#wkm viewer

[starry-bi-sky]

So when I was talking about the WKM DA, Alice McCoy, what I should’ve said was that she was one of the three DA’s that I created. Alice was the second one I made, however, Evelyn Parker was my first!

So here she is!

[from-the-das-desk]

Shadows Of The Past - Chapter One

Word count:3,613

Warnings: none

summary: Left alone in the mirror, Y/N reflects and is found by the Jim twins.

You stand in utter shock, your hands pressed against the mirror’s fractured glass, your heart still shattering, even though it has been... Hours? Perhaps even days, since Damien and Celine betrayed you, shoving you out of your body, after you agreed to let them come with you in that horrible, pitch-black void. They left you to go elsewhere - whether to find William, or to leave this cursed place, you cannot tell. But you haven’t heard William’s voice in a long time - although someone did ring the house phone... You couldn’t hear who had answered it, but someone had, as it had only rung a couple of times.

You wonder what happened to the detective - he’d been shot either in the chest or in the gut somewhere... But death didn’t hold the same meaning here as in the rest of the world. That had been made painfully clear. You hoped that he had found a way to stumble back into his own body... But if the detective had died first, then why hadn’t Celine and Damien gone to him, rather than approach you? Perhaps they had, and he had refused their offer... Or maybe, they had believed that you would give them the chance to return to the world of the living that they so desperately wanted.

The only way that you could tell the passage of time, was the play of light and shadows as it passed through the window and on the ground. Then again, you weren't ever really able to figure out how quickly time was passing in this miserable house. But you've exhausted your store of misery, and with a deep breath that you're not sure that you need anymore, you attempt to leave the mirror, curious as to whether or not you even could. You frown with stubborn determination and slam one of your shoulders into the mirror, bouncing back and staggering backwards over the table, falling the the tiled floor with a groan. You stagger up to your feet and sit down on the reflection of a bench that William had been sitting on, while he'd stared at your dead body, while you had been in that cold, black void, being lied to and manipulated by someone you thought that you could trust.

You don't know if it was Celine or Damien who had cast you out of your body, and into this mirror... Or even if it was intentional... But the rage and bitterness that had morphed Damien's usually amiable face was shocking. It was almost equal to the shock of him shoving you out of your body and into this mirror. Part of you wondered if he'd done that, as he needed you to possess something... But why? What reason did he have to do this to you? You would have willingly shared your body with him as he had asked? What had driven him to betray you like this?

You couldn't guess, and you were too tired and upset to continue thinking about the whys - you really wouldn't know, unless he - or they? Came back and explained themselves... And from the dark expression on his (their?) face, you rather doubted that they would come back for you. You'd stopped being useful to them, from the moment that you helped them get into your body. It hurt that they would use you in such a way... And you knew that if the spirit of Damien had actually been one of the ones to speak with you, he'd never have betrayed you like that... He'd always been willing to lend you a hand, and had come to your rescue on more than one occasion.

A miserable sigh leaves your lips as you lean against the wall, wishing that this mirror was placed in a room that had something more comfortable to rest on, than this hard wooden bench... But would you even need to sleep? What would happen to you if you did fall asleep? Would you find yourself in the pitch black void between this world in the next... Or would you fade into nothingness, or into the next world? You didn't know, and you feared that the answer to your question would be a fate worse than the one that you were currently suffering... Not that you wanted to know what that could possible be betrayed, trapped and betrayed as you had been.

You hear voices from another room - but it's not the being who took your body, nor is it William. "-is way to see the Gruesome sight of a dead body! Be very Jim, Jim! We need to be careful, lest the deranged murderer finds us and kills us too." A young man who looks startlingly like Damien, Mark and the Colonel comes running into the room... Or rather, lurching and lunging into the room, rolling across the floor and nearly getting coated in the dried pool of blood that you're pretty sure belongs to you.

Hope fills you, and you smack your hands against the glass, shouting "Hey! You! Jim, was it? Please... Please listen to me! Hey!" The words echo loudly in your ears, over and over again, fading after what felt like an eternity. You continue to pound your fists against the glass, desperately hoping to catch their attention.

The cameraman - Jim - spots you first, and moves a little closer to you, tapping his colleague - or brother ? - on one shoulder, pointing at you. "Jim, look! There's someone in the mirror!"

"Ah, god no! It's a Demon, Jim, RUN!" the reporter yelped, trying to run, but tripping over the

coffee table and falling flat on his face, groaning in pain.

"I'm not a demon! Do you see the blood on the floor there? That... That's my blood. I was killed here last night!" You shout, shaking and silently pleading with anything that will listen to keep them in this room, hoping that they could hear you - or read your lips.

Cameraman Jim moves closer to you, and Reporter Jim calms down a little, squinting at you closer before asking "Aren't you the new District Attorney, Y/N?"

You nod, saying "Yes, I am. Can you hear me?"

The reporter pulls out a small, hand-held device, putting it up to the mirror, right under your lips, explaining "This is a recording device. It's sensitive enough to pick up the voices of ghosts talking. I'm not sure why you can't come out of the mirror, but Medium Jim says that sometimes ghosts can get stuck in objects, especially if they are new to being dead. "I'm Jim, and this is my brother Jim. Can you tell us how you got in this mirror?"

"My soul was forced into this mirror, after I was killed and temporarily brought back to life." You respond, speaking as clearly and loudly as you can, hoping that their recording device actually worked. You never really believed in many supernatural things... Apart from the fact that Zombies were dangerous pests, if not put down immediately, but everyone knew that. Smart Zombies could be reasoned with to an extent, but their insatiable hunger for flesh often caused the few Smart Zombies to take their own lives quickly, rather than allow themselves to become the monsters that Zombies were so often painted as.

You hear your own voice moments later, as the brothers play back what you had just told them. Your voice was much quieter than the shout that you'd given, but you hoped that it was clearly heard. Both of the Jims' faces light up in delight at your words, and Jim the Reporter asked "Do you know who died here?"

"I knew almost everyone who died here, at least in the past twenty-four hours." You respond, speaking loudly and clearly. "The Actor, Markiplier was killed by Colonel William Iplier. Mayor... Mayor Damien Doom, and his sister, Celine Iplier were also killed, though they were killed in a magical... Incident of some kind, although the exact nature of the incident, I cannot tell you. Detective Abe was killed by the Colonel shortly before he... He accidentally shot me and killed me." You make sure to indicate to them that you've finished speaking, so that they can replay the message.

To your deep distress, most of what you just told them is lost - static overtakes most of what you say, only Mark's and the Detective's name were clearly heard. Everything else was garbled, and you frown in worry as you realize that the shadows around the two living beings is starting to grow darker and elongate. Jim the reporter asks "Can you repeat that?"

"You need to leave. There are dark forces in this house." You urge them, not wanting to see anyone else get claimed by the madness of this house.

Again, most of what you say is lost to the unexpected static, but Cameraman Jim spoke up quietly "I think we need to leave. Something is draining the battery of my camera faster than anything I've ever seen. Jim, grab the mirror, and we'll be able to continue this investigation... I think the video cut out as soon as we started to speak with Y/N."

Jim the reporter nodded, putting his microphone in his belt before turning back to where you were still standing, the recorder in hand "Okay, I'm going to take your mirror off of the wall now - unless you don't want to leave this place?" He moved closer, keeping the recorder close to where your mouth was.

You spoke up as loudly and clearly as you could "Yes, I want to leave!"

The reporter nodded when he played back the message- your voice still cutting out, but the yes perfectly heard.

You were worried that the malevolent entity inside of this manor - the dark forces that allowed you to stay in this world after death, might have other opinions about you leaving this place - or the two living beings leaving this place... But perhaps whatever was in this house, left when Damien and Celine inside your body - that was altered to look like Damien's - and probably took the colonel out of here as well.

You wondered if the detective was still around - perhaps having stumbled his way out of that black void and into his body... Or if the other's spirit had been allowed to pass onwards to whatever afterlife might await one when they died in a place that wasn't corrupted by dark forces. But you couldn't warn them about what might happen - not that you really had a guess as to what the house could or would do, as you could only speak to them through that damned recorder (at least in the manor). You also worried that trying to tell them more about this manor and what had happened would only be met with more static - interference from the manor... Or whatever was inside the manor that caused the corruption.

Reporter Jim took the mirror off the wall, grunting a little at how heavy it was, before setting it down on the floor. He pulled something out of one of his pockets, kneeling down and opening a small compact mirror, asking "Can you jump between mirrors? This is really heavy, and while I'm certain I can carry you all the way out of this manor, it is far to our news fan, and this Jim is worried that I might drop you, and I wouldn't want you to get more hurt than you already have been." His hands almost but not quite touch the center of the cracks in the mirror - created when Damien had cast you out into this damned mirror.

You shrug up at him, and suggest as the recorder comes out again "Touch that mirror to the surface of this one. I'll see what I can do."

Reporter Jim nods after he plays back your instructions - and suddenly you see that in this dimension, there is part of the ceiling that is reflected as if it's part of the floor and walls. You prepare yourself, taking in a deep, unsteady breath and run for that small patch of ceiling, bracing yourself to feel... Something. For several seconds, all you see is a pitch black nothingness, and a high pitched ringing pierces your ears.

But you manage to tumble into the small mirror, the breath in your lungs (do you need to breathe? You are a disembodied spirit inhabiting a mirror, after all... But you don't want to test that thought, not yet at least) catching as you realize that you made it into the smaller mirror. It would be easy to fall out, back into the larger, cracked mirror, but you stay as far away as you can, as Jim the reporter lifts you up and away from the big mirror.

He beams at you, delighted "Okay, District Attorney Y/N, my brother and I will be very Jim in leaving this house - as there has been several terrible things happening in this place, as your death is in addition to whoever the hell lived in this place. Â Do you know if the killer is still in the house? Nod or shake your head, depending on the answer.

You shake your head - while you were fairly sure that William was gone - you couldn't hear him calling for Celine, Damien and Mark ... Or occasionally, for you, as he'd apparently discovered that you'd gone missing at some point. Not that he had once looked in the mirror that you'd been trapped in, to discover what had happened to your spirit. Perhaps... Maybe Damien had caught up with William and the two of them had left this cursed place? Or... And you wouldn't have ever thought that Damien was capable of such a thing, up until he'd betrayed you to gain sole possession of your body... Damien had killed William, perhaps framing the other for all of the murders that had taken place here.

The reporter nodded, and was about to ask another question, when his brother, tapped him on one shoulder "Jim... I think we should ask them more questions once we're out of this place. I feel like someone is crawling all over my Jim, and we need to leave, just in case the murderer is still here. The killer might try to kill us too. Remember what Oracle Jim said about this town?"

Reporter Jim sighed a little before nodding a little "You're right Jim, we need to leave this place before we get killed - we might not be as lucky as Y/N and our spirit get caught in a mirror to try to warn anyone else who tries to come into this house to understand what's going on."

They both glance at you, and you nod emphatically at them, urging them "We need to get out of here as soon as possible!" You enunciated each word as best as you could, hoping that one or both of them could read your lips.

Whether or not they understood what you said, reporter Jim put the mirror that held you into one of his pockets, making sure that you were securely there, before he made his way through the house. You had to close your eyes - it was pitch black in Jim's pocket, and it reminded you of that awful place, where Damien and Celine had convinced you to let them in... Let Damien in, because you had so naively believed that they would share your body with them... Had Celine come with Damien, into your body? Or had only you and Damien been sent back? Celine hadn't said whether or not she would ride back with you... Just that she could send you and Damien back.

You decided that it didn't really matter, whether or not Damien went with you into your body alone, or with his sister - because either way, he had betrayed you in one of the worst ways you could ever imagine. Keeping your eyes closed and pretending that you were trying to sleep helped. You could only hope that whatever dark forces that caused time in the manor to stretch and bend so strangely - and caused people to appear and disappear seemingly at random wouldn't also trap these two reporters inside of this place until they went as mad as Mark and William had.

You bury your face in your hands, still keeping your eyes shut tight, as you tried to remember if there was anything about Damien in that pitch black void of nothing that could have given away that there was something wrong... Then again, who was to say that the beings that you were speaking to, were really Celine and Damien? There were dark forces in the manor after all... For all you knew, it could simply take the forms of anyone who died, as well as their voices, to manipulate those inside that void to do as the entity wanted them to.

You had certainly fallen prey to that, after all. Then again... One of the main reasons why you were so determined to find out who had killed Markiplier - along with wanting to bring to justice the person who had killed a friend of yours... Was that it might have brought a measure of closure, of peace to Damien - who had been so terribly distraught by the loss of one of his childhood friends. You wondered what might have happened, had the detective not interrupted the séance or whatever the hell Celine was trying to do with you... What had been interrupted. She'd been furious that she'd been interrupted - and she had said that she'd wanted to talk to Mark.

Did that mean that Celine's plan had been to summon Mark's spirit into your body? Would she have reversed that process, once she'd gotten the spirit of her ex-husband into your body... Then again, you remembered how the seer had managed to manipulate almost everyone against you with a frightening amount of ease - trying to paint you as the murderer. Maybe she'd been trying to summon Mark into your body, convince him to tell the others that you had killed him, and that Celine had thought it a proper punishment for you to lose your body, your life, so that Mark could continue to live on.

You hoped that you were wrong about her plan - that she wouldn't have done something like that...But you remembered what she had been like during the divorce with Mark. Before Damien had suggested that you become his new divorce lawyer, she would have been getting almost all of his fortune, as well as this damned manor, despite the fact that she was the one who had been unfaithful to Mark... Who had been utterly heartbroken and lost at what she'd done to him. Mark had been crushed by her infidelity and betrayal...

And the fact that his own brother, William had been having an affair with her behind his back had been a further betrayal - a stab in the back that had broken his will to fight against what she'd wanted until you'd stepped in and argued that Mark needn't suffer for his wife's infidelity more than he already had. In the end, she'd gotten quite a sum to live off on, but Mark hadn't had to pay for any additional support for her, as she had been the one to be unfaithful, and she had been the one to want the divorce, as Mark had wanted to try to work things out with her. But she hadn't wanted any of it, and had flounced off, check in hand and vanished.

You truly couldn’t stand to be surrounded by such darkness any longer - as even though you had kept your eyes closed, you couldn’t pretend for very long that you were trying to sleep... In part because you were terrified as to whether or not you could sleep - or what would happen to you if you did actually let your mind relax enough to fall asleep, given the state that you were in, and in this miserable, cursed manor. You bitterly wished that you’d never accepted the invitation to the poker game that had been the start of this misery and madness. You weren’t sure what all what would have happened, if you hadn’t accepted the invitation, but had you stayed away, you’d have been able to keep your body, at least.

Someone’s fingers wrapped around the mirror you were in, lifting you out of the utter darkness, and into the light. It was so blindingly bright, you had to hide your eyes as you adjusted to the light. It’s the large driveway that leads to Markiplier Manor.

“We have left the manor! Jim, wasn’t it morning when we entered this place? Why is it almost dusk?” Reporter Jim asked, a confused expression on his face, as he brings the mirror that you’re in up to his face.

You clear your throat a little before responding “That manor has... Unusual qualities to it. Time passes differently in there than it does outside.”

“I can hear you, Y/N!” Jim the reporter says, a wide grin appearing on his face. “We are going to the News Van, and there I will interview you on what happened in the manor.”

You nod, wondering silently where Damien and William went off to, and hope that wherever they are, that you and the two of them never cross paths again.

[soul-wolf]

Just had a thought

Since Abe, the Detective, is still alive, he can come and go as he pleases.

Right? (Correct me if I'm wrong)

If that is true then, Y/N, us, the viewer, can latch onto his body and "ride" him out of that house.

If this isn't the case, please, someone correct me. I just wanted to put this thought up and see what you guys think.

[madichuu]

"Do you understand me…Nobody does…"

Anyone remember this lil video! Thought I’d bring it up as we’re all talking about Dark in WKM! I doubt this has significant meaning but it’s definitely interesting…

[from-the-das-desk]

Ghostly Writing - Chapter One

word count: 2,290

warnings: none

summary: Y/N, District Attorney, watch as your mirror is sold at an Estate Auction, and have a brief conversation with a curious young man who purchased the mirror you’ve been living in.

"Here is the first piece of furniture that we are selling - now I know that the cracks in the mirror are one of the reasons why it is the first piece that we would like to sell. It's unfortunate, but with a little bit of love, this mirror will be a fine addition to any home that it inhabits." The auctioneer loudly proclaims, gesturing to the mirror that you currently inhabit, trapped within the space, and staring at the sea of eager faces, trying to decide whether or not you wanted to walk fully into frame. It wasn't as if any of them were close enough to actually see you - except for the Auctioneer. You might be able to give them a pretty good scare but... 

What would the point of that be? You've been betrayed in a way that you hadn't been aware was even possible until... You think weeks, possibly months ago? You have been trapped in this void since your friend (and new boss) had cast you into this mirror, as he had apparently decided that sharing your body between the two of you wasn't enough for him. Or something. You struggled with the bitterness and pain that the betrayal still left in your mouth. Then again... Any time that you tried to relax enough to fall asleep, you found  yourself in a yawning, pitch black void that pressed down on you from all sides - so you tried not to let yourself go into a restful state, terrified that you would lose yourself entirely. Still... There had been times when you had found yourself forced into that horrible blackness, and you had to claw your way back to the mirror.

 You were never sure how long that took, so perhaps it had been longer than the weeks (months?) that you had tried to count, based on the passing of days and nights that you could see, from the play of sun and moonlight on the floor, that the window close to where this mirror had been hung in Markiplier Manor. Now, you were on display in the front room, or rather, your mirror was. You were hiding at the edges of the mirror, trying to figure out who was selling the furniture and anything that wasn't tied down in Markiplier Manor - and why they thought that they had the legal right to do so. 

From what you remembered, Markiplier had been quite wealthy still, and had no outstanding debts - but then again, there were always those opportunistic enough to take advantage of the deaths of the rich and famous to sell their stuff in order to rake in some cash. Usually the estates of said rich and famous people stopped such nonsense from happening when it wasn't them... But you knew that anyone who would have been chosen to execute Mark's last Will and Testament was dead. Mark had contacted you, after you had helped him finalize the divorce with Celine. He had been distraught and miserable, but grimly determined to make sure that he wouldn't be taken advantage of. Which was why you had helped him change his will - everything  was supposed to go to Damien when he died, the manor, his wealth and anything else that Mark possessed. The actor had also set aside a very generous sum for you, in the event that you survived his death - something that you had told him was thoughtful, but wasn't what you'd been angling for. 

Mark had smiled kindly at that, gently patting you on one of your shoulders, saying that "I know that you aren't after me because of my money.  You took my case because Damien asked you too. I can tell that you are a loyal person, and I am beyond grateful for all the help that you've been in this... This absolute mess. I want to be able to give you a gift, upon my death, as a thank you." 

You found that you couldn't argue with that, and had graciously accepted his gift rather than continued to try to argue with him out of gifting you that money upon your death. But the state wouldn't come in to sell his things for years and years... Unless Damien had taken possession of everything and was selling  his old friend's things off in order to wash his hands of the whole affair. Or... You supposed that Mark, pretending to be Damien, pretending to be overcome with grief, wanted everything sold so that he didn't have to be reminded of where his old friend had been murdered. Although how Damien or Mark was explaining  your disappearance, or Celine's or the Detective's for that matter, you couldn't guess. 

Maybe he painted one of you the killer of the other two - and Mark. You wonder bleakly which one of you had been named the murderer. You flinch as you think you could hear an echo of thunder, and remind yourself not to think of that awful word while still trapped in this house. You wonder how long it will take for this mirror to get sold - or if it would even get sold. Given the obvious and ugly damage done to it, you wouldn't be surprised if no one bid for it - not when there was so much more for them to purchase that was unbroken... Not that anything in this cursed place wasn't tainted somewhat by what had happened... And the evil that his manor or whatever horrible presence inside of it had thrived on for so long. You can feel it's attention on you sometimes - it's what drags you kicking and screaming back into that black void of nothingness, and part of you wonders if the house is playing with you, when you manage to break back into the mirror, your prison and place of safety. 

What does it stand to gain, by having your soul trapped within it's walls? You can't even begin to guess, and you fervently hope that someone, anyone will pay for your mirror, so that you can escape this dreary, cursed place. You haven't heard William's voice since that first night - it seems as if either Mark or Damien found him. You wonder if William is dead, or if whoever found him has let him live, sanity fractured and possibly irretrievable as it is.

 The Auctioneer is visibly wilting, even as he continues to babble at high speed, trying to get the crowd interested in your cracked and broken mirror. No one raises their hands, as the price continues to go further and further down. The price is set at ten dollars, before a hand shoots into the air, a numbered paddle nowhere in sight. The Auctioneer gratefully latches onto the single bidder - trying to get someone else to become interested in your mirror... But no one so much as twitches, apparently uninterested in fixing up the ornate, broken mirror, perhaps wanting the baby bed, or the dozens if not hundreds of other things that they could spend. 

"Sold to this young man right here for ten dollars! Please come up, pay and take your purchase, unless you want to buy anything else?" The Auctioneer asked, looking at the person who had bought your mirror. 

A clean shaven, short dark haired young man who looks startlingly like Mark, Damien and William comes forwards, a ten dollar bill in hand. He shook his head, his voice even sounding similar to theirs - rich and warm. Though there seems to be a playfulness to him that you hadn't seen in any of the three of them - perhaps because this young man looked no older than twenty "No, all I want from here is this mirror. Thank you." He handed off the money, before carefully grabbing the bottom edges of the mirror. 

The moment his hands touch your mirror, an electric current passes through you, causing you to yelp "Ah!" in shock. You hadn't felt anything in months (weeks? Years? You can't tell. You've lost track of time,  much as you tried to keep track of the days and nights that have passed you by).

 A soft "Shh." Leaves the young man's lips, as if he'd heard you. He hitches the mirror up higher - perhaps to hide his lips as he carefully makes his way through the crowd of people. You can see their avaricious or bored or curious faces painfully up close, and you press closer against the side of the mirror you've been hiding in, hoping that none of them spot you and panic. "I mean you no harm. Although I've never encountered a talking mirror before."

 Indignant, you can't help but sputter, hissing back at the young man "I'm not a talking mirror! I'm trapped in the mirror." 

"Oh?" The young man breathes, and you can hear the curious lilt to his voice. You can almost imagine a quizzical expression on his face - not unlike Damien's, the first day that the two of you met at university.

 You shake yourself mentally, angry and upset that you would allow your mind to wander like that. You are curious as to why his touch allowed you to speak - perhaps it was because he was alive? But there seemed to be a curious sort of power to his voice... Something compelling and powerful, but not like Damien - who could talk bees into giving him their honey nor Mark, who could hook a stadium full of people into whatever character he was playing. You couldn’t guess as to what it could be, but whatever it was, you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not that you had a choice, given that you were trapped in this mirror. You had tried to leave this mirror, precisely once. You had been trapped so deeply in the all-consuming black void for so long, that you had been frightened that you would never escape. 

You’d managed to get back to the mirror... But that had only been a few hours (days?) before this auction was to begin. You hoped that leaving this miserable place would allow you a small measure of freedom, or at last the chance to allow your soul to fade into the next life or whatever afterlife might be waiting for you. You were pretty sure that even Hell - if there was a hell - would be preferable to being trapped in this mirror, the pitch black void waiting for you on the edges of the mirrored world that you’d been living in for... Some time now. You say quietly "I don’t want to talk about why I’m trapped in this mirror - especially not here.”

 "Very well... Although since I’m to have a roommate, I would very much like to know more about you, once we are back to my home.” The young man responded, voice still barely above a whisper. You had to strain your ears to hear him speak.

 "... Alright.” You acquiesce, though you’re not entirely thrilled about spilling your tragic death to anyone - then again, you supposed that you didn’t strictly have to tell him what all had happened to get you in this miserable situation. It wasn’t as if he would be able to know whether or not you were keeping some of the sordid details of your death and what really had happened at Markiplier Manor, the evening that Markiplier had been killed.

 The young man nodded, humming a little in contemplation as he walked out of the manor, bringing you to a small, slightly beaten up car, carefully sliding you into the front passenger seat, buckling the mirror in and saying “I have quite a few questions to ask you, though if you cannot answer some of them, I understand. The first is a rather simple one. May I see you, if you have a form inside this mirror?” 

You somewhat reluctantly nod, stepping into the frame of the mirror and looking up at the young man, once again, rather strongly reminded of Damien and Mark. “This is what I look like - and I looked like this while I was alive.” You look down at yourself, and you were still wearing the work suit that you had worn to the poker game, straightening your jacket a little. “What’s your name? I’ve been calling you... Someone in my head, but I’d rather not associate you with any of those three people, since you’re rescuing me from that... Place.” 

“I hope that you’ll tell me about these people I remind you a little of. My name is... Arthur. What is yours?” Arthur asked, though the young man said his name a little strangely. 

It wasn’t as if you could do anything about it, so you just nod and respond “It’s wonderful to meet you, Arthur. I’m Y/N.” 

“The former District Attorney? The one who was appointed by Mayor Damien before you were killed at-” His eyes seem to light up in intense curiosity and fascination “... Markiplier Manor. As promised, I won’t ask any more questions until after I bring you home, Y/N, but I do find myself with more questions than before.” 

You nod, feeling your throat tighten a little nervously. But it was nice to finally tell someone your story. 

[from-the-das-desk]

Stubbornness and Vengeance - Chapter One

word count: 1547 warnings: none summary:  You, trapped in the mirror, manage to will yourself into an upstairs mirror, rescuing The Detective

It was safe to say, that your stay at Markiplier Manor had been doomed from the start.

Ignore the fact that Mark had made it painfully obvious of what he was planning from the get go, no, you had to be stupid enough to stick around after bodies started dropping.

Literally, from the ceiling.

You shook your head a little, trying to clear it, as you stared out, through the cracked and fractured mirror. It had been some time since they'd last heard William call out for Celine and Damien - whether or not that meant that Damien - or whatever had shoved you out of your body, after turning it into a facsimile of Damien's had caught up with him - whether that meant that William had been killed, or the two of them had gone off to somewhere else - whether they had left the cursed mansion entirely, or into deeper parts, you couldn't guess. With a jolt, you remembered that Abe had been killed - and you wondered if that meant that the spirits who had contacted you had tried to convince Abe to let them in and he'd refused... Or if they had focused on you - as they had known and trusted Damien for much longer.

You concentrated with all your might, struck by a sudden epiphany as you attempt to will the house, to move and change, and after several long moments - or was it hours? You couldn't tell time very well in this manor when they had their own body - much less since you'd been trapped inside the mirror. But now you were looking over the balcony - the very one that William had accidentally shot you - and you could see the detective fighting against Celine - or whatever was possessing Celine’s body. It was difficult for you to actually look directly at her - and the light around her body seemed to distort a little.

Abe was losing, badly, the bullet wound he got was still bleeding heavily. Not-Celine had too much of an upper hand, maybe if you... CRASH! The mirror that had been hanging on the wall crashed to the ground, shattering and creating a loud enough noise to distract Not-Celine before she attacked again, though a strange, crackling pitch black energy was sparking in her fingertips, edged in red and blue. She stood up and glared at the shards that lay a few feet away from her, shaking her head, Not-Celine turned back to Abe who was trying to crawl away. A series of shatters echoed throughout the manor, each one close to Not-Celine, slowly making her back away from Abe. You had no idea how you were doing it, and it definitely hurt, but it was working. Not-Celine had her back against the wall, she looked shocked, and angry. You had been flickering between mirrors, faster and faster as you broke the ones opposite to you, you had Not-Celine in a separate hallway now, as far from Abe as you could manage. Her face twisted into a smirk that you had seen when you had helped the grounds keeper lock the door to the room she should still be in. Raising her hand, she summoned the black energy again, aiming it at your mirror. Grimacing, you braced yourself and shattered the mirror behind her just as she launched her attack your way.

Funny thing about mirrors, they reflect stuff. Mostly light, light’s made of energy, right? Though she cracked the mirror you were in, most of the energy bounced off of the mirror and rebounded - she cursed and dodged her own attack.You could only hope that Abe is off somewhere, patching himself up and maybe finding a phone to call for help - or trying to escape this miserable hellhole of a manor. With a great deal of effort, you see the next mirror, and try to leap into the next one.

Instead you hit an invisible barrier, and you’re thrown back into the other side of the mirror, and you groan in pain, shaking yourself, as you realize as you try to go backwards into one of the broken mirrors, that you’re now trapped in this single mirror - but you’d been in a broken mirror before. With grim determination, you gather up more of your energy - conscious that Celine (or whatever is possessing her) is moving swiftly towards her, the wicked smirk on her face widening as you fail to jump into another mirror, as you realized just how exhausted you are.

“I’m curious as to why you would try to save him?” Not-Celine asked, her voice strangely echoing in this place, as her hand fills with that terrible, black energy “You hadn’t met him until the poker night and the only thing that worthless detective has done was get you into more and more trouble. Stay still and I will make this quick, little mirror spirit.”

Bang!

Not-Celine coughs and staggers forwards, touching the rapidly spreading patch of wetness that is staining her dress. She stumbles again before falling down,  coughing as Abe growls, “My partner has my back, you black magic wielding witch. You’re just as twisted as your lover.” He’s holding his stomach, and looks more than a little pale, but the hand holding his gun is steady.

Not-Celine glares darkly at him, as she coughs wetly,  spitting up blood, the black energy in her hands flickering before fading “You’ll regret this! Death doesn’t mean the same thing here. I will have my revenge on the both of you.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Believe you me, I don’t care what sort of black magic voodoo you think you can pull on me, I’m not going to go down that easily.” The detective responded, raising his gun and shooting at her, aiming for her head. Abe moved closer to the mirror you were currently in.

Not-Celine rolls to one side, and the bullet buries itself in one of her shoulders. She collapses on the ground, still as she continues to bleed, sending  one last blast of black magical energy directly at Abe, who froze up, startled.

You panic, not wanting him to get hit, sensing instinctively that it would hurt him badly, possibly even kill him. With a twist of will, you reach through the cracked mirror, fingertips brushing against his coat and drag him backwards into the mirror, though it takes all your remaining energy, collapsing against him, panting. The black energy flies out of sight, and it seems that for the moment at least,  Not-Celine is dead. Abe is still bleeding, and you reach out to where he was injured, saying “Here, let me help bandage you up. Death doesn’t mean the same thing in this miserable place but I… I’d rather not see you die. Especially since whatever was possessing Celine’s body may be in that black void.”

Abe blinked, still frozen in fear from when Not-Celine had almost killed him, though it was fading now. He shuffled closer to you, propping himself up against the wall so that you could look over the wound. You carefully lifted his shirt to see it better, the blood was still flowing, but you had to get the bullet out before you could bandage it. A tingling in the back of your head told you to place your hand over Abe’s abdomen and concentrate, as you did so, your hand felt heavy. It was odd, like there was something weighing it down, or pulling it closer. Suddenly, you felt something warm and solid against the palm of your hand, you curled your fingers around it and peered at it. It was the bullet, somehow you had managed to will it out without harming Abe further.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you heard Abe moan in pain, you hurriedly shrugged off your jacket and held it over the wound, patting his face to keep him awake. “Hey, Abe? Stay with me partner, I need you to talk to me, I got the bullet out, you hear? I’ll stop the bleeding next, just stay with me.” “Hnnnrgh” Was all you got in response, but it was better than nothing.

With ease you didn’t know you had, you placed your hands above the wound, concentrating just as you had before to get the bullet out. His flesh beneath the cloth started knitting itself back together until it was whole once more, though it still left a scar.

Gasping, you fell back. The room was starting to spin and you felt really lightheaded. You curled in on yourself, cradling your head with one arm and the other around your stomach, you heard Abe groan again as he rolled onto his hands and knees. As much as you’d like to hug him right now because It worked and We’re gonna be okay, partner!, you were more concerned about whether or not the blood on your hands was from you or him.

“......ner? ........-n you hear...... -ll be o.....-mise”

You felt Abe’s hands on your shoulders, rolling you over so he could see you. You smiled, it was nice to know he cared. You closed your eyes despite his pleading that you don’t, you knew you’d be okay as long as he was there. Right now, you could really use a nap.

[starry-bi-sky]

Saying it now

My birthday is on October 13th, I can’t tell you how excited I was when I realized (months later) that WKM Finale happened on my birthday. Oh shit wait the anniversary of Wilford’s... uh... what’s the word?? Mind break?? (Insanity??) is on my birthday cool but at the same time heartbreaking