#author 2.0

[altegos]

Next 2/3 profiles are decided

Who should get a NAYKT profile after that

Yan (yanderiplier)

Wilford

Julien (Author/Host)

Author 2.0

Bing

Dr Iplier

Voting ended onOct 8, 2023

[justaphxntom]

Tag list:  @undocumented-terriaki @ask-barkiplier-rp @supersepticsteph @penpaulkon6 @are-you-here-posts @markifucker-fischfuck @virge-of-death @anomalous-duck @risiskifi @squishy-anon @margarita-is-the-answer @hemooryctolagus @my-analogical-romance @nightmarejasmine @paintedsnowflakes @brookeisanerd @aquilacalvitium @ravenbeta @1galaxy-watcher1

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“Oh Phantom,” comes a dangerously familiar voice, “What have you done?”

Phantom jumps having thought he was alone as he returened to the building, clutching his cane closer by instinct as he turns. Heart pounding in his chest, he feels like a teenager getting caught sneaking in after curfew.

The Author steps from the shadows, having shed Bing’s black tank top, replaced with a smart black shirt. Very Author 1.0, clearly very pleased with the change. The only remaining sign of his stolen body is the difference in colour between Bing’s bright blue robotic eye and his flecked blue human one.

“Author, I-”

“I want to say that I’m disappointed...”

He’s giving off a very weird vibe. Not anger, Phantom knows how that looks far more than he would care to admit, but it’s definitely something that screams of danger. Unconsciously, Phantom grips his cane even tighter and steps back.

“It’s not your fault.” The Author continues. He shakes his head, turning to pace, treading along a wide circle, movements slow. “I should have realised. Spending so much time playing second fiddle to a lesser being.” Pausing, the Author spits over his shoulder and down the corridor There’s a large amount of spite in his words as he speaks, barely restrained anger flitting across his face. “It stands to reason that you’d develop a conscience.”

“I don’t-”

The words just disappear as the Author snaps his fingers. Extending his left hand, he waits and Phantom can only watch, frozen as his cane is torn from his fingers and flies to the outstretched hand, catching it easily before twirling it and holding it in front of him.

“I know you developed a soft spot for those idiots.” he comments, gently passing his hand over the globe on the top as it begins to pulse with a soft white glow. “And I made sure you overheard me talking to Mark about Bim.”

Phantom is only half paying attention, eyes fixed on the light in his cane.

“It was a test. To see where your loyalties truly lie.” the Author’s hand comes down on the globe and he glances up with murderous eyes. “And you failed.”

Phantom tries to explain, to give reason, to make excuses but he still can’t speak, or move, forced to just watch at the white light grows brighter, peeking between the gaps in Author’s fingers.

“I wanted to be wrong.” he continues. “I wanted you to be exactly as I wrote you. But you failed. And now...”

The light is impossibly bright now and the Author lifts his hand, the light following, exiting the globe and rising upwards. The slow little white ball of light, Silver’s soul, rising up as the Author moves the hand beneath it, cradling it softly and looking at it with such a look of awe and admiration.

“You may not have done what I wanted, but you’ve brought me exactly what I need.”

There’s a sickening moment of silence, the Author glancing up and watching as the sickening realisation of what’s going on pass over Phantom’s face. It was a set up. All of it? Of course all of it! This is the fucking Author! Bim, Silver, all of it is Phantom’s fault, literal pawns in the Author’s game because Phantom went off script and tried to do something noble. It cuts deep and he can’t keep the devastation from his face. He was a dick and life stuck him with Mark as punishment. He tried to do good, and this is where it lead.

“I had so many plans for you Phantom.” The Author says, raising the dealmaker’s cane up. “But now you’re not worth the paper I wrote you on.”

The cane drops, the base of it slammed with force into the ground, making a loud ‘clack’ that strangely echoes all through the hallway the two of them stand in. As soon as it strikes the floor, the entire thing bursts, exploding into a billion tiny pieces that just disappear into nothing and nowhere. The cane is destroyed.

Phantom cries out, feeling the destruction rip straight through him, like he’s been sliced through with a rusty scythe, catching and tearing, ripping him at the very seams of his being. It’s more than just the cane that’s been destroyed.

Somehow he’s still standing, though he’s not sure how long that can possibly last, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him as his arms curl tight around his stomach, trying desperately to hold himself together. An unseen force lifts him from the floor, throwing him until he collides with a wall. Something in his chest cracks and he drops to the floor, desperately gasping, spasming in pain. Everything hurts and feels as though it’s dripping away. Wavering on the edge of consciousness, alone and afraid, Phantom feels a part of himself...erased.

[takingcxntrol]

Tag list:  @undocumented-terriaki @ask-barkiplier-rp @supersepticsteph @penpaulkon6 @are-you-here-posts @markifucker-fischfuck @virge-of-death @anomalous-duck @risiskifi @squishy-anon @margarita-is-the-answer @hemooryctolagus @my-analogical-romance @nightmarejasmine @paintedsnowflakes @brookeisanerd @aquilacalvitium @ravenbeta @1galaxy-watcher1 @bokunobandicoot @pumpkins2000 @insanegoldie2

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Mark collapses to the ground, chest heaving, tears streaming and he fights not to break. By the time he can raise his head, heart broken, she’s long gone. The Author stands there, arms folded, smug, smirking.

Mark sneers at him, “That was not my wife.”

“No.” The Author chuckles gazing towards the exit through which she’d left, lips drawn into a cruel smile. “That was the alternate you dragged here from some other dimension with a crazy plan to force her to be with you. Except you forgot.” Stepping forward, arms dropping, the Author bends down and hisses at the mewling mess on the floor. “Your wife left you.”

Marks snatches at the Author’s collar, tugging harshly, dragging him down to Mark’s level as he all but spits in the man’s face. “My wife loved me!”

“Until she ran off.” He plucks Mark’s fingers from him, twisting them and dragging the bitch to his feet. There’s a moment between them, two angered souls glaring at each other, daring the other to make the first move, interrupted when the Author boots Mark in the stomach, and the ass just crumples to the floor, whimpering.

“I always thought you were better off without her, you know.” The Author admits. She and him had never really seen eye to eye. You put two large egos in a room like that, there’s going to be fireworks. But she’s for all intents and purposes dead, while he’s stronger than ever so he doesn’t hold any ill will for her. “She was a devilish woman. Very sly. And she grieved for all of about two seconds before turning your murder investigation to her benefit.”

Cowering on the floor, throbbing in pain, Mark cries. No! That’s not how it happened! She loved him! She loved him! When he is finally able to push himself up again, clutching his sore stomach beneath his aching heart, he spies the smug look on Julien’s stolen face.

“You knew.”

“That it wouldn’t work? Absolutely. Even if your wife hadn’t left you, she” he turns and gestures towards the door, “was always going to be an imperfect copy. The true soul of your wife resides in the creature that you declared your enemy, and I’ve yet to meet a being who would be strong enough to tear her free.”

“Lady Fate-”

“Would never help you.” Despite her work, Lady Fate has a tendency to love all creatures. She believes in the beauty of life even though all she sees is the dismal touch of death. It’s a part of her strength, I suppose. “Face it Mark, you’ve lost.”

Mark bows his head, and lets out a low growl. “I’m going to kill you!”

“Not without your Guardianship you won’t.”

“You-!”

There’s a satisfying smack and a sickening crunch as the Author kicks Mark’s face in. Blood pours from the now broken nose while Mark drops to the floor again.

“It’s weird.” the Author admits, nudging Mark with his foot, tilting his head and considering him carefully, “For years, all I’ve wanted is to see you dead. But seeing you like this….” The Author waits, but Mark doesn’t move. He just lays there, whimpering and crying and it sounds so good. “Letting you live, knowing what you now know about the woman you ‘love’, seems a far greater punishment.”

With that the Author turns and leaves, while Mark is left alone.

Again.

[wkmarkiplier]

Tag list:  @undocumented-terriaki ​ @ask-barkiplier-rp ​ @superseptictrash ​ @penpaulkon6 ​ @are-you-here-posts ​ @markifucker-fischfuck ​ @virge-of-death​ @anomalous-duck @risiskifi ​ @squishy-anon ​ @margarita-is-the-answer ​ @kick-the-aj @hemooryctolagus @my-analogical-romance

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Mark is laid on the floor, blank and unmoving like a sack of potatoes. He is empty. Completely devoid of any hope. He could almost feel her hand in his but it’s gone. Without Julien’s power, without Phantom’s allegiance, he has no chance of ever getting her back.

It’s over.

His chest spasms as a swift kick connects with his back and Mark coughs in reflex. He doesn’t move. The pain doesn’t matter. It’s nothing in comparison to what he feels inside.

“Get up, you pathetic sock puppet.” It sounds like that cyborg, which means it’s Author. Probably here to gloat, as he always has. To rub his victory, to rub his new found independence in to Mark’s far prettier face. I suppose there are some things that never change.

“Leave me alone to die in peace.” Mark grumbles.

“Always with the freaking melodrama.” There’s another kick, harsher this time, and Mark yelps. That was a little harder to ignore. “Get. Up.”

Mark doesn’t move, staying in place, unmoving, self-pitying, resigned to the loss and isolation that settles deep within his soul. With a roll of his eyes, Author kneels down beside the actor, harshly grabbing at Mark’s hair and pulling the pitiful worm off the floor, turning him and  forcing him to finally make eye contact.

“I am trying very hard to be nice, and not shred what’s left of your miserable soul into a million pieces.”

Forced to look up at the Author, Mark can’t help the shiver that rolls down his spine. A thousand memories of the ‘good ol’ days’ when Author would frequently beat the crap out of the people who would stand in their way flit across Mark’s memories. A mixture of fear and nostalgia laces each one because as fun as it was, Mark always knew he was one wrong move from winding up on the chopping block.

“Now. Get. Up. We have work to do.”

Phantom, to this point hanging back in the shadows, steps forward, concern on his face his mouth opening to protest, but before a word even breaks out, Author’s raises his left hand, making a hushing gesture and forcing his character to be silent.

“Not now.” he barely turns as he warns Phantom to butt out.

Mark glares, lips curling into a sneer,. “Start making sense, you pretentious dickweed.”

“If you want her back, you need me. And yet you never once thought to just ask for my help.”

Mark scowls. It’s not like he hadn’t wanted to but Julien had quickly gone underground, hiding among those traitors, using them, using his own powers to hide himself away where Mark would never be able to touch him. Or so the Host had thought.

“You weren’t exactly across the dorm.”

“….Technically true. But I’m better than that old fart.” Mark snorts. These juvenile insults are starting to get a little bit hilarious.

The Author scowls, grabbing Mark as roughly as he can manage and dragging the actor to his feet. “All of the power, none of the fear. Not what the mouse intended, but I’m sure you’ll agree, better for everyone involved.”

Mark reaches up to rub tiredly at his eyes. Julien has always had to be a pompous ass when it came to talking. Why say one word clear as day when you can say fifty and use an unclear metaphor at the same time?

“Are you saying you’ll help me get her back?”

“Give me 48 hours, and it’ll be like she was never away from your side.”

That soon? Two days? The weight of failure lifts from Mark’s shoulder and he takes a firm grip of the Author’s arms.

“Yes.” He  cries eagerly, giving the Author a firm shake in excitement. “Yes!” He stops after a moment, tilting his head slightly as he stares at the Author. “Julien, I can’t take you seriously in those glasses.”

Reaching up, the Author pulls the bright orange sunglasses from his face. He’s not a big fan of them, it’s just not occurred to him that he has no reason to wear them. Everybody knows that Bing’s gone. No need to pretend any more. It takes just a simple twist and they snap in half, one in each of his hands before they tumble to the floor. As he runs his hand through Bing’s unkempt hair, the Author smirks.

It feels good to be free.

[takingcxntrol]

Tag list: @undocumented-terriaki​ @ask-barkiplier-rp​ @supersepticsteph​ @penpaulkon6​ @are-you-here-posts​ @markifucker-fischfuck​ @virge-of-death​ @anomalous-duck​ @risiskifi​ @squishy-anon​ @margarita-is-the-answer​

It’s taken a little while but here you go, another part of the main plotline, golly geez goshums.

As every last drop of Julien’s power is drawn from his body, Mark collapses to the floor, unconscious, and the Author steps forward to poke at the prone form with his bat. How many years has he spent afraid of this...thing? How long has he cowered in fear, stuck in the shadow of lesser beings, too afraid to stand on his own two feet and kick this pitiful creature to the curb like they all know that he can?

Too long. No more.

Drawing back his foot, the Host cries out for him to stop, but the Author swings it forward with force, and there’s a crunch as he breaks Mark’s nose with a swift kick to the face. Oooh, that felt good.

“Why did you do that?” The Host cries.

The Author turns. The Host is still on the floor, blood dripping down his cheeks from his bandages as he stares at their common enemy. Ah, himself, his ‘future’ self, his ‘evolved’ self, his weaker self. It looks like the Host still has some of that pesky cowardice that’s been holding him back all these years. Oh well, it doesn’t matter any more.

“Why didn’t you?” Stepping forward, the Author crouches down, peering at the wretched being before him. To think. This used to be him. Ha! “All that power knocking about in your brain and you have to call on me, and sell out one of your so-called friends in order to actually do anything.”

The Host opens his mouth, about to speak again but the Author places a firm hand over it, holding it closed.

“We both know, there’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought of. And then ignored.”

“Author?” comes the voice of the one other person in the room. Phantom. His very first character. A boy born of passion and promise and ideas. So much potential, and all of it wasted because of Mark. Just thinking of it makes the Author’s borrowed blood boil.

“It’s been a while.” Rising to his feet, the Author turns, tilting his head with a smirk. “Is it just me, or are you taller?”

Phantom stands his ground, hands twisting slightly around his recently recovered cane as he looks between the chaos before him. Strong, steadfast, resolute. There’s a hint of who Author intended him to be there but it’s flattened, buried beneath what the scumbags on the floor put him through.

“What’s happening?” The dealmaker asks.

“What should have happened from the beginning.” Turning, the Author sneers at the Host and Mark. Unworthy, unbearable. But still, maybe they can be of some use. “You were meant to be so much more than these shitheads allowed. And nothing is going to stop us from making sure you reach your true potential.”

Phantom looks to his cane before surveying those before him. He remembers the Author, his chaotic madness, his single-mindedness. Working with that was not going to be fun, but he has that spark in his eye, the one where he has a idea that the devil himself couldn’t keep him from. But maybe the devil isn’t needed...

‘Capable of great things’, that’s what he says. Maybe he is. Maybe Mark’s wrong. Maybe there’s a way Phantom can play this, a way to play them all.

Phantom holds his cane in one hand as he gives a slight sweeping bow, a long-missing smirk playing at his lips as he holds the Author’s gaze.

“Tell me what you need.”

[takingcxntrol]

Author 2.0′s body is half human and half robot as he is possessing cyborg!Bing -> @yobuddybing

robotic parts:

right arm

right leg

right eye

various connections/amplifications to brain

built in life-supprt

reinforced/reconstructed right rib cage

Author cannot channel his power through the robotic parts. Luckily he’s ambidextrous and is able to use his left hand.

[takingcxntrol]

Author 2.0

Julien Michels, aka the Author, was an ambitious, arrogant fool who, encouraged by his Guardian, Mark, removed his own eyes in order to increase his power. He was not prepared for the horrors that opening his mind and removing all visual distraction would bring him, causing the unintended ‘death’ of the Author and the ‘birth’ of the Host. More powerful but infinitely more afraid.

Knowing that eventually Mark would come for him, having seen every possibility all at once.The Host took his iconic bat and infused it with his powers, intending for it to be used when Mark would rear his head again.

Forseeing that it was coming, The Host gifted the bat to Bing, the power within lying dormant until such time that Bing would be driven to offer himself for the power, allowing for the rebirth of the Author.

TL;DR: The Host‘s power is possessing cyborg!Bing giving Author 2.0 a brand spanking new body that’s got some pretty nifty upgrades and removing all fear caused by the traumatic loss of the Host’s eyes.

This is not the blessing the Host was hoping for.

[ronsley]

170. Author 2.0 Bali Retreat Session 3

170. Author 2.0 Bali Retreat Session 3

In May 2016, I attended and spoke at a brilliant retreat that was organised and run by Andrew Griffiths and Bree James. I had a chance to chat with some of the attendees, and here are their stories… Kate Reardon In this episode we talk about: Kate Reardon’s book The Essential Cleanse: 21 Powerful Days to a Lighter Body, Mind and Spirit Feeling excited and inspired about her book’s message The…

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