Father’s Day: A Markiplier Egos One Shot
“It’s called ‘Father’s Day,’” Host explains. “The idea is that it’s a day to honor father’s. It’s really not that complicated.”
“But what do we do?” Wilford asks, stretching out his suspenders and quirking an eyebrow at the Host as they lounge in the library.
“Well, as figments, we don’t actually have a father. We just… exist,” Host says with a shrug. “This day doesn’t really apply to us.”
“Isn’t Ed a father?” Wilford’s face screws up in confusion. “How did that happen?”
Host pauses. “I… don’t know.”
Wilford shrugs and claps his hands together suddenly, startling the Host. “Oh, sorry, Hosty, but hear me out, what if we did something for Mark? He’s kind of like a father to us, right?”
“You have a very skewed definition of what a father is, Will.” Host takes a sip of his coffee and makes a face. It’s gone cold. Conversations with Wilford are not good for hot drinks. “Lewis?” the Host asks softly, and the dragon obliges, breathing a stream of fire towards the cup and heating the liquid inside. “Thank you,” and then back to Wilford, “What would we even do? Grill steaks? Toss around a football? That would be plenty of fun for me.”
Wilford shakes his head. “No, Host. You’re thinking about this all wrong! This is the Markiplier, we’re talking about here.” Wilford playfully nudges the Host. “And we’re the Markiplier Egos. If we’re going to do something…” Wilford’s eyes get very devious. “We’re going to do it our way.”
Mark finishes up recording for the day and flops down onto the couch. Chica jumps up, stepping all over him, before settling down beside him, her tail wagging happily. “Hey, bub,” Mark laughs, petting the pupper and feeling the muscles in his shoulders relax. They always get tense after playing horror games.
When he hears the doorbell ring, he assumes it’s one of the gang. Amy or Ethan or someone, but when he checks his phone, which he always neglects to do while recording, none of them have tried to contact him. Mark gently pushes Chica off of him, hops up, and goes to check who’s at the door. To say what he sees surprises him is probably the understatement of the millennium.
Most of the Egos are on his doorstep, arms full of gifts and video games and food. Mark opens the door slowly, poking his head out and trying to give them a convincing smile as he worriedly asks, “Um, hey guys. Wh-what are you doing here?”
“It’s Father’s Day!” Wilford screams in his face, tossing a fistful of glitter at Mark.
“Uh, yeah?” Mark blinks the glitter out of his eyes and surveys the others: Bim, Host, Doc, Silver, and even Google have all shown up for… whatever this is.
“You’re the closest thing we’ve got to a father, so here we are!” Wilford waves his hands in the air, eyes and mouth wide with excitement.
Google steps up. “We have brought gifts of chicken and dumplings from Cracker Barrel, the video games of your liking, and…” Google pauses, looking at the Host. “Host and I designed a little gift for you.”
Mark is baffled. They all stand there for a few more awkward moments before Mark finally snaps back to himself and invites them all inside before the neighbors start to stare. They already think he’s insane. Mark doesn’t want to prove their point. Bim gives Mark a quick hug as he enters, and Mark can’t help but smile. “Ed would’ve come, but he’s with his son, which is… weird. And Dark… well, I don’t guess you’d want him here anyway.”
Mark shakes his head and watches as they all stand around inside like they have no idea what to do. “Um, did you bring enough food for everyone?” Mark asks.
Wilford looks at the single order of chicken and dumplings that he’s holding and makes a face. “Oh, I guess we didn’t think about that.”
“Well, I can’t just eat this all by myself while the rest of you starve,” Mark says, walking towards the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll make some of my world famous chicken and dumps for all of us!”
They spend the next few hours watching Mark make the food—he even lets Wilford debone the chicken which he seems to enjoy way too much—and playing video games afterwards. At the end of the night, Google hands Mark a wrapped box with a sad looking bow on top.
“Silver sat on it,” Google accuses the hero.
“I didn’t mean to! How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry?”
Mark laughs and waves them off. “Guys, you shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” He unwraps the box and opens it to find… another box. “Um…” Mark takes the box out of the box and looks at it carefully.
“Speak to it,” Google says simply, and Mark shrugs. Host smiles to himself and listens carefully for Mark’s reaction.
“Um, hi?” Mark watches in awe as the box blinks open two blue eyes and yawns open a tiny, pink mouth.
“Hi, Mark! I’m your little biscuit, Tiny Box Tim!” Mark
almost has a heart attack, and the Egos, after Dr. Iplier assures them that he’s not dying, are very proud of themselves for a successful, if unconventional, Father’s Day.