#Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 1: All Aboard, Full Steam Ahead

((So. That train story, right? Okay, but this is something I've been playing with the idea of writing ever since Wilford dropped that Murder on the Orient Express reference back in Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache, and it really helped when AHWM and ISWM dropped and introduced us all to a wide cast of characters who don't all happen to look like Mark. Which is partially why this is a much different story than it would have been before ISWM. There's going to be a lot of familiar faces, some of them very out of place here, along with a couple of folks only referenced by name or as jokes. Also a murder, can't forget about that. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!))

Abe had never been a fan of confined spaces. Something about being caught with his back against the wall in one tight corner after another made it only natural to be on edge whenever he found himself confronted with a small room with only one way in or out.

A room very much like this train compartment he’d already lost track of time in, between the muted colors of the shoebox-like space that offered a seat just long enough to stretch out on and a window looking out at the unchanging landscape whiplashing by too quickly to really focus on anything in particular, and not much of anything else in the way of entertainment or stimulation. Abe had the riveting options of staring out at snow-covered hills and snow-covered trees and a dreary gray sky that promised, yes, even more snow that no one had asked for, or up at the jostling luggage rack overhead while he thought about the usual things.

Things like why the hell he was on this train in the first place.

He gave up on that pretty quickly and jumped up again, pacing the narrow space before deciding he really needed to stretch his legs. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to get a better idea of the layout of the train.

Just in case.

If he had noticed the conversation going on in low voices outside of his door, Abe would have stopped and held his ear to the door in the hope of hearing some of it. After all, he was a detective, which made eavesdropping practically his moral duty. That, and he was nosy as hell and bored to go with it.

If he had known a little more about the pair standing out in the hallway at the time, he would have loved nothing more than to have a regular door with which he could have “accidentally” hit one or both with as a possible alternative for some quick amusement.

Both options were only apparent in hindsight though, because in the moment Abe just turned toward the sliding door and opened it abruptly, startling the two men on the other side so badly they both jumped away from the opened door like it was a ticking timebomb.

One, the man with slicked-back black hair dressed in a suit that felt expensive to even look at, recovered first and gave Abe a withering look before remarking aloud as though addressing the air in general, “So much for this being luxury travel. It looks like they’ll let any low class, ill-mannered lout buy a ticket these days.”

Abe bristled, any apology he might have had instantly dying in response to that stuck-up, drawling voice. “And I thought you’d have something intelligent to say when you opened that pretty mouth of yours, so I guess we’ll all have to get used to being disappointed today.”

The rich man drew himself up, visibly swelling with indignation, but the other man cleared his throat and subtly moved between the two as he said, “Perhaps we could continue this conversation somewhere a little more private, sir?”

“Somewhere more private than the middle of the hall?” Abe asked. “Wow, wonder where you could find something like that around here.”

Choosing to ignore that comment, the second man slid open the door opposite Abe’s and stepped aside for the rich man with an, “After you, sir.”

The rich guy gave Abe one last sneer before going into the other compartment, which from the glimpse Abe got looked to be far more elegant and spacious than his own. The lackey added a disapproving stare of his own in Abe’s direction before sliding the door shut again with a sharp rap and promptly lowering the shade on the other side of the door’s round window.

Well, Abe could tell he was already off to a great start getting to know his fellow passengers. Although if the rest were anything like those two, he’d be better off staying in his own room for the rest of the trip.

A not very tempting thought, so instead Abe stepped out into the hallway and slid the door shut behind him, taking a moment to look both ways.

More rooms to either side, the doors slightly offset from their opposite so that any uncovered windows just looked out into the hallway and not directly into their neighbor’s room. To his right past a few more compartments was the door he used to step onto the train, and beyond that he’d caught a glimpse of the luggage car being filled by the station porters. Past the luggage car there was only the train’s engine, so nothing to see that way.

He turned left and paused not three steps away from his door, head unconsciously tilting while his brow furrowed in concentration. Over the rhythmic sound of the train’s wheels turning and the distant huff of the engine, Abe thought he heard something else.

Music?

It was faint at first, but the longer he listened the louder it seemed to get until the noise of the train died away, until the beat roared in his ears and drummed in his chest, the sound so tangible he was surprised the next door along and seeming source of the music wasn’t shaking in its casing. It was as much a mystery as why there was no complaint from the rich man next door, who had to be able to hear that noise through the connecting wall between the two rooms.

Abe slowed, staring at the covered window of the door like he could see through it if he tried hard enough. That thumping, upbeat music was familiar, familiar in a way that itched at the back of his mind and made his trigger finger twitch. Where had he heard this before?

Before he could make the connection, Abe heard the rattle of another door opening and quickly turned away from the offending door, eager not to be spotted staring into someone else’s room. A maneuver that put him directly in the path of the man stepping out of the room opposite, the two colliding so hard that the twin batches of swearing temporarily drowned out both the music and the train.

“…Sorry about that,” the new man muttered after a moment, rubbing his own shoulder. Fedora, oversized trench coat worn over a suit that looked a little too new, and a piercing stare that returned Abe’s once over with one of its own. If Abe wasn’t already suspicious enough, he’d felt something during that collision and was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the stranger being happy to see him.

There were only so many people who’d travel with a hidden weapon close to hand, after all.

A number that should have included Abe, except he had been forced to turn over his gun before boarding the train with the assurance that it would stay in a weapon safe during the duration of the trip. Flashing his badge hadn’t helped, the conductor no doubt calling his bluff because they were leaving his jurisdiction—or was it that they weren’t in it at the time?

Point was, if this guy had a gun on him, that meant he either found a way to sneak it onboard or he had the kind of authority to get a pass from the conductor.

All of this passed through Abe’s mind rapidly, but not fast enough that there weren’t several seconds of awkward silence before he asked, “In a hurry to get somewhere?”

“…No,” the other man said, proving he wasn’t much of a liar, at least. He stepped back into the still open doorway behind him and gestured for Abe to move on. “Please, you first. I’m sure your companion will be wondering where you’re at.”

Companion? Where’d he get that idea?

“No, I’m traveling alone. Same as you, I’m guessing?”

“Yes?” His eyes went past Abe to the room he’d just left, brow furrowing in confusion before he made a visible effort to relax it. “I mean, yes, it’s just me for now. Traveling for work.”

“Work? What kind of work is that?” Abe asked, trying to appear open and only as curious as a fellow traveler might be even as he glanced at the room behind the man, the quick glance enough to tell him that it was much smaller than his own (a fact he didn’t think possible until now), with no sign of any convenient personal belongings left out and about to give a hint as to their owner.

The man paused, clearly not having prepared for follow up questions, and finally said, “Oh, boring stuff. Like 99% of it’s just, you know, paperwork to make the home office happy. What about you, where are you headed?”

The question came quickly, Abe thinking less because the guy was interested and more because he didn’t want to leave an opening to ask what the other 1 percent was supposed to be.

“Oh just…to the next stop, same as everyone else on here I guess.”

The awkward silence lasted much longer this time, both men struggling to come up with any more small talk without the risk of having to answer their own questions. Abe broke it first with a clearing of his throat and said, “I, uh, was just going to get some fresh air. See you around, uh…”

“Apless,” the man answered immediately, showing the barest hint of a wince around the eyes before he continued, “Harold Apless.”

“My name’s Abe,” Abe answered, distracted by the realization that the previously overwhelming music seemed to have stopped at some point without his noticing it. “Nice to meet you, Happy.”

“My name’s not—”

The protest gave way to a defeated sigh behind Abe as he pulled open the car’s door and stopped in the small space between cars where the shaking and jolting was worse than ever. The enclosed space wasn’t made for people to stay here long, with doors to either side for boarding when the train wasn’t in motion providing enough gaps for the freezing cold outside to seep in. As different from that crowded room, too packed with dancers to even breathe, as he could get.

Dancers?

Abe winced and rubbed his eyes, dispelling that memory as quickly as he could. That’s why he was here, right? To get some distance between himself and…all of that.

Abe took a deep breath and exhaled, fogging up the glass of the nearby window, the welcome chill still enough to make him glad he hadn’t taken off his black leather jacket, and continued on through the next door and into what proved to be the lounge car.

Wooden paneling and low, flickering lamps set in intervals along the walls gave the lounge a warm, comfortable air, helped by plush armchairs seated in rows to either side around the windows and small, round tables. A thick, elegant carpet ran the length of the car and muffled the noise of the wheels underneath to the point it felt too quiet when Abe entered, not helped by how few people were seated or talking around the room.

A small bar area at the opposite end gave Abe something to aim for as he walked the length of the car, checking faces and counting heads out of habit.

Not that there were many to keep track of.

There was a woman dressed in bright, flamboyant colors underneath a white jacket, a bandana holding her long, wavy hair out of the way as she studied the mass of papers and books covering every inch of the table in front of her. From what he saw as he passed by, said papers and books all looked like a bunch of plans and equations so dense that his brain refused to take any of it in out of self-defense.

She on the other hand was so utterly focused that her lips moved along with thoughts that she couldn’t seem to keep contained within herself, occasionally sparing a hand from the coffee cup she held in front of her for lack of anywhere else to put it to push her glasses back in place or retrieve the pencil behind her ear to make another note in the same handwriting that littered all of the papers. For her, Abe and the rest of the train may as well not have existed for all it mattered in the moment.

The other two passengers he passed next did notice him, but were so engrossed in their conversation over a game of chess that the older woman wearing a black burnoose and dress littered with silver stars and matching jewelry could only spare him a friendly smile. Across from her, a man dressed in khaki with a brown leather jacket not all that dissimilar to the one Abe was wearing tilted the brim of his brown hat in the detective’s direction without looking away from the board, his hand still resting on the knight as he considered the consequences of his move.

“Well, you can tell me more about the monkeys or avoid losing your rook, but I’m afraid you can’t do both, dear.”

“Funnily enough, I’m pretty sure one of those monkeys stole my traveling chess set. That or my assistant on that little adventure still had it on him when we realized the simians weren’t quite ready to give up their piece of the map.”

“A real shame, that,” the woman said, shaking her head. “To shreds, you say?”

Abe had several questions, but he kept walking toward the bar with the confidence that a good drink would be less likely to leave him with regret in the long run.

 Or it would have, if he hadn’t reached the bar just as the bartender stopped what he was doing and looked up, his customer service smile disappearing with a flash of recognition.

He’d recognize that handsome face and look of distress and horror anywhere, especially since aside from the emblem of the train company on his lapel and a splash of dark red on his tie and handkerchief, his outfit really wasn’t all that different from the getup he wore back when he was Mark’s butler.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Abe asked and Benjamin shushed him with a glance at the other passengers.

“Language!” Benjamin hissed, his own voice lowered to just above a whisper. “Please do not disturb the other passengers.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, pal,” Abe said, obliging him with a low growl.

“I am not your pal,” Benjamin said, straightening his already ridiculously broad shoulders and trying to look prim and proper like Abe hadn’t seen him threaten a man with a feather duster once. “And I should think it’s rather obvious that I am working here. Would you like something to drink?”

“I think you and me already know the answer to that one,” Abe said, and Benjamin rolled his eyes before reaching under the bar for the strong stuff. “Now you’re talking.”

Abe sidled onto one of the stools, turned so that he could keep an eye on the butler turned bartender and the rest of the carriage.

“I had to make my way somehow after my last employer…” Benjamin paused, lip trembling, and with an effort he shook himself and poured Abe a healthy dose in a glass before pulling a second glass for himself. Pushing the glass toward Abe, he asked, “What brings you here, detective?”

Abe took the drink and took a long sip before setting it down with a sigh, because it was rude to leave a good drink waiting.

That, and he had to stall for an answer somehow, but the best he could come up with was to turn it around with another question as he asked, “Why do you think I’m here?”

Benjamin gulped down the contents of his glass, which admittedly was barely a splash of alcohol poured out before his conscience caught up with him, and swiftly put the glass out of sight before any of the others saw him drinking on the job.

“Still chasing leads then?”

Abe shrugged. “Maybe.”

Looking out over the rest of the lounge car in search of a change of subject, Abe suddenly said, “Not a lot of people here, huh? Guess they’re all hiding out in their rooms.”

“Mm, no, I think this is about half of the guests on this particular trip,” Benjamin answered, and it was his turn to shrug when Abe turned a disbelieving stare on him. “Look around, detective. This is hardly vacationing weather in country that I assure you is much more pleasant in the spring, and at this time of the year the only people crossing the country by train are those who have somewhere they need to be and no other way to get there.”

He gestured toward the back of the train behind him and continued, “There is so little interest that we only have the one passenger car for this leg of the journey. There is just the dining car behind this, and a mail car we are taking to the next station as a way to earn enough revenue to even justify running the train as scheduled. On the other hand, I believe the services we provide during the journey will more than make this a trip to remember for all of our esteemed passengers.”

“I’m not tipping you extra for that.”

Benjamin scowled and made a pretense of cleaning the other side of the already pristine surface of the bar to put some distance between him and the detective.

Fine by Abe, who removed himself from the bar stool and took a more comfortable seat in the corner of the car.

Somehow knowing that there were so few people on board made this trip feel more…not sad, although it was kind of sad in a pathetic sort of way. Gloomy, maybe, with the darkening sky outside and the white snow coming down sideways in the train’s wake? No, more than that. There was another word for the mood settling in around Abe’s shoulders.

“Perhaps loneliness,” Wilford suggested.

“More like ominous, like a premonition of things to come,” Abe answered before freezing in place, the narration that threatened to spill out of him hitting a hard pause on that thought, his eyes still on the dark windows where he could see the reflection of the man sitting opposite him, smile gleaming and eyes twinkling like he was waiting for the joke to sink in.

Abe held his breath and turned his head, as though expecting both man and reflection to disappear when he laid eyes on the real thing.

Instead, the colorful man in an extravagant yellow and pink confectionary of a suit crossed his legs and settled further back into his plush seat, looking around the train car with undisguised wonder. His drawling, unhinged voice stirred up the worst kind of memories in Abe as he said, “You sure do know how to travel in style, don’t you detective?”

Abe nearly spilled his drink reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, a thousand questions running through his mind although most of them could be summed up by the words that finally made their way out of his mouth after a bout of helpless sputtering:

“What the hell?!”

Wilford took a sip of hot chocolate from a vibrant pink mug and swished it around his mouth thoughtfully before answering. God, Abe hoped that was hot chocolate. Wilford hyped up on coffee was a nightmare waiting to happen, and he already felt like he was in a waking one of those.

“The suit’s a bit much, isn’t it? But unlike you, I happen to enjoy dressing to the occasion. That, and apparently trousers are ‘mandatory’ around these parts, for some reason.”

Of all the feelings Abe expected when he laid eyes on Wilford Warfstache again, “relief” wasn’t one of them, but then he’d also never considered the apparently non-zero chance of running into his greatest enemy pantsless either.

“Aw, you think I’m the greatest?” Wilford said, his brown eyes crinkling with a smile.

“My greatest enemy, and don’t do that,” Abe answered, and if anything, Wilford’s smile just grew wider. “It’s not a compliment! How did you even get here?!”

Abe realized it was a ridiculous question as soon as he asked it, but Wilford seriously considered it before shrugging.

“Same as you, I suppose. Say, where’s this train going, anyways?”

“Why would you get on a train without knowing where you’re going?” Abe asked.

Another shrug. “Something, something, ‘life is about the journey, not the destination,’ or whatever it is people put on the postcards. What do you think they do for fun around here?”

Wilford turned around in his chair again to look over his shoulder at the other passengers, the silence except for the background noise of the train positively deafening.

“Huh. Not much, by the look of things. Bet we can do something to liven things up around here, what do you say, you old—”

Wilford’s words stopped short on his lips when he turned back around and found the detective inches away, a finger dangerously close to his nose as Abe spoke in a low growl.

“You’re not doing a thing on this trip, Colonel. The second we get off, I’m going to put you down.” Abe paused, aware something hadn’t come out right there. “I mean, the next stop this train makes, you’re under arrest.”

“Huh, I think you’re the only one who still calls me that,” Wilford said, unbothered by the threat.

“In fact,” Abe continued, too angry to be deterred by Wilford’s calm, “You’re already under arrest, and if I catch even a whiff of you trying to escape or laying even a finger on anyone else on this train, I’ll…”

He let the threat hang in the air unspoken, mostly because he couldn’t think of a way to finish it. His gun was locked away, and he couldn’t be sure the same could be said for Wilford, not if that Happy guy was able to keep his own weapon. That, and he knew all too well what Wilford could be capable of when the mood took him.

Wilford looked down at Abe’s finger still pointing in his face and gave it a little kiss before saying, “Whatever you say, detective. I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”

“…Why do I feel like that’s not a very high bar?”

Wilford winked and toasted Abe with his mug of hot chocolate before taking a sip. The gesture revealed the black block letters printed on the side of the mug to Abe for the first time: SPOILER ALERT!

((End of Part 1. Hope you enjoyed it! I'm going to try to space each part by a couple of days or so, just because they're all on the longer side. For the record, no, that's not Actor Mark, but he is a Mark ego. Sort of. You'll see. Genuinely curious how many people know/remember Harold Apless. As far as I know he was only ever referenced on the ISWM website, and we only got a Noirverse photo of him. Haven't fully committed to who I imagine as "playing" him, maybe Sean? But judging by the shows' history that means he would actually end up being played by MatPat, so...

Link to Part 2: An Easy Offer to Refuse.

Also a confession about the tag list: it's, uh, been so long since I've written anything I'm not sure if this is the most up-to-date version at all. I also ended up removing a lot of urls that no longer connected to a blog, so I may have accidentally deleted a few valid ones. If you'd like to be added or removed, please just let me know in a comment.

Said hopefully not too out of date taglist: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard

))

[crackedegotheories]

soooo.......

thoughts on the poppy playtime pt. 3?

I'm so proud that Mark is learning to read. It's tough to struggle through words you don't know, but the more you try the more you learn and the more you know...something about half the battle I think?

Sorry, couldn't help it. I'm guessing this is a follow-up on the last ask about the ego hints, in which case: I thought it was interesting.

I guess the big thing was about 7 minutes into the video, where Mark tells Ollie/Gregory "Things are just happening a little out of order for me at the moment, I'm kind of experiencing multiple realities all overlapping." (Sounds like a typical Thursday to me.)

More under the cut which I had to move up to here because Tumblr keeps rearranging all the photos and putting them one by one instead of a cluster like in the draft. It also keeps moving the read more link around, so who knows if it'll actually be here.

And then we get several cuts, each about a frame each, all from ISWM:

In order, we've got the guy in the woods from the Hee Hoo universe, Cecil H. H. Mills, Cryptid!Mark from the timeline where you mocked him for crying (how could you, Captain?), Abe, Chef, Old Man Mark at the restaurant at the end of the universe, Dorene Whitacre in the void, the campfire scene, Lady aiming a gun in your face, and the Invincible II seen from the outside.

I think the reasonable response would be to assume this is one of the editors slipping in a bunch of ISWM references after an off-the-cuff remark. After all, the second year anniversary is coming up in a little over a month, and Mark's been known to drop hints to go back and watch his larger projects before ("When's the last time you visited Yancy? He misses you, you know" or something similar.)

But eh, let's have fun with it and keep going.

Because I think we could tease out some more (very probably unplanned) references to ego stuff.

Take the very beginning of the video, during the elevator bug that started Mark's spin off into other realities. While Poppy and Kissy Missy have trouble with gravity, Poppy continues to speak to Mark--her voice seemingly coming out of nowhere as he gets farther and farther away. Cue Mark begging her to "Get out of my head!"

A similar scenario actually happens in Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache, where Abe is monologuing to himself while driving and Wilford, in the backseat, intrudes on his thoughts. Abe tells Wilford to get out of his head and Wilford tells him to stop shouting without either one actually saying a word out loud, then Abe almost runs into a truck. During a series of red gas induced hallucinations about 11 minutes in, Mark responds to "Poppy's" question and says, "I don't know, how am I alive?"--something Abe also questions during WMLW, until Wilford snaps him out of it.

During the multiple realities reference, Mark mentions not being able to separate fact from fiction, something that comes up again later during a second round of hallucinations when "Poppy" asks, "Do you even know what's real?"

Difficulty separating fact from fiction is a recurring problem for Wilford, and even makes up a central theme when the WAIA is speaking to the viewer during The Warfstache Automated Interview Automaton video.

About an hour and a half into the video, after Mark, eh, successfully defeats Catnap, he says, "Remind me why I was doing this in the first place, because I don't recall," slipping into the Warfstache voice as he does so. Wilford doesn't exactly have the greatest memory, or really know why he does most things it seems like.

(He also slips into the Warfstache voice after he gets the finger gun, but that's par for the course every time Mark gets a surprise gun in a video game and starts getting shooty.)

Back to ISWM, we have the Catnap fight. Or more specifically, Mark's unfortunate choice of words, "And I wait to do it all over again." Cue it becoming the recurring phrase during a montage of Mark's failed attempts to beat the boss until, after an unknown number of retries, finally succeeding.

What is that, if not the exact same thing that the Captain goes through In Space? Whether it's the ultimately futile attempts to save the ship in Part 1, or your choice in the warp core that sends you all the way back to the beginning to try again?

When Mark is greeted by Ollie/Gregory who has the audacity to say things like, "Wow...you did it," "You must feel pretty good," and "This win is yours," he immediately breaks out into a storm of cursing.

Very much the same reaction we see in the Captain after failing and being sent back early in Part 1, but especially after obtaining an "ending" only to go into the light and find themselves right back in the cryopod again.

This is the hand gesture of someone (silently) cursing their existence.

Mark slowly turning to stare into the camera while going through the vents (twice) and suggesting he could come crawling out of the screen is just normal Mark behavior though, not sure what else to say about that.

[alcordraws]

Rewatching wilford motherlovin warfstache like wow they put shrimp colors in this

[gamethecry]

@wrfstchc | cont'd [ x ]

god , this was getting to be a lot . he could have inferred from the LAST TIME he ran into one of these entities that it was probably going to happen again , and not to his own liking . this whole situation was starting to really get to matthew , and not in the best way possible . the prospect of all of these people being real put in the position of having to question the true intentions of his OWN FRIEND . M A R K . matt had done his research , this was evident enough in the way it seems he tries not to express fear to wilford beyond his words alone . the brunet's face is scrunched into something unreadable , lips pulled into a tight line as hazel hues snap from rose-tinted glasses to shiny metal held in an indelicate hand .

he swallows thickly , trying to maintain calm . he would be true in reminding himself that these people meant no harm , but he KNEW that one shot from that gun and wilford would deem his death a JOKE . nothing more , nothing less . despite terror nipping at his heels , he stares into the barrel of the gun , his hands folded in front of him , his head held high as if matthew didn't care for his life ( something that couldn't be farther from the truth ) . the brunet thinks of whether to answer the questions , if wilford would even care about the answer in a moment ; and , lo and behold , the second he thinks to open his mouth with a retort the madman before him drops her weapon .

a sigh welled up in his chest is released , like steam from an engine , and his gaze drops to the floor for a moment . while every fiber of matthew's being wanted to be angry , to feel rage from the fear that was placed onto him and so quickly ripped away , he meets wilford's gaze , her laughter filling his ears , and he can't help but crack a small smile . after all , this was wilford motherlovin' warfstache . what more could have matt expected . " yeah . . . you got me really good , wilford . " his tone is a little unconvincing , the adrenaline of the situation still running rampant through his frame . he wasn't sure how much more of this ' ego ' game he could play , but the brunet was certain that it would kill him if he didn't figure out what was happening .

" hey , i know you may not necessarily know what's going on , like . . . at all . " his brows furrow , lips pulling into a tight line . " but , what is happening ? why are you HERE ? " his tone isn't accusatory , simply confused .

[euclydya]

YES HELLO!! [twirls yall cheerfully]!! :3 💓 What fictional character would you most like a hug from, and would it be a comfortable hug? 💫 Choose one of the following objects to have: Mini bubble wand, sparkly d20 with a flower inside, small ceramic sleeping kitty, tiny jar of pastel paper stars, pull-back racecar toy, clicky frog-themed glitter pen, starry connected collar pins. 🌫️ Share a secret/confession, but replace each letter with an asterisk (ex: * **** ***.)

HELLO!

Ford Pines . But I'm biased. Yes it would be a good comfortable hug he gives good hugs ask me how I know. But also Wilford warfstache. We remember a moment from Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache where he hugged Abe and a squeaky toy noise played and that's like really cute what the fuck. I imagine he'd give very good hugs also. Cannot speak for the Wil in our system though because she doesn't hug people often lmao

Pastel paper stars! That reminds us, we used to make origami stars as a teen, we'd write little things inside of em before folding them up into stars and we'd open them at random when we needed a little bit of positivity... We might start doing that again tbh

** **** * ***** ** ***. *'* *****. Good luck decoding that lmfao!

-Stan

[fagbearentertainment]

wkm fucked me up for real i think about will or damien and start crying so bad damien was my friend my good friend and then!!! and then!! the horrors

Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache fucks me up every time I rewatch it it’s so asjshdkwjdoqxd

[antis-hell]

Okay as promised here is the sora projects complete* list of weird ass introjects>:]

*fuck knows really

Bonnie from the FNaF movie

Jim Henson

Jesus H Christ

Kurt the cat (the one on tiktok)

Maliachi constant from Sirens of Titan

Trans masc jacksepticeye

Trans fem markiplier

A blue moth the size of someone's face

The Orion constellation

Otto from a man called Otto

Red and Yellow guy from dhmis

Fdc people have small dick energy

Satan ×3

Sebastian Stan ( *Anthony Mackies voice from that one clip*)

A humanoid Psilocybin mushroom

Siri your apple assistant

A very specific background character from Beastars (Smog from the doku-gumi if ya know em)

Dantdm from the Shady oaks smp

Suffa from Hilltop hoods

Taylor swift ×2

Tom and Jerry (from Tom and Jerry lol)

Marvin the magicians fannon cat

Wilford "motherlovin" Warfstache ×6

Humanoid fern

Fdc people get no bitches

The TBH/autism creature

Marvin the magician but as a anthro cat

Antisepticeye but as a mob boss

Darkiplier but as a bard from D&D (yes, I did unironically make my D&D character Darkiplier shush)

Astro boy😭 but only from the 3D movie

Pretty much every major Catholic/Christian demon

Trans fem Bingiplier ×2

Bo Burnham

Cecil palmer from welcome to Nightvale

Celine the seer ×3

One of my OCs own OC

Dave Torres

Fdc people have daddy issues

Da Devil from Da bible/ref

Sentient human liver

Fredbear but as an actual bear

GOD

Both personified heven and hell

Jack Mett from ajr

James Acaster

Jammidodger (the youtuber)

Pretty much the whole Octonaughts gang

Lixian

Markiplier but from the FNaF musical

Annddd that's all folks:D

Idk why i did this lol just know, don't be ashamed of your weird introjects they're here for a reason and they all deserve kindness<33

(Btw the fdc things are to just cus I have a strong feeling it's gonna make its way over there, so I wanna mess with em>:] don't worry about it tho yall are valid<3 )

Feel free to ask questions about any of the guys listed here and I'll do my best to answer them:]

-anti💚🗡

[thatmivy]

Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache remains my favorite Markiplier lore video

[arobarbie]

thought wlw meant wonder-lovin' woman for a sec. no idea why WAIT WAIT WAIT DOES ANYONE REMEMBER WILFORD MOTHERLOVIN WARFSTACHE I JUST DIED FOR A SECOND DOES ANYBODY REMEMEBR??? WILFORD WARFSTACHE??? MY HUSBAND WILFORD WARFSTACHE, DO YOU REMEMBER HIM??????

[obsidiancreates]

Like, Jimmy Casket was my first ever fictional crush and had such a strong impact on me that I STILL crush on bloodthirsty unhinged red-eyed murderer characters regularly. If I didn't read every single Jimmy Casket fanfic I found on Wattpad I wouldn't have discovered Darkiplier and Antisepticeye and I wouldn't have been pushed towards Mark and Jack and I wouldn't have made a TUmblr to talk about Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache and then kept using it to write Ego Fics and I wouldn't have met my Romantic Partner through those fics and wouldn't have made all the friends I have and wouldn't have realized I'm queer and wouldn't have started the Vampire RP I've been doing for LIKE 3 OR 4 YEARS NOW and my life would be totally different and it's all fucking because I had a crush on Jimmy fucking Casket-

[do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas]

Thank you @absolutely-pedestrian for tagging me <3<3<3

Rules: List 8 tv shows for your followers to get to know you!

Our Flag Means Death - my babygirl :). But in all honesty, it's a fantastic series with amazing queer rep that explores finding yourself outside of society's expectations. Both the dark comedy and heartfelt emotions and symbolism hits me hard

Star Trek: The Original Series - a show ahead of its time (but more like three steps forward, one and half step back), it's episodically exploring the future and what we can be as a species

Are You The One? - and to take a 180 degree turn, here's my favorite trash television I've ever seen. It truly lives up to its premise and has all the ridiculous situations you expect, and then some that even left me speechless. The exact kind of drama I live for

SpongeBob SquarePants - a classic. It's adorable and leaves you warm inside, with memorable episodes and quotes; there's a reason it's the most iconic cartoon in the 21st century

Everything's Gonna Be Okay - gone but never forgotten (by me). If you never heard of it, I highly suggest checking out this comedy/drama sitcom that explores family and neurodivergency, with flawed yet sympathetic characters just trying to figure out life. Because this one really takes the cake in terms of autism rep and speaks to me more, I pick this over Extraordinary Attorney Woo

Lucifer - a police procedural with a celestial twist. It's the kind of show that takes a basic premise and flips it on its head, then overtime creates a really interesting world and characters. The entire show is about free will and similarly, who you're supposed to be vs who you are

Takin Over The Asylum - yes I may be back in my Tennant era, but this was a series that genuinely surprised me. It's a comedy show that tells a surprisingly respectful story about mental illness, and the ensemble cast is one you can watch for multiple seasons, yet the masterpiece of a miniseries is so so good

Markiplier Cinematic Universe - its not on television, but this is my tag game post, so shut up ☺️. If I can try to get everyone to watch Mark's professional projects, I could; they are all unique in terms of plot and storytelling style, and you can even watch them individually and still Get the story without needing to watch it all. I just really love his stuff, okay, now go watch Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache and Damien and In Space With Markiplier and Who Killed Markiplier and -

Tagging @sherlockig @chuplayswithfire @glamaphonic @chocolatepot @xoxoemynn @gender-snatched @wearfinethingsalltoowell @f4og @primordialervoid @chronicgoth @blakbonnet @queersforpluto @anotherlegaroundyouinthebed

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 2: An Easy Offer to Refuse

((Wilford's a hard man to keep track of, especially when Abe keeps running into other passengers with their own issues.

Here's a link to Part 1: All Aboard, Full Steam Ahead and a link to the masterlist for the series.))

Spoiler alert? Why did that sound familiar? Where had he heard that before? Had he heard it before now, or…?

For some reason, seeing the phrase made Abe want to down his own drink in a single gulp, which is just what he did.

When that wasn’t enough to drown out the uneasiness building in his stomach, Abe stood and make his way back to the bar.

“Really?” Benjamin asked when the detective placed the glass down on the bar a little too hard.

“Got anything stronger?” Abe asked, and when the butler turned bartender gave him a look, he tilted his head in the direction of the chairs he just left.

Benjamin followed the gesture, his frown growing more baffled as he asked, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“It means of course I want something stronger, if I’m going to have to deal with—”

Abe’s voice caught in his throat as he looked back and found both seats empty.

“He was just—where did he go?”

“Where did who go?” Benjamin asked, only to raise his hands in defense when Abe shot him a glare.

“Wilford! Wilford ‘Motherlovin’ Warfstache, who else?”

“…Who?”

It dawned on Abe that not everyone had spent the last few…months? Years? Whatever, too long, chasing the man responsible for so many murders, a man who left identities in his wake like a terrible party clown leaving behind crying children.

“The Colonel,” Abe whispered, not eager to explain himself to the other passengers. Not that he could explain what happened back at that house, not even to himself. “He’s here, on this train!”

Abe expected shock, horror maybe at his words, not the pitying gaze before Benjamin refilled his drink.

“Abe, I think I would have noticed if the Colonel were here.”

“You didn’t know I was here until just a few minutes ago.” Abe shook his head. “And he’s not calling himself the Colonel anymore, he’s going by the name Wilford Warfstache now.”

“Oh really?” Benjamin cocked a smile, like that was even close to the most ridiculous name Wilford had used since the party.

Wingleheimer, really?

“Yes, really.” Abe snatched up the drink before Benjamin could rethink giving it to him and said, “Look, just keep an eye out and tell me immediately if you spot him, got it? If he’s running around here unsupervised, there’s no telling what might happen.”

“If I see that man, I think I would do more than that,” Benjamin answered, his voice sharp enough to make Abe do a double take. There was a glimpse of anger and something venomous in that scowl before professionalism and his neutral customer service face took over again. “But I think this is simply a case of mistaken identity, detective. Please, do try to relax on this trip. You do so look like you need it.”

Abe growled and walked away, mimicking Benjamin’s words under his breath as he plopped back down into the same chair as before, on high alert for any sign of the colorful killer. He was not about to let himself be taken by surprise by Wilford, not again.

Except the longer he waited there, the more Abe’s imagination conjured up images of what Wilford could be doing elsewhere.

The imaginary bodies were piling up and Wilford was at the helm or whatever they called the front of the train by the time Abe leapt to his feet and dropped the empty glass at the bar before charging toward the front of the lounge car.

Where he promptly collided with Harold Apless once again, sending the man staggering back into the small vestibule between cars before Abe shot out a hand and steadied him.

“Sorry about that, Haps,” Abe said.

“It’s Harold Apless,” Harold said, straightening up and dusting himself down with a frown.

“Yeah, of course. Hey, Happy, you seen anyone come through here recently? Man about yay high, black mustache going a bit pink around the edges, colorful suit that would stand out under a blacklight?”

“That…sounds like a hard to miss kind of person,” Happy said, brow creased as he considered the image. “But no, I can’t say that I’ve seen anyone like that.”

“Damn. Well, if you do see him, tell me immediately. He’s…” Abe hesitated. He didn’t want to start a panic among the passengers, but he felt a bit of a kindred spirit in Harold Apless. Maybe it was the image of a man just trying to do his job, whatever that might be, or maybe it was the resting sad face that looked too tired to be dealing with any of this, but there was something about the poor schmuck that Abe took a shine to, which is why he slid the door to the lounge car shut behind him and lowered his voice. “Look, Wilford Warfstache is a dangerous man, a wildcard that can’t be trusted. You see him, you keep your distance if you know what’s good for you. Got it?”

Happy’s hand went to his waist, to the weapon Abe knew was hiding under that long coat, and he asked, “When you say dangerous…?”

“He’s killed people.” No point in beating around the bush, after all. “I don’t know what he’s doing on this train, but I’m going to take care of him.”

“Once you can find him?”

“…He can be a hard man to find sometimes,” Abe answered.

“In his bright clothes and pink mustache.”

Abe might have suspected some sarcasm there, but Happy’s face looked just as serious as ever. Still, considering he was letting the man in on the situation, Abe figured he deserved to know a little more about the guy, which is why he asked, “What about you, what’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Happy tensed.

“I know you’re packing heat,” Abe said, gesturing toward the barely concealed holster that Happy quickly covered. “And you had to say or do something to keep it from getting locked up during the trip. Looking at the clothes, general demeanor, the haircut under that ridiculous hat of yours, and that badge sticking out of your pocket, my guess is a government agent of some kind. Sound about right?”

Happy jumped and reached for his pocket, only for his concern to turn to confusion.

“You can’t have seen my badge, it isn’t even in my pocket!”

Abe grinned. “Yeah, I kind of took a long shot and guessed on that one. Thanks for confirming though, Agent Apless.”

“Don’t…don’t call me that, please,” Happy begged, looking around as though someone might have snuck into the small space between cars without their noticing. “Look, you’re…sort of right, but I can’t go into details or explain…anything, really. I’m here on highly classified business, and if you tell anyone who or what I am, I will deny it until…Until…”

“Until the cows come home?”

Happy’s brow creased, eyes shifting one way and then the other as he tried and failed to follow that train of thought. “What do cows have to do with this?”

Abe slapped Happy’s shoulder, a friendly gesture that nearly knocked the man off of his feet.

“Don’t worry about it, your secret’s safe with me. You got your job, I got mine, and I’ll leave you to it. But if you see Warfstache or need any help, just give me the word, got it partner?”

“Partner?” Happy shook his head. “No, no, I don’t do partners.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Abe said with a knowing wink before stepping around Happy to get to the door leading back to the sleeping car. “See you around, and good luck with whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

“…Thank you?”

Happy stared after the detective before shaking his head and continuing on into the lounge car, muttering under his breath about cows.

On the other side of the set of doors, Abe stopped once again to consider the compartments to either side with the new information that these were the only ones on this train. One of them had to belong to Wilford, and while he would have loved nothing more than an excuse to snoop through each and every one, thanks to the music earlier he already knew where to start.

Abe approached the door opposite Happy’s compartment and, after trying in vain to get the right angle to see something beyond the drawn shade, pressed his ear against the wood and listened.

Silence, except for the muted vibrations of the train, and then—

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Abe turned to the man looking out of the next compartment over with a slow, dignified air that did nothing to erase the startled jump and swearing that preceded it, and answered, “What does it look like?”

The man, who clearly worked for the rich snob from earlier, frowned at him with the slightest shake of his head to announce his disapproval, which made it all the stranger when he said, “I was just coming to look for you. My employer would like to have a word with you, detective.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to have a word with him,” Abe pointed out.

“I believe you’ll find it well worth your while, if you take him up on his offer,” the other man said, and when Abe seemed less than persuaded, he added, “We’re just asking you to hear him out, that’s all.”

“Oh, so it’s an offer now, is it?”

The other man just smiled and gestured to the open door of the compartment. Abe had better things to do with his time, but curiosity was one hell of a temptress that he’d never learned to ignore.

The compartment was big, bigger than it had any right to be, and Abe might have given more thought to how the dimensions of the compartment failed to line up with the size of the train car it was in if his attention wasn’t captivated by the absolutely ostentatious decor inside the room.

Exotic furs served as both rugs and covers on the absolutely massive bed that couldn’t possibly have fit through the compartment door, and there looked to be a private bar in the corner stocked with so many bottles that it made the bar in the lounge look bare by comparison. Shelves lined the interior wall, full of ancient books, designed more to show off the wealth and culture of their owner than to actually be read, alongside displayed curiosities from around the world, such as an elegant porcelain mask on a stand or the solid-gold honeycomb that would make anyone with even a slight tendency toward trypophobia deeply uncomfortable. Hanging on the wall adjacent to Wilford’s compartment was an oil painting of a depressed looking man dressed in a red jester’s outfit slumped in a chair, his stare haunting until Abe managed to look away and focus on the man lounging on the couch opposite him.

“What do you think?” the rich man asked, seeing Abe’s eyes make a circuit around the room.

“Bit much,” Abe answered. “You don’t believe in traveling light, do you?”

“Why should I? Traveling for business is fine and dandy, but a man likes to have the comforts of home every now and then, don’t you think?”

Abe shrugged and admitted, “I wouldn’t know. Home comforts aren’t really in my wheelhouse.”

“Would you like something to drink, detective? You seem a little tense,” the rich man said, and with a snap of his fingers and a gesture from his assistant to the private bar added, “Don’t keep our guest waiting, Mack. And fix something for me while you’re at it, why don’t you?”

Abe noted the brief, blink and you’d miss it spark of irritation in Mack’s eyes even as he plastered on a fake smile that would give Benjamin’s a run for its money and said, “Of course, right away sir.”

 “Yeah, you keep calling me a detective, but I don’t recall telling you as much when we ran into each other earlier,” Abe said. He distinctly remembered being referred to as a “low class, ill-mannered lout” in fact. “Or you ever telling me who you’re supposed to be.”

“Name’s Richard M. Bags, Esquire,” the rich man answered over the sound of Mack uncorking a new bottle, although Abe suspected that “esquire” was thrown in to sound important more than to actually mean anything. As if to emphasize the point Richard added in a low voice as though imparting a secret, “The ‘M’ stands for ‘Money.’ I’m what you would call filthy, ludicrously rich, if you haven’t intuited that little fact.”

“I might have picked up on it,” Abe said, taking the glass Mack offered him and glancing at the contents with a frown as the assistant handed a second glass to Moneybags over on the couch. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Richard swirled the contents of his glass around, savoring the aroma before answering, “I have attained my vast wealth and estates through a mixture of hard, honest work and good business sense—”

Abe snorted back a laugh at that, and in his defense, Richard tilted his head and admitted, “And maybe some not so honest endeavors, although nothing that could ever be proven before a jury of my peers, even if there were many of those around. My point, detective, is that one does not reach my place in society without stepping on a few little people along the way.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this song and dance before,” Abe said, spinning his finger around to gesture for the man to hurry up and get to the point. “Let me guess, you got rich, made some enemies along the way, and now the consequences of your actions are coming back to haunt you.”

 Moneybags bristled, like most men of his kind did whenever someone suggested their situation was far from unique or even interesting, but Abe had dealt with too many similar cases to be surprised, especially not when Richard continued, “People want me dead, detective.”

Richard pulled a note from the chest pocket of his suit and held it out to Mack, who passed it to Abe for inspection as Mack explained, “This was slipped under the door after the train left the station. I looked, of course, and checked with the conductor, but we didn’t see who left it.”

Abe unfolded the note and nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship.

“Words cut out of a newspaper, nice.” Seeing the other two men’s expressions, he explained, “You just don’t see people taking the time to craft a quality threatening note these days. Obvious why some of these words are individual letters pieced together, but what are the odds of finding an article with the word ‘stupendous’ in it?”

“I’m glad you find the threat on my life amusing, detective,” Richard said, ice dripping from his tone.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Abe corrected while he reread the note again. “That would make it even a little bit interesting.”

Big Dick Moneybags,

Your stupendous greed and arrogance will be your undoing.

Enjoy your last night on the express train of life.

“Almost poetic,” Abe said. “You get many of these?”

“Threats on my life? All the time,” Richard said with a nonchalant shrug. “Like I said, enemies happen. But that was before the brake lines on six different vehicles I have been in over the last month were cut, before the stage light at the theater last night fell on the seat I was supposed to be sitting in if I had not needed to go to the restroom due to some questionable dining choices, before a rabid raccoon ‘accidentally’ got locked in the elevator with me at the hotel…”

“Before someone poisoned your drink.”

Richard froze, the glass pressed to his lips.

Abe tilted his glass this way and that, observing the powder that had failed to disintegrate in the alcohol swirling around at the bottom. “Unless you’re just in the habit of putting weird crap in your drinks. I don’t know, I’m just riff-raff that prefers a hard whiskey over whatever it is rich people drink.”

Richard lowered the glass and stared at the same off-color sediment in his drink before looking to Mack, whose face had visibly paled at the detective’s words.

“It was a new bottle, I swear sir,” Mack said, glancing over his shoulder at the offending bottle. “It—it didn’t look like it had been tampered with or I would have never…”

He gulped, trembling so hard Abe almost took pity on him.

“Not impossible to tamper with a drink and hide the evidence,” Abe said. “I’ve seen some clever stuff using syringes, or you could just pop the cork and reseal it with fresh wax. Takes a bit of planning, and unless they went through and tampered with everything you’ve got lined up over there, a bit of luck to make sure you end up opening the right one.”

Mack took both glasses carefully, as though afraid even touching the alcohol might be dangerous, and Abe added, “Of course, we can’t be sure without testing it, but if I had to guess…”

He stuck a pinky in one glass and, ignoring Mack and Richard’s horrified reactions, put it to his mouth for a taste before confirming, “Oh yeah, I know this one. I’d give somebody an hour tops after drinking that stuff.”

Abe, registering that they were still staring, said, “What? It’s not like it’s iocane powder or something,” his numb tongue only slightly slurring the words.

“What should I do with this?” Mack asked.

“Toss it, of course!” Richard rolled his eyes while Mack walked the glasses to the private bathroom, and Abe considered suggesting they keep the stuff for testing before thinking better of it. “See, detective, this is exactly why I’m looking to hire you.”

“You want to what now?”

“Clearly there is someone on this train who wants me dead,” Richard said, leaning forward as he spoke. “It took me a minute to place you after our little…unfortunate run-in earlier, but I overheard your spat with the conductor back at the station. Your list of accomplishments might not have persuaded him, but I believe you could be the solution to my little problem.”

“Your little problem being someone on this train wants you dead?”

“And I’m willing to pay you handsomely if you find and deal with them,” Richard said, and in case Abe had any false notion on what he meant by dealing with this potential assassin, “With a bonus for extreme prejudice. I don’t want this cretin getting off the train at the next station, if you catch my drift.”

Abe whistled.

“Wow, you really are a horrible judge of character if you think I’m going to get my hands dirty for you.”

“What…Are you saying no, detective?” Richard stood up from the couch, visibly shocked. “After I just told you someone is trying to kill me?”

“One, I’m a detective, not a hired thug. Two, I don’t work for rich idiots, kind of learned my lesson on that one the hard way. And three, there’s probably less than a dozen people on this train, I think you can narrow it down to the people who want you dead without my help.” Abe lowered his voice and added, “My money’s on your boy Mack, but that’s just because if I had to work for you, I might be tempted to knock you off too.”

“What?” Mack said from over by the bar, panic in his eyes.

“Just a joke, kid, kind of like this whole conversation.”

Richard was shaking with barely concealed rage, and his voice was as low and as poisonous as that drink as he said, “Get out. I should have known better than to look for help from some washed-up, drunk excuse for a detective. Get. Out!”

Abe shrugged, already on his way toward the compartment door. He’d been called worse, hell, he’d said worse stuff to his reflection in the mirror every morning back when he was trying to do the daily affirmation thing. It certainly didn’t do anything to stop him from feeling like he’d just dodged a bullet when he stepped out of the elegant to the point of suffocating compartment and back into the familiar hallway of the passenger car.

((End of part 2. Thanks for reading!

Okay, so technically "Big Dick Moneybags" is what Mark was called back on a Thankmas stream back in 2018 and not even close to an "official" ego, but I'm going to pretend like it counts. Because even if Actor Mark isn't here, he can still be with us in spirit. And be just as much of an asshole.

Link to Part 3: Dining Service.

Taglist: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard))

[abe-reporting]

[[OOC: Babygirl time ✨️]]

Finn had heard of another detective that was investigating supernatural occurrences nearby, or one big supernatural occurrence specifically. This detective was supposedly investigating a man who defied the laws of physics. A man that Finn had heard of several times in their decade-long career, one that consistently shot people and caused problems; a man named Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache.

One of Finn's anonymous sources had informed them that a detective named Abraham Jeffords had been investigating this Warfstache guy for ages, and if they wanted information on how to get this guy to stop killing innocent people, he would likely be the best source of information.

They knocked on the office door, clicking their heels on the floor absentmindedly as they waited for a response. She had worn a fairly casual outfit today, a white button-down messily tucked into a pair of Maroon slacks with a black leather belt and heeled boots that brought them up to about 6'4" when they were standing straight. Of course, Finn also had the posture of a scene-kid teenager from 2009, so standing up straight and accidentally intimidating people probably wouldn't be something they had to worry about.

Hopefully, they'd be able to get a little more information about Warfstache from the detective here... the little bit that they did know about Wilford was constantly changing; people claimed to have seen him in the 1930's, in the 1970's, in the late 2000's, in outer space, anywhere and everywhere. It was fucking weird. Maybe he was a demon or something, and Finn would need to exorcise him to get him to leave people alone. "Hello? Is Detective Jeffords there?"

- @lost-in-gardener

With his arms crossed, Abe once again finds himself staring at the vast corkboard on his wall. Different colored strings connecting various bits of evidence like some kind of crazed spiderweb in a bad LSD trip. He had to be missing something, the smallest detail, the tiniest scrap of evidence that would make all of this make sense.

And yet, he felt more and more like a goldfish in a drinking glass; endlessly going in circles with nothing new to explore. While he hears the knock on his door, Abe doesn't bother acknowledging the person right away. Figuring it was some colleague stopping by with more asinine questions he didn't have time or patience for. Then he hears the voice. It is unfamiliar, and he raises an eyebrow as he turns to look at the door. "Yeah, what is it?"

[viruspartyz]

🔒 / THIS IS A B & E

we meet at last ! ; open , accepting. ☄︎. @wrfstchc !

truthfully, you would barely call the likes of this a house; you are living in an abdandoned burger joint, at the moment - the next, you may just live somewhere else. the confines of " home " lies within a blood that was not always so neon, and a pair of eyes that were not always so bright. you have everything you need, at this gross, greasy burger joint. in fact, you were just about to hyperly stick your mangey finger into what used to be grease now turned solid like wet sugar, when a familiar face enters through the broken front door. you decide to put your, quite frankly, very important task aside just for now, as you turn on heel and make your way right over. a large tail that thumps against the floor, and two paws that come together in excitement at the sight of your dearest friend: wilford motherlovin' warfstache ! easily, spending time with a fellow party master is much preferred over any task you may have at hand. " oiiiii meu amigaurr.r...... " you say, slurring your words just as always; " you're BREAKING and freaking. Entering. Dudee........ Duuuude....... Haha. I jest. " you move your body over, and curl aforementioned tail around the other's legs, humming a party - worthy tune. perhaps chappell roan. who doesn't love chappell roan?

[luckyratty]

"Well, he did say he wanted me to be the villain. Maybe he should be more careful with his wishes."

Damien knows that once he does this he will never go back to being himself. I think Dark remembers being Damien, just as he remembers being Celine, and just like he remembers whose body hes currently in. But he is no longer any of those- hes not Damien, hes not Celine, and hes certainly not his body.

Darkiplier was probably a name originally given by Mark, but Dark has took it an made it his own just as he has every other part of his existence.

Something that i think really emphasized my point in AHWM and ISWM and colors.

What colors are Celine and Damien?

Celine is always associated with the color red and Damien with blue respectively. Taking this into consideration it allows us to see whose emotions are more in control of Darkiplier.

Think of it as: while one thinks their in control and is the face of Darkiplier- the others emotions are the one running how darkiplier behaves.

In AHWM when we see Dark he's in his Damien form and hes glowing red.

He still has a small blue hue but most of his color and glitches are red. Obviously it is Damien in control but Celines anger is front and center, if you recall, Dark is easily agitated and extremely aggressive in AHWM.

Now this is when i get into to theory territory so from here take what i say lightly, i also dont know whats been confirmed cannon or not i just theorize and ignore mark .

In ISWM I believe wholeheartedly that Ms Whitacare is Darkiplier. Now i KNOW that sounds crazy i KNOW. But listen. What do we know about Darkiplier and the "timeline"!

Darkiplier can change his shape

that there is a point in time in which Damien is not awake or even aware of the fact that he is trapped by Celine in the Darkiplier entity

Damien being trapped is happening simultaneously to Wilford motherlovin warfstache

What do we know for certain about ISWM?

It takes place simultaneously as Wilford motherlovin warfstache

That is why darkiplier as DAMIEN is not in ISWM, however, Celine as Darkiplier IS.

Take a look at ms Whitacure, what do you notice about her?

She is basking in a blue light, and whose color is blues? DAMIENS!!!'

And her outfit? Whose does it look likes?

CELINES.

Now if theres one thing for certain about Celine is that she is easy to anger, throughout the series she is constantly snapping and people. So why would she be so kind in ISWM? Because Damien, the kind and soft hearted Damiens, emotions have taken the wheel. She may be in control but her actions are lead by Damien.

She is constantly trying to get us on the right path, when we fuck up our ending whose there to comfort us? Ms Whitacare. Celine is in complete control of Darkiplier and so she CHOOSES to look like herself, she chooses to interfere, she chooses to help us because its what her brother would do.

"Like an old friend use to say.. life is for the living."

Why doesn't Mark react to her? Because he has no idea about the Darkiplier entity yet, he doesnt know he COULD have a villain, why do you think he snaps at us at the end of ISWM? Because at this point in time we're the only thing he can think of for a villain. But once he sees Ms Whitacare, once he knows. Then he tries to get Damien, because he cant- WONT- fight Celine, but he'll relish in fighting her brother.

That is why i call darkiplier and "entity" and not a person, because Darkiplier is not Damien or Celine, he is a mix of the two and can separate himself from what they once were. He is an entity with his own volition, he is Darkiplier.

All the gaps in the Markiplier Cinematic Universe™ do make me wonder

Does Darkiplier still view himself as Damien? Or did he want to move on and leave that identity in the past?

Did he name himself Darkiplier, or was it Actor so he could have a named villain? Or is it the case that "Darkiplier" as a concept is an opposition to actual Mark himself (being selfish, conceited, etc.) and that in reality, it's Actor? What does that make what Damien ended up being?

What do you think?

[euclydya]

part 3 of these questions under the cut

21. How many System members do you have? - uhhhhhhh

A Lot .

22. Which word / words do you prefer to use for members of your System? - starmate or sysmate! though we have a few that do prefer people use alter or part for them specifically!

23. Which age group seems to be the most common in your System? - adults around the mid 20s or ageless/immortal folk it looks like?

24. Which gender seems to be the most common in your System? - "No" HSSJSJDJDKDKDJFX (we don't... keep track of genders and everyone's default gender when they form is some form of genderqueer/agender it looks like? idk)

25. Are there any talents / hobbies you picked up because of a Member? - Yes, bracelet making! We've gotten very good at it too I think!

26. Do you have any in-system relationships? - Oh yes, plenty! If a group of sysmates form close together it's likely sysmates in those groups will end up together for example.

27. Do you label roles within your System (and if yes, which ones?) - Yes, any roles tbh! We go out of our way to label them I think cuz we find it fun to learn that information about ourselves (and also because if we don't it'll Bother Us.)

28. Are most of your Members introjected, brainmade or something else? - Primarily introjected but we have some brainmade guys around!

29. Do you use names, emojis or something similar to sign off messages (and if yes, which ones and why?) - Yes... Let's see. This'll be long.

¿ - Will; he's? very eclectic and strange, a question mark made since for "him"

🖤 - Jash/Jilly; felt right to match with Heart, Mind, and Soul!

🧡 - Whole/Harmonia; same as Jash!

☯︎ - Memento and Mori; self explanatory I think. They balance each other out.

❤️, 💙, 💜 - Soul, Mind & Cira, Heart; red, blue, and purple respectively. The circle emojis were taken.

❤️‍🔥 - Chonny; he's a Jashling based off the song The Forest For The Trees, fire made sense here.

🌌 - Cosm; "the form -cosm comes from Greek kósmos, meaning ‘order, good order, government, world order, the universe.’" He ditched the name Google shortly after he formed and took on the name Cosm... He says space just felt right tbh

🌷✂️ - Tulip/Glitchy; the tulip is self explanatory. The scissors emoji is because the knife emoji was taken I think!

🍷 - Wilford; he was a pretentious asshat when he formed lmao. The first Wilford video we watched was Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache and that cemented him as a Guy Who Enjoys Drinking in our mind.

💀 - Harrow; she's a necromancer. Self explanatory.

🔷 - Diamonds; self explanatory.

🟪 - Spades; Not a lotta purple emojis left tbh!

🔴, 🔵, 🟣 - Electrochem, Drama, Concept, Encyclo, Inland, Volition; Skill halos! These guys yoinked the circle emojis for themselves.

🕶️ - Gideon; self explanatory again. She's never seen without sunglasses.

🥀🗝️ - Dark; the rose represents Celine and the key represents Damien.

🌹 - Actor; Dark stole the other rose emoji!

🔫 - Chase; uses a nerf gun in source.

💉 - Henrik; doctor in source.... Kind of.

🧑‍🚀 - Ciel, that's me! I was head engineer on a spaceship in my source! PK is weird about the rocket emoji so I went with the astronaut emoji instead!

30. Do any of your System members use Xenogenders? - yes indeedy! We have a whole hoard blog on here but it's inactive sjdjsjsjdnxs it is @essespirals !

-Ciel