#askdarkiplier

Sorry for the shadow...

(Note- I'm on a mission to send character doodles to as many mark character/ego rp blogs as possible :) )

Such a wonderful drawing. You captured my likeness excellently. Thank you, dear asker. You clearly have a talent for this.

In honor of my 1,000th post, I introduce you to a soothing, haunting piece. Fingers kind of tapped a little too harshly on the neck of the cello, but I think it’s rather gorgeous over all.

Woo I made a thing. I was learning how to do some more edits in motion and decided to make something short for Darkiplier

“I believe Mr. Lecter and I share many similarities and many differences. Comparing me to him would be a false move… comparing someone to someone else in any fashion rids of their sense of uniqueness and singularity. Individuality dies along with the new facade of whoever you think them to be like. So I would say I am nothing like Mr. Lecter, but here are a few points to make on why we share a few trademarks.”

Dark brought his finger up to his lips, and he swiped the thinness of his tongue along the pad to wet the surface before he began to shuffle through long files worth of paper.

“J….K… L….. Lecter, here we are….

1. Lecter and I share an extensive knowledge in regards to the history of art.

2. We’re excellent and take pleasure in working on the human minds.

3. We’re manipulators.

4. We enjoy reading.

5. We use intimidation and evasion as power.

6. We have a genius-level intelligence.

Now, our differences.

1. Mr. Lecter has expansive knowledge on food. I do not.

2. Mr. Lecter is a murderer. I have never murdered anyone.

3. Mr. Lecter is a sociopath, while I tend to steer to psychopathy.

4. Mr. Lecter feasts on human flesh. I do not.

5. Mr. Lecter is marked a serial killer. I am not.

6. Mr. Lecter is hated by authority figures. I am admired by authority.

Dark’s eyes squeezed together, a nasty and threatening narrow of his eyes providing one of the heaviest glares he ever dished out. His shoulders glitched outwards, flashing neon blue and extending unnaturally before snapping back to its natural place.

“No. We have not.”

In the midst of it all, his mind was flashing with the memory of his kiss, briefly recollecting on the heat of it, how he had meant desperately to send a message, but instead had given away a piece of himself to try and be clever. But he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed about it or not.

Written by Yours Truly, ask-sadisticdark. I have promised a story at 1,000 followers, and here we are! I am ever so glad that you all decided to remain with me, a blubbering and rambling mess of a Figment. Without further ado, here we begin.

WARNING: This story details a stressful situation with mild (very mild, only mentions of blood), mocking, and vulgar. If this does not appeal to you, I urge you to not complete this story. Thank you.

The night never used to effect you.

For some points in your life, you never even noticed the change of the day. The computer screen blaring its blue light right into your eyes made it hard to realize that at some point, sunlight failed to gleam its way past your window curtains. But things change.

And your fears changed with them.

Darkiplier’s return hadn’t struck you much when it first occurred. You had been excited and enthralled by the momentum of it all, but there was no true fear. But as it was said... things change. And things changed very drastically on one particular blustering, lonely night.

You remember it vividly. It was dark, the wind was crashing like tidal waves against the panels of your house, but you paid almost no mind to it. It’s desperate warning howls against cold and bitter air never seemed to register its way into your head. You were busy, far too busy, to listen. Instead, your attentions were eagerly set upon one particular youtube channel, and to one particular youtuber, who’s smile and stubble always seemed to burn a piece of you even brighter. Every time his video started, your entire body always relaxed. Every time his voice rolled from the speakers of your computer, you were already fixated.

“Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier and welcome-”

Another horrible gurgling sound of the wind smacking against the tree branches almost drowned out the sounds of Mark speaking. But you were determined to listen, you were an avid lover of the Subnautica series, after all. It started as usual, Mark had his character standing out into the empty abyss of the sea, looking towards the horizon and blabbering his thoughts about his loneliness and plans to rebuild a base somewhere deep underwater. And you loved every second of it. You loved his goofy childish fear of the creatures bellowing from beyond. You loved his ambitions and truest, deepest, desire to learn more about the secrets hidden bellow ocean waves.

That is when everything went horribly wrong.

It was about ten minutes into the video. Mark had his Seamoth floating into the endless chasms of the trenches of the deep, darkness surrounding him, eery music screeching beneath his words. There was an abrupt beeping sound that sounded much like a computer error note, and the youtube video was cut off, glitched into place in the midst of Mark’s opening mouth.

The sudden file that abruptly popped up in the center of your screen made you jerk in your seat. Leaning back after realizing how closely you had been leaning, your eyes stared upon the digital manila envelope that sat right smack in the middle of the youtube video, innocent but very, very odd. In bold black letters beneath the folder, it read

“Read Me.”

Instead of feeling fear, you scowled in annoyance. Damn bots and their malware. You quickly clicked away from the envelope, and it brought you back to the youtube screen, where you were able to begin the video again. In just mere moments, you completely forgot all about that strange, random digital file.

Mark’s humorous statements, and the surprising calm of the wind battering the window pane, caused you to begin relaxing again. When the loud bling sound arrived for the second time, only about five minutes after deleting the first file, you almost gave a gasp in surprise. The file, in all its small digital glory, popped back up onto the midst of the computer screen, sitting patiently, quietly, unassuming. But the words bellow had changed. In that same bold font, rigid and black, it read;

“I Said Read Me.”

This one caused your attention. This one, you could feel, caused for your stomach to awkwardly flutter in a mixture of nervous curiosity. This was definitely no malware, no bot had ever sent another message after being declined with such demand. Your hand on the mouse, suddenly becoming slightly slick, slowly pulled the cursor over the file, highlighting it in preparation to click. But you hesitated.

What if this absolutely fucked up your computer? Implanted a virus or some type of device to stalk you while you slept. You had heard of the stories before, those horrible nightmarish instances where someone was kidnapped by a freak viewing them from their computer screen.... But this felt... different. Somehow, this felt... safe. You had no explanation as to why, and you rarely ever trusted your judgement. But without another pause, you tapped the file to beckon it open.

The file disappeared, and into another quick moment, a blank empty page took its place, only taking up about half of the screen in a small rectangular shape. The page, in same bolded black, only read a few words.

“Mind Or Body?”

And beneath those words were two empty boxes, one with an M beside it, and the other with a B. They were waiting to be checked.

At this point, you were beyond puzzled. What did the question even mean? Was this some sort of advertisement? It couldn’t have been, advertisements were never ones to be mysterious. They immediately wanted you to know their name and they motives. This was just... bizarre.

“Mind Or Body?”

You removed your hand from the mouse, and slowly rubbed the cold and sweating fingertips of yours across your cheeks, desperately trying to understand what it was initially asking. Was it based off attraction? Perhaps that was it... intelligence or beauty, perhaps, was the underlying cause. You had to assume so, because it certainly wasn’t giving any further clues.

Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth, scowling in an attempted concentration as a slow breath drew from you. On top of trying to discover where this file had come from, and why, you were also trying to choose between the two options.

What did it matter, really anyway? What type of strange poll was this, and how did it affect anything?

In a fit of “I don’t care”, you wiggled your cursor across the screen before randomly choosing one of the options. You think you ended up clicking on Body, but you weren’t completely sure.

The page disappeared in a silent blink, leaving the canvas of the youtube page up to its fullest colors. But despite the eagerly awaiting adventures that were going to occur in the deep, you failed to start the video again. You merely stared, blankly, unseeing of the bold red outline of the webpage. You were too intensely in thought, and too intent on finding out what that file had exactly done to the likes of your computer.

You ran a malware check, a virus check, and a few treatment diagnostics, almost certain some type of disruption surely had made its way to the database. But, the computer seemed certain that all was well, as certain as it was that it couldn’t find the source of that file, or the history of its appearance.

Satisfied, only partially, that all was well, you shrugged off the experience and assumed that whatever poll you had just taken was going to some sort of research facility, somewhere in the world. A strange, mysterious, unknown facility, but a facility nonetheless. Your hand fell upon the mouse again, and you moved your cursor across the screen in order to reopen your page again.

You only got about half way.

The entirety of your screen froze, or at least, that’s what you could determine. No matter how aggressively you swiped your mice across your desk, around in circles, back and forth, zigzagging and cursing under your breath, the white little cursor simply remained stuck right in the center of your computer screen.

“Dammit you stupid lagging piece of trash.” Your voice growled in disdain as you lifted the mouse in your hand, beginning to twist it to check and see if anything had blocked off the sensors down bellow. It was then that the familiar, horribly familiar, bling from the computer resounded in your ears again.

Your eyes lifted back towards the computer before you, and there, in the center of the computer, directly bellow the cursor with the same cream manila envelope, was another file.

“View Me.”

You were unable to move the cursor in order to hover over the words, the entirety of your screen had obviously completely crashed. So, in one last effort, you pressed your finger against your enter button. The file glitched into uneven shreds, ditching across the screen as a scratching noise, like fuzz and screeching nails, echoed in your ears for a moment or so, before all was quiet again. Calmly, a much larger rectangle assumed its place, but it was empty, and black, and a small play button sat in the center. It was a video. It began playing with you urging it to start.

The scene it faded into caused the depths of your chest to rise into your throat.

The dark concrete room was barren, lacking substantial light and seeming to be aged and worn. Deep cracks were in the floor and wall that connected together. Dark stains, mud or... blood... or whatever else... were randomly splattered against the surface. You could almost smell the musky scent it most certainly wafted.

A man sat directly in the center, head drooped lowly, the black raven tresses of his hair cascading over half of his face. The chair he sat in was large, awkwardly large, metallic and rigid and surely not comfortable. You could see that his eyes were closed, but it lacked anything that would describe that he was peaceful. His hands were stuck awkwardly behind his back, elbows protruding outward enough to make you believe his wrists were most likely bound.

“Mark...” The words barely left you, your voice was having a difficult time being used. What in the hell was this? Why were you being shown something like this? What did it mean?

You were desperately attempting to process the horrid display, when suddenly they entirety of the scene jostled and wiggled, blurring the figure in front of you. Someone was adjusting the camera pointed in Mark’s direction.

“Mmmmm....” There was a light growling sound in the depth of an unknown figure’s throat, whoever was behind the scene. Behind the camera. Behind all of this mayhem you were looking upon. There was a few more seconds of jostling and incoherent muttering, before there was a loud click, and a sound of praise.

“There we are.” The voice was rich, flowing and gentle, almost calming if any different situation was occurring. A man, burly and tall, surprisingly pale, strode into the view of the camera.

You suddenly realized just how thirsty you were. All you ever wanted, at that moment, was a tall glass of water.

Dark turned himself around in order to burn his gaze into the camera lens, staring directly into you with a smile that arched unnaturally. His arms that lay at his sides swung out, beckoning in a gesture of prideful welcome.

“Lovelies, ladies and gentleman, one... and all. I am most pleased to find you here with me. Welcome, all of you, to my first ever, official, Darkiplier episode.” Dark clapped his hands together and hugged them close to his chest, snickering and smiling in a giddy fashion.

“It took quite a bit of effort, I must admit. Days worth of planning, aggravation, sweat and tears and blood, quite literally, in order to make this possible. I set up the scene, of course, with the skills that I wield. But the final piece, the final push to truly... get this episode rolling, was something I required from you.”

Dark stood directly in front of Mark’s body, who remained unmoving, locked in some type of trance, or fretful sleep, looking like a long passed mannequin. Dark didn’t even seem to notice Mark’s existence, his entire attentions focused to the screen, and he continued talking.

“All of you received a poll, just minutes ago. The question, as I’m sure you all can recall, was ‘Mind or Body?’ Did any of you ponder what this may entail? Hmm? Did any of you suspect any ill will when you responded? Well, whatever curiosity you have faced in these last few moments, my friends, it will finally be quenched. Your responses determined the actions that will be bestowed upon my perfect little subject here with me, today. Some of you may know him from his video channel, some of you may have no recognition of him. I simply call him Mark.”

Dark stepped to the side only slightly, and twisted his shoulders to show off the shadowed figure of poor empty Mark, hanging in his seat.

“Perhaps ‘The Little Wench Who Ruined My Existence’ would suffice as a more suitable nickname, however. Don’t you agree, Mark?”

After another pause, he turned back, and jerked his hands against the hem of his vest, straining the fabric. He continued as if he hadn’t interacted with the unconscious man at all. As he did, his smile shifted, only slightly, something laying beneath his skin that grew darker, less friendly. He seemed to be staring directly into you, and you alone.

“Some of you may believe that this is for Mark alone. But you would assume incorrectly. Don’t you see? I tried to play nicely. I tried to be the wonderful, perfect Figment they all assumed me to be. But still... you doubted. Adoration turned into comfortableness. You all became fearless of me. You sought me out because you thought I was fUnnY, OR cuTE, or soMEtHING to brINg you AMUsemenT. You all believe that I am.... am incapable..... of what I KNOW.... I can do. You all believe that I am weak, pathetic, and that I am simply some... imagination. Some... tHinG. Well... I am here to remind you, Lovelies, that I am not some wandering decision. I am a concrete REALITY. And now... well... I will prove. What I. Am capable of.”

TO BE CONTINUED?

Oops! I may have not completely fulfilled my promise. Did I fail to mention I would only be providing HALF of the story at 1,000 followers? How disappointing. It must have slipped my mind.

Please keep in mind the image was not drawn by me.