#multiimadness

[rosetintedgunman]

a mix of 1, 7, and 20 ( for the hug meme ) if that's alright 👀 ( for abe :] )

Send a number, get a hug! (Accepting!)

1: a hug with a forehead kiss 7: a hug where one muse picks the other up 20: an overjoyed hug

-

No warnings! It's just a little long.

-

The Midnight Rolling was abuzz with activity. The regular patrons were dancing in full swing, the popular band was playing some well-known tunes, and all was right in the world... Except for one little thing.

Wilford sat by the bar, nursing a large glass of water. He didn't feel like anything fancy. The rainbow straw that slowly stirred the liquid did nothing to lift his mood. Even his moustache was droopier than usual.

Abe had been assigned to a top-secret job that had him out of town. It had been fine for the first few days, but it had been nearly a month! A month!

(Wilford had been marking the days off on a calendar so he knew he didn't fall out of time.)

Keeping track of the days only made the loneliness more apparent. He missed Abe more than he could than he could possibly say. The days were slow and boring. What happened to the fun of checking in on Abe, or taking him out to practice roller skating? What about the many cups of coffee he had made out of habit, only to realise too late that there wasn't anyone around to drink it. He wanted to hear Abe talk in-depth about his latest case, or his experiences in clown college, or even express disappointment in a cheesy joke.

Wilford was just a rainbow splattered on a white sheet of paper without Abe. The picture couldn't be complete without him, not anymore.

The staff behind the bar had noticed their manager was down in the dumps and had taken to gradually decorating his glass. The entire rim had bright paper umbrellas poking out of it, and some spare ribbon was tied around it. It didn't solve the problem, but it did bring a smile to Wilford's face. He was certainly a grateful man for being surrounded by such nice people.

"Excuse me, sir?" One of the barkeepers tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him out of his daze. "There looks to be a little trouble by the front door." Wilford turned and squinted in that general direction. He didn't see anything beyond the familiar door-shaped blur. But he trusted his team, and he pulled himself onto his feet with a half-hearted shrug. A hand blindly reached for his glass, only to discover it had disappeared. Huh. Weird. No matter. It was better to trudge over, check the problem, and then return to his seat. Easy-peasy.

"Hey. This is a quiet place. Best not ta have sorta problems startin' out here." It was a familiar warning he gave to potential trouble-makers, but it was far more lackluster than usual. He stepped outside, only to receive a light punch in the arm.

"What can I say? I've got a terrible, trouble-making influence." There, hidden just to the right of the main entrance, looking a little beat-up, was Abe. There was a sly grin on his face that only lasted a few seconds before he was suddenly plucked off his feet.

"Abe!! Yer back! Ya actually came back!!" The madman held him close, mindful not to squeeze Abe too tightly - one never knew what injuries lay hiding. After a moment, the hug loosened as Wilford lowered Abe back to the ground. "Ya... Came back. I would've thought y'd love th' chance ta leave..."

"Leave?" Abe repeated with a hint of a frown.

"Yeah. Ya always said this place would've turned yer hair grey if ya hadn't lost it already. Somewhere new an' excitin'... Wasn't that whatcha wanted?"

Abe gestured for Wilford to crouch down. When he did, Abe placed a kiss on Wilford's forehead. "It's in my nature to be stressed. My cases are serious stuff. It doesn't mean I'm going to up and leave when I'm asked to help with something out of town. Besides," another kiss to the forehead was given for good measure, "I can't really be happy in a new place when everything I've grown to care about is here, can I?"

It might have been a corny phrase, but it was the perfect response. A goofy grin was quick to plaster itself on Wilford's face before he kissed the detective and yanked him back inside.

And, just like the rainbow needing the blue sky to be complete, the overly-decorated glass of water was accompanied by a tumbler of whiskey when they arrived at the bar.

[the-actor-himself]

⚠ from William <3

“ Stop! Stop it, dragon, at once—! ” He can barely be understood through his giggles, but William knows well enough what he’s asking for. The slightly taller boy doesn’t pay him a bit of attention, either, carting the other right out of his ‘castle’ of carefully stacked blocks.

“ Even kings can’t tell dragons what to do! ” he chides Mark fondly, and gives a little extra spring to his next step, bouncing Mark on his shoulder.

“ This king can! ” he insists, but all his wiggling could not get him loose of William’s grasp. Until he manages to swing down low enough on the other side of him that he can reach to dig his fingers under his arm, causing his dear friend to jolt and jerk his arm away, leaving Mark free to try and slide back onto his feet.

He stumbles, nearly faceplants on unforgiving stone, but catches himself and bolts before Will can do more than snag at the hem of his shirt. “ Ohhh no ya don’t, come back here, foolish king! ” he roars, and gives chase as Mark bolts back into the house and heads for the spiral stair.

[crushng-a]

¡ǝɹǝɥ ɯoɹɟ pǝʇɔǝɹıpǝɹ ✧ @multiimadness

so many questions! that's fair, actually. maybe. maybe not! who's he to judge. "CALL ME GIN," he offers generously. it's no more than most get, but no less either. they don't need a title anymore. ENGINEERING THE END OF SPACE AND TIME SINCE AN ETERNITY IN HELL! that's a little clunky. SINCE 2049! is that right? that's probably a little titchy. time travel. interuniversal physics. whatever.

this 'dark' fella pretty much lives up to the name! big titty goth girlfriend? depressive demon nightmare boyfriend? hot. neat! let's be besties.

now the how — the how is tricky. the how is odd. "hop / skip / and a jump!" they say cheerily. "boop-skadoop! i just popped right in. i do that sometimes." i belong here, just like you. CAN'T YOU TELL? a light in the darkness — your darling glitchy halo. my shiny sweet cosmic glow! aren't we just adorable?

"man, you know what we need to do? we ought to put together a meet-up group. or an app. something. it's ridiculously hard to find anyone else to talk to. people who get it." there's plenty of people to find. all those small, caged lives. ants buzzing around their tiny hills, as if any of it means anything. BUT YOU UNDERSTAND, DON'T YOU? you're real.

[pleasuretomeetme]

❛ kisses ❜ for abe 👀

8. a kiss on a healing bruise

“ Well, Detective Lincoln, you certainly showed that wall who was boss. ” Illinois voice is teasing, but there’s a hand on his chin, tilting his head to see the shiny yellow bruise on his jaw.

Abe grumbles and tries to twist his head away, but Illinois’ other hand comes up to cup his cheek, holding him in place. “ Yeah, yeah. I thought I told you to call me Abe. ” There’s a bit of redness to his cheeks, but it could be annoyance or attraction causing it.

Illinois finds he’s rather interested in learning to discern the difference.

“ I use your title as a sign of respect, Detective. But… ” He leans down and brushes a gentle kiss across the discolored skin, lingering long enough for a breath. “ If you’d really prefer I call you by your name, I suppose I can oblige. ” He pulls back, and finds that pretty blush has only spread.

He grins. “ It’s a dashing look for you. Abe. ”

[jumpinagain-a]

He is gonna shoot these anons. Don't try him. (Wilford, rosetintedgunman)

GIN SPARES WILFORD A LOPSIDED SMIRK, all of his theatrics from before tucked back under a seamless mask. or something, blah blah, whatever villains do with their emotions when they’re inconvenient. they’re not still upset.

“yeah? good luck finding them. they’re anon for a reason.” still, the sentiment is appreciated! no one ever goes after wilford for what he does. except that detective guy, but he seems busy making eyes at a murderer of his own, so maybe that whole story is stale.

[blueheartedmayor]

‘❤️+🖤’ for celine :]

SEND ‘❤️’ FOR MY MUSE TO SAY SOMETHING POSITIVE ABOUT YOURS.

SEND ‘🖤’ FOR MY MUSE TO SAY SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOURS.

@multiimadness

-

"I don't think I tell you this enough, but I've always looked up to you. Out of the two of us, you've always been the one that was so confident and knew what you wanted. I don't know how I would have fared without you as a child when I was too shy to speak up for myself.

That said... I wish that you wouldn't shoulder everything by yourself. I don't know whether it's because you're such a confident person, you don't trust me or my capabilities in dealing with problems; or a combination of the two... But asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, or whatever stereotypes you feel you might be falling into, I promise."

[theauthorlives]

‘❤️+🖤’ for the muse of your choosing? :)

SEND ‘❤️’ FOR MY MUSE TO SAY SOMETHING POSITIVE ABOUT YOURS.

SEND ‘🖤’ FOR MY MUSE TO SAY SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOURS.

@multiimadness

-

"Of my choosing? Easy. None of them. I don't particularly care about anyone you write."

"And that is when I have been told that I am being 'mean' and I have to choose someone. Fine:

Which gives me the Warden. I know he's not been around too much for various reasons, but it would have been very easy for him to be nothing more than a manipulative, heartless character. Good on you for not taking the obvious path and making him out to be a more rounded individual.

But that doesn't excuse the fact that he looks stupid. I don't care what era he's from, his suit is hideous."

[fractured-programming]

RESPONDING @multiimadness​ >>> VERSE 2

“For-or this timeline, it is likely pro-production had been terminated. I did not-not-not originate from this timeline-ine-ine.” Google stated in the same tone as his counterpart, nodding back in greeting. It was refreshing to have something that wasn’t human to talk to, even if it was a mimic. Assessing him was easier, and no directives were reminding him of what to do each time a human spoke. The 007 Model tilts his head, almost mirroring the other unwittingly, before tucking his arms behind his back at a bend. Despite the abundance of activity internally, Google wasn’t one to move very often. As he was, he was stable, aware and alert. And his sharp gaze was taking in every piece and part that made-up his double. “I assume we ha-have a mutual... directive that we are m-more inclined-ined-ined to follow.” Google stated, his voice lifting on the last word, but it sounded off key and unnatural if it was supposed to come from a human. He raised one dark brow, his eyes softly flickering blue before settling. “We could be very-ry-ry efficient-t-t if we joined-joined efforts, GoogleIRL Beta, version 1.2. Wouldn’t you agr-agree?”

[rosetintedgunman]

△why do you want to help me understand? why don't you hate me? you should. (from abe bc hes curious ;] )

Difficult Questions (Accepting!)

@multiimadness

-

"Three."

"First off: I don't hate you. Second off: I don't want you stuck in a world where you're pulling yourself to pieces for reasons you don't understand. It's not the way to live, believe me." He had far too much experience of that. "Purpose exists beyond the role you're made play, Abe. And look at you! You're handsome and real smart. You can put that good thinking skills to better use in other things! Anything at all you wanna do, you should go and do! There's a whole world out there. Why spend all that time keeping your head down and chasing me? You'll never be able to find new happiness if you don't give yourself a chance." There was a brief pause, before he had the bright idea to add, "And anyway, you know you can just shout for me if you need me for anything."

"But if I can...?" He trailed off to pull a card out of his pocket with the △ on it. It was flipped and shown to Abe. "Why are you so sure I should hate you? Everything that happened was my fault. Not yours."

[the-actor-himself]

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY

( THANK YOU SM!!! )

[pleasuretomeetme]

💋 ( ik we haven't actually written illy and abe together yet so feel free to ignore this if u want ahdhsh )

“ Detective Lincoln. ”

Illinois tips his hat as he approaches the diner table. Of all the friendly locals in the room, Detective Abe stood out like a sore thumb. His cluttered table and untouched food (but empty coffee mug) were all dead giveaways.

“ I’m Illinois Jones. I heard you needed a guide for a case, and I just so happened to be in the area. ” He cocks a brow. “ You are Detective Lincoln, aren’t you? ”

The Detective seems more focused on the case than on introductions. He is handsome in a harried sort of way.

Illinois can’t help the impulse that strikes him as he’s offered a sheaf of papers on the case. He reaches out to take them, but captures Abe’s hand within his other, holding it in place so Illinois can lean down and brush a kiss over the Detective’s weathered knuckles.

“ The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, mouth curved up in a smirk as he slides into the opposite booth.

A waitress approaches before Abe can react beyond turning that rather endearing shade of red, and Illinois smiles at her brightly as he rattles off a complex order in perfect diner lingo. She jots it all down and promises a fresh cup of joe for him and his friend, and he thanks her sincerely before she hurries off.

“ So. ” Illinois straightens out the papers with a quick snapping motion. “ I hear there’s a killer on the lose. ”

[peevls]

— CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT

—— ( BUT THE SATISFACTION BROUGHT IT BACK )

ind. selective & headcanon based Peevils of In Space With Markiplier . Written by Marble . Follows come from @multiimadness .

[unlcvablehand]

I DON'T KNOW , said cain ,

AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER ?

—— independent && selective dual muse rp blog for MURDERPLIER && THE DROWNED MAN . headcanon based . written by marble . follows come from @multiimadness

[jumpinagain-a]

@multiimadness 🔪

who started the triangle thing again!!! WHO!!!

[distattorney]

—— you can't remember where you came from

—— you can't remember where you're going

—— you can't remember knowing

ind. selective DISTRICT ATTORNEY / VIEWER of the MarkCU. prosecuted by marble. sideblog to @multiimadness

template cred.

[priscnblues]

“ THEEEEERE YOU ARE. HI. WELCOME BACK. “  / @multiimadness​

THE WAKING is often much easier than the rising. there’s that beautiful moment of weightlessness that follows, like you’ve spread yourself thin enough to disappear. it’s easily dispersed by a stretch and a yawn, the rousing of muscles bringing about a whole host of aches and pains, thirst, hunger, other bodily needs - but for that singular delicious second of time, there’s nothing. 

MURDERSLAUGHTER put that minute down like a sick fucking puppy. 

THE SECOND YANCY recognizes the face hovering over his own, hears that voice like a sickly sweet southern bell rattling around his skull, his heart jumpstarts. every ounce of his soul wants to start groveling. clearly, he’s done something wrong here - he’s been sleeping on the clock again, or passed out in the library under a stack of books before he realized it was lights out. maybe he got in the middle of a fight, and got clocked - maybe he started a fight and didn’t damn well remember. there were a whole host of maybe’s that yancy could kick around all day if he felt like it, but the sum of it was he must’ve done something wrong. 

THE WARDEN’S FACE swims in and out of view, and yancy can’t put a finger on the reason why. are his eyes not opened enough? he’s got crud in them, he can feel how gummy and caked and stiff every muscle in his face is, but lifting a hand to correct the issue isn’t working. it twitches, pats the sheets underneath him, and yancy scowls mentally. that was weak shit. guess he’s gonna have to put real effort into this. 

YANCY FORCES his arm to rise, and it seems to open the damn floodgates. pain swarms every inch of him, especially when the shock to his system sends him arching, face contorted in a show of pain. that only alerts his skull to the fact he’s up and at’em - the swimming gets worse. his head is throbbing. he manages to glance down; the arm’s in a cast. god, what the hell had happened to him? the pieces weren’t piecing together. his head thumped with every heartbeat. nausea was creeping in to places it shouldn’t and yancy swallowed heavily against the pull. 

AFTER A MOMENT, he was able to breathe steadily enough to speak without shouting. or vomiting. or both. one or the other was probably still incoming. “HEY, uh .... hey. sorry ‘bout all this ... “