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WHAT IN THIS GODFORSAKEN WORLD COULD POSSIBLY BE ANY CREEPIER THAN SEEING FUCKING DARKIPLIER DOING THAT AS HE WALKS TOWARD YOU IN A DARK HALLWAY LIKE

WHAT THE FUCK

Important Question That Needs Answering:

Can the Markiplier Egos do The Foot Thing™

I’d add my theories to this but frankly...

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

oh fuck.

Oh damn, I can’t find my other profile picture for this blog. :/ That’s annoying.

Is that a light? Oh, I can barely see anymore, but it seems to me that the darkness has actually receded. Perhaps something shifted, and it’s day, out there. Perhaps it’s sunlight. That would be nice.

The bugs don’t bother me anymore, which is good news, I suppose. Bad news for my nerves, as even though I can’t feel the bugs anymore, I can’t feel anything else either. But I suppose that’s fine. I’m more comfortable now.

It was worse the first day. The pain from the fall, the broken limbs, the raw throat from screaming. It was unbearable down here, in the dark, and the heat, with the fear. That’s another thing. The fear, the constant, aching fear of the dark and the bugs, and the overarching fear of not being found in time...it’s gone. And I can almost be happy here, in my last moments, I suppose. Once the pain stopped, and the fear, I looked around, for once. The rock is gorgeous, down here, so textured and streaked through with lovely greys and blacks and the occasional reddish brown, if you squinted through the shadow enough. The birds singing overhead were nice while I could hear them, a constant melody from early morning to late evening, sunrise to sunset concerts that I’m glad I was here to appreciate. I can see why the ancient ancestors of humanity wrote endless volumes of poetry dedicated to the beauty of the natural world. It’s very hard for us to slow down long enough to appreciate it. I suppose I’ve slowed to a stop, now. Or...I will, soon enough.

You will, too, soon. I know all of this sounds impossible to you now. Or would, if you could hear me over that silly screaming. Even with my own hearing fading, you’re still awfully loud, friend. I do wish you’d stop and listen. I don’t suppose I thanked you for coming to look for me, yet, did I? Thank you. I would’ve thought that four days after they’d just be looking for a body, wouldn’t they? Glad you wanted to find me alive. Sorry you did. I think they’ll find you, though. If something’s shifted, and that light is sunlight, someone will see you, won’t they? That’s nice.

Oh...it’s flickering. That’s a bit strange for sunlight to do. Flicker, on and off...on and off...and now it’s just...off? Reminds me of a flashlight, flickering like that...flicker, flicker, flicker...and when it flickers off, doesn’t it seem darker? Hahaha...wouldn’t that be just funny? If...if instead of shifting to get more light, something shifted and now we’re even more hidden. Wouldn’t that be just hilarious? Hahaha. That’d mean you won’t ever be found, wouldn’t it? Hahaha. Funny...very, very funny...

((Prompt from the writing.prompts instagram.))

Asleep (Sam from SPN Imagine)

Pairing: Reader/Sam

Rating: G

Your favorite moments, you decided, were when you and Sam were alone in the library, researching some case or just reading for fun. You'd sit on opposite sides of the table, noses in books and coffee mugs in arm's reach at all times, for hours and hours on end, occasionally muttering a few sentances to each other, perhaps a joke that would set off silent giggles for a long time afterward, perhaps asking if the other was done with their joe yet, did they want another cup? Most of the afternoons, and often late nights, would pass in near complete silence.

Occasionally, you'd fall asleep in your chair, and you'd wake up hours later to find that someone had dropped you off in your bed, going so far as to tuck you in. You'd smile to yourself and at Sam the next time you saw him, but neither of you ever brought it up.

There was one time that the situation reversed, and you came back into the library from a bathroom break to find a shaggy haired Sam asleep on a pile of books, snoring softly and looking generally like a giant puppy. That thought had you struggling to stay quiet as you giggled.

Given that it would've been completely impossible for you to pick him up without serious injury to one or both of you, you settled for simply finding the softest pillow and cuddliest blanket you could and wrapping him in them. The fact that he didn't do more than grunt quietly and pull the blanket closer proved to you that he needed the sleep, and, seeing that he was out so deeply, you got a little brave and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple and whispering, "'Night, Sammy."

Sam woke up a few hours later, and smiled when he saw you, going slightly pink. Neither of you said anything about it.

A few days later, you got brave again. You left a note on Sam's side of the table with his name on it that read simply, "You're a cute sleeper."

A few days after that, you got one back that said, "You are too."

Neither of you talked about it, but now you sat on the same side of the table. And Sam became your favorite pillow.

Visitor Pt. 3

A/N: I’m having fun with this story, more fun than I originally thought I would have, and a couple of you still seem to like it ( @alix-the-skeleton I’m looking at you, pal. ;) ). So I wrote another bit! Enjoy! Part 1 and Part 2.

The air was cold, tonight, and filled with gentle music from the party still going on inside. William laughed as Celine pulled him along by the sleeves of his uncharacteristically dapper suit, running with him in tow to the edge of the balcony and only letting him go so that she could jump gracefully to sit on the stone railings. She looked beautiful, a bright red ballgown that hugged her in all the right places and flowed, light as a butterfly's wings, away from her at the hips, her short hair swept neatly underneath a scarlet hairclip. She kicked off her heels and swung her feet, patting the railing beside her. "Really, now, Cel, you want me to try that in this getup? I'll rip something in this bloody monkey suit." "Oh, live a little, Wil," she laughed as he hopped up anyway. "You're reckless any other time, why care about some cloth now?" "Well, it's a loan, first of all, if Mark knew I was running about in his suit-" "Oh please, as if he doesn't run around in it enough." He laughed, shaking his head. They went quiet for a moment, listening to the music swell inside, and Wil watched the smile slide off of her face. "It's hard to believe you're leaving tomorrow. How long will you be gone?" "Well," he sighed, taking her hand and staring up at the stars. They were so bright tonight. "It's only basic training, so only a few weeks." A few too many weeks, anyway. "I'll be home again before you know it." He chanced a glace. "And you've got Dames and Mark to keep you company." "Yes..." She bobbed along to the start of the new song, smoothing her dress with one hand. "Wil?" "Yes?" "What do you think is out there?" "Out there? As in, in space?" "Yes." He studied the sky for a moment. "Well...stars and planets and all that, of course...some ice, so Mark tells me..." "Other life?" "You're asking if I believe in aliens?" He chuckled, and she swatted him playfully. "Don't make it sound silly. It's totally plausible." He rubbed his arm, feigning offence, but she brushed him off. "But, no, that's not what I was asking. I was thinking more...I don't know. Spirits, or...or powers, or something." "So...God?" "Maybe not capital-G God. But yes, something along that line." William took a long time to answer, getting back to his feet as he finally spoke. "I...don't know, honestly. But I like to think that perhaps there's more to this universe than we know." Celine smiled, and stood as well. As the music swelled again, she suddenly took his hands, putting one around her waist, pulling him to her as she started to dance. He gaped at her for a second before settling into it as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm really going to miss you, Wil." He pulled her a little closer. "I'm...I'm going to miss you too, Celine. So much." If Wil could've frozen a moment in time, he would have lived right there, with her in his arms, dancing under the stars, forever.

"I think I'm going to ask her to marry me." William was slow to respond. "You're...you mean...Celine?" "Yes, of course I do," Mark laughed, "who else?" He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head as he looked over at Damien. "What do you think, Dames? Have I got your approval?" Damien smiled brightly. "Mark...of course you have my blessing. God, of course you do." He stood and embraced him, clapping him on the back as both men laughed. Wil smiled tightly as Mark turned back to him. "C'mon then, gents, let's celebrate." "She hasn't even said yes yet," Wil said quietly, but followed the other two to the bar, which Mark leapt over, grabbing three tumblers and a bottle of Fireball and setting them down on the bar. That made him smile a bit as he slapped Damien's back. "Think you can handle a shot or two of this, this time?" "Of course I can, don't be ridiculous," Damien muttered, smiling slightly as Mark laughed loudly, pouring them each a generous shot. They each grabbed a glass and raised it. "To a yes," Mark said. "To a new brother in law," Damien added. "To...us," Wil said, and the other two grinned at him, Mark nodding and throwing an arm around his would-be brother, agreeing, "to us." They downed their shots and immediately started giggling as Damien choked.

"Wil?" "Go away." "Wil, please, talk to me." "No." "William, be sensible. You can't lock yourself away forever." He shoved the door open roughly, swaying slightly as he glared through his blackened eye at a disheveled Damien, cane twisting in his hands. He huffed and turned away, stumbling back to the quickly emptying liquor cabinet in the corner of his hotel room. "And what do you want?" "To talk to you, to work things out! Dammit, man, you left so quickly-" "OF COURSE I DID!" he roared, and Damien flinched. "THAT BASTARD WAS TRYING TO KILL ME! HE WOULD HAVE, IF HE'D BEEN GIVEN THE CHANCE!" "You slept with his wife! My sister!" Damien yelled desperately, and Wil grabbed him by the lapels. "You've seen what he's become! What a selfish, pompous son of a bitch he is now! He's not the man she married! He's not the same Mark that I grew up with! And she loves me, Dames, she loves me! Not him!" "Then let her get-!" "Get what, Dames, a divorce? Make her wait, and wait, trapped with him in that godforsaken house-?" "BETTER THAN RUINING HER LIFE!" Crack. Wil stumbled back with a grunt, clutching his face as Damien stared at him, wide eyed. "Wil...Wil, no, I didn't mean..." "What the bloody hell was that for?" He ran forward, grabbing Damien's lapel again with one hand, raising the other as if to hit him. "What the actual hell, Damien?" "I-It was an accident, Wil, I didn't mean to hurt you-" "Get. Out." Wil shoved Damien into the door with a dull thud. Damien looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided against it. He sighed heavily, resignedly, and pulled it open, stepping out. "I don't blame you Wil. And...and I'm sorry." "Go!" A bottle smashed against the closing door, and Wil finally broke down, sobbing silently as he curled up on the floor of the vacant, anonymous hotel room, far away from home.

Wilford gasped, bolting upright. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, apparently, which wasn't exactly a rare occurrence. He breathed heavily for a moment, shoving aside some empty bottles as he tried to remember where he was, who he was, what he was doing. The usual checklist. His dreams, tonight, they'd felt so...real. So vivid. He tried desperately to remember what they were about, but...no. They were already gone. Still, he was shaken. All he could recall was the name Damien. Damien. That name again, the one he'd called Dark. Who was Damien, to him? Had he ever even known a Damien? He couldn't recall one. All the name brought to his mind was a vague sadness, a vague nostalgia. As if he should know who is was, but didn't. He shook his head, standing and grunting as he stretched, old bones clicking. How old was he, he wondered? He wasn't sure anymore. Frowning, he tried to think of a time when he had known his age, or even his birthday. Further from that...where had he come from? He was sure he'd been born somewhere, he'd had a family, but, much to his mounting alarm, he found he couldn't remember them at all. He started to panic. Wilford Warfstache, he was Wilford Warfstache, world famous ace reporter, right? Wasn't that right? That's what everyone called him, that's how the others here knew him. So of course, he came from the Warfstache family, didn't he? But the more he said it in his head, the worse it sounded, the more...fake. Who had the last name of Warfstache, honestly? And even his first name, his perfectly normal first name, Wilford, the one he'd known for so long, felt...wrong, now. Felt rushed. The more he thought, the more it sounded like two different words. Wilford. Wil Ford. He jumped sharply as someone knocked loudly on his door. "Wilford? Hey, Wilford, dude, you up yet?" "Jesus, Bing, let a man have his beauty sleep!" Wil snapped angrily. "Go away! Tell the studio we're on hiatus!" There was a pause. "...seriously? Hiatus? Like, since when do you ever wanna go on-?" "GO!" Wil shouted, and he heard scuffling as Bing stumbled down the hall, probably wearing his Heeleys and tripping over them. On any other day, that would've made him laugh. Today, he scowled at his desk and pulled a flask out from under it, spinning the cap off in a smooth, practiced motion, but he paused before taking a sip. If he drank...would he forget again? Forget more than he already had? Why hadn't it occured to him sooner that he couldn't remember...anything? Wil put the flask back down, without taking a sip, and instead pulled out a legal pad and a pencil, beginning to write furiously.

Home (A DBH Kara and Luther Drabble)

Winter in this part of Canada was incredibly cold and dreary. It snowed every few days, and when it wasn't snowing, it was overcast and windy, blindingly white all around. Everyone who lived in this particularly frigid part of the world knew better than to spend more than an hour or so outside at a time, lest they risk frostbite or worse. Everyone, that is, who was human. Luther trudged around the side of the house, laden down with freshly cut firewood over both arms. He'd been out since before dawn, making sure that all of the chores that needed doing outside were done before Rose and Adam even woke up. It seemed like the least he could do in reture for all of the  help they'd been in the past few months. He was careful not to be seen, given that his kind was still forbidden to be here. If he was caught, then people would start asking questions, and that could lead to problems for his family. Shaking those dark thoughts out of his head, Luther climbed the steps to the porch and started setting the logs into the firewood stand by the door. Just then, the door creaked open. "Luther?" "Good morning Kara." Kara's snow-white hair was gently touseled. Was it his imagination, or had it grown a little bit since they'd been here? Her borrowed nightshirt hung loosely around her thin frame, bunching where her arms crossed over her chest. She couldn't have looked more human. She couldn't have looked more beautiful. Kara frowned, head tilting slightly to the side. "Have you been out here long?" He shrugged. "A few hours?" "Your jacket..." "Hm?" She nodded at it, and he looked down. It was completely soaked through. "Oh. I should probably dry this." "Come inside. Bring the rest of the firewood, we'll light it so it's warm when Rose and Adam get up." He smiled and nodded, following her as she went back into the livingroom. As he dropped the wood by the fireplace, he caught sight of her socks, and started laughing. He was rewarded with a soft smile. "What's so funny?" "Your socks...?" The smile got even bigger as she held up a foot to show off. "Do you like them? They've got little rabbits on them, and they're so soft." "They're adorable." You're adorable, he wanted to say. She seemed pleased by this. "I thought so." They lapsed into comfortable silence for a little while. He heard the sounds of breakfast being made. The smell of pancakes and bacon wafted out into the living room as Luther got the fire going. He loved the smell of food cooking, even if he didn't need to eat. There was something comforting about it, a sense of home he'd never known before he'd come here. He sat back on the couch to watch it for a moment. Kara sat down beside him. "The fire looks lovely." "Breakfast smells good." They glanced at each other, and chuckled. Kara shook her head. "Is is crazy to say this feels like a dream? Like I might wake up tomorrow, and be back in Detroit. In the car, or Todd's place..." Her smile was gone again. He slid a bit closer to Kara and put his arm around her. It made his heart jump a bit when she melted into his side, slender arm going across his chest. He hesitated for only a second before pulling her hand into his own and holding it. "I never felt like this at Zlatko's." He could feel her looking up at him. He didn't talk much about his time before they met, and for good reason. In his mind, he didn't really exist before he met Kara and Alice. He'd been a machine back then, and he'd done terrible things he'd rather never think about again. This time, though, he felt the need to say something. "Zlatko at well every morning, but everything smelled like grease, not food. That place felt...small. Far too small. This place is smaller than that house, but this...is home." "Home," Kara laughed. He looked down at her again, and was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "It's nice to be home." Sitting there, with her curled into his side, the smell of food in the air and the warm fire at his feet, far away from the cold slums of Detroit, Luther couldn't agree more.

So I hear we’ve got a new teaser image....

What are you up to, Sean?

DAMIEN

In case you’re missing the oddball excitement that’s going on right now. Also, @markiplier is hanging out in the chat with us now!

Who Killed Markiplier? Here’s What Happened.

Guys, it’s been a long road, and we’re not even close to done yet. But based on all the previous evidence, I’ve come up with something of a story line/theory. I present to you, good people of the internet and the Markiplier fandom, who I think killed Markiplier:

THE PAST

Mark, the Colonel, and Damien were all childhood friends. Mark and Damien started with the same social status, very middle class, but the Colonel comes from an old military family with lots of money and power, which is why he inherits the manor. They stayed friends as they grew older and gained status, Damien through politics, the Colonel through the army, and Mark through the entertainment industry, though to keep himself afloat, he moves in with the Colonel. (Based on the pictures, "I will not be called a murderer in my own home!", and the Colonel's initial theory.)

At some point, they were introduced to Celine, and she became fast friends with them all. They all developed feelings for her, and tried to impress her in various ways, but Mark went the farthest. Unbeknownst to any of them, he made a deal with a larger force for her heart, which angered both Damien and the Colonel. But while Damien wanted to keep his friendships in tact, the Colonel, always the most firey of the three, had a massive argument with Mark, insisting that the fame had gone to his head. Mark wouldn't explain the deal, and so the fight gets so bad that the Colonel is kicked out of his own home by Mark, who's now under the force's influence, and drops out of touch with Mark and Celine. Damien can't pick a side, so stays in touch with both of them. (Based on George the Groundskeeper’s speech about why he won’t enter the manor, the Possession, the Colonel and Damien's argument, and the pictures.)

It was shortly after this that Celine and Damien discovered what Mark had done. Damien wanted to keep it quiet, per his aspirations for office and the bad publicity it would cause both him and Mark, but Celine was disgusted, and left them both to find answers on her own. Damien and Mark stayed friends, but were more distant than they had been. This is where we come in. We befriend Damien and Mark sometime after all of this, and are never told about it. Damien rises to the position of Mayor, Mark grows more famous, and we're appointed DA. (Based on our invitation, our not knowing the Colonel previously, "I don't need anyone's help, especially yours," Celine's occult interests and Damien's reactions to them, and the pictures.)

THE PRESENT

Now the deal Mark made had to have some provisions. Maybe one of them was a time constraint. He had 15 years to enjoy his fame, and then the being would come to collect his end of the bargain, and maybe Mark didn't know what the reprocussions would be. When the day was coming up, however, Mark knew he wanted to see all of his friends one last time, so he invited them back to the manor, on the pretext of a poker night. Celine refused, but had a bad feeling about it, and too late decided to come and warn her old friends. Damien of course accepted, and managed to convince the Colonel to come back. We accepted, thinking nothing of it. Mark also invites the Detective, less as a friend, though he was one, albeit not as close, but more as a precaution, needing to know that his staff was trustworthy and wouldn't be suspected, no matter what, and knowing that there would likely be some kind of crime to investigate later, when he either died or disappeared. (Based on the Detective's speech about knowing Mark, the security footage, "I might be dead tomorrow," Celine knowing the party is happening, the Colonel appearing voluntarily and in a decent mood.)

In the night, after all the festivities are over, everyone goes to bed, except for the Colonel, who's still mad as hell, and very drunk, and very vulnerable. The Force strikes, using the Colonel as a vessel, and fights with and eventually kills Mark, then goes dormant. It stays in him until it's summoned out by Celine the next night. (Based on the party montage, the finding of the body, the Colonel's behavior in Chapter 2, and the Possession.)

But remember guys, this is just a theory. It’s not set in stone, and it doesn’t explain everything. I would love to hear what you guys think, and what I might have missed, and I can’t wait for Chapter 4 tomorrow.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Extras: The Bedroom The Audio Clip The Tumblr Teasers (1, 2, 3, 4)