(This is the first chapter of a DarkiplierxReader fic I just started. I’m only posting the first chapter on here so people can check it out and see if they might wanna read more. All upcoming chapters will be posted on my Quotev and AO3 accounts. This is just a little sample of what’s to come 😉)
“Anti, why the fuck are you here?’
“Wilford invited me. Do you have a problem with that, Darkypoo?”
“Uh, yes. Obviously I have a problem with you being here. No one requested your presence at this meeting.”
“Wilford doesn’t count. He’d invite a hobo off the street if he was given the chance.”
“That’s… Well, that does kind of sound like something he’d do, actually. But I have a good reason for being here.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“So, it involves a knife—a few knives, actually…”
“Guys, please,” Mark interrupts. “You can bicker on your own time. Right now we have business to discuss.”
Yes,” Dark agrees, straightening his tie. “We have to deal with Y/N.”
“I thought they were stuck in a mirror or something,” Anti says, confused. “What do they have to do with anything?”
“They are stuck in a mirror, dumbass,” Dark says, his annoyance at the other demon extremely clear. “We have to get them out.”
“Why? I thought you were the one who originally trapped them there,” Anti says pointedly.
“Things have… changed since then,” Dark says, albeit a bit reluctantly.
“Ever since we stopped Actor…” Mark begins to say, though he trails off before he finishes that sentence.
“I just don’t understand why you two are suddenly working together,” Anti says, sounding skeptical. “Aren’t you guys supposed to, like, hate each other or something?”
“Any hatred I had was for Actor,” Dark says sharply. “Mark is… tolerable. I’ve found some of his past comments about me to be rather… hurtful, but I acknowledge that he didn’t know the real me at the time. So… no, I do not harbor any hate for this version of Mark.”
“Gee, thanks,” Mark replies with an eye-roll. “I’m glad you can tolerate my presence. It’s not like I’m the one who brought you into existence or anything.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you two talking about?” Anti asks. “There are other versions of Mark? I thought that Actor was the only Mark.”
Dark shakes his head, “Nope. There are… Well, there are infinite versions of Mark now, actually. The whole multiverse thing really… complicated everything.”
“Multiverse?” Anti repeats with wide eyes. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“All that matters right now is this reality,” Mark interjects before the conversation can derail any further. “And in this reality, Y/N is trapped in a mirror and we have to get them out.”
“But you’re not from this reality?” Anti asks. “How is that possible?”
“Were you even listening to me?” Dark responds with a scowl. “I literally just told you that the multiverse messed everything up.”
“So this version of Mark is just… stuck in this reality now?” Anti guesses aloud.
Mark nods solemnly. “Afraid so.”
“But what about the reality he’s from?”
“I choose to… not dwell on that, whenever possible,” Mark answers with a strained smile.
Dark rolls his eyes at the YouTuber. “His life is basically the same here. The only real difference is that, unlike his predecessor, he’s merely human.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being human,” Mark says, offended.
“Whatever. We’re literally only working together to get Y/N back. After that, I consider our current… arrangement terminated,” Dark explains.
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” Wilford says, speaking for the first time since the meeting started. “Bringing Y/N back into the mix will only serve to complicate this timeline further.”
Dark narrows his eyes at the pink-mustached man. “How can you know that?”
Wilford shrugs, then gives a cryptic smile. “I know a lot of things I probably shouldn’t.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter what… consequences this might have—we have to get Y/N out of that mirror. It’s… it’s just cruel to keep them trapped in there,” Mark says, expression pinched in concern.
“I agree,” Dark says. “Now is the time for us to make amends.”
Anti raises his eyebrows at that comment. “Seriously? From what you’ve told me in the past, what makes you so certain they’ll be willing to forgive you for what you did to them?”
“I… I am not certain,” the demon admits. “But I have to try.”
“And you’re okay with this?” Anti asks Mark. “You just… trust Dark to get Y/N out of the mirror safely?”
“What other options do I have?” Mark says with a helpless shrug.
“Why do you even care?” Dark asks Anti. “I thought you didn’t care about Y/N’s well-being.”
Anti scoffs, “Oh, trust me, I don’t. But I know a trainwreck when I see one—and this is about to be a huge one. I might be a lot of things, Darkypoo, but I know better than to leave loose ends. And Y/N is the biggest loose end you’ve got. The minute—no, the second—they’re out of that mirror, they will be gunning for you. And Mark, probably, since they don’t know about the multiverse, or whatever. If I were you, I would’ve killed them to begin with to avoid this entire mess.”
“I mean, they are dead, technically,” Wilford begins to say.
“Y/N will be understanding,” Dark quickly interrupts before Wilford can start one of his notorious rants. “Once we explain everything to them, I’m sure they’ll be able to see things from our perspective.”
“Seems like a longshot to me,” Anti says. “But, hey, it’ll be your funeral. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an Irishman to torment…”
“Why did you let him in here?” Dark asks Wilford as soon as Anti has left the room.
“He seemed like a fun guy,” Wilford responds defensively.
“He stabs people—for fun!” Mark exclaims, sounding a bit distressed.
“So? I do, too,” Wilford says with a little shrug.
You wake up in bed with a gasp. Your eyes blink open to darkness, and as your vision slowly adjusts you realize that you’re in an unfamiliar room. Sleep weighs down heavily upon you, and as a result you can’t remember how you got here.
In fact, the last thing you do remember is seeing a face on the other side of the mirror. Someone touched the glass and you mimicked the gesture, vainly hoping you’d be able to feel the warm skin of another human being.
Of course, though, that didn’t happen.
Instead, you held your hand up against your side of the glass and watched the face on the other side contort, as if in pain. There was a bright flash of light after that. And then… nothing.
But now you’re here somehow. Wherever ‘here’ is.
And that face you saw in the mirror, from the other side of it… it looked so familiar. It looked like…
But there’s no way that could be possible, right? Right?
Damien is gone. You know that, intuitively. He was replaced long ago with something far more sinister.
Figuring that you’ve been ‘asleep’ for way too long already, you decide to get out of bed and figure out what the hell is going on. The bedroom is pitch-dark, so you have to navigate it carefully. You manage to find a lamp on a small side table and turn it on.
The room is suddenly cast with a soft orange-ish glow, allowing you to make out various pieces of furniture. There’s the table by the bed, of course. Then there’s a dresser across from the bed, there’s a door that presumably leads to a closet, and another door that hopefully leads out of the room.
The bedroom is fairly plain, decoration-wise. All neutral tones, from what you can tell. There are zero distinguishing features to give you any clue about where you might be.
You’re halfway to the door when you glance down at yourself and notice what you’re wearing. Nothing more than an oversized black t-shirt and underwear. And both of your arms have bandages on them for some reason.
Before exiting the room, you rummage around in the dresser and find a pair of sweatpants that sort-of fit. They’re a bit big, but they shouldn’t fall down.
With that sorted, you slowly open the door and peer out into an adjoining hallway. It’s completely dark and silent.
Well, that’s certainly not creepy, right?
You gingerly walk down the hallway, careful to not catch any creaks in the wooden floorboards beneath your bare feet. Eventually, you reach what looks like a living room area. And next to that is a kitchen.
Your stomach immediately growls, as if on cue.
You stay still for a moment and listen for any movement in the house. When you don’t hear any, you approach the fridge. You open it up as quietly as possible and grab several items of food. And a couple bottles of water for good measure.
Since you haven’t eaten in… Well, decades, probably, you wolf down the food and water at lightning speed. Of course, you feel immediately sick afterwards, but you tell yourself that a stomach ache is worth it.
Feeling a bit more awake and alert now, you examine the house more closely.
It looks modern. Like, too modern. Like, how many decades were you trapped in that mirror for?
You don’t see any landline phones on the walls or boxy TV sets in the living room area. Instead, there’s a flat black screen mounted to a wall across from a couch. Is that a TV?
Before the mirror incident, it had been… What year had it been? Sometime in the ‘50s, you think.
Well, you don’t know much, but you’re certain that you’re not in the 1950s anymore.
You spin on your heel to head back to your bedroom to look for more possible clues when you see something that nearly gives you a heart attack.
A man stands in the hallway. Er, he’s walking toward you, actually. It’s too dark to make out his features, but you instantly feel a sense of dread.
The instinct to turn tail and run away, however, is halted by just a few melodic words. They’re spoken quietly, calmly, but somehow easily reach all the way down the hall and wrap around you like a warm blanket.
“Y/N, my dear, you’re awake. I was so hoping I’d be the first to talk to you.”
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
