lostcybertronian
A Tolerated Madness
Icon by prideicons, header by greaserink, nonbinary, they/them pronouns, age 24, ace. I am a writer and a field hockey player. I like Markiplier, Transformers, Michael Myers
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Yancy/Illy with "I've got you"?
Prompt: “I’ve got you.”
“Are you sure about this?” Illinois dangled from the wrought-iron gate, half-prepared to pull himself up and over, half-ready to drop and run if the guards caught on to what they were doing.
“Yeah!” Yancy stood on the other side of the gate, inside the prison walls. His white-toothed grin made Illinois feel more confident than he was, and the white stripes on his prison jumpsuit seemed to glow in the late night dark. “Youse can meet my folks. Themses good people, even if they stab sometimes.”
“Will they stab me?” Illinois finally steeled himself and hauled himself up and over, carefully avoiding the sharp spines lining the top of the gate. He thunked to the ground beside Yancy, knees bent, perfect form.
Yancy clapped him on the back. “Not with me, theyse won’t! I’ve got youse. Youses safe with me.”
Illinois smiled. It was a genuine Illinois smile, not the charming debonair grin he occasionally flashed for cameras or newspapers. He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Yancy’s lips. “Let’s go then,” he said, and started toward the prison, letting Yancy lose his composure in private.
#yancillinois#yancy#illinois#markiplier egos#writersofmark#fanfiction#ego shipping#lostandwandering#lost writing tag#writing prompts#fluff#humor#asks#lovely anon
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thats it thats the whole movie everyone can go home now
ill allow the slander on the spanish language
once ☝🏻
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For the mark ask thing, how about “you’re fun to touch” with Bing and Dark?
Heat helps Dark's chronic pain.
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Prompt: “You’re fun to touch.”
The muted light and tone of the television went largely unnoticed, though its soft glow pooled on the living room floor, even going so far as to lap at the feet of the couch. Beyond that, the only sound to be heard was a soft whirring as Bing ran his internal processor higher than was his model’s usual or its recommended, heating his body and, by extension, the room.
But it wasn’t the room that needed heating so much as it was Dark that needed heating, hence their unfortunate and embarrassing situation: Bing and Dark– together– lying on the couch, Dark tucked firmly in Bing’s arms. Normally Bing would’ve rather shut himself down than put himself in such a compromising position, but it was Dark. And Dark could be convincing. Eventually, under the threat of violence and the thick, purple shadows under Dark’s eyes, Bing caved.
Still. If anyone saw them like this, he’d never hear the end of it.
“Are you sure about this?” Bing asked, startling Dark from his half-asleep state.
“Shut up,” Dark mumbled. Even exhausted he sounded like he could and would be dangerous.
Bing swallowed. Then, he took a risk. “Why are we doing this?”
A long pause. Their position– Bing’s nose to the back of Dark’s head– made it so it was impossible to see his expression.
Finally, “you’re fun to touch.”
Then Dark was asleep, his entire body relaxing into Bing’s embrace, leaving the android thoroughly confused and a little upset, since he was sure Wilford had a thing for Dark, and if Wilford were to find out about this, he’d be dead. More than dead. He’d be so dead even Google wouldn’t be able to piece him back together.
Fuck his life.
#darkweb#darkiplier#bingiplier#markiplier egos#writersofmark#fanfiction#ego shipping#lostandwandering#lost writing tag#writing prompts#hurt/comfort#fluff#humor#chronic pain dark#asks#falcatrecon
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GOOD LUCK WITH WORK I HOPE U WONT BE OVERWHELMED
THANKS it wasn't so bad today
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It's 10pm. We're still in uni. We're struggeling so hard with one task. Another group (which i'll try to figure out who exactly) managed to do it but it took 8h apparently.
Average physics student experience.
That reminds me of my twelve-hour exam from undergrad.
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prompts 5 and 34 for engineer mark please?
Love me some angst. Post-ISWM pt. 2
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Prompt: “I can’t sleep. Can I sleep here?” / “It’s just you and me.”
You didn’t go down to the planet like the others, preferring to stay on the Invincible II where you could see it and protect it. It had been some days since you’d last seen a wormhole, but the creeping feeling that you’d be sucked into another dimension at any moment had yet to fade. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t sleep. But you could pace the bridge, staring into (literal) space, pretending you were okay.
“Captain?”
You turned. Mark stood at the door, refusing to meet your eye. He shifted his weight back and forth, shuffling his feet. “I can’t sleep,” he blurted out, when you didn’t say anything. He gestured to his cryopod, just to the right of the door. “Can I sleep in there? I’m . . . more comfortable there.”
You kept your expression carefully blank even as a maelstrom of thoughts crashed into your mind; Mark here, for decades, entire lifetimes, with nothing but himself and the ship, looking for a solution. Looking for you to be a solution.
“Captain?” Mark asked, and you cleared your throat; you’d been silent too long.
“Of course,” you said, hoping your voice was steady. “You can sleep wherever you want.”
For a moment Mark looked so intensely grateful that you had to avert your eyes. You heard his quiet footsteps as he plodded to his cryopod, and thought even those footsteps were exhausted.
“Do you ever-”
You turned. Mark had the cryopod door open and was half-in, leaning out to talk to you.
“Do you ever think about how it’s just you and me?” He asked. “Just you and me who know, I mean. What happened.”
Of course you did. It was all you thought about.
You paused a moment to compose your answer. Mark’s stare remained on you, unwavering.
“It is just you and me,” you said carefully. “But it is you and me. You’ll never be alone with what happened because I know, too.”
For the first time since you’d destroyed the universe, Mark smiled. “Thank you, Captain.” He said. “That makes me feel better.”
He climbed fully into the cryopod, its interior glowing faintly as it booted up. As the door shut and latched you turned back out to look at the massive planet below, glad Mark found your words comforting but wishing you felt the same.
#captain x mark#captain of the invincible II#engineer!mark#markiplier egos#writersofmark#fanfiction#ego shipping#lostandwandering#lost writing tag#writing prompts#angst#hurt/comfort#post iswm#iswm#in space with markiplier#asks#lovely anon#q
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I'm curious to see what we'll do tomorrow. My prof take the experimental part in experimental physics very serious.
They stream the lectures. I'll see whether i can grab a screenshot of the water canon experiment.
PLEASE
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transformers fans when Starscream appears for literally three frames in the trailer
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Transformers One isn't changing the established lore y'all because there is no established lore
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Also physics lectures in Germany are wild.
Last year my prof sat himself inside a Faraday cage which was then exposed to dangerously high voltage. The prof and the assistants were wearing thick ear protection. The students in the auditorium were simply told to cover their ears. The prof gave a student his phone so the student could make a recording that my prof could send to his daughter
This week my prof (different one) used a water canon (canon! Not pistol) to show trajectories at different angles. Poor assistant had to run aroynd with a large bowl to catch the water. Throwing a ball would be too boring according to him.
For a different experiment he needed an air pistol.
Both of these things happened in the same lecture.
This makes me happy
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Your first instinct is correct because pretty sure not even physicists entirely have a clue of whats going on.
Physicists speak in tongue, they're all some degree of not Quite sane. You have to be to even decide to study physics. Worse however are mathematicians.
Mathematicians are so terrifying that if you had shown H.P. Lovecraft advanced algebraic topology, he would've invented a new eldritch god and discovered a new phobia solely based on the abomination that pure mathematics are. Pure mathematics are hell and mathematicians are masochists.
I read Nine-Fox Gambit, which has a math-based magic/science fiction system. Authors need to write more math-based systems because they SLAP
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No prompt today since I'm working on queuing prompts for this week since school vacation is over and I'm back at work :')
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So you guys speaking in tongues now???
You know, I think this is the funniest thing anyone could've said because even though I know @meo618 is sending me pictures of their physics lessons my first instinct is still to say yes.
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I have no idea whether this is correct or what i'm even calculating. I missed two lectures because of my Abitur exams. God exists and he is laughing at me
I'm hesitant to post this because it might give my followers a stroke
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Stop laughing at me you sadist
I will NOT
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I think you were right and the joke truly is on me cause i'm working on experimental physics 2 right. Academic weapon? I'm an academic victim rn.
😂
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Do you hate me with Wilford and Abe or I'm just looking out for you with Yancy and Murdock would be cool if you're down
Prompt: “Do you hate me?”
Now that Abe wasn’t actively trying to find him, Wilford seemed to appear everywhere: already draped over his office chair when he came into work, the door still locked and seemingly untampered with; in the background of his favorite noir film, a flash of neon pink in the gray; at the bar he frequented on gloomy, lonely nights, mixing up brightly-colored cocktails.
“We’re friends now, and friends hang out.” He said, answering a question Abe didn’t ask. Then he placed onto the bar the most intricate drink Abe had ever seen– Abe would taste it a few minutes later, when Wilford turned his back, and it’d be the best cocktail he’d ever had, a welcome reprieve to whiskey straight– and stepping back to scrutinize him, his thick, dark brows furrowing. “Unless you hate me.” A pause. “Do you hate me?”
Abe sat back, genuinely unsure. He’d never thought past their roles of hunter and prey, detective and criminal. William Jackson Barnum was a murderer, nothing more, nothing less.
In the decades he’d spent immersing himself in the case and living its facts, it had never occurred to him that William might’ve been a victim, too.
He looked at Wilford, who had visibly wilted in the time it had taken him to answer, for what felt like the very first time. “No,” he said reluctantly. “I don’t hate you.”
Wilford brightened, a childishly happy grin spreading across his face. “Best friends, then!” He declared, spinning on one pink high heel with a flourish and heading back toward the bar. He stopped once to cast a glance over his shoulder that made Abe blush from his head to his toes. "Enjoy your drink," he said with a wink, "it's on the house."
#abestache#detective abe#abe the detective#wilford warfstache#wilford motherluvin warfstache#markiplier egos#writersofmark#lostandwandering#lost writing tag#writing prompts#fluff#hurt/comfort#asks#thedragonempress
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