#authoriplier

[beenpxshedaside]

Okay I am looking for inspo and Danger in Fiction only goes so far

Tell me your favourite Host and/or Author headcanons

[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

[goatbi]

“Hey Dark? Can I ask you a favor?” 

Dr. Iplier caught them at the end of a meeting, when the others had dispersed. Dark had watched him from the corner of their eye the entire meeting, Author’s glaring absence having obviously affected him in some way. He seemed jumpy, scared, when he came to Dark, and Dark simply nodded their head, glancing towards him for a moment, looking back down to the few papers they kept on hand to appear busy. 

“I... wanted to ask if you could talk to Author when he shows up again.” Dark paused their mindless scribbles, looking back to Dr. Iplier, who wasn’t looking at him, rather, he was looking at Author’s empty chair, which had been empty the last three meetings. Dark watched him carefully, as he fidgeted with the sleeves of his coat, frowning at the chair like it could solve all of his problems. 

“Why do you feel the need to ask me that?” They asked, not unkindly. They... didn’t have the best relationship with the Author, after whatever happened with Bim, which Dark still hadn’t managed to get out of the other. If Dr. Iplier was coming to them, of all people, to talk to Author, then something must have happened. 

Dr. Iplier sighed, taking a moment before answering. “I had a conversation with him... earlier today. He’s usually so... cocky, but today he... it was like he was scared to be in my office.” Dr. Iplier sounded hurt at the thought, and for good reason. To Dark’s knowledge, Dr. Iplier was the only person that Author had even a remotely friendly relationship with, let alone one that the other person could also classify as a friendship. “He kept refusing to look in the mirror across from him, staring at anything but that, didn’t really say much, didn’t even write anything in his little journal.” 

That was the icing on the cake, Dark sitting up a bit a straighter, turning more attention to Dr. Iplier. Author always had a small journal on him, one that he usually filled up quickly, and replaced within weeks of getting the new one. It was full of half illegible ideas, scribbles, doodles, anything that came to mind. In every interaction with Author that Dark had ever had, Author had, at least once, pulled out that little journal, and written something in it. 

“How long was he there?” 

“Around an hour.” Dr. Iplier sighed. “That was the main thing that worried me too, he always does something in that thing. Everything else just built up to me asking if he was okay. He said he was, of course, he always does when I ask, but... I knew there was something, so... I asked again... Big no-no with him, he always snaps and leaves when I do, but this time... He just sat there. Didn’t say anything, didn’t move for at least a minute. I didn’t want to ruin whatever I had caused, in case it got... something out of him, but...” Dr. Iplier fell silent, looking across towards the TV on the wall, the black screen reflecting the two of them standing there. 

“But?” Dark prompted, wanting to get something out of the doctor that would be useful, not just ‘Author was not normal.’ 

“When he finally broke out of that, he looked at the mirror for the first time the entire hour and asked me if I saw the man. When I looked over and told him no, he asked again, but... this time he asked if I saw the eyeless man in the mirror.” Dr. Iplier swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “I told him no again, but... I was staring at the mirror, and I could see how scared Author looked. He’s never scared, Dark.” 

Dark frowned. That was true, at least, for appearances sake. Author never looked scared, but he never really showed much emotion other than anger around them anyways. 

“He kept staring at the mirror for a few minutes, didn’t really answer me when I asked any questions. Eventually he just... disappeared. Like he hadn’t been there in the first place. He does that sometimes, but it’s usually such a drain in his abilities that he doesn’t. He usually has to write it out too, but this time he just... mumbled and was gone. Something’s going on with him, and I figured... if anyone could get what I couldn’t out of him, it would be you.” 

Dark nodded slightly, not saying anything yet. Author’s powers were changing, but how, Dark wasn’t sure. The other wasn’t really forthcoming with things of a personal nature, but Dark was good at getting things out of people that normally, no one would say. 

“I’ll try, but I make no promises. Whenever he next shows up, I’ll talk to him. See if I can get anything out of him. Thank you for coming to me about this.” Dr. Iplier nodded, obviously relieved. Somehow, the doctor actually cared about the Author. 

Still, Dark never got the chance to talk to Author again. but when Host showed up a few months later, dripping blood from those empty sockets of his, Dark finally understood what the Author had been so scared of. 

[mark-dark-andmore]

everytime | Darkiplier x Reader

a/n: hi I wanna die ‘cause of this. also I don’t have a keep reading thing because my computer is being an idiot and I’m posting from my phone. this is your point of view from needy, this shit gets deep. this angst has got me on the ceiling, sobbing

WARNINGS!: cussing, abuse, drugging, depression, emotional tolls, GORE!!!

summary: you needed someone to sweep you off your feet and fix you. you broke free, and now you’re going back to him. you’ve been going back to him everytime.

You didn’t expect this. You didn’t deserve this.

Once you knew your kidnapper was gone, you kicked out the window with as much force as you could, and made the jump to the ground. You couldn’t remember where all these bruises and gashes came from. The ground underneath you swayed as you stumbled down the vacant sidewalk, your body forced you this way. Your eyes were hazy, your hand grazed over the rough bricks as you staggered as quickly as you physically could towards the place you knew you would be safe.

You were in an unfamiliar city, at an unfamiliar bar when your emotions hit the rocks like a ship. You worked so damn hard to track down one of your enemy’s right hand men, Yandere, Yan for short. He was within grasp when your team stormed the establishment, flushing him into thin air. You were practically grazing his skin when he was yanked away underneath the songs that blasted in the club. Your heart was hit with a train of anger, you grabbed your sergeant by his collar and cussed him out for blowing your operations and not following simple instructions. So, you stormed off into the streets.

A few hours later, you found yourself laughing with a man who had a drinking contest with you. You remember his sharp brown eyes and white canines, flannel and short brown hair. You didn’t remember his name, because every second made your body spin. You figured you were just tired, but he caught on. He roughly grabbed your arms, gave a sweet smile to the bartender as your eyesight began to grow gray. Your feet felt like sledgehammers, dragging against the floor as you felt the cold breeze against your skin.

Then everything went black.

There were bits and pieces, scraps and shards of things he did to you. Cut you, beat you, drug you, he treated you like a Barbie doll that was born to get torn apart. You remembered his wicked eyes, his sinister laugh...the silver baseball bat. God, the sickening crunch that sounded when it made contact with your forehead made you want to vomit. The way his icy fingers grazed your legs before he...you didn’t remember. But you did see the bruises, the blood, the flesh...

It reminded you of your enemy, Darkiplier.

But not even the most wicked monster in the game was this inhumane.

The boulders that lined the long path to the familiar place began to look dreary, as you felt the cold rain hit you just like-

“God, even for the world’s best detective, you’re still a porcelain doll. Ripe and ready for someone to beat the shit out of you.”

You let out a small whimper, your dangling hand raced to your forehead, feeling the pounding heat and pain as blood seemed to stain your fingertips.

“What’s the matter, doll? You don’t look so good!”

Stop.

“S-Stop...”

“Aww, good or bad, doll, I’m still the one with the gun.”

Stop...

“Wow, even with all this damage, you, doll, still look so fucking good.”

“STOP!” You cried lowly, your voice could barely work but your legs kept going. The rain pelted your skin and body, tears left your eyes as you rounded the curve, seeing the black front door of your sanctuary.

Your feet got faster, but you were still slow, your body screamed and writhed in pain but you kept going.

“This is what you get for trying to kill my damn brother, bitch.”

Those few yards onto the porch felt like miles, every step you took felt like walking in quicksand. The head that rested on your shoulders began to spin like a teacup at Disneyland with five kindergarteners on it.

When your foot hit the mat, you wearily raised your hand and knocked loudly. Your hand dropped like a sandbag, the damp and stormy air slapped your cold body with what seemed like ice. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on balancing and forgetting the flesh-burning pain.

Your eyes opened before the front door did, and your eyes descended upon the most infamous mobster’s eyes, Darkiplier.

Please Dark. Please help me.

“Y/N?”

The fire rose in your body before you stumbled, mumbling, “...didn’t know where else to go...”

Your eyes dimmed, then darkness took control.

Please..

[fleecal]

New Favourite headcanon: The Host/Author is Jewish.

[metallicdawn]

It’s the Host’s Birthday!!

On February 6th, 2013, the first Danger in Fiction premiered! Our boi is 5 years old now!

Let’s see some love for our favorite boi!

[pointsfortrying]

H A P P Y    B I R T H D A Y    A U T H O R    H O S T !

     WELL TODAY’S the birthday of Author/Host :D! One of my favourite Egos so i had to make some for him! My first time messing around with gifs as well but i hope this is good for everyones favourite game changing mastermind!       And with The Author, is Danger In Fiction! If for me it is one of Markiplier and Cyndagos best sketches they had made, and i respect that Mark decisions on not using The Host again, wishes everyone well, happy birthday Author

[ninjadragon90]

The bad/good people list by Wil- I mean, Santaiplier