Stripping's Harder Than It Looks. (Dean Imagine)

Like he gets so salty and bitter when it gets close to Christmas and none of the other egos can work out why

He just haaates it so much, and everyone’s like “yeah typical.” lol

Tea. (Headcanons)

(A/N These are some of my headcannons told sort of in the form of a plotless oneshot. Add to it if you want!)

There's one thing the Doctor adores no matter what regeneration he's on, and that's tea. Whether it's good ol' classic English tea (Ten drank it all the time), or green tea (Good old Twelve), or herbal teas(Eleven was wont to try all kinds of teas, a new one every day), or gunpowder tea (Nine had a bit of a bitter streak when it came to this), he always loved it, and he liked to share that with his companions.

Everyone liked the classic stuff, but each had their own favorites.

Rose, through her time on the TARDIS, came to really enjoy raspberry tea with honey and lemon juice, which the Doctor would make for her after every adventure. She brought her favorite brand to her mum's apartment, but Jackie said she "didn't trust these ruddy alien teas. What if they poison me or somethin'?"

Martha had a soft spot for orange tea, especially with lavender or jasmine, and her favorite brand was one from the 25th century on Earth that boasted helpful hypermetabolic antioxidants, though the Doctor protested it didn't help her health at all. She liked it anyway. They "debated" the point thousands of times during their long tea-and-chat sessions in the console room.

Donna was quite fond of coffee as well as tea, and took it black, occasionally with sugar if she was just relaxing and chatting with the Doctor. She made him try her coffee once, but he spit it out so violently she called him "Old Faithful" for a week straight. After that, the Doctor insisted on making and drinking only his own beverages, and Donna cracked a smile every time they met in the morning for drinks and biscuits.

Amy liked really strong teas of lots of varieties, including some alien types found across the galaxy from Earth in the 47th century, while Rory just liked his classic tea, one spoon of sugar and a little milk, please. Neither liked when the Doctor attempted to make their tea, so Amy often ended up getting annoyed at them both and sitting them down while she did it, correctly. The boys were smart enough not to argue.

Clara really rather enjoyed oolong and green tea, but would try basically anything the Doctor brewed for her, so they spent hours in the TARDIS kitchen laughing and taste-testing.

The Doctor also let everyone pick their own mug, because of course the TARDIS had an almost endless supply of them, and he gave each of them the mugs when they left him.

His were: in his ninth incarnation, a simple black mug with a swirling blue and gold design; in his tenth incarnation, a rather large blue mug with about a thousand quotes in brown ink scrawled all over it (from him, and his companions, and Shakespeare, and Agatha Christie, and a thousand others) in very small, cramped handwriting (he had about three because he kept running out of space); in his eleventh incarnation, it changed every time he drank tea, sometimes white with a red bow tie, other times pale pink with a black fez silhouette, other times something completely random; and in his twelfth incarnation, a star scattered black mug with the TARDIS' outline.

Rose's favorite was a pink mug with a half-heart shaped handle, which the Doctor bought her "as a joke", and sometimes teased her about, but she was happy with it. Tentoo had it in his pocket when they went to Pete's world, and gave it back to her as a birthday present the next time it came around. She was thrilled.

Martha's was a pretty green Japanese tea cup, with Kanji lettering on the side for "Health". It was wrapped up in the gift pile at her wedding to Mickey. There was no giver name. She cried when she opened it.

Mickey got one that said "The Most Brilliant Idiot To Every Live" in small, cramped handwriting. He cried, too.

Donna would never understand where the fairly plain brown mug that read "Life's an adventure if you get your arse out of bed long enough to have one" came from. All she knew was that it arrived at her door one day, and Shawn didn't know where it came from, and it was her favorite. It made her happy, but she never understood why.

Amy's favorite mug was intricately sculpted to a tree with a fairy sitting in its branches that Rory bough for her on a planet with actual, live fairies. Rory's was one Amy had given him, with a little cartoon of a Roman soldier, bought from the gift shop of a certain museum, that had the title "The Centurion".

They cried when a package containing the mugs arrived on their doorstep in the 60s.

Clara's favorite was bright red with gold glitter and the outline of a leaf on it. The Doctor swore he'd just picked it up somewhere, but Clara just smiled and nodded, happily running a finger over the hand-painted leaf.

Nope!

A/N: I smell a fandom fire! What a good time for some nicely roasted angst!

Dark knew what this feeling was. He was all too familiar with it, wasn’t he? All the same, the familiar panic began to rise in his throat, and he stood suddenly at his desk, before grunting and hunching over it, one hand slamming down into the surface, cracking it in an attempt to steady himself, but it felt like the world was spinning.

It was very fast this time.

“Dark?”

Oh, no. No, Wil, you don’t need to see…

But Wilford was leaning heavily on the door frame, bubblegum-smile missing and face pale, eyes wide and deathly scared. Dark knew that look.

“It would seem it isn’t just me,” he said softly, trying to come around the desk to join him, but this caused the room to turn sickeningly on its side. He slid to the ground with a groan. Wilford made an effort to come to him at the same time, and collapsed to his knees halfway there.

“What’s happening? What’s…?”

“We’re dying, Wilford.”

The tears that had already been forming leaked out and onto his cheeks as he whispered, not even strong enough to summon his usual smile, “It’s…but it’s all a joke, isn’t it? It’s always been a joke, hasn’t it?”

“A cruel joke,” Dark agreed, slumping further onto the ground. He vaguely made out Wilford collapsing fully, heard him wheezing. “It’s not fair…it’s never been fair.”

They were quiet for a moment.

Suddenly, Wilford chuckled, and the sound of it brought real tears to Dark’s long-dried eyes. He didn’t know he could still do that. How interesting.

“Not quite the blaze of glory I had planned, is it, Dames?”

“So you do remember.”

He’d have nodded if he still could have. He couldn’t even see anymore, really. Vague, grey and blue and red shapes. He didn’t know if Wil could still hear him.

“Thank you, William.”

“It’s been my honor. Damien. Celine.”

There were no other words. Everything went black.

“Dark? I have some new concepts to go over with you, and we need to discuss this week’s schedule.” Bim knocked on his door, and was surprised when it gave way under his hands. Frowning, he stepped into the office.

It was oddly empty. The fire was still burning in the white marble fireplace on the far end of the room, and there were papers sitting on the desk, as if someone had been halfway through them and been interrupted. The chair was pushed back carelessly, and the thick rug was wrinkled in one corner.

Bim walked slowly over to the desk and picked up one of the papers. For a moment, it looked as if he were reading and old article, the tabloid headline stating “MURDERS AT MARKIPLIER MANOR REMAIN UNSOLVED”.

And then, the page was blank.

Bim wondered why the egos never used this office. It was nice, very stately. Fit for a politician.

Perhaps Google would like it. Always best to offer the boss the best spot in the building, and his current room wasn’t nearly enough. Why had they stuck him in that little side room again? Why had he let them? Maybe he liked the privacy.

He wandered off to find him, feeling vaguely as if he’d forgotten something important. But he was sure it was nothing.

So what I’m thinking is that this one was written by Asshole Mark.

Love... 

What a simple thing [This is sarcasm, obviously, as suggested by the rest of the poem, hinting at the bitterness reflected in the ending.]

The sweetest poison A blood-stained ring [The “sweetest poison” because love has only ever hurt this person and yet they pursue it. The “blood-stained ring” could mean a wedding ring, talking about a ruined marriage, the blood meaning injury or death related to the relationship.]   A tender kiss  A bitter sting  [The contrast between these two lead me to believe it’s referencing the same person, the SO of the speaker, and it’s referencing a betrayal, the “sting” being something this person has done to hurt the speaker.]

Eternal bliss A lonely king [”Eternal bliss” in a perfect relationship on the outside, but it’s meaningless now because they know what the SO did, they’ve been hurt, and so even if they’re still together in appearance, they are alone.] 

How much of this is even real? [This expands on the last part, the appearance of a happy marriage that is faked to some degree.]

This pain This love This somber wheel [They seem to be going through a cycle of trying to forgive them, and being hurt again. What the SO did is a recurring thing.] 

An endless turn of snake and tail An endless storm, malignant gale  [The speaker feels trapped by the relationship, hurt over and over again as if it’ll never end.]

Yet here I sit upon my throne My only truth... I am alone [They feel isolated from everyone else, in a position of wealth and power but with the only thing that really matters to them taken away, and so are becoming bitter.]

So in conclusion, this is from Asshole Mark’s perspective, when he was still married to Celine, growing more and more bitter, possibly before he made his ill-fated plan.

uuUHHHH

should anyone be interested, and because these are actually writing/artsy related. go for it! i’ll answer to the best of my ability. :)

identity ask.........oh shit

if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? do you identify yourself by the things you do?

are you religious/spiritual?

do you care about your ethnicity?

what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

are you an artist?

do you have a creed?

describe your ideal day.

dog person or cat person?

inside or outdoors?

are you a musician?

five most influential books over your lifetime.

if you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same?

would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

what’s your patronus?

which Harry Potter house would you be in? or are you a muggle?

would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else?

do you love easily?

list the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order.

how often would you want to see your family every year?

have you ever felt like you had a “mind-meld” with someone?

could you live as a hermit?

how would you describe your gender/sexuality?

do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you”?

on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

three songs that you connect with right now.

pick one of your favorite quotes.

(It’s really cool! I hope it snows for you!) Oh I loved those, they were so funny!

^u^

i’m incredibly impressed by this

also, isn’t this what our plan looks like in mark’s bag?

I posted this on my twitter but, I spent about three hours late last night making this monstrous thing, so please enjoy. It should have every single path and ending you could get in A Heist With Markiplier. I may add all of A Date With Markiplier later on @markiplier

Is your blog title a reference to a wrestling song?

No, unfortunately, that would’ve been a lot cooler than what it actually is. XD Is there a song called “Like Puppets on a String”? I have to look that up now.

But no, actually it was just a generic reference to villains using other people as pawns, treating them “like puppets on a string”. It just happened to get really relevant to youtube dark sides. lol

Oh my god, this is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant. You’ve somehow managed to perfectly blend to absolutely amazing universes and you’ve done it seamlessly. I would gladly read this as a miniseries or one-off book.

AJ Crowley and Harry Potter bump into each other in public:

Harry Potter: Oops, sorry about that.

Crowley: No, it was my fault, don’t worry about it.

Public: *stares at the two men making strange hissing noises at each other*

Both: Wait…