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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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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 months

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Mayor Attorney - The Risk of Truth

With plans to rise to higher positions in life - you wanting to prove yourself as a lawyer and Damien expressing interest in local politics - there are some things that are considered more dangerous than they would be to the average person. The biggest risk was that of following your heart.

Luckily, you have a friend who has been through something similar with your crush’s sister.

But will that be enough for you to risk the friendship you have with the one you love?

Word Count: 1,887

"You know, you really have to do something about it."

There was a finger firmly poking your arm, which you tried to ignore as best as you could. You had made the mistake of sitting beside Mark, you had to suffer the consequences. Getting up and walking away would bring him as much satisfaction as you snapping a denial. You had to give him no response at all. Then, hopefully, he would get tired and leave you alone.

"I'm serious. You and Damien have been dancing circles around one another. One of you needs to stop before you both regret it. What's the point of life if you don't grab it by the horns and enjoy it?"

You didn't respond. Not just because you were trying to give Mark no reaction, but also because you didn't have a good answer beyond feeling unworthy. You looked out to where Damien was. William had grabbed both twins and dragged them toward the baby grand piano so they could try playing one of their old duets. When they had refused, William had insisted on performing instead. Damien was in a flurry trying to urge William to not hammer the keys with his hands, but the trained eye could see amusement.

It was a nice change. The world of politics and the world of law were not nice places to be in. You had to keep your guard up at all times, you explained, and Damien moreso. He had plans for his future. He wanted to be the Mayor. He had to play every note correctly to give himself the best chance possible.

That included you needing to keep your distance.

"Keep your distance?" Mark repeated quietly, and you slapped your hands to your mouth and you realised you had accidentally murmured that final thought out loud. "He's not some being to be put up on a pedestal, and you know that better than most. If you ask me, keeping your distance is the wrong choice. What have you got to lose?"

You didn't answer, instead throwing him a bewildered look. You had so much to lose! Not just your plans for your professional life, but a large portion of your personal life would be gone in a puff of smoke, never to be seen again!

"I'm serious. You've been through thick and thin together! He's not going to drop contact with you because of this."

Like Mark had to worry about, you grumbled while crossing your arms. Mark was already married, and had that relationship long established before he reached stardom!

"I’m married to his sister, remember?" There was a cheeky grin from the Actor as he countered, "So if anyone knows what you're going through, it's me. And trust me, Celine is much scarier than Damien."

Despite your intention to sulk and ignore Mark, something about that sentence piqued your curiosity. You turned toward him and asked what he meant. Mark chuckled and rested one arm on the back of the couch. He knew he had caught your full attention. Now was his time to shine.

"Damien and Celine are remarkable. You know as well as I do that they could effortlessly change the world if they could overcome the obstacles before them. When I was a teen, I spent a full week trying to ask Celine out on a date. Every time, I was interrupted, but one of those times was by some guy in our year who also liked her." You leaned forward, engrossed in the story. Damien had told you that Celine had a charm that drew anyone to her side. You didn't believe it until now. "She turned him down flat. Not just that, she tore him to shreds for assuming she'd feel the same. I didn't think I'd ever see someone flee with their proverbial tail between their legs before that."

You shrunk in on yourself as Mark shared his memory, the supposed reality sinking in. With eyes on your fidgeting eyes, you asked why he would share that with you. It was only reinforcing that your feelings were wrong.

"Actually," Mark's voice calmly interrupted your growing panic, "I shared that with you to show the difference. Damien isn't like that. He lets people down gently, and he usually has to deal with people who see his handsome features and little more. Everything looks effortless, but he's got these quirks. I'm sure you've seen that before, right?"

You nodded. It looked so easy on Damien's part to politely reject a date with someone, but you could see how his posture tensed up. When he obtained the cane, the grip tightened on it just a little more. The smile was somewhat forced, but it passed under the radar of anyone who saw it.

"Exactly!" Mark quietly agreed, glancing over at the group by the piano to make sure neither of you were catching their attention. "I knew you'd see the clues as a lawyer. Actors are also masters of interpreting body language. And from what I've seen? He's the most relaxed around you. In fact, having you there undos any tension that has formed. The smiles he gives you are, frankly, unlike anything I've ever seen. It's like he wouldn't care if the whole world vanishes except for the two of you."

You shake your head, about to argue, when Mark leaned forward and placed a hand on your arm. "He feels the same way about you as you do him. I promise you that. I wouldn't lie about something like this. Ever since we were kids, Damien always seemed so lonely to me. The expectations that were always there meant he… well, I'm sure he's told you all that already. He trusts you so much. And if you know Damien as well as I do -"

Trust isn't something he shows frequently, you finished softly. Mark hummed in agreement. At that, Damien's head turned from the chaos of what was going on. You locked eyes, and you couldn't stop the hint of a smile tugging the corners of your lips. In return, his own expression softened into a warm smile that you had seen countless times before, but still made your heart fumble over itself.

Mark's hand moved from your arm, and it prompted you to glance at him. You barely acknowledged the nod before you rose to your feet and crossed the room to where the rest of the group were until you were beside Damien. Quietly, you asked if you could talk to him privately. Somehow, he knew from the look in your eyes that it wasn't something he should be worried about, and he agreed without hesitation. You could tell he had an idea on where to go, and so you opted to let him lead the way.

William, who had no context for why the pair suddenly left, began to rise from his piano stool, only to have both Mark and Celine put a hand each on his shoulder to hold him in place.

"What? Can't a man join the conversation?" William huffed.

"Not this time, I'm afraid. This a private matter," chuckled Mark.

"One we've been trying to set up for weeks," Celine added. When William gawked at the married couple, she tutted. "Honestly, Colonel. Did you not realise they're both in love with each other?"

"They are - oh." William slumped under the light pressure as the pieces began landing in place. "You know, now you say it, it does seem pretty obvious."

—

"Mark didn't say anything offensive, did he?" It was Damien's first question as soon as he stopped walking. He had led you outside toward the bandstand. This was the place he liked to go to when thinking. You immediately told him that nothing bad happened, and that you were simply overthinking.

"That doesn't sound good at all. Did Mark make it worse?" You shook your head. "Good. I'm always telling him to be nicer to you. He means well when he teases, but it's hard to properly gauge it when you don't know him well enough. I would have marched right back in there and given him a very stern talking to otherwise. Finger wagging and all."

The nerves were still firmly in place, but the mental image of Damien scolding Mark like a disappointed parent would a child made you snort. Judging by the way he grinned at you, making you laugh was the plan.

He was always doing that, wasn't he? No matter how bad things were, Damien was always there to help you through it. Then, when the roles were reversed, he never tried to lie and pretend everything was okay, like he would with others. You had always felt the friendship you two had ran deeper than normal, and how the bond you shared was strong.

Beating around the bush would do you both a disservice. You cut to the chase and asked if he was free on Tuesday.

"No. I have a job at my father's law firm." His face lit up with amusement as you scrambled to clarify after work on Tuesday. "Ahh. In that case, yes. Yes, I would be free. Has something happened?"

This was your last chance. You could back away and make it platonic. But would that be worth the struggle of carrying these feelings?

You took a slow breath and explained that everything was fine. You simply wanted a chance to go out and have a drink somewhere. Together. Just the two of you.

Damien raised an eyebrow, ready to give another smart comment, when he abruptly stopped. He blinked once, and then a second time. "On a date?"

This was it. The rejection you had feared. You saw the confusion on his face. Did it mask the betrayal he undoubtedly felt? Was he buying himself time to give the rejection he never expected? You weren't supposed to act out like this. You were supposed to be the close friend who would never -

"I'd love to."

Your distressed thoughts crashed into the wall of Damien's acceptance. Now it was your turn to blink owlishly. He… wanted to go. On a date? With you? And he wasn't angry?

Damien glanced aside, rubbing the back of his neck with a weak chuckle. "If I may be honest, I've been wanting to ask you that same question for some time now. I… Didn't want to ruin what we had but, you know, Life is Ours to Choose. You can't imagine how relieved I am to think you might feel the same."

You hastily agreed. You admitted your fear of losing him because you wanted to be selfish. Such a thought had Damien sigh. "I thought I told you that you needed to make more choices for yourself. I would have been proud of you, regardless of how I felt."

So it's a date?

"It's a date." He leaned forward just enough to place a feather-light kiss on your forehead. "But may we talk about this in the garden? The circus is watching us."

You didn't need to check behind you to realise what he meant. When you agreed, he carefully took your hand in his and led you down the steps. This was not a conversation privy to onlookers who may want to crash it with some dramatic celebration.

#writersofmark #who killed markiplier #mayor attorney #damien the mayor #wkm damien #selfshipping #actor mark #(Mark is a good wingman)#wkm celine #wkm the colonel #wkm era before the affair where everything is good #and it's before Damien begins to work on running for mayor #mutual pining

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