*ENDGINEER!

¡ʇsnpɹɐʇs oʇ ʇsnpɹɐʇs

[crushng-a]

exploring the all-consuming nature of love,  the cycle of trauma & abuse,  EVENT HORIZONS,   time loops,  the fabric of reality itself,  sometimes SACRIFICE,   and eventually,   redemption.  

moved to @crushng — writing only on discord. ty for following ✨

MEET THE ENDGINEER!

a heavily canon divergent head engineer of in space with markiplier. (blackhole! paradox! singularity!)

independent + private + highly selective.  this blog explores heavy & mature themes and is not suitable for anyone under 18.  personal blogs, “anonsonas,” etc. will be hardblocked.  please read all pages before following or following back.

ALL INFORMATION HERE!  +   mobile friendly about | timelines | guidelines | promo | playlist

icon by @trashpedigree beloved (full size here)

[crushng-a]

You’ve gotten too big for your coding. I think it’s time you’re taken apart for my next project.

wide eyes. frozen in time. hand half-raised as if to ward off a blow. taken apart? but that’s my job.

(did you think this was going to last forever?) (this is what you asked for, after all.) (CONGRATULATIONS! you’ve been noticed! and promptly swatted like a housefly!)

(idiot.)

“you’re …” the author. the maker. (and you say YOU’RE the end of all things. here’s something that can UNDO YOU WITH A SMILE.)

[lady-ishtar-offers-rp-memes]

Send 📱 or just a text message to receive a drunk text from my muse.

Here’s hoping your muse doesn’t get in big trouble/isn’t underaged.

Be specific which muse you want to talk to drunk for multimuse blogs.

[alyzememes]

everyone sending ‘💋’ in my inbox gets a kiss from my muse.

if you can’t see the symbol send ‘kiss mark emoji’.

[rpmemes-galore]

Go on anon and send my muse messages from someone they’re SCARED of!  See how frightened you can make them!

[crushng-a]

Would you like a friend?

“okay. let’s get something clear here. i am perfectly capable of making friends on my own. in fact, i’m very charismatic. i have lots of friends!”

honestly. if someone actually wants to be his friend, there’s probably something wrong with them.

[crushng-a]

am i coming back? probably not. did i reorganize my dash? yes 😌

[crushng-a]

i lied i want ask interaction at work

[crushng-a]

[crushng-a]

the hyperfixation never sleeps

[crushng-a]

i’m watching avat.ar tla for the first time & jet gives me enormous gin vibes for some reason

[innsaeid-a]

hey, do you like stoic hackers with living brain tumors? what about crazy scientists with the ability to move their consciousness between clones? and... cybernetic supersoldiers who can't speak 'cause they're missing their voice module? you can find all of these over here at INNSAEID, a multimuse blog dedicated to those muses which contain the sea within. there's only three muses at the moment, with more on the way. this blog currently contains muses from cyberpunk 2077, hardcore henry, and payday 2. i am oc and crossover friendly, so don't be afraid to interact! i'm elliott, he/they, 20, selective and low activity, and i prefer rping with those 18+. i would have a much nicer promo but i'm lazy, lol. anyway, give my boys a peek over here on my doc!

[crushng-a]

what have you forgotten?

[rpmemes-galore]

send me   “eavesdrop”   and my muse will describe your muse like they’re talking to a third party. 

[crushng-a]

starter.file located crushng

You're a long way off from space.

It's... quaint here. A quiet town near the coast, safe from wormholes, paradoxes, and dramatic plot devices. The Captain shouldn't be here, slacking off. Organizing merchandise in the back of a tackle shop somewhere far away from the actual story.

Of course, the latest "customer" shouldn't be here, either.

They can hear movement from the main room. Did the bell to the door even ring? Oh, well. It doesn't matter either way. It's probably one of the locals - they know their clientele very well by now! They know exactly what to expect.

"Be out with you in a minute," they call. Crates are stacked on top of each other, slid safely onto the shelf, before Cal walks out wiping their hands on their pants. "How can I help you?"

You. Do I know you? Spaceship. Something to do with a spaceship. Wait, what? That can't be right. Space camp? Do they know him from a space camp? No. The control panel is on fire. Go fix life support. We have to-

A confused expression sticks to their face. They have one of those, here. But just as quickly as it came, they push it away with a shake of their head. "I'm sorry, you caught me by surprise. I don't get a lot of new people in here. Were you looking for anything in particular?"

something's drawn them here.

yeah, sure. they're probably in the wrong place. it stinks in here. there's definitely nothing interesting. no crystal, no portals, no prey worth capturing. unless some bombshell blonde wanders out of the back, they're better off turning right back around and flitting back the way they came.

it's a place to get fishing gear, apparently. there's a few poles and tackle boxes, but mostly it's live bait and an array of glittery lures.

and this bitch. YOU. I KNOW YOU. you you you you you you you you you you you you you! old friend! ancient enemy. stranger with a strange face. beautiful, handsome, incredible as ever. stench of salt and liver, squint of a blank face. (look at you! you grew a new face! i'm so proud of you. just like some kind of alien freak!)

“what the fucking hell are you doing here?” the exclamation lands squarely between surprised, blooming delight, and an accusation flung with all the blistering hatred of an anathema. “i've been searching for you for so long, and this is where you've been hiding? some backwater pile of dead fish?”

I DIED FOR YOU! OVER AND OVER! you ungrateful little shit.

oh, but i love you, i love you, i love you! i adore you. i want you. let's get married so i can bite your fingers off one at a time.

[crushng-a]

Get in, get the box, get out. If the viewer would stop taking their sweet, sweet time and give him his cue already, it would be easy.

He would have stepped out of the story long before it sent him down memory lane, but, well, that takes a lot more effort these days.

Rift looks at his watch. Shifts impatiently from side to side. Nearly jumps out of his skin when an unscripted line is thrown at him, first from up high, and then far too close for comfort. Shit. He turns to meet the look-alike with wide eyes.

What's wrong with his face? It was his first. He's pretty sure.

Some of the surprised fear leaks away only because nothing they're saying makes sense. Rift steps back, tucking his hair under the beanie. Makeup worked hard on that! Probably. "Your replacement? No. What are you even supposed to be? I mean, you can't say there's something weird about how I look with whatever you have going on here."

He waves his hand around the same height as his too-bright eyes, but not too close. "Oh! No, I get it. This is another glitch, isn't it?" Then nothing he tells him will matter. "I'm not pretending to be you. I'm the real Mark I.plier. You know, renowned thief? Best of the best?"

The Head Engineer. The famous Actor. Ringing any bells?

"As much as I'd love to deal with this, I'm on a tight schedule. Gotta stick to the plan. And you're obviously not my captain." He checks his watch, one more time. He needs to break into the museum get back to his ship stop this stupid loop.

Wait. "What do you mean you've done this?"

“what am i supposed to be?! what are you?! what kind of a name is ip-lee-air?” gin makes violent air quotes around the pretentious-sounding name.

you’re no thief. you couldn’t pickpocket a dead man. you could have someone hand you their wallet and you’d chase them down to give it back! where are the calluses? where’s the speed? imposter.

glitch? another glitch? what glitches?

“of course i’ve done this before. this is my life you’re trespassing in! i’m mark!” he trips over the old name. a stutter, like losing traction. too heavy to carry on the tongue. (i can give it away, but you can't take it from me.)

captain. captain. captain. no, you meant partner. right? right? you know too much. ditch the who — what are you? can you take that face off and put on a new one? what if i tore it off to see what's underneath? are you muscle and sinew, or are you fog? air? ash and blood. you aren't alive. nothing real about you! empty husk. i'll hollow you out too.

I’LL EAT YOU ALIVE! parasite! liar! idiot!

“alright, bitch. prove you're who you say you are. i bet you can't.”

[rosetintedgunman]

" i know i can be an asshole, but... you always see the good in me. "

— u can make a new thread if you’re ok with abysmally late replies but i would also treasure a drabble 💕

@crushng (Starter prompt from here)

(Truthfully, with everything going on atm, a drabble probably works better for you)

-

The Roller was buzzing with activity. Groups of people could be found in each of the areas, and Gin was thriving with the attention from various guests.

However, Wilford was nowhere to be seen, and that ultimately paid a price when Gin got a little too snappy at a waitress in the diner who didn't make his preferred milkshake just right. Panic ensued to try and calm the regular down, but no one could do it.

That is, until a glass slammed down on the table in front of Gin.

An uncharacteristically irate Wilford was glaring down at him from behind the diner's counter. He was dressed in a neatly pressed shirt, with a fancy pastel pink bow and a pastel rainbow suspenders. While similar, it was a far cry from the more casual look Wilford wore in the Roller. Even his curls were tamer than usual.

"I hadta cut an interview short when I got a call that someone was havin' a temper tantrum."

Ah. That explained it. Still steaming, Gin opted to play it wise and bite the tip of the straw instead of bringing forth the wrath of Wilford. After all, the man was a paradox in and of himself. There was a lot that was a mystery. If Wilford could effortlessly create a place like the Roller, could form and destroy wormholes at will, without even considering a "pocket dimension" that he appeared to hide things in, this was a match that a black hole was not guaranteed to win.

(Besides, then no one would make the special milkshakes anymore if he was banned from the Roller when Wilford revived himself. :( )

One particularly loud slurp from Gin, followed by a low warning of "Manners" had the regular jolt back into the moment. At some point, Wilford had moved to take the stool beside him. Or maybe a blink had transported him there. Regardless of his method of sitting, Wilford was calmer in himself. The bowtie had been undone and loosely tucked into his shirt pocket, and he was in the middle of ruffling his hair back into place when he noticed glowing eyes on him. The reporter sighed.

"Look. Ya need ta relax a little more." He was speaking slowly, something Gin noticed when Wilford was trying to choose his words carefully. "Everythin' doesn't hafta go th' exact way ya want it to. If a drink isn't made right, who cares? Sometimes ya discover new things from a mix-up in th' menu. But ya need ta apologise ta that young lady." Gin tried to protest, but his drink was gone. Literally.

"Now."

-

One begrudging apology to a (rightfully) terrified waitress later, Gin slumped back onto the bar stool. In a blink, the drink reappeared and he was too sullen to care how or why he was being treated like a child.

Curiously, this time around Wilford kept quiet. It allowed Gin to reflect. This was the first time he had properly gotten in trouble in the Roller. And even then, it was just a light scolding and a punishment of giving an apology. Gin had caused such a ruckus that Wilford had to cut a shift in the studio short to deal with it, and he didn't leave after that.

By the time Gin was down to the final quarter of the milkshake, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I can be an asshole but... you always see the good in me."

There was a clink of glass being placed on the counter. Wilford, who had somehow gotten a glass of fizzy orange in the middle of all of this, gave Gin a smile that one could swear had a hint of sadness to it.

"That's 'cause ya feel like ya don't see it in yerself. Ya feel ya don't deserve bein' treated nicely when yer mean ta others or push 'em away fer whatever reason ya try ta justify. Not that I'm tryin' ta be some sorta psycho-doctor-whatchamacallit or anythin'. I don't know shit 'bout that,' Wilford laughed, "But it's somethin' I recognise. 'Spose ya could say I've seen it a lot over th' years."

If there was a moment for Gin to ask a question to finally try and learn more about Wilford himself beyond the persona he presented, it was gone before Gin could register the implication of the words.

"Ya deserve ta have friends, y'know. Not everyone hasta have some sorta 'purpose' or some sorta 'end goal'. Be someone's friend fer th' simple reason of 'just because'. There's nice folks out there. Even if they don't know th' story, they're still pleasant company ta have. An' when ya spend time with people like that, well... Ya start realisin' there's a lot more good in there than ya noticed."

[charofthestars]

why should i believe you?

Charlie leans back against his hands, legs swinging over the edge of the wooden dock he sat upon. He knew he was dreaming, this time. But he hadn’t been sure if he’d see Gin or not. It had been a while.

There was a storm in the distance, the clouds black and ugly, roiling around the fury of itself. The waves slapped at the dock. But Charlie wasn’t afraid.

For once.

“ I could ask you the same thing, ” he says softly. “ Why should I believe that things will ever be different between the two of us? That I’ll ever be more than what I already am? ” Loyal Charlie, ever dashing headlong into danger, into the arms of someone that would never see him as equal. If only he knew how to stop himself.

His head tilts to the side, looking for the source of his company. Gin is always so pretty, they make him want in a way that he can’t always explain.

“ You should believe me because I’ve never lied to you. Have I? You’ve always been able to get what you want from me. Including the truth. ” Charlie looks back out at the sea. He recognizes why it feels so familiar now. It prickles with an electric energy much like the thing of man and space that sat alongside him. “ I love you. And I’m not going anywhere. Whether you choose to believe me or not. ”