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coolmayordamien · 7 months

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A little Darkstache songfic for @willywarfy

Song is The Midnight Crew, Eddie Morton

"Dar-dar-Darkiplier," a monotonous, glitchy voice stammered tonelessly, breaking right through the entity's concentration. Dark scowled down at the paperwork that he had finally had a second to take a stab at, took a deep breath, and then trained the scowl on the android that was loitering in the doorway to his office.

"Wilford is ha-hav-having a malfunction," Google informed him, seeming completely unconcerned. "He is in the stud-d-dy, screaming and waving a gun-"

"Is anyone else in there with him?" Dark interrupted, hurriedly organizing the papers before him as he spoke. While screaming and waving guns around were honestly pretty typical behaviors for the man with the pink mustache, if Google said that the man was having a "malfunction", that could really only mean one thing.

"No one else was with him at the time," the android answered promptly, and Dark was relieved to know that Wil probably hadn't had much of an opportunity to hurt anyone in the midst of his crisis.

"I'm going up there. Don't let anyone else near that room until I say otherwise, do you understand?"

"I un-understand," Google nodded, his suspicious gaze following the grayscale man all the while. He wondered what Dark did to stop these attacks. It was probably something so horrifically violent that the android shuddered just thinking about it.

--

Dark heard Wilford before he saw the man, heard the bangs and crashes as it sounded like the madman was going out of his way to destroy the room that contained him. Heard the agonized cries, heard him scream in fear and anger and confusion as he tried to remember things that he wasn't supposed to remember, as he called out for friends that he would never see again, and for help that would never come.

Dark was going to have to do, instead.

He cautiously opened the door, observing the damage that had already been dealt. Discarded papers drifted through the air, gently fluttering down to land on a floor that was littered with shredded books and broken glass. It seemed that Wilford had shot out at least one window in his panic, and gotten almost all of the lamps.

Wilford, who had backed himself into the corner furthest from the door at Dark's arrival (the most secure position in the room, of course) and who was watching the entity with a sharp, unhinged gaze. His hands were shaking as he pointed a gun at his friend, his breathing rapid, his voice high as he rambled.

"Wh-who…Damien?" the hopeful note in his voice would have pierced right through Dark's heart, if he'd had one. It confirmed his suspicions about what kind of breakdown they were having here, though, and while it was one of Wilford's more emotional kinds, it was also the easiest to deal with.

"No, no, no, you're not Damien," the Colonel corrected himself, his grip on the gun tightening. "He doesn't look like…he's not…what are you?! What sort of awful place is this? First the robot, now a prime example of homo necrosis! I assure you, sir, that I am well up for the privilege of putting down a walking bag of bones such as yourself!"

The wild glint in his eyes became even sharper and more disturbing as his voice lowered with the intensity of his emotions.

Dark sighed lightly, hating what he was about to have to do. Wilford had better really appreciate him for this later.

He turned his back on the gun-toting lunatic as if he were completely unphased by him, humming under his breath as he began to unbutton his suit coat, hanging it primly over the back of the most intact chair.

"What the hell are you doing?" William cried, enraged. "Keep your damn clothes on, you fool! Tell me where my friends are! Tell me what you've done to them!"

Ignoring the questions completely, Dark said loudly, "I hate a moral coward."

The silence that followed his declaration was tense with shock and confusion, and that was enough to encourage the entity to continue, spinning on his heel as he offered his old friend a big, vaudeville smile.

"One who lacks a manly spark," the entity continued, pantomiming a challenge to fisticuffs as he loudly tapped a heel against the wooden floor.

"Are you out of your mind?" Wil demanded, lowering his gun. Dark ignored the irony of that question, an act that he decided was so damn altruistic that he probably deserved a medal.

"I just detest a man afraid to go home in the dark," he said cheerfully, trying to work up a bit of a song as he slowly made his way closer to his unstable companion.

"Well…I mean, don't we all?" the gunman agreed, unaware of the fact that he was holstering his weapon as he spoke.

"I always spend my evenings where there's women, wine, and song!" Dark sang happily, inching ever closer amidst his wide, friendly gestures. He was beyond pleased to see a flash of recognition in Wilford's suspicious eyes at the familiar old tune.

"But like a man…" Wil trailed off, confusion overtaking the fear and anger that had fueled him only moments before.

Delighted, Dark threw caution to the wind, gently tossing a friendly arm around his old pal's shoulders. "But like a man, I always bring my little wife along!"

The Colonel laughed; a lovely, hearty sound as he swooped Dark into a hug, the force of which threatened to crack the entity's spine like a twig. It was a nice feeling, that hug, but it wasn't a Wilford hug.

"Damy, you silly blighter, why didn't you just tell me that it was you in the first place?" William chortled, waving a condescending finger as he lectured, "I could have shot you!"

Before Dark could respond, Wil had him in his arms again, orchestrating the pair of them both in a silly, friendly, affectionate dance that didn't fit the tune or theme of that song at all, and it never had, and it didn't matter how many times Damien had complained about the awkwardness of trying to slow dance to a vaudeville tune, it had never mattered one whit to his fun-loving friend. This sort of thing was madness, after all.

"I'm a member of the midnight crew!" William laughed, spinning Dark quickly as the entity struggled to follow along.

"I'm a night owl-"

"And a wise bird too!"

Together they sang, breathless with laughter and dancing, "Home with the milk in the morning, singing the same old song!"

Chuckling, they collapsed into each other, holding on tightly as William tripped over the mess that he had caused, dragging the pair of them down into a giggling, teary-eyed pile. The hysteria bubbled up inside of them both, dragging the moment out so long that it exhausted Wil. Dark knew the exact moment that the emotions reached a crescendo in his friend, felt the difference in the grip the mustached man had on the entity's middle, heard the difference in the way that the two sides of his friend breathed, and knew that he had done his job.

"Dark?" Wilford asked softly, breathless with laughter from a joke that he didn't even remember being a part of. "What are we doing here? Isn't it…isn't it late? I thought that you were doing paperwork. And I was supposed to…to go to bed, right?"

That was exactly the case, and Dark finally let himself wonder what exactly had occurred during that process to set Wilford off. It didn't really matter right now, though. After he finally got his old friend to bed, he'd go over every inch of this room to see if anything in there could have possibly triggered Wil's memory.

"Nah," he said casually, forcing himself to his feet. "Early to bed and you'll miss all the fun!"

Eyebrows furrowed as he allowed the entity to help him to his feet, Wilford asked, "Is that from a song or something? It sounds a little familiar, but I'm not sure…"

Dark forced himself to laugh a little, reaching for his suit coat once again. "Just something that an old friend and I used to say. Come on. Let's get you something sweet, and then it's off to bed, I think."

Dark loved Wilford, he really did. Wouldn't trade him for the world. But it had been nice to spend a little time with his old friend.

#markiplier egos #who killed markiplier #wkm #wilford warfstache #darkiplier #wkm the colonel #the colonel #songfic #the midnight crew #darkstache #darkiplier x wilford

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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Little Talks

A gift, for my @willywarfy

I don't like walking around this old and empty house.

He cautiously pried open the door, his haunted eyes darting nervously from side to side. He couldn't see anyone; no shadows lurking in the corners of the hall, no figures looming in open doorways, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was alone.

Wilford was never alone.

He was, however, afraid.

"It's okay, Wil. Just hold my hand," a voice whispered from behind him. The sound of that familiar voice soothed his nerves immediately, and Wilford's tired eyes lit up with unabashed joy. He spun on his heel, excited to finally see his dear friend once again, but his delighted greeting died away as he realized that no one was there.

Hurt, pure and raw, crawled across his face like he had been slapped. Feeling lost and frightened, his lower lip trembling as he tried to make sense of the mean trick that was being played on him, Wilford let his empty gaze wonder down the empty hall. He should leave his room for once, should…should get some water, maybe go outside and actually get a little sunshine, but he was too afraid. He was afraid to do it alone.

"I'll walk with you, my dear," his friend said gently from just over his own shoulder, a smile in his voice. And…and that wasn't right, wasn't right at all, because his friend only smiled when he was with Wilford, and he wasn't with Wilford because he wasn't here, he wasn't anywhere-

The next thing that the madman knew, he was in the kitchen. A glass of cold water that he didn't remember pouring was clutched tightly in both of his shaking hands, and his listless gaze darted around, surveying the bleak and decrepit room. This was his home, wasn't it? Why would Wilford let it fall into such a state? Why did he feel so uncomfortable here, or in any other room in his house?

"It's not all about the poker! It's not all about me-"

The man with the pink mustache cried out in fear, bringing his hands up to cover his ears so that he wouldn't have to hear that voice. The cup that he had forgotten he had been holding fell to the ground, shattering against the floor in a spray of water and broken glass. He stared incomprehensively at the mess until he found himself in bed, curled into a tight ball with his hands over his ears, blocking out the sound of breaking glass and laughter and jokes and the unbearably loud silence emanating from the other side of the bed, until an icy hand pressed gently against the back of his neck, soothing him. A sudden weight joined him, curling around Wilford, comforting him.

Some days I can't even trust myself. (It's killing me to see you this way.)

Wilford did not hear his friend again until some time had passed, until he remembered again. He stumbled through the foyer of the home that was his home but also not his home, weeping, crying out for his friends. He heard the gunshots, louder even than the silence that lived in his bedroom, saw the gun in his own hands, heard his own broken voice crying out for mercy, justice, forgiveness.

He was on the roof when his friend appeared to him, announcing himself with nothing more than an icy hand on Wilford's shoulder.He didn't say a word; he didn't have to. Wil was flooded with a stark and sudden shame, overcome with grief and loneliness as he released a ragged cry.

"I never stop hearing them," he wept into the wind, dragging in a ragged breath as the cold hands and arms moved to encompass him completely. "Mark, Celine, Damien…everyone but you. Why don't you speak to me anymore? You're…you're all I have!"

The silence was his only answer.

I miss our little talks.

How long had it been since he had seen his dearest one? Heard his voice, even? Time was rapidly losing all meaning for Wilford.

Everything was. He spent his days and nights pacing the floor of his own small world, his hair unkempt, his clothes growing looser on his frame. He became paranoid, afraid, unsure of his goals. What was he supposed to be doing? If he did it right, would his friends return to him? Wilford didn't know, couldn't remember, and there was nobody around to tell him. He was so tired of being lonely.

We used to play outside when we were young.

He didn't have the strength to stand anymore. Wilford could only sit, hunched and curled into a ball, on the fainting couch near the window. He wanted to see the sun. His friend had always called him sunshine, had said that Wil was the brightest thing in the sky. But he only felt cold now, and his friend was gone.

"Does this remind you of when we were kids?" an unexpected voice mused. Wilford blinked in surprise, a small smile breaking out across his face at the sight of one of his dearest friends. He couldn't remember his name, but knew that he was a sweet man who held a very important position.

"Are you talking about all of the times that you boys stayed up all night in that ridiculous treehouse, talking about life and watching the sun come up like wannabe philosophers?" a second voice teased, throwing an arm around her brother and sending Wilford a wink and a smile. He didn't know her name either, but he did know that the pair were twins, and some of his dearest friends.

"Like you weren't right there with us every time," the mayor smirked. "Life was yours to choose even then."

"Damien!" Wilford cried in delight, jumping to his feet. How could he have forgotten about Damien, that old rapscallion? He-

Fell flat on his face, having forgotten how weak he had become.

Damien and Celine were gone--had never been there in the first place, and he was alone.

Wilford wept.

Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear.

"I'm sorry," his friend whispered, holding Wilford tightly. He was too tired to wonder how he'd gotten into bed, or how long he'd been there, or anything else really.

"I asked too much of you," his dark darling continued, and Wilford was astonished to realize that he could not only hear the voice, but he could see the monochrome hand tightening around his middle. "I didn't realize how hard it would be for you, without me here to remind you."

"Don't leave again," Wilford begged, his eyes wild as he rolled over to see that beloved face for the first time in…in so long. He cried anew at the sight of those familiar, worried eyes.

"I won't," Dark agreed, sounding sad. "I can't, now. You're…"

"I'm what?"

Swallowing hard, the darkness forced a smile. "You're here with me, now. That's all."

"I'm so happy," Wil sighed with relief, curling into his lover's cold arms. "I was getting pretty tired of being alone. I've forgotten where you all went without me, but it doesn't matter. I'm here now."

"Yes," Dark agreed, sounding suspiciously like he was crying. "You're here now."

And though the truth may vary this ship will carry our bodies straight to shore.

#darkstache #markiplier egos #songfic #angst with a sad ending

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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AU where Actor's plan fails simply because Will decides not to show up and Actor just has to awkwardly host an actual party.

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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Just to clarify,your list of parings is both romantic and platonic? As in,if a pairing is platonic but not on the list,you won't be able to write it?

Ooh good question! They were meant specifically romantically. They're honestly just suggestions though, what I'm most confident in writing. I'm always down to give anything a shot though!

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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Not a request,but a question related to a potential one. Do you accept requests for songfics?

Yes, for sure! Especially if I get to learn a new song for them~

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

Text

Some sweet, angsty Abestache for my beloved @willywarfy

"Don't wanna live a life that is comprehensive; cause seeing clear would be a bad idea."

Being with Wilford is an experience. Usually a good one, sometimes a frightening one, and frequently a painful one. But Abe would rather take a bullet to the heart than spend another moment without him.

He knows which one hurts more, trust him.

Again, it's usually good. Great, even. The happiest that he's ever been in his life, probably. Wilford is, in many ways, perfect for him.

Sometimes Abe will be sitting at his desk, pouring over case files with a glass of whiskey, and he'll look up to see his lover stretched out on the sofa (three guesses on who had decided that his office needed a sofa) with his hands behind his head and a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. It always takes the detective off-guard when Wil just appears out of nowhere, even after all of this time.

"I was thinking about you," he'll explain, and Abe will realize that he is a goner. Because Wilford can (and sometimes does) spend the whole day stepping out from around corners or out of closets (and on one memorable occasion, falling out of the fridge) and right into his detective's arms, simply because he can't stop thinking about Abe.

It's a nice feeling, knowing just how often he crosses this man's mind. The detective has spent years, although he could not say precisely how many, consumed by thoughts of Wilford Warfstache, in one form or another. Obsessing over him, hunting him, desperate to force him to explain his actions. Cross-referencing alibies, keeping tabs on every single person who had managed to survive those awful events-

Getting too caught up in the details, focusing on the minutae of it all.

-devoting every moment of his life to this one man.

Things aren't so different now that they're an item, as a matter of fact. Abe still spends most of his time tracking his mustachioed maverick down, trying to get useful information out of him. And obsessing over Wil, of course. It's just a healthier, more enjoyable obsession now.

But it's not all fun and games. They're not a pair of springtime lovers, sound of mind and body, cured of their every imperfection by the miracle of love.

They're people. Flawed, damaged, traumatized people. And they share a lot of history together.

Sometimes when Wilford appears out of thin air, it doesn't just startle Abe; it terrifies him. He'll feel his heart begin to pound and will remember how it felt to drown in his own blood. He'll choke, tears streaming down his face as he fumbles for the gun, and it is not Wilford who is reaching to steady him but a wild-eyed Colonel with a 357 Magnum and his partner is right there he can't let them die not this time not again-

Sometimes Wil remembers things that he is supposed to forget, and forgets things that he is supposed to remember. Every so often he'll sort of...wake up. He'll stop whatever he's doing, his beautiful eyes losing their usual intensity as they scan the room, unfocused and afraid. Abe knows what he is looking for.

"They're not here, Wil," he'll say softly. The man with the pink mustache will startle, his face twisting up suspiciously. If Abe is lucky, Wilford will not recognize him.

"Where are they, detective?" William demands angrily on days that Abe is not lucky. "Where's Celine? Where's Damien? Where are my friends?"

"They're- they're not here," he stammers, because he promised that he would never lie to his lover, even when the truth only hurts him.

Once, Abe had lost his temper. Wil had been frightening him, had cornered him by the doorway and it was too much like what had happened before. He had snapped, grabbing him by the shoulders and shouting, "They're dead! They're gone and they are NEVER COMING BACK, no matter how many times we do this!"

Wil had shot him. Again.

That was...a very bad night indeed. Abe doesn't like thinking about it, remembering the pain of the bullet and the pain of the betrayal, knowing that he couldn't really die again but not being able to stop himself from crying out as his blood dripped onto the floor, as William became Wilford once again and screamed in horror at what he had done, crying and laughing and shaking as he pressed his bare hands against Abe's wound to staunch the bleeding that had never really begun, because it had never really stopped.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Wil rambled, his hands and sleeves turning pink with blood. "I didn't mean- I'm so sorry, I didn't know that it was loaded-"

Abe wonders who Wilford sees when he's like that. The District Attorney, maybe. It can't be Abe himself. William had absolutely meant to kill him.

Sometimes Abe looks at the man he loves and thinks, 'Murderer. You're in love with a murderer, you filthy traitor, what would everyone think? Are you crazy?'

Wilford always hears him when he wonders if he's crazy. Abe has just about given up on trying to figure out how he does it. But it's alright, because he only takes Abe in his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his mouth.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're crazy," Wilford says strongly, a beautiful, mad grin on his face. "Not even yourself. I think that you might be in need of a little fun, sweetheart."

As they dance together on the stage, lights flashing, music blaring, Abe knows that everything is going to be alright. He's got what he needs; a man who can bring a little color into his world, a little madness into his life. A little bit of pain as well, true, but that just makes these few perfect moments all the sweeter.

"I love you," Abe says suddenly, and the joy on Wilford's motherlovin' face at those words--he would be happy if he could make Wil smile like that every day for the rest of time.

So he does.

#markiplier egos #who killed markiplier #wkm #wilford warfstache #markiplier fanfiction #wilford motherloving warfstache #markiplier warfstache #warfstache #abe the detective #abestache #angst #angst with a happy ending

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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Writing Request (if you're still taking them):

Dark/Wilford sick-fic with comfort? I don't mind if it's Dark or Wil that's sick, but I can imagine either of them being reluctant to stay in bed for different reasons, lol

You got it!

Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache

Summary: Dark isn't feeling well. Wilford knows what to do.

Tags: Sickfic, silliness, this is way longer than it has any right to be,

Wilford's eyes flashed with concern as he pressed the back of his hand against Dark's forehead. The man with the pink mustache dutifully ignored his grayscale partner's rumbling complaints, although he did pay careful attention to the deep, wracking coughs that Dark couldn't seem to repress.

"That's a fever, sugar," he said regretfully. "And that there's a nasty sounding cough. You, my dear Dark, are not only merely sick--you're really most sincerely sick."

"I'm perfectly fine, Wil," Dark scowled, trying to duck out of Wilford's grip. The pair had been together long enough for the entity to know what happened when he became unwell. He wanted to get out of that situation as fast as he-

Without having taken a single step, Dark found himself tucked securely into bed, trapped by sheets that had been arranged with military precision. He was also dressed in his pajamas-nope, actually, those were Wilford's pajamas. Dark's closet definitely didn't contain such things as a hot pink long-sleeved sleep shirt covered in flaming black hearts. He bet that if he could manage to un-tuck himself, he would find out that the pants matched.

"Don't pout," Wilford warned from above him, wagging a finger. "You just lie back and look pretty. Ol' Wilfy's gonna take good care of you."

Dark absolutely did not pout, although he did release an annoyed huff as he flopped back into the pillows. He flushed a little as Wil fussed with his coverings, making sure that he was warm enough, and then moreso when his partner pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.

"I'm going to get you some soup! Soup is what you need to get better. And lots of kisses, but that will have to wait until after the soup," the madman rambled. "You be good now, alright?"

"Alright," Dark agreed pleasantly.

--

Dark finally managed to wiggle his way out of his partner's restrictive blankets, refusing to acknowledge exactly how long that it had taken him. He didn't want to upset Wil, but he really needed to get some work done. And stretch his legs. And basically do anything other than just sitting in bed, bored to tears.

Besides, he wasn't that sick. It was just a cough. He didn't even feel that tired, he thought quietly pulling open the door.

Only to reveal Wilford standing on the other side, holding a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of water. They stared at each other for a moment in perfect silence before Wil's eyes crinkled cheerfully.

"Hello, my love!" He sang out, gesturing with the items in his hands. "If you'll just let me put these down, I have a question for you."

"I can explain-" Dark said hesitantly, breaking out into a cold sweat as Wilford moved into the room, carefully placing his burdens on a side table. The mustached man spun on his heel, hands on his hips and a grin on his face.

"Don't be so nervous, darling, it's not a hard question. I just want to know where exactly you think that you're going," Wilford wondered, tapping a finger against his own cheek in contemplation.

Dark searched desperately for the right answer before slowly saying, "No...where?"

"Good answer, my love," Wilford laughed, tucking him into bed. Dark really wished he'd stop teleporting him around; it was sort of making him dizzy. "Now eat your soup before it gets cold. I'll just be down the hall, filming an interview."

Wilford checked his temperature again, kissing his cheek. "By the way sugar, that was strike one."

Fuck.

--

Dark slid open the window as quietly as he could, making sure that there were no witnesses down on the ground. He coughed twice, painfully, and his head whipped around to search for his looming lover. There was no sign of him, thankfully.

He was only on the second story. It couldn't be that hard to climb down two stories.

He made it about two feet before a voice called out from below him, "Strike two, love."

He shrieked. He fell. He was caught in strong arms, and then gently placed into bed.

Damn it.

--

He could just open a portal-

"Strike three, Dark. You're out."

Shit.

--

Dark coughed so hard that he retched, slumping back into the pillows with a groan. He was drenched with sweat, burning up from the inside out, and everything ached.

"I know, I know," Wilford crooned, dabbing at his forehead with a warm rag. "I'm sorry to say that you did this to yourself, my love."

"Yeah, I know," Dark sighed, cuddling into Wilford's side. "This is a little...much, though."

The madman smirked, stroking his dark love's damp hair. "It's just until you feel better, sweetheart. I can't have you sick. It upsets me."

"I don't want to upset you," the monochrome man said softly. "Thanks for taking care of me, Wil."

"Silly," Wilford teased, gently tapping his nose. "I love you."

"I love you too," Dark's voice was muffled, as he had buried his face in his lover's side to prevent further boops. "Can you unchain me now? The ankle cuff itches."

"Not a chance."

#darkstache #darkiplier x wilford #markiplier egos #wilford warfstache #darkiplier #wilford motherloving warfstache #warfstache #markiplier fanfiction #fic prompt

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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"Sounds like a deal to me, my friend. The car will be waiting when you are finished dressing. I will wait until you have arrived to make my appearance, so as not to have an advantage," Damien says playfully.

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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"You will have to identify me first, my dear!" he chuckles as the car pulls to a stop. "We will be parted for only as long as it takes you to dress, although feel free to take your time! I shall be awaiting your return with bated breath."

Before she can leave, he calls out, "By the way, Louise, about our wager. What prize shall we afford the winner?"

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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"A wager, perhaps? The first of us to correctly identify the other wins?" Damien grins. "There is a theme--Halloween being just around the corner, after all, we will be dressing as villains, creatures, spooky figures, the like. The dance is being held near the theatre, and I've received permission for you to use any of the costumes that they have on hand. My outfit has already been selected and is waiting for me there."

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

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"Blast, I knew that I couldn't keep it up," he pretends to pout, but his eyes are sparkling as he guides her to the waiting car. "I think that you would find it rather boring to dance as just the two of us. So I've made arrangements for a sort of...informal masquerade. We shall dance, my dear! And you'll have plenty of costumes from which to choose. Try to fool me, if you like, for I will go ahead while you make your choices."

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

Note

Damien smirks. "You look wonderful as always, my dear, but you won't be dancing in that, I'm afraid."

He stands, extending an arm to escort her out.

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

41 notes · View notes

coolmayordamien · 8 months

Note

Damien starts, his cheeks in full bloom. He stammers, "I...I care for you as well, Louise. Very- very much so, in fact. And so- I believe that you may find yourself 'stuck' with my presence as well."

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

41 notes · View notes

coolmayordamien · 8 months

Text

More Damien headcanons! (Because I love him)

He LOVES casual touch. Like he's all about some hugging/platonic cuddling

He's a little touch-starved, however, because he's too shy to ask for a hug when he doesn't really need one, you know?

Damien actually gets really embarrassed when he can't do certain things because of his leg, so sometimes when he's invited to things that he knows he'll struggle with, he just says that he can't make it because of work.

When the invitations inevitably stop coming, it shouldn't surprise him. But it does.

One day, he finds an unexpected package on his doorstep. There is a message on the box, spelled out in newspaper cutouts.

It just says "I'm sorry".

Inside the box, there are some very expensive Turkish chocolates. And a gun.

He's never been the beach before, but he thinks that he would like it very much.

Such a sucker for a pretty face

Even his own

Especially his own.

#markiplier egos #markiplier #who killed markiplier #wkm #markiplier damien #iplier egos #damien the mayor #wkm the colonel #wkm william #text post #head canon

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coolmayordamien · 8 months

Note

"You're always so kind to me, my friend. I cannot help but feel as if I do not deserve such praise," he confesses, finishing up with his cold tea.

Damien's expression is unusually morose, his eyebrows knitted tightly together as if he is in pain. Perhaps he is.

At last he sighs, "And here I am the one who said there was to be no more maudlin talk! However do you put up with me?"

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

41 notes · View notes

coolmayordamien · 8 months

Note

Damien laughs lightly. "You're on the right track, but I think that I'll still surprise you. I will confess that the dance portion of the surprise will be spoiled a bit early, as we have to make a quick stop somewhere before we arrive. Still, you want adventure, yes? I believe that we shall have one!"

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

41 notes · View notes

coolmayordamien · 8 months

Note

"Try all you like," he smirks, settling at last in his chair. "I am a man of mystery, after all. I shall give you but one hint; you asked for discretion and for us not to be bothered by others, and so it shall be."

He picks up the tea and takes a polite sip, grimacing at how cold it has become. "And never fret. I don't care for coffee anyway."

The car arrives at long last. It is probably the most understated vehicle that Damien owns, which isn't saying much. He steps out of the back seat to open the door for you, bowing low at the waist to usher you inside. He is dressed more splendidly than you have ever seen him before, which is saying much.

"I am so excited to spend this evening together, my dear. I know that you insisted on discretion, but I simply had to come along for the ride. To make up for my lapse, I have made every effort to ensure our anonymity at dinner."

louise is dressed in more understated clothes - a dark green dress and low heels, likely a similar outfit to what she worked in. she seems excited, almost a bit antsy as she sits down in the car, her beaded poppy-flower themed purse the only real burst of color. "well, i can't say i would complain to spend more time with you," she says sweetly. "although i am curious which efforts, since the suit isn't one," she added jokingly.

41 notes · View notes