OH FUCK

I don’t think Darkiplier was trying to trick us in ADWM.

“Shoot him. Shoot him now, please. You do not have time. He needs to die. He is dark. He’s a bad influence. He takes over everything you’ve ever loved. Please shoot him RIGHT NOW. Don’t listen to him. He’s a liar. Please shoot him. He’s a bad man and does bad things to good people. You have to trust me.”

This is the exact text of what Darkiplier says to us at the end of “FREEDOM!” in ADWM.

You know what I noticed about this?

Not once does he claim to be Mark.

Also, there’s a reason the word “dark” isn’t capitalized. This is not Dark trying to trick us into thinking Mark is really Dark– this is him telling us what Mark’s really done.

And now we know what Mark has done, thanks to WKM.

“He needs to die” = Dark recognizing that he CAN die now that he’s out of the house.

“He takes over everything you’ve ever loved” = Mark taking over Damien’s body and life.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a liar” = Dark warning us about Mark calling us ‘a close and trusted friend’.

“He’s a bad man and does bad things to good people” = the fact that Celine and Damien were torn apart, (Y/N) was pushed out and left behind, and the Colonel was subjected to madness, all because of Mark’s sinister plot.

This was not Dark trying to trick us.

This was Dark trying to stop Mark from making things worse.

This was Dark actually needing our help.

And you know what kills me the most about this?

The fact that Mark totally discredits any potential for goodness left inside of Dark… and we believe every word of it.

Greyscale. (An #Overnightwatch Horror Drabble.)

The room was monochrome. Black and white video feed from the nine cameras flooded grey light over the black desk and office chair with the broken back. The white walls were just out of reach of the screen’s glow, looking more like fog than physical barriers. Black shoes tapped across the grey tile of the floor, dull and scuffed from years of work, and the pale face of the guard seemed to glow in the ambiance. The only color in the room was the silly, scarlet, festive hat on the guard’s head, sliding down slowly toward the steaming cup of coffee cradled in their hands, only to be pushed back up occasionally. Why they’d worn it to work, they’d forgotten hours ago, as the festive mood was dead in the air at two in the morning on a cold, lonely night. There had been no change in two hours. The longest gap of the night. The silence was beginning to get to them, but they dared not play music to sooth their nerves, for fear of missing...him. It’d started with small things. Shadows. Laughter. Small distortions. But as the hours had crept on, figures had shown up, the sounds had gotten louder and louder, and eventually, he had shown himself...but only in recordings. The guard and their network had gone to work worried, and excited. Now, they simply hoped to survive. A distortion, over one camera. The Kitchen. The sound of laughter so loud that the guard spilled their coffee as they jumped violently. Another recording. Lights flickering. More laughter. This was not the most frightening anomaly that had happened tonight. But it was the closest. The yellow light under the door flickered on and off, on and off, sporadically. Pounding began on the door to the office. The guard watched, one hand clutching the chair’s arm desperately, the other searching fruitlessly for some weapon. A second later it was over. He was gone.

The guard stayed stock still for a long moment, breathing far too heavily. After a while, they were sure that he was gone, at least for the moment, and sunk slowly into the coffee-stained chair, pulling out a phone and shooting a message to the network before returning to the watch, now too unwilling to go and replace their coffee as tears streamed down their pallid face.

2:34 AM

Sent from: 3rd Watch