(Inspired by the ridiculousness on Mark’s twitter, and the resulting fan jokes here on Tumblr. It’s pure crackfic/fluff that I have no explanation for.)
Ego Inc. was alive with activity, the Googles rapidly downloading information on arachnids and their eating and sleeping habits, Wilford rushing around declaring that this was a unique moment that needed to be filmed, the Doctor considering multiple medical scans of this latest ego, while Bim was trying to figure out how to create a pair of pants for a small creature with six legs.
Darkiplier, having not been present during the new ego’s arrival, entered the boardroom and stared in shock at the tiny creature standing on the table, an itsy-bitsy recorder in its little hands. It played a merry little song and danced on its nimble little feet.
The Host was seated before the creature, tapping his foot in time to the music.
“What in the Nine Hells is that thing?” Dark demanded.
The little creature stopped playing and, in a small but chipper voice, announced, “I am Doot!” It then went back to playing its little recorder and dancing.
“The Host has acknowledged this newest ego in the presence of the others, and has formally welcomed it into the company of the Iplier Egos. The Host would also like to remind Dark that Doot is a fan-created ego, much like Darkiplier once was.”
Dark was affronted. “I have nothing in common with that thing!”
The little ego stopped playing. “I am Doot!” it repeated, though this time, in a tone that sounded like it’d been insulted. Which, to be fair, it had been.
“The Host believes that the creation of this new ego was inevitable, and should be accepted into the fold. It’s not its fault it exists. After all, what child asks to be born in life?”
“I am Doot!” Doot added emphatically, in a tone of agreement.
Dark sighed. “Fine. Just keep it out of My way.” His eyes narrowed. “I dislike spiders and, if Doot is not careful, I might unintentionally step on it.”
Little Doot was aghast. “I am Doot!”
Dark raised an eyebrow. “Is that really all it says?”
“The Host can confirm this is indeed the case.”
Dark shook His head and walked away, grumbling in His unnaturally echoic basso profundo voice about the vagaries of Markiplier’s fandom.
“The Host would like for Doot to continue its recital, as the Host was enjoying Doot’s music.”
“I am Doot!” the little creature chirped happily, and went back to its playing and dancing.