilford Warfstashe being the second.  Dark is the “Leader” of the Ego Inc (Iplier House), it originally was the Iplier Mansion but Mark and the Community wound up making a little too many Characters for the Mansion to hold.

Darkiplier is after YouTuber!Mark b/c YouTuber!Mark is either the descendant of Actor!Mark (named after him) or the reincarnation of Actor!Mark(I’m not sure on which yet).

I also Head Canon Darkiplier as bisexual. After watching the Bloopers of AntiSepticeye vs Darkiplier it just fits the character!

[southerndragontamer]

I love the eyes and you really nailed the expressions! He looks great!

Some Damien/Dark doodles turned digital :D

These are meant to accompany this post.

The last ones are also a redraw of this from two years ago.

Please do not use or repost without permission

Any tips or criticism will be greatly appreciated

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Unravel, Chapter 6/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Dr. Iplier finds himself somewhere new, facing Yandere’s kidnapper. The truth comes out and the situation escalates in one horrifying swoop. Warnings: Mind control, violence, blood, death threats, non-con touching, brief suicide mention 

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

“Hey, wake up already, I only gave you a little bit.”

Dr. Iplier groans. He wakes slowly, confused. It takes him a long moment to remember what happened. But it comes to him moment by moment, the strange feeling, the cabinet closing, the empty box, the static, the syringe, the static –

Dr. Iplier gasps awake, jolting into full awareness. He’s sitting in a chair, his arms and legs tied down. He’s somewhere he’s never seen before, somewhere cold and dirty, somewhere with wood floors and wood walls. The person standing in front of him grins, Cheshire-like and sharp.

“There you are! I only needed you out for a minute, it’s been nearly ten.”

Dr. Iplier pales.

“Anti!?”

“Who else?”

Anti stands before Dr. Iplier in his classic black t-shirt and dark, forest-green hair to complement his green-tinged skin. His ears are gauged, his throat is slit and bleeding slightly. His eyes, one bright blue and one glowing green, are glinting with barely-restrained glee.

“Where am I?” Dr. Iplier gasps, trying not to sound afraid. “This isn’t your hideout!”

“No, it’s not,” Anti says, “Or at least, it’s not my main one. I knew you guys would come looking for me, so I figured I needed another place to hide my secrets.” Anti laughs at Dr. Iplier’s bewildered expression. “I’ll admit though, I’ve had this place on reserve for a while, off the grid. Not completely, though. I mean, hello!” He points to himself and glitches, pixels scattering and reforming. “But as much as it could be. We’re out in, oh, what are the words, a little wood cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

“You mean…?”

“Oh no, not the cabin, who knows where that thing is. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s a handy place to have, for sure, especially after your esteemed leaders tore my main hideout apart.” Anti pauses, leaning closer to Dr. Iplier. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

“If you remember their visit,” Dr. Iplier mutters, “You know damn well who we’re looking for.”

“Ohhh, someone’s grumpy!” Anti laughs, as though he’s looking at a hissing kitten. “You won’t be talking so tough in a minute. I have something to show you. You’re only the second Iplier to see this place.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart simultaneously sinks and soars. He knows what Anti means even before he glitches away for a moment and returns with another person.

It’s Yandere. It’s Dr. Iplier’s son, his boy, his baby, the one he’s been missing, the one he’s been lonely for, the one he’s been afraid of losing forever, standing before him in the flesh, whole, alive…but wrong.

It’s mostly his eyes. There’s no whites, no pupils, no chocolate brown, only static, black and white and lifeless. He faces Dr. Iplier, but he stares through him, seeing nothing. His entire face is slack, mouth open. His hair is dirty, greasy, his normally-bright ruby bangs are now dull and dusty red. His cheek is bruised, as are places on his arms and legs. He’s peppered with cuts, his neck is mottled purple and red, his nails are chipped and dirty. He’s too thin. His breathing is wheezy. He stands limply, like the slightest tap might knock him down, yet his posture is mostly straight, like a doll meticulously positioned.

Or a puppet.

“Yan,” Dr. Iplier gasps, staring at his child with undisguised horror.

“Don’t bother trying to talk to him,” Anti says casually, “He doesn’t care about what anyone has to say but me. He won’t remember this later, anyway.” He points to Yandere’s buzzing, static eyes. “He can barely string together a coherent thought with all the static floating around in his brain right now. So we can talk about anything, no need to worry about what Yan’ll remember.”

“How did you do this?” Dr. Iplier asks, quiet with shock. “There’s measures in place to keep you out…”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you a secret.” Anti leans in towards Dr. Iplier again. “They don’t completely work. I couldn’t manifest all the way; otherwise I would’ve kidnapped him sooner. But I could sneak my static into the things he listened to, I could put glitches in the things he watched.” Anti grins, voice darkening. “I could put little messages into his head about how nice the static is, how pretty it is, how fun it is to listen to it. How fun it is to obey it. To submit. It took some patience, but eventually he was putty in my hands, and none of you suspected a thing.”

“So the storm, the blackout…”

“Actually, that’s the one thing I can’t take credit for.” Anti shrugs. “I still needed a way to manifest in the building, and the storm was my chance. I may have lent some power to the lightning bolt that hit the building, though. And when I left, I made sure to leave a little path through the coding so I could come back after the Googles fixed everything again. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having our lovely chat.”

“You mean you wouldn’t be having your monologue,” Dr. Iplier snaps.

Anti grins again, but there’s something different about it. Before Dr. Iplier can figure out what, Anti raises a hand and strikes Yandere across the face, his nails splitting open Yandere’s cheek.

“Yan!!” Dr. Iplier cries, lurching forward against his bonds.

“I’m in control here,” Anti says, eyes glittering with rage, mouth still grinning. “Yandere is my puppet. You are my prisoner. He already knows his place, and you had better learn yours. I’d hate to have to skin him alive right here in front of you, but I will if you make me.” He glitches a knife into his hand, holds it under Yandere’s chin. “Are you going to make me?”

“No, no, please,” Dr. Iplier begs. A tear runs down his cheek.

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Yandere, for his part, doesn’t even react to the slap. It snaps his head to the side, and he merely slowly turns his head back to face Dr. Iplier again. There’s three lines in his cheek from Anti’s nails, dripping blood down his face.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to Wilford after all,” Anti says with a shrug. “Not that he had any real reason to keep suspecting me; he had no evidence but a hunch and his own paranoia. But you know what they say about broken clocks.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, Jackieboy mentioned how quiet I’ve been lately. I guess you guys had plenty of hints, you just ignored them.”

“How…how do you know about all that?” Dr. Iplier asks, tears still falling from earlier.

“C’mon Doc, don’t you remember my PAX video?” Anti laughs. His hair fades into yellow-green, his eyes turn black. “I’m always there, always watching. I know everything.” He laughs again at Dr. Iplier’s shocked expression as his hair and eyes return to normal. “Hey, hey, I wanna show you something cool.”

“Wh…What?” Dr. Iplier asks, feeling as though he has no other choice.

“Watch this.”

Anti steps closer to Yandere, getting into his personal space. Yandere doesn’t react, doesn’t move away.

“Yandere.”

Yandere turns his head and looks at Anti, still expressionless.

“Who’s your senpai?” Anti grins, draping an arm around Yandere’s shoulder.

“You,” Yandere answers without hesitation, voice monotone.

It’s so unlike Yandere, so unlike his normal emotional self, so unlike his normal personality, that Dr. Iplier sobs.

“Try again,” Anti says, prodding Yandere’s bleeding cheek with one finger. “Say my name this time.”

“You are my senpai, Anti-sama,” Yandere says, still dull and lifeless.

“Did you hear that??” Anti cackles, dropping his head into Yandere’s shoulder to laugh. “He used “-sama”!” He grins at Dr. Iplier, all teeth. “I’m his god now.” He looks back to Yandere with a smile that’s almost gentle. “You’ve really taken well to your conditioning. Good boy, Yandere.” He ruffles Yandere’s hair, raking through the greasy strands with his long nails, and while Yandere’s expression doesn’t change, his posture perks up, like some part of him enjoys the praise.

Dr. Iplier just feels sick, seeing Anti pet Yandere’s hair like he used to.

“Don’t touch him,” he gasps.

“Why not?” Anti asks, leaning in close to Yandere, nose to nose. “He doesn’t mind, see?” He takes Yandere’s chin, turns his face forward again, and licks a line up Yandere’s cheek, tongue running a long stripe through the drying blood there.

“Get away from him!!” Dr. Iplier screams, fighting against his restraints, tears pouring down his face in earnest. “Let go of him, don’t touch my son!!”

“He’s not your anything, not anymore,” Anti says, straightening but keeping his hands on Yandere’s shoulders. “All he knows now is me. All he cares about is me. If I told him to kill himself for me he’d do it. Wanna see?”

“No, no, no,” Dr. Iplier moans, sagging in his bonds, exhausted and shattered.

“Good.” One of Anti’s clawed fingers runs up Yandere’s neck, stroking over his jugular. “I’m not ready to give up this puppet yet.”

“What do you want with him?” Dr. Iplier asks, weeping. “What do you want from me?”

“Ohhh, what do you want from me??” Anti mocks, hair morphing into a natural dark brown and green eye glowing like a star. “Let me tell you, Doc.” His appearance changes back to normal as he looks down at Dr. Iplier. “I have a plan. And it all started with Yandere here.” He pauses. “Well, actually, it started with this.” He digs in the pocket of his jeans for something, and pulls out a small, skinny, cylindrical vial of purple liquid.

“What is that?” Dr. Iplier asks, mystified as to how this relates.

“This,” Anti says, holding the vial up to the light, “Is a potion that Marvin made. He doesn’t know I have it; I doubt he even knows it’s missing. He has this thing where he likes to make potions he has no intention of using to boost his skills, and then he hoards them all in case they end up being useful someday.” He shakes the vial lightly, and as it sloshes, red and blue peek through the ripples. “He changes their hiding place every week so I don’t find them, but I always do. I’ve been waiting for him to make me something useful, and he finally did.” Anti peers at Dr. Iplier, flashing another shark-toothed grin. “What do you think it does?”

“I…” Dr. Iplier starts, “How would I know?”

Anti lets out a barking laugh.

“Good point,” he admits. “This potion is designed to split beings up into their base essences.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “It’d probably make a normal human explode. But if Marvin took it, he’d probably just lose his magic. If I took it, it might pull away my glitches. Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers with his other hand. “It’s like Bim’s power, how he can pull things apart. But this is much more concentrated, much faster, much stronger. But it’s also one-use only. You’d have to take the whole vial for this to work. And I have a particular victim in mind.”

“Who?” Dr. Iplier asks, dread creeping down his back. A potion like that could cause untold damage to any of the egos.

Anti grins.

“Dark,” he says, like it’s a logical conclusion. “If Dark takes this, I bet it’ll split him apart from his aura, and then it’ll be mine for the taking.” His eyes glint as Dr. Iplier’s widen. “I’ll be the most powerful figment on the planet. I’ll be unstoppable. And you,” He points at Dr. Iplier. “Are going to help me make it happen.”

“What!? No way!!” Dr. Iplier cries. “Why me, anyway? And why take Yandere?? Why not do this yourself!?”

“Are you kidding?” Anti scoffs, “I’m not stupid. There’s no way I could sneak this potion into Dark myself. He’d catch me in an instant, and then it’d be game over. There’s no way I could puppet Wilford, either; if I could, I’d just do that instead of bother with all this.” He puts an arm around Yandere again as he continues. “Really, you were always the best candidate to enact this plan, Doc. No one would ever suspect you, and you’d have ample opportunity. I would’ve just puppeted you, but you’re too close to The Host.” He snarls in annoyance, grip tightening on Yandere’s shoulder. “For a blind guy, he sees fucking everything. So trying to get you directly was too risky. I needed a different way in. I needed leverage.” He looks at Yandere, still impassive and blank, and grins. “I needed Yandere. I knew that so long as I took care not to condition him with someone else in the room, I could make him a puppet right under everyone’s nose. I thought about just making him give Dark the potion, but he’s so fucking in love with him.” Anti grimaces in disgust and grabs Yandere’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks. “If he were just a human I could force him anyway, but he’s a figment, and his whole stupid existence is about being in love with Dark.” He releases Yandere’s cheeks to grab his hair instead. “I didn’t want to risk him shaking off my suggestion in the middle of it. So instead, he’s my leverage. After all…” He looks back to Dr. Iplier. “You’re still the best person to get this potion into Dark. All you need is a push.” He pulls Yandere’s hair, so hard that Yandere is lifted up to stand on his toes. He doesn’t even flinch, but Dr. Iplier does.

“So, what,” Dr. Iplier gasps, mind reeling, “You kidnap and threaten Yandere to make me do your bidding? Is that it?” He glares at Anti. “If you got Dark’s aura you’d kill us all. I can’t let that happen.”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Anti cackles, “You’re between a rock and a hard place. If you refuse my plan outright, well, I’ll probably just keep you here. See if I can make you a puppet without Host breathing down your neck. They might figure it out when I send you back, but I could always just possess you and pretend to be you.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Then I could get Dark, and keep Yandere for a while…but ugh, you might push me out. No, this is the best way.” He finally releases Yandere’s hair, and Dr. Iplier watches a few tufts float to the ground, pulled out by Anti’s forceful grip. Yandere falls back on his heels, almost stumbles, but rights himself back to his original posture. Anti cups Yandere’s chin, turns his face to look into his static-filled eyes. “I might just kill Yandere if you refuse.” He grabs Yandere’s waist with his other hand, pulls him so he’s flush against Anti, chest to chest.

“He’d…” Dr. Iplier forces himself to stay calm, keep down his revulsion. “He’d come back. And in the meantime, we’d find this place, Dark and Wilford will rip you apart, and Yandere will wake up safe at Ego Inc.”

“He might come back,” Anti agrees, hand on Yandere’s chin creeping around to the back of his neck. “He might not, though. And if he did, do you think you’d have enough time to find him? You don’t know where this place is. You can’t even be sure what country this is.” His hand on Yandere’s waist travels, pulling up Yandere’s shirt, nails digging into his back, leaving red lines as they go. “I wonder how many times I’ll have to kill him before it sticks. Probably not many; he’s not as popular as the others. But how will I do it? I could skin him like I threatened to do earlier. I could slit his throat, make us twins. I could strangle him. I could rip out his spine, or his lungs, or his heart. I could make him commit seppuku or eat poison. I could tie him up, release him from my control, and let him be fully aware while I torture him, make him beg me to kill him with his own free will.” Anti grins, leaning his head onto Yandere’s shoulder, into his neck, fangs against Yandere’s skin when he speaks again. “Maybe I could tear out his throat with my teeth, right here, right in front of you.” He breathes in through his nose, ruffling Yandere’s hair, and growls. “I bet his blood is so nice, so warm. I bet it tastes incredible.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Dr. Iplier moans, mindless in terror and grief as he watches Anti put his hands on his son, sickeningly intimate. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him.”

“Does that mean you’ll cooperate?” Anti asks, not pulling away.

Dr. Iplier whimpers, too in shock to sob. He knows helping Anti will lead to ruin. With Dark’s aura, Anti truly would be unstoppable. He’d be at least a match for Wilford, and he’d be able to mow down anyone else in his way. He could capture so many as puppets. The harm he could do is, truly, limitless. He might even go after humans, too, might try to take over anything. With Dark’s aura adding to his power, it might even be possible.

But…there’s still Yandere. There’s still his baby, there’s still his little one. Dr. Iplier could protect Yandere, he and the others could keep him safe, held away from Anti’s destruction. They can reinforce Ego Inc., rebuild the codes to keep Anti out, fight back, resist. They could find a way to destroy him. They could find a way to defeat him.

Dr. Iplier looks up, above Yandere’s head, to look at the timer there, the timer that everyone has, the timer that says how long someone has to live. He’s been avoiding looking at it this whole time, afraid of what he’ll see. But he needs to know. He can’t make a decision without seeing it. Yandere’s time is written in light blue numbers, which is promising; blue means the number can change, it can go lower but it can also go higher. The number is fluctuating up and down rapidly, no, not just fluctuating, glitching. The numbers scramble and fuzz up, rippling and crackling like a malfunctioning digital clock. Dr. Iplier’s jaw drops. He’s never seen someone’s time behave like this.

It’s stark, undeniable proof that Yandere’s life is completely in Anti’s hands. Whether he lives longer or dies sooner depends on Anti.

And what Anti does depends on Dr. Iplier.

Dr. Iplier cannot do it. He cannot kill his child, not even for the greater good.

He lets his head drop, ashamed.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he asks Anti, quiet and broken.

He doesn’t see Anti’s grin, but he can imagine it, all pointy teeth and eyes that glint with triumph.

“Look at me,” Anti says, “And pay attention.”

Dr. Iplier lifts his head. Anti finally, finally lets go of Yandere, allowing him to return to his original position, staring emptily at Dr. Iplier.

“I’m going to send you back with the potion,” Anti begins. “You’re not to tell anyone about this conversation. You won’t tell anyone that you saw me, or saw Yandere, or anything else about what happened between us today. You won’t tell them to confront me again, or consider me as a suspect, or anything. If you do, consider our arrangement broken, because I’ll be murdering Yandere the second you let anything slip.” He smirks. “You can’t tell the Googles to revisit the coding keeping me out, either. That counts. You’ll carry that potion, keep quiet, and wait for a good time to use it on Dark. Inject him with it or make him drink it, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It might take a while,” Dr. Iplier mumbles.

“I know that,” Anti says, “I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes. But when the opportunity comes, you better take it. If you hesitate or change your mind, I’ll kill Yandere. But first I’ll sneak back into Ego Inc., take the potion from you, and give it to Dark myself.”

“How do you expect me to hide from The Host?” Dr. Iplier asks, “You said yourself that he knows everything.”

“What did he say before?” Anti asks in return, “Something about not knowing the past?” He grins at Dr. Iplier’s expression. “Told ya, Doc, always watching. Anyway, if you play it cool, he won’t suspect a thing. Once you give Dark the potion, I’ll drop by to snag his aura and return Yandere.”

“Return him unharmed,” Dr. Iplier growls. Anti laughs.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he chuckles, stroking Yandere’s scratched cheek. “But he’ll be free from my control, alive, and in one piece. That much I can promise.” He appears a knife into his hand, approaches Dr. Iplier, and cuts one of his hands free before holding out his own. “Is that a deal?”

Dr. Iplier chews his lip. He doesn’t want to do this. But he doesn’t want to lose Yandere. At the very least, he can agree for now, and figure out a plan later.

“Fine,” he sighs, thoroughly exhausted. He shakes Anti’s hand.

“Excellent.” Anti takes the potion back out of his pocket and gives it to Dr. Iplier.

The vial of purple liquid is surprisingly warm. Dr. Iplier slips it into the pocket of his lab coat. It feels like a hot stone, weighing him down. Anti cuts him completely free, allowing Dr. Iplier to stand. He rubs his wrists, chafed from the rope.

“Alright then,” Anti says, preparing to glitch them back to the clinic.

“Wait!” Dr. Iplier exclaims. “Can I…” He swallows. “Can I say goodbye to Yandere first?” Anti rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t know you anymore, remember?” Anti asks, condescending. “And he’s not going to remember it once I pull the static out of his brain.”

“I know, I know, just, please,” Dr. Iplier begs, “Just for a minute. I’ve missed him so much.”

“Fine,” Anti sighs, like it’s a huge inconvenience. “Make it quick.” He steps out of the way, leaving nothing between Dr. Iplier and Yandere.

Nothing between Dr. Iplier and his boy, the person he’s spent two weeks missing, two weeks waiting for, two weeks fearing he’d never see again.

He rushes to him, hugs him tight, starts stroking his greasy, limp hair. Tears prick his eyes as he holds Yandere close, and Yandere doesn’t react. He doesn’t push away, he doesn’t hug back, he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t relax with relief or flinch with fear. Still, it brings strength to Dr. Iplier’s heart to have his son in his arms again, even if for a moment, even if Yandere won’t remember or care.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing Yandere’s forehead, over and over. “I love you, I love you so much. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this right. I promise I’ll protect you no matter what.” He cups Yandere’s cheeks, mindful of the bruise on one cheek and the scratches on the other. “I’ll get you home again. Just hang in there, baby. It’ll be okay.”

He searches Yandere’s face for a reaction, for a twitch, for any indication of recognition or acknowledgement. There’s none. Yandere’s expression is blank, his eyes are still only static. Tears start to run down Dr. Iplier’s cheeks. He kisses Yandere’s forehead one last time before letting him go.

“I’m ready,” Dr. Iplier whispers through his tears.

“Quit crying,” Anti mutters, disgusted.

Dr. Iplier wipes his eyes with one arm as Anti grabs his other.

Then with a zap, they’re in cyberspace.

Dr. Iplier gasps, looking around himself to see code and binary surrounding him. Anti is electric beside him, zooming through the code, pulling Dr. Iplier with him. They hop from wifi network to hotspot, keeping up with the endless stream, until, suddenly, another zap sounds and Dr. Iplier is standing in his clinic again.

Anti is gone, but the potion remains in Dr. Iplier’s coat pocket.

He collapses into a nearby chair and sobs, and sobs, and sobs.

When The Host comes in that evening for blood transfusions and new bandages, Dr. Iplier is numb enough to act like nothing is amiss, and fixes Host like normal.

“Normal,” he thinks to himself as he helps Host, “Nothing will ever be normal again.”

[southerndragontamer]

@markiplier P L E A S E!!!!

Okay, ideas I gotta get out before Heist gets here:

(I know most of this is highly unlikely, but ideas are happening so I need to share)

Actor Mark turning to us during the heist and just stares before laughing like a madman. He’s almost crying from how hard he’s laughing. He looks at where our eyes would be and just quietly speaks.

“You don’t die easy, do you old friend?”

“I suppose this is for the best… at least I can finally apologize for what dear Damien and that woman did to you.. perhaps I can even fix it..?”

Imagine the horror we’d feel once the realization comes that he recognizes us.

It wouldn’t stop there of course.

At a different point, maybe a different story line, we find Wilford and he’s all smiles and giggles. He’s delusional as ever and then, in a moment of clarity, he turns to us.

“It was an accident… you know that, right? You remember that little joke of ours?”

“I feel like i know you… Oh I know! You’re a friend of Dave’s, right? No? Hm… we didn’t date, did we?”

Or if we run into Dark.

Oh boy, if we run into him. T h i n k   a b o u t   i t

“I remember you… I know you remember me too. Help me… just let me in again, and we can make him suffer for everything he did to us.”

“Mark said he wanted me a villain… he should have been careful with who he involved in this little escapade.”

[deceptive-jo]

Super AU - Ego Inc

Strap in everyone, this is gonna be a long one.

Darkiplier:

Power: Controlling Shadows, Entering the Void

Legal name: Damien Fischbach

Leader of Ego Inc

Rumored to posess psychological powers too

He doesn't he's just really good at what he does.

Wilford Warfstache:

Powers: reality manipulation, access to the Void

Legal name: Wilford Barnes

Does the fieldwork that Darkiplier is too pretty to do

One of his most loyal men since he doesn't really question any of the actions taken

Until he does

The Host:

Powers: manipulating reality through voice

Legal name: Howard Walker

Joined Ego Inc on his own accord to protect his brother

Often seen in the company of Deceit or Darkiplier

One by choice, the other by default

Tries to stay in his library most of the time, encrypting texts

Google:

Android

First directive: serve Darkiplier

Mostly stays away from his 'human collegues'

Mainly used for technical stuff, sometimes as a fighter since he is stronger and more durable than a normal human

Yandere:

Powers: reality manipulation, teleportation

Legal name: Ayano Yan

Listens solely to Wilford and Darkiplier

Their 'cute little murder daughter'

Yancy:

Powers: none, but good in Combat

Legal name: Yanni Cayton

Got broken out of prison on Darkiplier's behalf

Now he owes him for something he didn't want in the first place

Bim Trimmer:

Powers: manipulation through voice

jep, he's a siren

Also, a cannibal

So Ego Inc pretty much keeps him from starving

They also pay well and he has a place to stay, so he stays

Legal name: Brian Jim Todd

Creativity:

Powers: conjuring

Legal name: Remus King

Joined Ego Inc together with Virgil and Janus and immediately took to Wilford

He and Roman got into a huge argument over it, now they don't talk anymore and in battle he's not afraid to maim a bitch

Usually called Dark Creativity after he stole his brother's title

Dr Iplier:

Powers: detection of injuries

Legal name: Edward Iplier

Ego Inc's doctor

He doesn't really have anything against the heroes but he also can't go against Darkiplier