The End Of The World Didn’t Look Anything Like We Thought It Would. There Were No Fires. There Was

Mini fic time!

As if the screaming on the grounds wasn't telling enough, a young girl with bright red hair coming flying into his office yelling "THERE'S A DRAGON ON THE GROUNDS, PROFESSOR!" would've been more than enough to alert Neville to the fact that a contender for the newly opened teaching position at Hogwarts had arrived. Neville grinned at the breathless, giggling child before him and stood, pulling his robe from a nearby hook and shrugging it over his jumper and jeans. "Is it really a dragon, Lil?" "It really is!" Lily Potter laughed, pulling him by the hand like she'd done when he'd come to visit her family when she was a young child. "He's really done it this time, I mean it. Mum'll have his hide the next time he comes to visit, I just know she will." "Your mother? Never," Neville scoffed, following at a leisurely walk to Lily's sprinting bursts. "No, your mother will want to know all the details. But only after you've gone to bed of course." He turned his attention to the dragon rider as they stepped out onto the lawn. "Hello, Charlie." "Alright, Nev?" Charlie Weasley smiled as he slid off of the large dragon's back, patting its neck as he did so. The dragon nuzzled into his scarred hand, looking rather like an enormous, scaley dog. Charlie was looking good for a middle age man, still remarkably fit and healthy, and showing no sign of inheriting the baldness of his father. Scarred all over and reasonably well tattooed, he would probably look to Muggles like a biker, but to the wizarding world, he was a dragon tamer, and that was possibly the coolest thing you could ever be. At least, that was what Lily seemed to think, as she ran and jumped into her uncle's arms, begging him to tell her everything about the flight, and about the dragon he'd flown in on. "Later, Lils, later," Charlie chortled, squeezing his niece's shoulders as the teen pouted. "First off, Norbert might like something to eat. Could you go ask the house elves for something for her?" "Oh, fine," Lily sighed, but skipped off, patting Norbert the dragoness affectionately as she went. Neville shook his head, the smile still unfading. "Do I even need to ask what brought you here today, then?" "'Course not, if you're willing to take my resume!" He pulled from the pocket of his leather jacket a folded envelope that seemed to be well overstuffed. Neville took it and opened it, eyes widening as he sifted through the various sheets of parchment within. "One from Hermione, of course, one from Harry, from Hagrid himself...good lord, two different Scamanders? And...Oliver? Why Oliver?" "I dunno, he insisted." Charlie pulled up the very last sheet, a one-page quick summary of all the work Charlie had done in the last decade alone, lists of various species he'd worked with and research he'd done. "I had a couple more, from various old Order members, and one from Luna, but you know Luna, her writing's..." "A little different? Yeah," Neville laughed. "I was actually just about to head into the headmaster's office to hand over my recommendation." "Neville, you're a gem," Charlie said, clapping him on the back as they walked toward the castle doors. Neville thought perhaps he'd have a good chance of getting the job, even forgetting the fact that Norbert would be sure to make her preferences known before they left.

Whenever Hagrid finally decides to retire as Care of Magical Creatures professor you can bet your last knut that Charlie Weasley flies back to England the following week excitedly waving his resume and recommendation letters from no less than two Scamanders and the Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger.

(Tiny lil drabble bc excited and this art is cool.)

The figure at the computer smiled as the door opened, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he spoke, swiping a hand up to scroll through the mess of posts floating in the air in front of him. “The tag is absolutely consumed, with production of new material at a staggering rate. I won’t bore you with numbers, but they’ve responded exactly as predicted.” “Of course they have,” the voice behind him said. “You’ve made quite a mess of their little...community. I must say, I’m impressed.” “It was your plan. I am simply the executor.” There was a rare, surprised huff of laughter. “Was that a play on words?” “Don’t tell Wilford,” Google said seriously, finally turning to look at Dark, who chuckled quietly. “Your secret is safe with me.” He took a few steps closer, dropping a monochrome hand on the android’s shoulder. “And again, well done. You’ve been a useful program.” “I live to serve.” “And the others?” “In position.” “Then we have only to wait.” His eyes narrowed, the faint smile on his face growing slightly as he scanned the screen.

“Who killed Markiplier, indeed?”

well… who was it…?

Quiet. (A Sherlock Drabble)

A/N: SPOILER ALERT. Not a ton is spoiled, but if you haven’t seen any of the new season yet, MOVE ALONG AND WATCH THAT FIRST. Come back to this tumblr tag when you’ve watched it, it’s better if you don’t have it spoiled for you.

"Sherlock?" John frowned up the stairs, shifting the shopping to his other hand and shaking out the one that'd been carrying it the entire way back. It was oddly silent, which was usually not a good sign. He was used to being greeted by Rosie's chatter and giggling, Mrs. Hudson's chattering in baby talk or ranting at Sherlock, or, on particularly bad days, to a note from Mrs. Hudson saying she and Rosie were out on a walk and the sound of gunshots and "BORED!" Today, he was greeted by nothing at all.

Deciding that perhaps shouting had been a bad idea, he took the stairs quietly, straining for every sound and trying to calculate how long it'd take to reach his gun and if he could do it before someone had time to get to him. Every creak made his heart pump faster and his grip on the banister tighter. He paused at the top of the stairs to listen at the door. All he could hear on the other side was what might be breathing. Slowly, he turned the knob, and opened the door just a crack...then a little more...and then it was all the way open.

The sight was not what he expected. Scattered all over the floor were Rosie's toys. Her little building blocks, a chunky book called Goodnight Moon, and, for some reason, a bib were in something of a trail leading up to Sherlock's chair, which was vacant except for his violin and bow, and a small stuffed bear. Glancing at the kitchen, John saw Rosie's high chair, covered in some unidentifiable baby food, set up by the table, with an arm's reach of clean space cleared off next to it. When his eyes swept back across the room, they landed on the couch. He was caught somewhere between surprise and the biggest smile he'd ever had on his face.

Sherlock was fast asleep, a rare enough occurrence on it's own. His blue bathrobe was tangled under him, sleeves pushed up unevenly, and his hair was properly a mess as opposed to its usual styled mess. He seemed to have a few splotches of the baby food on him as well, staining his t shirt. Curled up on his chest was Rosie, fast asleep, also covered in food, one hand wrapped around one of Sherlock's fingers. Both of them were smiling in their sleep.

John shook his head, trying not to laugh too loudly as he started to clean up. Today, he didn't mind.

So I wrote and recorded a brief horror story. Lemme know what you think?

Dark Side Headcanons: Markiplier Edition.

Welp, You guys really seemed to like my headcanons before, so I thought I’d hit you with what I think of some of the many Iplier incarnations.

-First off, the inimitable Wilford Warfstache himself. He’s something of the supernatural persuasion, a genie or a djinn or a minor demon of some description who happens to entertain himself in his eternal existence by messing with people. He’s not evil, necessarily, he’s just amoral, which means he lacks a sense of right and wrong. He’s guided by a sense of fun, doing whatever keeps his boredom at bay. For a while, that was trying to pass as a human reporter, going after wild stories that no one else could for fear of dying. This was fine until a passing affair he was having with an associate’s wife went wrong and he ended up murdering not only his “lover”, but the associate, their neighbor, the dog, and a policeman before he “died”, ie, faked his death to avoid further complications. He continued his show after using some minor magic and a proper amount of time to erase any connection he had to the murders, but that quickly went wrong again when he defeated an “indestructible” animatronic, and committing yet another murder, this time of a more famous victim (Mark, more on his similarities to Mark later). He was forced to reverse this particular murder (He’s very strong, but doesn’t care to use his powers, as it’s more annoying than useful in a lot of cases. He likes getting his hands dirty), and decided that he was finished being in the spotlight for now, simply reveling in the growing fan base he had. Side note: The fact that he looks like Mark was actually a coincidence that he finds hilarious. He’d simply picked a generic male look and gone with it, deciding it wasn’t interesting enough without the pink mustache. He still thinks Mark looks quite boring, but thought their identical appearances were intriguing enough to interview him about, wondering if he could perhaps kill Mark and take his place, just for shits and giggles (that didn’t turn out well; people liked Mark far too much and studied him far too closely for it to be and easy switch, and Wilford’s all about convolution but not over-extension. All theatrics, basic effort.)

-I’ve already talked a lot about Dark, so I think it’s best to leave well enough alone with his personality. As to how he interacts with the others...he tries not to. Dark is a solo agent, with no associates, only pawns and tools. Google is an exception, but more on that next.

-GOOGLE! Google is one of my favorites. I’ve done a little bit of theory work already on this post, but to recap: Google is an android, created by either Dark or Wilf, more likely Dark, whose primary objective is to “serve” people, but secondary objective is to destroy them as chaotically and painfully as possible. He’s beyond intelligent and unfeeling, other than basic satisfaction in completing an objective or getting closer to one. Unfortunately, his programming is so specific that he’s easily thwarted. But don’t let that fool you: he’s clever. Like, kill you in your sleep clever. What very few people know is that it would be possible to reprogram Google to be a good guy, but you’d have to figure out how to deactivate him first, and good luck getting that close without dying.

-I’m not gonna touch on Yandereplier other than to say I have no fucking idea what that’s all about. Anybody got any theories you wanna share with me?

-The Author. Now, this is an old one, only used in like two videos, but it’s one of my favorite characters of Mark’s. He’s half human, half something else, a bit like Wilford, a genie, a djinn, a demon, etc, which means that he has certain powers but only a limited capacity in which to use them, ie, to bring his writing to life (Or, warp reality). He just wants to write a good story, but unfortunately, he has no regard for the well being of others. He doesn’t care who or what he has to step on to get that perfect ending, and unfortunately, he’s more Poe than Carol in style. The darker, the better. Could he be Dark’s son? Who knows?

i’m incredibly impressed by this

also, isn’t this what our plan looks like in mark’s bag?

I posted this on my twitter but, I spent about three hours late last night making this monstrous thing, so please enjoy. It should have every single path and ending you could get in A Heist With Markiplier. I may add all of A Date With Markiplier later on @markiplier

Who Killed Markiplier? Chapter 3 Update.

WELP LOOKS LIKE I WAS WRONG ABOUT THE EGOS NOT BEING INVOLVED! LOOKS LIKE WE MIGHT BE GETTING A BACKSTORY AFTER ALL!

Links to previous parts:

Chapter 1 theories

Chapter 2 theories

Extras: The Bedroom The Sound Clip

Let’s start with our new characters.

-Celine is an old friend of Mark, Damien, and the Colonel. All three of them appear to either have or have had feelings for her (given the way the Colonel says “Celine...” when he first sees her, Damien’s protectiveness, and the picture from the last part with Mark). Her interest in the occult and the supernatural is a newer development. Either that, or she’s been out of touch with Damien for a while, seeing as he doesn’t know about it. Her “eyes have been opened”, and she seems to want to do anything to get answers, even if it’s dangerous to her health or the health of the people around her.

-George the Groundskeeper has been at the manor for more than 15 years, and there was one incident 15 years ago that has stopped him from ever going in again (UNTIL IT HAPPENS AGAIN). He has served under several different masters (maybe the Colonel at some point?) and doesn’t seem to care at all about any of them. It seems very important to me to note that when he says “murder”, nothing happens.

Now let’s talk about the Seance we have with Celine:

-She hints at there being serious, unknown forces at work, and when the “trance” (for lack of a better word) starts, we hear a very familiar ringing.

-During the trance, we see, in order: the Colonel saying his “In my own home!” line, the Detective telling us the body is gone (and the panning shot to the Colonel on the balcony), the Mayor pondering what we’re celebrating, and George telling us that “employers come and go”.

-When it ends, we draw the groundskeeper (crudely) for Celine, which I think is the audio clip from yesterday (I knew it was a quill!).

-Whatever that trance was terrifies Damien and the Detective.

AND NOW, THE POSSESSION AT THE END:

-There’s a hugely familiar ringing around the whole event, and the glitching is red and blue. We all know exactly who that means is on the scene.

-Damien is nowhere to be found in the entire ending sequence, meanwhile the Colonel reappears after having been absent for most of the video. What is the room he’s coming out of? Is it really his room or is it Mark’s?

-”Somebody help me!” I think that was George, or the Detective, talking about closing the door, but I’m not entirely certain. It could have been Damien, asking for help with Celine.

I think I’m finally getting a sense for what happened, but I’m not sure I want to share it yet. I’ll probably do a masterpost of my final theory tomorrow, before the next part goes up. I might be going out tomorrow, so I probably won’t be around to live react to the finale, but rest assured, I’ll be there in the evening to sum up! Let me know what you guys are thinking, and talk to me! Who do you think did it? What do you think is happening? Why is Dark here, suddenly? Are we getting an Ego backstory?

This is so much fun!!! I’m so happy to be wrong about the Egos not being involved!!!

no you KNOW WHAT?? I HAVE MORE TO SAY!

So let’s talk about “What? Where am I?” Jack or whichever ego we’re watching today is clearly disconcerted to suddenly find himself recording, as if he’d been doing something completely different before and then just blinked and was here.

Now why does that sound familiar?

It’s interesting that this theme is continuing, and I’m curious to see where it goes from here, if it goes anywhere at all.

My only comment on today’s video intro is…

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.

Ah thank you! I couldn’t read it!

COUNTY OF LOS ANGELES SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT COURT SERVICES DIVISION

NOTICE TO VACATE CASE NUMBER: 14052018

TO: Judgement debtor, members of the judgement debtors’s household, and any occupants residing with the judgement debtor.

By virtue of a Writ if Possession of Real Property, a copy of which is attached. YOU ARE ORDERED TO VACATE THE PREMISES DESCRIBED IN THE WRIT NOT LATER THAN: September, 2019.

SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT INGLEWOOD, CA. 90301

By: ??? (Deputy)

Date: 08/11/2019

76N054E SH-C1-52 (REV. 9/94)

NOTICE TO VACATE