(It’s Really Cool! I Hope It Snows For You!) Oh I Loved Those, They Were So Funny!

OH SHIT HERE WE GO AGAIN

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK-

Echoes (A Middle-of-the-Night Drabble)

Frisk thought they had never seen anything as beautiful as an Echo Flower. It looked almost as if it were a negative image of a sunflower, the colors reversed and strangely fluorescent, blues and whites that seemed to light up the dark marsh around them, otherworldly and wonderful, in the original sense of the word. Their appearance wasn’t even the strangest part of them however. Frisk swore, as they walked past, they heard one of the funny plants talk.

Now, given their previous encounter with talking flowers had been not altogether pleasant, Frisk was understandably cautious about getting too close to the whispering blooms. But Sans had mentioned Echo Flowers, back in Snowdin, and they thought perhaps their caution was unfounded, and that perhaps the echoes might be worth listening to. They had always been a supremely curious child, anyway. So they took a cautious step closer to the nearest flower.

It was surprisingly hard to get to, surrounded by so much vegetation and growth that Frisk was led to believe that it had been a very long time since anyone had stood close to the flower at all. This assumption was reinforced by the faintness of the recording, but it was not impossible to understand what was being said. A young voice spoke up first, the sound of splashing footsteps suggesting two small monsters were passing at the time of the recording. “They say you can make a wish on echo flowers. What’s your wish?” It was hard to tell whether the voice was male or female. Perhaps it was neither, mused Frisk with a chuckle. They wandered on to the next plant, mimicking the long-forgotten conversationalists’ path. “I...don’t wanna tell.” This voice sounded as if it’d come from a young boy. He seemed to be afraid of something. Apparently the other voice had surmised this as well, because they promptly asked what it was he was afraid of. Frisk continued to the next plant, fancying they could see two ghostly figures walking in front of them. In their fantasy, the two figures were silent until they reached the next plant, a few feet down the marsh. “I’m afraid you’ll laugh at me.” “I promise I won’t!” the first voice assured the boy, and in Frisk’s mind, they could practically see the child clap the shoulder of the other confidently. Frisk smiled as they imagined the first voice as a human, like themselves, striped sweater and all. The other, a monster child, Frisk decided, sighed and looked away. “Alright.” He paused for a long moment. “My wish is to see the stars.” The human child seemed to nod, and smile. This turned into a small laugh as they reached the next flower. Another, further on, had the monster child, who had white fur, Frisk thought, annoyed, saying “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” “Sorry,” the first child said, still smiling, “It’s just funny.” “What?” Frisk seemed to watch them round the corner as the conversation drew to a close, and they ran out of echo flowers. “That’s my wish, too.”

Frisk felt oddly sad, hearing the end of that conversation. It felt faintly familiar to them, as if they’d heard it on some TV show they’d loved when they were younger, barely remembered. But they were sure they’d never heard it before, and wondered at the image they’d seen, the fantasy they’d drawn up. It’d seemed so real, the children seeming like they’d come to life with their voices barely echoed back by the flowers that’d lived up to their names. Had they really imagined it all? Who knew? This whole place was full of magic and strange life. Perhaps more than just their voices had been caught, frozen in time by this strange place.

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.

Doodles

Pairing: Nine/Rose

Rating: PG for slight angst

The library was always fun. You'd loved ever since you'd first stepped foot in it, on your first day in the TARDIS, wandering lost and confused looking for a bathroom at two am your time. But you'd found this place, and suddenly forgotten your need to pee in favor of running down the aisles, fingertips brushing the beautiful books around you. Until you'd really needed to go, then the TARDIS had been polite enough to point you on your way.

Now, you still loved running down the aisles, picking books at random and reading them as you wandered. You mostly avoided stuff from your future, but you loved everything else. There were books from distant planets with fairytales you'd never heard of, there were ancient leatherbound volumes from Earth, there were children's picture books from odd interstellar markets, even your favorite stories from your childhood. And the best part was that the TARDIS translation circuit worked on these books too, so you could read whatever you wanted, from whenever you wanted. It was one of the most wonderful things about traveling with the Doctor.

You were in the middle of reading a signed special edition copy of the seventh Harry Potter book- "To my favorite Doctor, love from JK Rowling" . Crying your eyes out, you didn't notice that you'd wandered to a new part of the ever-changing room. It wasn't until you ran book-first into a huge, elaborately carved shelf (something that didn't happen often, as you were a reading-while-running champ) that you realized where you were. The annoyed glower on your face faded to slack-jawed shock as you took in the beautiful little alcove.

Towering shelves dominated the walls in the inset, each carved with lovely, swirling circular patterns in gold leaf on the dark wood. The floor was thickly carpeted in rich, dark red, and an overstuffed deep red couch faced a cozy little white marble fireplace, also decorated with the circular symbols. The books on the walls were in various dark shades, from midnight blue to blood red and ebony to mahogany. There were odd little white-glowing cubes spaced randomly all over the shelves, lending the corner a dim, mysterious glow.

A few items seemed out of place in this wondrous place. An empty pink tea cup sat on a saucer on a rickety table in the corner by the fireplace, and a single fluffy pink slipper lay abandoned under it, on top of a forgotten large, green jumper. The smell was odd too, not just old books, but two different men's colognes (one of which was vaguely familiar) and some flowery store-brand body wash. 

The Harry Potter book slipped from your limp hand and landed with a dull thud. You moved forward without a thought and grazed fingertips across the volumes, stopping over a smaller one that was bound in black leather inlaid with gold. Pulling it out and sinking into the couch with a sigh, you curled in on yourself and let it fall open in your lap.

Odd, the first things you notice. The first thing that registered about this book was that the TARDIS wasn't translating the circles that you soon deciphered were writing. The next was a Polaroid picture, stuck carelessly in the front of the book. The man in the picture was leaning against the TARDIS, arms crossed and an annoyed but happy expression on his face. He was wearing all black: black boots, black pants, black shirt, black leather jacket, which, you noted, matched the front of the book. His dark hair was cropped short and close to his head, exposing almost comically large ears, which matched his rather large nose and huge grin well. But the thing that intrigued you most about this picture was his eyes. Bright, laughing blue eyes that looked vaguely familiar, as if they belonged to a friend you hadn't seen in years and years...

Setting the Polaroid aside, you returned your attention to the book, skimming through the enigmatic pages until you found more pictures: a few more Polaroids, taped in, of various creatures and places, a few pencil sketches done with mechanical precision, a few feminine doodles in pen. Suddenly you smiled. There were a few lines in English on this page! Two different sets of handwriting seemed to be having a conversation beside a caricature sketch of the man in the first picture.

I don't look anything like that! Yeah you do! It's like a mirror! No, it really isn't! Here, I'll draw you! Go on then, Picasso!

Here there was a little caricature of a woman, with big eyes and big lips pulled in a smile and light hair framing her face. It was done in pencil, probably by the same person who'd drawn the precise sketches, but in a softer style.

That one looks like you, see! At least I was nice about it. Fine, fine, remind me to fix yours later, when we're done with Raxacri (that was scratched out) Raxoco (more scratching) Raxicoricofallapatorius. Right. Fantastic.

You giggled to yourself. Who had written and drawn here? And why in this book? Looking back through, you thought maybe the whole thing was written into it, a bit like a journal. You sighed, wishing you could read more, and flipped the page past where you'd been.

It was blank. Frowning, you counted the remaining pages. There was more than half a book left, but the rest was empty except for what looked like a small footnote on the very last page. Letting out a frustrated snort, you closed the book and looked back over to the rickety table. There was something sad about it, the cup and slipper and jumper, like they were keepsakes from happy days long gone. Sighing again, feeling oddly saddened by the lost girl and man who'd left these here, you stood, put the book back on the shelf, and wandered out, glancing back one last time at the homey little nook before moving on. 

You never found that part of the room again, and figuring that it must have been some sort of fluke that let you find it, you never asked the Doctor about it. About the one language the TARDIS didn't feel the need to translate, and the little table's keepsakes, and the girl and the man, and whether they'd ever made it back from Raxicoricofallapatorius.

He never mentioned it.

‘I didn’t kill him.’

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.

There’s this black Santa hat in my house that says “bah humbug” on it and I can just imagine someone wrestling that onto dark

Oh my god someone draw that please. XD

Okay but we were in Damien’s headspace...this could very well have been the same moment.

I feel like these parts fit together!

@markiplier

Broken (Demon!Dean Imagine)

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Rating: PG 13 for heartbreak

"No."

"Sam, I'm not a child. I can do this."

"No. You're not going in there."

"Well, why do you have to do it? What makes you more qualified than me?"

"I'm his brother."

"I'm his girlfriend. Have been for three years."

Sam sighed and looked down at his shuffling feet. The bunker was quiet, and felt almost suffocating today. There was a table covered in empty coffee mugs, and a dungeon that was all too full.

This was the third time you and Sam had had this debate, and you were determined to win, close to tears or not. When he finally looked up and nodded, you blinked.

"You're gonna let me do it?"

He gave a very weary smile. "Like you said, you're not a kid. And...Maybe you would be better."

He was nearly knocked over by the tight hug you gave him, and stroked your hair.

One... Two...

Breathe.

Three.

You slid the door open slowly, the creak and groan of metal filling the silence. Not looking up from the ground, you came into the room.

There was the sound of movement, a moment of surprised hesitation, then...a laugh. And it wasn't his laugh.

"I was wondering when Sammy would let you down here, (Y/N)."

You tried very hard not to wince at your name in that mocking tone, eyes still glued to the ground as you shut the door and went to the small silver table with the roll of syringes.

"Aw, you're gonna drug me up. Baby, that's adorable-"

"Don't call me baby." You could almost feel him smile; it made your skin crawl.

"Why not? You love it when I call you baby."

"I love when Dean calls me baby."

"I am Dean. Just-"

"You say a newer model and I'll punch you in the goddamn face." He chuckled.

You picked up a syringe, and a needle. Put the two together. Started to roll up your sleeve.

"You know you can't fix me, right?"

"Watch me."

"Well," he shuffled again, relaxing into the chair a bit, "you can make me human again, sure. But you can never fix me. I'll always be broken. I was when I met you, I was before I got the Mark, I was when I was human and had it. This is the closest to whole and happy I've ever been."

"Shut up." It was practically a whisper.

But he kept on, and the words hurt worse than the needle in your skin.

"See, now I'm not worried about anything. I don't care if Sammy dies, or Cas. I don't care if you die-"

"Shut. Up."

"-I wouldn't feel a bit of guilt, even with your blood on my hands. Actually, that'd be kinda fun. Chasing you around, hunting you down-"

You pulled the needle out sharply and stalked over to him, jabbing it in mercilessly. He hissed and fought, crying out as you pushed in the plunger and the blood flooded his system again. As you walked back over to the table, he began to scream.

"Why the hell are you even trying?! This won't work! It can't, and I don't want it to! Why does it matter what happens to me?!"

"Because I can't lose you, and I won't, even if I have to go to Hell and back again. Because Dean Winchester, I love you, and I won't stop until you're human or I'm dead."

As you walked out, you kept your eyes fixed on the door, trying desperately to ignore the tears blinding you at least until that door was shut behind you again. To your surprise, he said nothing else, and the only sound from him was heavy, ragged breathing.

You didn't look back as you shut the door, but if you had, you would have seen the demon staring at you, face slack with shock, frozen.

Just for a moment, right before the door closed, he moved forward, and opened his mouth as if to speak.

And there was a flash of green in those black eyes.

I saw @wkm-theories pairing this up with my theory (Thank you for all the compliments by the way, how sweet!), and I thought I’d show it to you guys. What do you think? Does it add credit? DOes it flesh out some details I missed?

2 hours remain...

DEMONS!!!

Well these just keep getting better and better! Sorry for getting my theory out so late today, Thursdays are my insane days at university, I only just got a chance to sit down and watch chapter 3. And what a chapter! Without further ado, I’ll jump right in. 

Right away, it is very obvious that Celine has a long history with both Damien and the Colonel. The Colonel acts more vulnerable with her than any other person we’ve seen so far. He even says that he “trusts Celine with all his heart,” and he stutters after saying that. He is ALWAYS confident, but it is clear that Celine is capable of knocking him off guard. 

Also, the use of the line “I trust Celine with all my heart.” is interesting. That’s not something you say about a close friend. That’s not even something you say about a family member. That is something you say about someone you have deep feelings for, romantic feelings. Remember this picture?

Mark and Celine are being very friendly in it. Damien and the Colonel, not so much. While Damien seems mostly just worried, the Colonel’s body language and stance make him appear very angry. We know he and Mark had a major falling out, Damien even went so far as to say that the Colonel hated him. Nothing like a little love triangle to break up a friendship.

And then there’s the Mayor. Celine calls him Damien, which we’ve only seen the Colonel do before. Everyone else in the story calls him Mr. Mayor, or just the Mayor. The nature of their conversations also suggests a long history. I think its safe to say that she’s known Mark for as long as Damien and the Colonel have, and that they have all known each other since they were young. She also states that she’s “never been very comfortable in this house,” implying in the same way the Colonel did in yesterday’s episode that she’s familiar with it

It is also interesting that Damien seems surprised at her knowledge of the occult and arcane arts, thinking she’s not the type to “get mixed up in all this.” That language implies that he also doesn’t put much stock in the unseen. This is further supported by Celine’s insistence that there’s more to the world than he knows. 

He also seems to want to protect her; asking if she’s alright, telling her to be careful, wanting to stay with her to protect her. It’s worth noting that Celine bites back against his desire to stay inside with her. “I don’t need help, especially from you!” This is just speculation, but if he tried to intervene and fix things back when Mark and the Colonel were fighting, but only ended up making things worse, her reluctance to accept his help would make a lot of sense. One thing’s for sure, these four friends’ seemingly tight bonds have gone under a lot of strain. 

As for Celine herself, she’s her own little ball of mystery. First off, why did she come to the manor today? The Butler, while he appears to know her, says that she’s come “at a most inconvenient time.” Meaning that he wasn’t expecting her, which seems unusual for him. She is clearly sensitive to the occult, and I don’t mean just because she’s been trained. Based on her conversation with Damien, we can gather that the arcane arts are a new thing in her life, but she remarks that she’s “Never felt very comfortable in this house.” So she has always been sensitive to the other side. And there has always been something off about that house. This is further evidenced by the Groundskeeper George and his reluctance to set foot in “that mad house.” 

As a side note, “Celine” is a latin name that means “heaven.” “Selene” is a name that means “brightness,” and is a greek deity of the moon. So Teamiplier has taken care in connecting her to the powers beyond. 

Speaking of the powers beyond, her seance was bizarre. While you were apparently there to “commune with the dead,” you see only events from the past, all surrounding the Colonel, and then one event from the future. It is this future event makes you pull out, presumably because you did not recognize it. When Celine sees your drawing, she says that “this answers nothing.” If she grew up around the house, or at least is familiar with it, then she likely recognized that it was George, and as she is already aware of him and does not suspect him, this is why she insists that you “go back” into the seance. But, before we can, we are interrupted. Despite everyone’s protests, Celine insists that she is not done. 

Our talk with George is short, but enlightening. He seems a harmless enough fellow, and he and the Chef apparently have a good friendship, but it’s his comments about the house that have my attention, as they no doubt have everyone’s. 

The first thing that caught my eye is that he says “murdered” and there’s…no lightning. There’s been more lightning than usual this episode as Celine tries to get them to stop saying the word “murder.” But George says it, without concern or consequence. In fact, he says everything without concern. He seems to worry about nothing but keeping the grounds. Until the Detective says that they’re going inside; then George’s entire demeanor changes. He becomes serious, and speaks to the Detective like he’s capable of putting him in his place, but just couldn’t be bothered to before. He says it’s been 15 years since going into the house, and he’s not going to go in now. 

What strikes me about this is that he is the only one who hasn’t been in the house, and he’s also the only one who can speak freely without lightning accenting his sentences. That makes me think that whatever is causing the lightning is INSIDE THE HOUSE. And whatever it is, George is at least somewhat aware of it. He would only go back into that house for one reason….

Which of course immediately occurs. There is DEFINITELY something wrong with that house. And it’s been growing steadily stronger this whole time. Which brings me to my final major conclusion about today. 

Celine has become possessed by whatever force is present in the house. The same force that will eventually become Darkiplier. A force I happen to think is, based on the Jim News segment of today, some sort of demon. While I find those segments hilarious, there is some substance to them. Tiny clues that point to whatever’s going on in this manor. Speaking of what’s going on in the manor, I think this is what happened. 

Celine has always been connected to the spiritual world, but recently underwent training to better understand and interact with it. While training is good, she seems to be a novice, based on Damien’s surprise at her involvement in such practices. And a novice would be no match for the force that is at work here. When she opens a channel to the spirit world in the seance, she is leaving herself vulnerable to the demon’s possession. Some evidence for this: 

Celine has been acting decently normal until this moment, when she says “Now that my eyes are opened, something tells me that there are dark forces surrounding this manor.” She then begins the seance:

She doesn’t open herself up to the dark forces in this manor until this moment, when she begins to channel the spirit world to help you see the past, and then the future. Her eyes remain closed, and she still seems intent on helping find out the truth. Until here:

Just before you go into your vision, she opens her eyes and looks up at you. “Keep your enemies close…” she says, in a deep voice. Her face is twisted into a creepy grin, that we see again in the ending scene. The demon has entered her, and it is at this moment that things begin to go wrong. Before the seance, she was calm. Afterwards, she is much more volatile. Yelling at you, her friends…I don’t think she realizes that she’s been possessed yet, but it’s hard to ignore that kind of negative influence on you (like how wearing a horcrux brings out the worst aspects of your personality). 

But if the demon that is behind all of this is in fact Darkiplier, what about our previous theories about the Mayor? It’s hard to ignore the similarities. Well, this is my theory: Damien does not resemble Darkiplier. Darkiplier resembles Damien. Now, this is getting slightly into head cannon territory, but bear with me. I’ve tried to base my ideas about how Darkiplier works off of what we’e canonically seen as much as possible. I’ll briefly summarize here, but if you want a more in depth explanation of how I think Dark works, you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149080/chapters/24875811 (It’s only 3 short chapters, it’s about Markiplier TV mostly).

Basically, I don’t think Darkiplier is directly connected to Markiplier. I think that Dark is a force that can take many forms, and that it choses Markiplier to imitate because of the influence Mark has over his community. While Mark uses this power for good, an evil force could use it in horrible ways. This is based on what Mark said in his Feb 2017 charity stream about Dark existing in another world, bleeding into this one, and admiring what Mark has accomplished. To me, that says that he wants that kind of recognition, but doesn’t have it in his natural state. Anyway, back to Who Killed Markiplier: I think that the entity of Dark was residing in this house, and then it possesses Celine here in this scene. As I’ve said and as we’ve seen, Damien cares very deeply for Celine. I don’t know if it’s a romantic feeling or just a deep friendship, but as others have pointed out, when she arrives, your safety takes a backseat. He still cares about you, but she is now the most important person in the room. 

I think that Damien offered himself to the Dark entity in Celine’s place. Damien is a powerful man; he is a leader and he is in a position of authority. That would appeal to this creature more than Celine would, so it takes that offer, leaving Celine’s body and possessing Damien instead. The reason that Darkiplier and Damien share so many mannerisms is that old aspects of Damien’s personality are still visible in the Darkiplier persona. Darkiplier then lurked around Markiplier’s channel, still seeing the entertainment industry as the best way to reach mass amounts of people. My previous conflict with the timeline not matching the real world origin of Darkiplier could easily be explained away by whatever dimension Dark is from existing on a different time scale, or outside of time altogether. This very well could be the origin of Darkiplier: A demon that possessed an innocent man who only wanted to protect his friends.

Whew! That was easily the longest I’ve spent on one of these (almost 2 hours). Thank you for reading, and as always, let me know what you think! I’m aware I didn’t cover my #Markiplier Lives angle in this post, I’m going to address this episode’s evidence for that in another one. This one has gone on long enough. Until the next theory!