Markiplier Ego Stories

Ch 1

Okay so it's my headcanon that Dark really hates the Host because Host doesn't use his powers like Dark wants him to so really this is just Dark beating up Host because he's had a bad day and so this is my excuse for Host whump.

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The bad thing about being this way was the thinking.

Host never stopped thinking. His supernatural powers didn't stop and he couldn't block them. Everything is narrated by him whether people know it or not. Even if he's not talking he's narrating inside his head. Music was just about the only thing that could stop the madness going on in his brain.

Currently he sat in his room, small and dark the way he liked it. He was at his desk he used for hosting his show, the microphone sitting in front of him, ready and waiting.

He didn't turn it on anymore.

"A knock comes at Host's door," he said out loud, the supernatural forces in his head not letting him merely think it. Sure enough, the knock came.

"The Host answers calmly and asks who it is."

"It's Dark," the voice comes gruffly from behind the door.

"The Host is surprised; usually Dark does not take the time to knock."

"I know," Dark says. "Let me in."

"The door flies open to reveal the Host sitting at his desk, facing away from Dark."

Dark walked in. "Host. This has been the sixth time this week."

"Host politely asks what you are referring to," Host said quietly.

"You know what I'm referring to," Dark said irritably. "You haven't done as I asked."

"The Host has done as Master Dark has asked, and argues this point with him. Master Dark does not see reason with Host."

Dark growled, shifting a little. "I don't see reason with you because you haven't done it."

The Host didn't reply, instead staring sightlessly at his master from behind the bandages.

"You will write Mark into a horror story," Dark growled, "And I will see to it that you do."

"Host speaks rapidly and anxiously, pleading with Master Dark not to, for it hurts Host."

"I don't care!" Dark yelled, and something snapped audibly and the mug on Host's table shattered into pieces. "You will do it, Host."

"Host asks what will happen if Host does not do it."

"This," Dark says, and immediately Host cries out, clutching his head, his eye sockets bleeding and staining the bandages around them. At once incomprehensible narrations stream from his mouth in desperate tones, interjected with short "It hurts!" when he could gain a short period of control over his visions. Each time he did, Dark pushed his own persona over Host's and he would be reduced to a blubbering mess again.

Host collapsed from his chair onto the floor, screaming his narrations. Dark watched on in mild interest, close to exerting his full power on Host.

"Dark!" Dr. Iplier burst into the room with Wilford behind him. "What are you doing to him?! Stop it!"

"He hasn't done as I asked," Dark said, hardly batting an eye to the concerned egos.

"Dark, come on," Wilford said, and after another few heartbeats, Dark turned his head to look at the pink-stached man. "You're hurting him, Darky."

Anger flared in Dark's eyes and Host's forced narrations rose higher in pitch until Dark cut it off altogether.

"Tomorrow. You'll learn do as I say, Host. I already took your eyes."