Nope!
A/N: I smell a fandom fire! What a good time for some nicely roasted angst!
Dark knew what this feeling was. He was all too familiar with it, wasn’t he? All the same, the familiar panic began to rise in his throat, and he stood suddenly at his desk, before grunting and hunching over it, one hand slamming down into the surface, cracking it in an attempt to steady himself, but it felt like the world was spinning.
It was very fast this time.
“Dark?”
Oh, no. No, Wil, you don’t need to see…
But Wilford was leaning heavily on the door frame, bubblegum-smile missing and face pale, eyes wide and deathly scared. Dark knew that look.
“It would seem it isn’t just me,” he said softly, trying to come around the desk to join him, but this caused the room to turn sickeningly on its side. He slid to the ground with a groan. Wilford made an effort to come to him at the same time, and collapsed to his knees halfway there.
“What’s happening? What’s…?”
“We’re dying, Wilford.”
The tears that had already been forming leaked out and onto his cheeks as he whispered, not even strong enough to summon his usual smile, “It’s…but it’s all a joke, isn’t it? It’s always been a joke, hasn’t it?”
“A cruel joke,” Dark agreed, slumping further onto the ground. He vaguely made out Wilford collapsing fully, heard him wheezing. “It’s not fair…it’s never been fair.”
They were quiet for a moment.
Suddenly, Wilford chuckled, and the sound of it brought real tears to Dark’s long-dried eyes. He didn’t know he could still do that. How interesting.
“Not quite the blaze of glory I had planned, is it, Dames?”
“So you do remember.”
He’d have nodded if he still could have. He couldn’t even see anymore, really. Vague, grey and blue and red shapes. He didn’t know if Wil could still hear him.
“Thank you, William.”
“It’s been my honor. Damien. Celine.”
There were no other words. Everything went black.
“Dark? I have some new concepts to go over with you, and we need to discuss this week’s schedule.” Bim knocked on his door, and was surprised when it gave way under his hands. Frowning, he stepped into the office.
It was oddly empty. The fire was still burning in the white marble fireplace on the far end of the room, and there were papers sitting on the desk, as if someone had been halfway through them and been interrupted. The chair was pushed back carelessly, and the thick rug was wrinkled in one corner.
Bim walked slowly over to the desk and picked up one of the papers. For a moment, it looked as if he were reading and old article, the tabloid headline stating “MURDERS AT MARKIPLIER MANOR REMAIN UNSOLVED”.
And then, the page was blank.
Bim wondered why the egos never used this office. It was nice, very stately. Fit for a politician.
Perhaps Google would like it. Always best to offer the boss the best spot in the building, and his current room wasn’t nearly enough. Why had they stuck him in that little side room again? Why had he let them? Maybe he liked the privacy.
He wandered off to find him, feeling vaguely as if he’d forgotten something important. But he was sure it was nothing.
A/N: This is a short one, but it’s a scene I thought up while writing the first part, and I wanted to give it it’s own time to shine instead of shortening it so I could add in another plot point.
Link to Pt. 2: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155686403892/do-you-trust-me-pt-2
Link to Pt. 1: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155650933267/pizsospa-cmon-little-dude-you-can-trust-me
"You're a good man, Jack." Your voice was very quiet, but sudden and jarring in the silence that'd elapsed. Jack looked down at you, surprised to find that you were awake, and was quiet for a moment before replying. "Thanks. Though, technically, I'm not a man at all." He looked back up at the...sky. Ceiling. Thing. You frowned a little and sat up, stretching and wiping your face. "What're you talking about?"
"Well, it's like I said," Jack stretched a little as well, but stayed flat. "I'm a persona. Sean's the man. I'm just part of a man." He glanced over with a smirk and half a laugh. "And don't ask which part." "Seriously though," you said, smacking his good arm. though you supposed now it didn't matter. "You seem like a person to me. And to the fandom." "They don't separate us. They shouldn't, I guess. No one who hasn't been here knows it exists, so there's no reason for them to separate us. I'm not him, though," He insisted, sitting up. "Technically, I don't exist. I'm just...code. Videos and comments and tweets and tumblr posts. And I can only remember back to when the channel was created. I didn't exist before that." "You don't have any of Sean's memories?" "I'm aware of them," he shrugged. "I know about Ireland and the cabin and Signe and all that. But...they're not mine. His life isn't mine." You frowned a little at his tone. He didn't sound sad, or bitter. He just sounded...resigned. But he shook it off and smiled. "And our personalities are a bit different. I think if you met him in person, it'd be very different to meeting me. I don't think he's quite as loud." "But you still act like a person," you insisted. "You can think and talk and feel and all that stuff. You may not 'have' Ireland and Signe, but you've got your own memories. I mean, Sean's never seen this place. He's never met me." Jack was staring off, not really focusing on anything. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke with much less enthusiasm than before. "I am what I am. And I'm happy with what I am." You shook your head and stood up. "Alright. I'm not sure I believe you, but say what you want, I guess. You're a good man to me, though. A whole, real, and very good man." "Maybe I'm a good program," he smiled, following your lead and getting to his feet. "Ready to keep moving? We've got someone to see." "Yeah. Yeah, I think I'm good. Let's go."
It didn't take as long as you'd expected it to to get down the mountain as you'd expected it to. Or maybe it just didn't feel like a long time, as you spent all of it reminiscing with Jack. A heavy conversation like that was a bit much for both of you, so you chatted about videos that'd been happy and light. You talked about the early episodes of Undertale, and about Trico being adorable. Jack did his Arstotzka accent and you pretended to be trying to get in with a bad passport, which Jack caught you out on because "Who's last name is 'McTits'?" Eventually, you landed on Happy Wheels, and giggled when Jack jumped off a short ledge yelling "I AM STEEEEVE!" You laughed even harder when he landed on his ass. "No segwey, no helmet! You're an imposter!" And then he called you something that made you laugh so hard you couldn't breathe. It was a good time, surreal, but good. In no time at all, there was a door in front of you. But it wasn't made of code. It was an actual door, which was both reassuring and intimidating. "So you never did say, who are we talking to?" Jack, for once in his life, was happily silent as he invited you to open the door. Shooting him a feigned (mostly) suspiscious look, you stepped up to it, but listened for a second first. You were immediately smiling and shoving Jack. "YOU DOUCHEBAG! I LOVE YOU BUT YOU UTTER DICKHEAD!" "Just open the fucking door," he laughed. You turned, wanting to just swing it open and hug the man behind it, but, so as not to look insane, you opened it slowly.
"But thank you everybody so much for watching, and as always, I will see you, in the next video. Buh-bye!"
Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised.
A/N: I smell a fandom fire! What a good time for some nicely roasted angst!
Dark knew what this feeling was. He was all too familiar with it, wasn’t he? All the same, the familiar panic began to rise in his throat, and he stood suddenly at his desk, before grunting and hunching over it, one hand slamming down into the surface, cracking it in an attempt to steady himself, but it felt like the world was spinning.
It was very fast this time.
“Dark?”
Oh, no. No, Wil, you don’t need to see...
But Wilford was leaning heavily on the door frame, bubblegum-smile missing and face pale, eyes wide and deathly scared. Dark knew that look.
“It would seem it isn’t just me,” he said softly, trying to come around the desk to join him, but this caused the room to turn sickeningly on its side. He slid to the ground with a groan. Wilford made an effort to come to him at the same time, and collapsed to his knees halfway there.
“What’s happening? What’s...?”
“We’re dying, Wilford.”
The tears that had already been forming leaked out and onto his cheeks as he whispered, not even strong enough to summon his usual smile, “It’s...but it’s all a joke, isn’t it? It’s always been a joke, hasn’t it?”
“A cruel joke,” Dark agreed, slumping further onto the ground. He vaguely made out Wilford collapsing fully, heard him wheezing. “It’s not fair...it’s never been fair.”
They were quiet for a moment.
Suddenly, Wilford chuckled, and the sound of it brought real tears to Dark’s long-dried eyes. He didn’t know he could still do that. How interesting.
“Not quite the blaze of glory I had planned, is it, Dames?”
“So you do remember.”
He’d have nodded if he still could have. He couldn’t even see anymore, really. Vague, grey and blue and red shapes. He didn’t know if Wil could still hear him.
“Thank you, William.”
“It’s been my honor. Damien. Celine.”
There were no other words. Everything went black.
“Dark? I have some new concepts to go over with you, and we need to discuss this week’s schedule.” Bim knocked on his door, and was surprised when it gave way under his hands. Frowning, he stepped into the office.
It was oddly empty. The fire was still burning in the white marble fireplace on the far end of the room, and there were papers sitting on the desk, as if someone had been halfway through them and been interrupted. The chair was pushed back carelessly, and the thick rug was wrinkled in one corner.
Bim walked slowly over to the desk and picked up one of the papers. For a moment, it looked as if he were reading and old article, the tabloid headline stating “MURDERS AT MARKIPLIER MANOR REMAIN UNSOLVED”.
And then, the page was blank.
Bim wondered why the egos never used this office. It was nice, save for the broken desk and mirror, very stately. Fit for a politician.
Perhaps Google would like it. Always best to offer the boss the best spot in the building, and his current room wasn’t nearly enough. Why had they stuck him in that little side room again? Why had he let them? Maybe he liked the privacy.
He wandered off to find him, feeling vaguely as if he’d forgotten something important. But he was sure it was nothing.
I wanna get back into writing some fanfic. Share some inspiration with me, please? What’s your favorite fic or edit or vid for your fandom?
It legitimately made me think we were about to get Evil!Patton and I was not at all ready
How triggered were y'all when Patton glitched
Hi, I just wanted to mention that I’m taking prompts to write oneshots, I’ll at least attempt most pairings for Doctor Who (New Who only, I’m sorry!), I’m also open to Janto and Owen/Tosh or Owen/Gwen Torchwood stuff. Okay! Letting you know!
hello @space-pot8o! amateur fan historian here, and i just wanted to say that while authors of the original work aren’t necessarily keen to read fanfiction for legal reasons, there’s a big community of us writers who are more than happy to read your work!
that includes me, i love Crowley/Aziraphale!
Hi Mr. Gaiman,
Recently I’ve been trying to change how I interact with the world and take a more active role instead of just watching and waiting for things happen. I’ve realized that if I never ask the answer will always be no, and I feel like knowing that I tried is better than wondering “what if” for the rest of my life. So here goes: Not long ago I wrote my first ever piece of fan-fiction. It’s short, only around 3k words, and it’s about Crowley and Aziraphale feeding the ducks. Would you be willing to read it and give me your opinion? I understand that you probably get requests like this all the time, but like I said, at least I know I tried. I hope you are doing well.
Well done! I'm the wrong audience for your fan fiction, though. You should put it in front of people who read fan fiction and enjoy hearing what they say about it.
I think we can assume that Wilford and Dark work more or less together to control the Iplier Multiverse, with Wilford being the more in-control or powerful of the two.
…. Dark WAS sitting at the head of the table.
Because he’s the most powerful out of everyone there? Or the most intimidating?
Either way I LOVE that detail.
Whether or not JJ is involved in this, I’m super excited to see what Wil and the Detective have been up to. This is gonna be a fun ride. Probably full of feels.
Just a writer obsessed with her characters, from Supernatural and Sherlock to the Dark Side of Youtube. Your source for the Egos of Jacksepticeye and Markiplier, theories thereon, and random oneshots and short series. I take requests!
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