Applegrass

Oh my god yeah and from that point cc is kind of like draped in blankets all the time so he doesn’t singe any of the furniture or wooden tables etc so like you’ll just kind of hear him mumbling from the next room and you’ll just hear the swishing of the blankets as he makes his way about the house

Awwwww.

“Dude, CC, why are you wearing a blanket? You’re like a million degrees.”“Bing. Two things. First, don’t call me CC. Second, shut up.”

The Characterization of Damien

So a lot of people seem to be interpreting DAMIEN as a redemption of sorts for Dark. I don’t agree with this. I think this addition to the story is a way of making Darkiplier more of what he already was: a sympathetic villain.

Dark’s motivation comes from a just source: he wants to avenge the people he lost and take down this evil, manipulative bastard that is roaming around in his body, who stole everything from him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t use just means to go after him. Dark is more than willing to brun everything in his path to the ground as long as Mark dies; he’ll fight fire with fire, manipulating, torturing, and destroying absolutely everything and everyone to get to Mark, with no regard for the consequences. Somewhere along the way, that just motivation became a blind rage, and he stepped into the role that Mark put in front of him, the role of the villain, with too much zeal and enthusiasm. He fully embraced the darkness around him because he saw nothing but the power it would give him, and not the corruption that would overtake him. 

In this way, he shares a fatal flaw with his twin: he has a completely one-track mind. This isn’t even totally surprising; wasn’t his one ambition to make the city he presided over greater than any other? Wasn’t his one goal at the party to make sure that justice was served and the past was put behind us? Damien is very good at strategy in that he can get what he wants with ruthless efficiency, but he cannot see the consequences of his actions, and that, ultimately, is where Dark’s vilainy comes from. Dark would be a good guy if his actions didn’t cause destruction wherever he went, in a dark shadow of Actor Mark’s actions.

Just a Game. (A WKM Oneshot)

1:00 am. The Colonel hadn't had this much fun in ages. The night seemed to be passing in a multi-color blur, with lots of games and a bit too much drink. He could barely breathe for laughing as he stumbled into his seat at the bar, watching the butler and Mr. Lincoln help Damien to right himself, and doubling up again as he stumbled into the now empty keg beside him, grinning wildly and chuckling with the rest of them. "How he's still doing that, at his age," Mark laughed as he slumped into the seat beside him, "I'll never know. Damien's a tough old lad." William huffed and turned slightly away, making Mark sigh heavily. "Colonel-" "William." "But I've always-" "You lost that right years ago." Mark frowned and looked down at the floor. "Will. I know we didn't part on the best of terms...There was a lot of bad blood between us." "Yes," Will replied shortly, wanting Mark to get to the point. Mark shuffled, and after a pause, continued. "What do you say we put this quarrel to rest, eh?" He narrowed his eyes at the grinning actor. "How do you suggest we do that?" "A game. Just a game." He spread his arms wide and offered what he probably thought was a winning smile. To the Colonel it looked like a shit-eating grin. "Something that'll give us an opportunity for revenge, and a sure-fire way of knowing what fate wants from us." He seemed to laugh at his own private joke.

1:20am The wine cellar was cooler than the rest of the house, exposed stone walls making it feel more like a cave than a room in a lavish mansion. William had never liked the cold, and liked it less now, sharing it with the one person he'd give anything to be rid of. Mark pulled a bottle off the wall and offered it to the Colonel, handing it to him with a small smile. "1982. Good year for wine." The Colonel didn't move to take it from him. "Then you drink it." "I would," Mark sighed, "but you know I can't. Not good for my health, you know." He knew, of course. He'd still rather Mark drink it than him. Mark put the bottle back down on the shelf and put his hands in the pockets of his robe "What about this game you proposed?" The Colonel frowned, leaning against the wall, hoping he appeared casual. "Ah, yes," Mark smiled again, and then he did something rather unexpected. He pointed to the silver revolver tucked into William's belt. William's hand went to it immediately, and Mark shook his head. "Im not suggesting we duel, if that's what  you're thinking. I'm unarmed." He said it as if it meant "harmless". "I was going to suggest a bit of Russian Roulette. You've always loved that one." "Bullshit. As if I'm going to let you point my own gun at me, after all this time, after Celine-" "William! Please." Mark took a step toward him, but made no move to take the gun. Instead he seemed to be pleading, one hand stretched toward him as if he'd like to comfort him, but a look from him stopped his advance. "I'm tired of all this fighting. I'm tired of having to go through Damien to talk to you, and as for Celine...I..." He shook his head slightly. "She's made her own choices. I never had any control over what she did, and yes, it hurt. It hurt like hell, but...Will, I just want my brother back." Dear god, did he actually have tears in his eyes? Maybe it was the drink, maybe it was the fact that he was home again, after so long, maybe it was just pure stupidity, but William pulled the gun from his belt slowly, and nodded. "One round. If I shoot you, it's your own fault." "Yes. Yes, of course," Mark grinned widely. "I can't blame you."

1:25am Mark watched the Colonel load just one chamber of the gun, looking as if he wanted to help when his liquor-loosened grip nearly dropped the bullet on the floor, but letting him have this. William handed him the revolver, and watched him spin it. This wasn't a good idea. This was dangerous. This was mad. But life needs a bit of madness, doesn't it? That's what he kept telling himself. Mark aimed carefully, and suddenly William was staring down the barrel of his own gun, and he wasn't going to get to say goodbye to Damien, he'd never see Celine again, and what would Mark say, how would he explain-? Click. William barely flinched, but raised an eyebrow at his grinning gunman. "See? Looks like fate's on your side, eh, old friend?" He handed the gun back over. "Your turn." "Mark...I can't..." "I trust you." Mark stepped out to switch places with him, and suddenly he was pointing a gun directly at Mark's chest. How had the other man kept it steady? The room was fairly spinning, and the gun was awkward in his hand, and the trigger was too thin, too fiddly. "Go on, then. Take your shot. Fair is fair, after all." "This is ridiculous." "Of course it is! But why not live a little? Life's-" "For the living. Yes, but..." "I took my shot at you, for stealing my...for...for Celine's choice. And for leaving us for Africa, and for the fight we never finished. And it's your turn now. I know I've not been the best friend to you. I know you blame me for Celine's leaving, and for...for what happened over there." "That was an accident." The words were harsh,  but Mark nodded calmly. "I know, Will, I know. I don't blame you. I never did. You're still my friend, even after all this time. I know that's hard to believe, but...Please. Colonel. Let me absolve my sins, won't you? Just one shot. Just a quick click, and we can put this all behind us. Wouldn't you like that?" He would. He so very much would. He wanted so badly to come home, he wanted the boy who'd taken him in and become his family to come back to him, and let him back in. And just one click...one harmless little click...he could have it all, all over again. Why shouldn't he trust him? After all, like he said, it was Celine's own choice. Perhaps her leaving had set him back on the straight and narrow. Perhaps he really was sorry, really saw how much he'd hurt them, how much he'd hurt him. But even as he pulled the gun back up to aim, something felt wrong, and the glint in Mark's eyes was off, something wasn't right, but he had to be wrong, didn't he? Couldn't he trust his friend? Just a quick click, nothing wrong with that...

Click. BANG.

1:30am It was like watching a ragdoll fall. And the blood matched the crimson night robe. And the stain was slow to spread, and the wine bottle had fallen and shattered and added to the stain, and he couldn't move. "It...it was an accident...Mark, it was an accident, I-I didn't...I wouldn't...I swear, Mark...?" Mark's eyes were still open, glassy, and his face expressionless. his legs and arms were twisted at impossible angles. "It was an accident, I s-swear..." The stain was spreading, and someone upstairs, probably Damien, laughed raucously over some joke William had missed. Someone upstairs...someone was going to see. Someone was going to ask questions. William stumbled up the stairs and slammed the door shut behind him, shambling back into the billiard room. He grunted as the detective put his arm around him, slapped him away, but the detective took it as a threat. Soon they were fighting, and Damien was pulling at the Colonel as the District Attorney was pulling at Mr. Lincoln. Then William was shoving Damien away from him, and he was almost running to his room. He collapsed into bed, watching the ceiling spin above him. Maybe it hadn't been real. Maybe it'd been a dream. He heard people coming up the stairs, thought he heard Damien say something, and the DA reply, laughing but grunting as if in pain. Damien. Dear god, what would Damien think? What would he say? He'd blame him, he'd push him away, he'd lose everything he had left... But...no. No, Damien would understand. He'd explain everything, and Damien, good man, smart man, would understand. He'd take his side, and the DA, of course they'd defend him. They wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, they hadn't last time. They'd never betray him, would they? No, of course not... His last thought as the alcohol in his system dragged him into unconsciousness was that he couldn't be blamed. It was an accident, of course. Just a game.

IT’S SHOWTIIIIIIIME

So! What we’ve got here is a basic teaser trailer, but there’s so much more to it than that!

Let’s start with sounds. That right there? Air raid siren, typically used in high security situations or widescale emergency alert systems. For the sake of my sanity, we’re gonna guess that it’s high security here. This museum has top of the line alerts, not just the bells and secret alarms of a normal place. Why is that? What’s it guarding?

That brings us to point number two! The lights. Clearly, we’re seeing down the end of a hallway, slowly lit up as if triggered by the sirens, but that’s a strange way to have your electronics set up. Why not have the lights trigger the alarm? That’d make more sense if it’s somewhere with secure access: you have to turn on the lights the right way or the sirens cut on and you’re busted. It’s weird to me. Someone got a good idea as to why it’s backwards?

And finally! THE PICTURE. That very much looks like Actor Mark. But why? Who would go to all the trouble to steal a picture of some long-dead actor? Who would bother? Even if he’s still “alive”, why would you want his picture that badly? And more importantly, why is it under such high security? Who put it under lock and key?

There’s a lot going on here and I’m HOOKED. It’s been a minute since I’ve had something this interesting to theorize over. I’m excited to see what this brings. :)

It’s not about me. It’s about you.

i-

i feel obligated to point out that destiel has only reached 100k fics on ao3 if you're logged into an account....

PLUS the 'favourite tag' option is only there if you're logged in

are you all seeing this???? heller king misha has an ao3 account y'all i bet he wrote the 100 000th fic

Do You Trust Me? Epilogue.

“And I will see all you dudes...IN THE NEXT VIDEO!”

You laughed as the outro music started playing, dropping your arms and rubbing your throat. How does Jack do that every day? God, his vocal cords must hate him. Flicking through the comments, it made you grin to see so many people chatting about the game, a few people yelling the catchphrases. There were even a few good puns this time, that was nice. You were staying for the outro clip again, lately having gotten into the habit of staying just a little longer, out of some slightly silly hope. You commented on every video now, sliding subtle references to your adventures into every one, hoping that Jack would see it. Even if you knew you couldn’t reply, it was nice to think that Jack was in his room, seeing your words in the code and thinking of you fondly. “That was another good one, Jack. Though I must say, that shark’s getting the better of you. Your raft’s gonna need to step it up, man,” you rambled absently as you flicked to another tab to finish a fanfic you were writing. After all, that adventure was too good not to be told, wasn’t it? And you thought it might entertain Jack to see it written up. You wondered if he’d show Mark.

“Really now? Three stories of raft isn’t good enough for you?! It’s fantastic!”

You flicked back to the video so fast you almost closed it out by mistake. “Jack?” He grinned in surprise, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “Hey!” You couldn’t help but smile back.

Hm so see with corroded crank (sorry he’s my favourite right now haha) do you think that because he’s kinda of like a robot kind of like a virus, he’s always be super warm? Like you know how machinery over heats n stuff and like he’s a furnace and it bugs dark to no end because dark is so cold cause he’s technically dead?

Omg yes.

like imagine CC getting really annoyed about something and overheating, and Dark goes to put his hand on his shoulder and just starts streaming out curses and expletives and all that, shaking his burned hand while Wilf and the others howl with laughter.

Ohhhh FUCK I was NOT ready for that “01″ at the start of the timer today.

“I would gladly read fanfiction of this exact scenario.”

Damn, Mark, you beat us fanfic writers to the punch. And you did it better (AND MORE PAINFULLY) than we would have.

Who Killed Markiplier: Mini Update

Lots of people are throwing around the idea of Damien being Dark, and of the Colonel being Wilford. And other people are saying that Who Killed Markiplier could be an origin story for the Egos. Lemme just say, I would love for this to be true. I would love for Mark to have concocted some elaborate backstory for his sides.But I think it’s highly unlikely. I really don’t think the Egos are involved at all (The Jims excepted, of course.)

However, I still love the thought. I would gladly read fanfic of this exact scenario.

New. (A Regeneration fic)

Pairing: Ten/Rose

Rating: G

Light. Blinding, painful light. Burning through every part of him, he can feel it. In his hands, his face, his body, a burning. He's shrinking, stretching, compressing, every proportion changing, and burning.But he's seen it all, done it all before. He's old, impossibly old. But he's also new, untested, young. He's seen everything and nothing, knows everything and nothing, met a million people and not even one.Suddenly, the light is over, and he stumbles, adjusting quickly to a new body. Difficult to move, to balance. He pulls air into new lungs, his first breath. New eyes search across the room, taking in the familiar unfamiliar place all over again. But something's different this time.

There's a girl, small and blond, in a pink jacket, staring at him with wide hazel eyes. She's frightened, and shocked, and tired...and the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. She's his Rose, and he died for her, he remembers suddenly. He died to save her because...This mind acknowledges the feeling, at least to itself. That's different...He likes it. Anyway...he cares about her. He cares so much about her, and she's alright. Good. Job well done then.

Wait, wait, wait, he was in the middle of something. What was he doing?

He was saying something. They were going to go somewhere. OH! But he ought to introduce himself again, as he's changed, even if he doesn't quite know who "himself" is yet. He could be anyone now. What what he like? All he knows  right now is the Rose, Rose Tyler, is so important, and he ought to introduce himself.What if she doesn't like him anymore? The thought occurs to him suddenly. He's changed. What if she hates him now?

What is that little feeling? In the pit of his stomach? Is he...nervous? That's different. Nervous. Alright.

Say something! Alright.

"Hello. Alright-oh."He feels around his new mouth. It felt awkward, less room."New teeth, that's weird. Anyway, where were we?"

Dogs. No noses. The planet, not the city.

"Oh yes!"

His first grin with this face, and it's for her, all wide and cheeky, teeth and tongue. He hopes she likes it.

"Barcelona!"