gottawriteanegoortwo - Tumblr blog

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

Mayor Attorney - The Charity Gala

Tonight was the night of the charity gala, one that had been highly anticipated for some time now. There had been a large drive across the city to organise small events to raise money for a good cause, and this gala was no different. The organisers had put a lot of care into making sure everything would go just right. The guest list included both the Mayor and the District Attorney, along with names that Damien eagerly reminded you of. People that had supported him in his campaign, patrons, and not a single person that would give him a stress headache trying to avoid for the entire night.

It was strange to know it was one that Damien had no direct involvement in, but that was a nice relief knowing that he might actually be able to enjoy himself. As Mayor, he would have to socialise and make his presence known, but you hoped he would have time to just be Damien for a little while.

It would be nice. The previous few weeks were too busy for both of you to find time for a date, and you had already agreed to attend this event together. Would it be wrong to make the most of the night?

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror so you could make the final adjustments to your hair. Your choice of outfit was a simple one - neat and black, plain and simple. It had been Damien's idea to co-ordinate with only black, but you couldn't ignore the suspicion bubbling up. Damien, a man who loves the chance to dress up nicely, the man who had once confessed that doing so was a 'guilty pleasure', opting for something ordinary? He had something planned.

But what? Damien wouldn't want to do anything that would throw him in the spotlight when he didn't want to be. He also wasn't someone who would add a flamboyant flair to his outfit.

Before you could mull further on what said 'plan' could be, there was a knock on the door. He was here. Your hair would have to do. A coat with money in a buttoned-up pocket was plucked off a chair on your dash to the door.

Damien stood in the doorway like a lingering shadow. He had kept his side of the deal. His black suit was pristine, with barely a crease in sight. The mayoral ribbon he wore for public events was the perfect shade to blend in with the material. His shoes were barely visible thanks to your shadow obscuring them. Even his shirt and bowtie were barely discernable from the jacket. What you did notice was the lack of accessory on the right lapel. He was known for wearing a flower, and you had expected him to find a black blossom.

The cane was neatly tucked under his left arm so he could carefully hold a small bouquet of white roses with both hands, as though afraid a mere breeze would damage them.

"I'm sorry," he smiled bashfully when he noticed your eyes drop down to the flowers, "I know we had agreed that we weren't to give any gifts ahead of our 'date' but… they were in their prime, and I couldn't help but be reminded of your sweet smile. You look perfect tonight, my love."

Ah, Damien. Roses might be a symbol of love, but you knew they were one of Damien's favourites, even before you two started dating. Once you let slip that you preferred the white blooms over the red ones, they became a reminder of you. You playfully rolled your eyes, accepted the bouquet, and invited him in so you could fetch a container of water to house them in. You would never be forgiven if they were left to dry out in the open air all night.

As you began placing the stems into their temporary, watery home, your gaze drifted over to Damien. He had stayed near the entrance, staying quiet so you could focus on your task and occupying himself with admiring the pictures on the wall. It was a common tactic he used for the sake of good manners. You waved a rose to get his attention, joking that you thought he had long lost 'guest' privilege by now.

You hit the nail on the head as he sheepishly chuckled and scratched his cheek.

"Ah. Yes. Well… This is a date, and I don't wish to behave so casually when it is the first time we've been together in a while." He paused as he noticed your wave beckoning him over. Who was he to argue with that? Slowly, he crossed the space to where you were working. "I simply want to make this a special night, and make sure you know how thankful I am that it is me you love." Your hands were preoccupied, and he took advantage of this to kiss your cheek.

The wall of formality was finally lowered, as Damien relaxed enough to engage in casual conversation about how the day went for both of you. His cane

For those few moments, you had forgotten the purpose of the night, until you glanced in his direction and was reminded of the empty lapel. You were quick to point this out.

"I did think one of my flowers would be a little too 'much' for a night that I have no involvement in. However, I did have an idea." He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out two small, heart-shaped pins. One was red, the other was green. "A little gesture to show support, wouldn't you say?"

You flashed him a knowing smile. Your hunch was right, but you never would have expected how simple the act would be. He handed you the green pin so he could set to work putting the red one on your outfit.

"Sometimes, we have to remember the purpose for an event like this. It isn't merely to show how 'good' we are, or to make ourselves feel better. It's to help those who need it, and show that they aren't alone when it feels otherwise." With both pins in place, Damien stepped back to admire his handiwork. "There. Perfect."

You had a playful grin as you shook your head. You couldn't go just yet. His pin wasn't perfect, you claimed, as you reached back to the pin you had just put on him. He believed you, and that was his mistake. It left him open for your hands to swiftly move to either side of his face and pull him toward you for a kiss. When you leaned back, you saw a familiar lovestruck expression plastered on his face that you adored.

You asked if you should both get going to the gala. He nodded, leaning forward to close that gap between you one more time before it was time to go.

Do you want to help make a charity gala a success? Why don't you go check out Heropliers4Palestine, a week-long event dedicated to raising money to help the Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF). Click here for more information on how you can support a good cause or help raise awareness, and get yourself something special and made just for you in return!

#(An extra day to do this in recognition of the strike!)#(Help support a good cause! Get some amazing arty stuff!)

32 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

Mayor Attorney - The Charity Gala

But what? Damien wouldn't want to do anything that would throw him in the spotlight when he didn't want to be. He also wasn't someone who would add a flamboyant flair to his outfit.

The cane was neatly tucked under his left arm so he could carefully hold a small bouquet of white roses with both hands, as though afraid a mere breeze would damage them.

You hit the nail on the head as he sheepishly chuckled and scratched his cheek.

The wall of formality was finally lowered, as Damien relaxed enough to engage in casual conversation about how the day went for both of you. His cane

For those few moments, you had forgotten the purpose of the night, until you glanced in his direction and was reminded of the empty lapel. You were quick to point this out.

You asked if you should both get going to the gala. He nodded, leaning forward to close that gap between you one more time before it was time to go.

#(If you haven't already; check out the campaign and help do some good!)

32 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

Mayor Attorney - The Charity Gala

But what? Damien wouldn't want to do anything that would throw him in the spotlight when he didn't want to be. He also wasn't someone who would add a flamboyant flair to his outfit.

The cane was neatly tucked under his left arm so he could carefully hold a small bouquet of white roses with both hands, as though afraid a mere breeze would damage them.

You hit the nail on the head as he sheepishly chuckled and scratched his cheek.

The wall of formality was finally lowered, as Damien relaxed enough to engage in casual conversation about how the day went for both of you. His cane

For those few moments, you had forgotten the purpose of the night, until you glanced in his direction and was reminded of the empty lapel. You were quick to point this out.

You asked if you should both get going to the gala. He nodded, leaning forward to close that gap between you one more time before it was time to go.

#writersofmark #mayor attorney #mayor damien #a date with markiplier #selfshipping #y/n district attorney #who killed markiplier #(no readmore because this is important mwahaha)#(Help support a great cause during the strike week!!)#(mobile posting so I am REALLY hoping it comes out okay)

32 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

Hey everyone! If you're like me and are barely on the former bird app, you may not be aware that they've just announced the start of Heropliers4Palestine, a week-long fundraiser featuring a lot of incredible creative talent.

And I'm taking part!

For all the information, click here!

#Heropliers4Palestine

8 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

When Do We Ditch This City? - Mayor Attorney

Word Count: 549

“So when do we ditch this city for good?”

You don’t remember which of you had asked the question in the Mayor’s office. There was a function happening in the main hall, but Damien had opted to step out citing a headache, and you were quick on his heels to check he wasn’t sick.

As it turned out, he was fine. He was merely ‘sick’ of the formalities. You two had slumped onto the couch together, partially tangled up as you both willingly blocked out the existence of the party.

Leaving the city? After everything you both had put into it?

“My term will end in a year. I don’t plan to run for a second one.” Even with all the precautions he had taken, Damien was exhausted. “I’ve been saving, and I intend to move out of the city. Find a home of my own somewhere far from the claws of my parents. But… I’m willing to postpone that plan if you wish to continue working here.”

You pulled yourself up just enough to give him a bewildered look. You’d quit your job tomorrow if it meant Damien could escape his horrible family situation. Once you knew when his tenure would be up, you would hand in your letter of resignation. You were sure you had some medical ailment that you could ham up.

“I don’t want people thinking you are dying.”

You dismissed his concern with a light bat of your hand. You will be unwell with a bout of ‘stringititis’, which makes you want to lie on your bed and wave your arms like they’re made out of noodles.

Damien snorted, which only served to bolster you. More severe cases would make you want to learn how to tie your arms into ribbons so you can look very pretty.

“You’re already pretty. I can give you one of my bowties if you’re that desperate.”

As much as you appreciated the offer, you opted to decline, stating that bowties were his thing, not yours. Leaving a kiss on his forehead, you admitted that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant you two could stay together.

“It will be grand when we’re both free,” he promised in a whisper. His right hand reached up to gently cup your cheek. “I would love nothing more than to find a place in the world with you. Somewhere quiet, somewhere small. A place where we can be near people, yet stay entirely separate if we so choose. Where would you want to go? It doesn’t have to be America.”

Anywhere? That was a rather important question that you couldn’t possibly think of a good answer for. All you could think of was how Damien’s plans sounded nothing short of perfect.

That was the right thing to say. His smile grew wider. “If I can live out my days with you as a family of our own, in whatever form that may take, with the ability to finally showcase my love for you in public without fear of having to avoid my family’s gaze, I will be the happiest man in the world.”

However cheesy that response may be, the sentiment behind it made something in your chest flutter as you leaned in to kiss him again.

#writersofmark #mayor attorney #selfshipping #mayor damien x reader #who killed markiplier #mayor damien

29 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

The Call of Bedtime - Captaineer

Word Count: 554

It was getting late, according to the Invincible's internal clock system. You had finished your last patrol of the evening - an hour later than usual, thanks to a distraction in ADS. You were invited to join a game of "blind man's buff" featuring a droid with disabled optics and a pokey stick attached to one arm. Gunther insisted it was to test the capabilities if sight was disrupted, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he simply wanted to let his team take a break and have fun. And so, you allowed it.

The only drawback was that you left your partner unattended, and that was never good.

As the Captain, it was assumed that you were the one who worked to the bone and needed supervision. In reality, you worked hard, but you paced yourself. You took frequent breaks, made sure to regularly get up and stretch, and set defined lines between ‘on duty’ and ‘off duty’.

Mark, on the other hand…

The door of your shared quarters whizzed open as you stepped inside and peered at the desk. Sure enough, Mark was hunched over some tiny project, immersed in loosening a screw to make adjustments on the newest gadget he was working on. You clicked off your helmet and stepped into the bathroom to change into your nightwear and complete your bedtime routines.

You knew the Head Engineer well enough to know he would still be hard at work by the time you were finally ready to get some sleep.

When he got like this, there was no point trying to drag him away from his work. He would start bickering and complaining, ultimately feeling too mentally alert to want to stop and rest. It would only cause more headaches than anything else. In time, you learned that the best thing to do was to simply let him know you were going to bed.

Lazily, you approached from behind and loosely draped your arms around his neck. This action, finally, stirred him from his work.

“Evening, Captain.” He turned his head to kiss your forearm, and you realised that it wasn’t simply his voice that was tired - it was his entire being. How long had he been here for?

You corrected him, pointing out that the helmet was off, and so you were off-duty. He hummed lightly in agreement, leaning his head against your arm as you continued speaking. You were going to bed, and you’d see him in the morning.

“I’ll try not to make too much noise, promise. I’m nearly done.”

You didn’t believe that, but you decided not to share this. The correct choice was to pull your arms back until your hands could press on the underside of his chin and tilt his head back far enough for you to kiss his forehead. Then, with a ‘goodnight’, you stepped back and retired to bed.

In the main area, Mark slowly got back to work. His hands felt sluggish, and he had dropped the screwdriver twice. Instead of keeping mental notes of the process of repair, all he could think about was that kiss and how the touch still lingered on his skin.

The small gadget was placed on the table and the lamp was turned off. This could wait. Right now, he wanted to be in your arms.

#writersofmark #in space with markiplier #captaineer #engineer mark #selfshipping #iswm captain #(scheduled post)

14 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

The Stress of an Election - Marmien

Word Count: 743

The election campaign was causing a lot of excitement across the city. It was expected that the young lawyer with little experience in both life and in politics would have survived the process of getting political backing to even begin his campaign.

Yet, despite the odds, Damien survived that and two election debates. He was truly the underdog that was shooting up the popularity rankings. But just as a pendulum swings to and fro, so too did this approval rating come with a cost of fierce opposition.

"- could have some sort of negative consequence if I make even one mistake. And you know as well as I do that my family will not be there to support me, which further backs the claim that I'm merely doing this for attention."

Mark, lounging on the sofa in the living room of his family home, watched with furrowed eyebrows as Damien paced the length of the coffee table. His words were as quick as his steps, doing nothing but amplifying the fears he had skilfully kept hidden from everyone else in the small circle of trusted confidants.

"What if I ruin everything?" At last, the pacing came to a halt as Damien turned to Mark. "I'm running an election campaign on a shoestring budget, ten years earlier than I planned because I allowed my parents to push me into this so I could be of use to them. And when I refused their money so they couldn't turn that into 'favours owed' down the line, they upped my office hours!"

"Damesy…"

"So now I'm juggling two full-time jobs when I should be in a position to take a career break because I can't afford to take time off work. But on the other hand, I'm already too far to back out."

Oh no. The pacing had resumed. This time, it was paired with the frantic rolling of one hand over another. Mark knew the gesture well as one of Damien's clear anxious ticks. He normally hid it well, but if anyone on the opposite team caught wind of it, Damien would be a goner.

A thought briefly crossed Mark’s mind as to whether he should find something to help alleviate the stress by channelling it into a held item. An idea for another time, for sure. Right now… If Damien was left to stew any longer, his worry would likely bubble over into a panicked mess.

It was time to act.

"Damesy…" The affectionate pet name was repeated as Mark got to his feet and snatched both of Damien's hands in his. "The people love you. You chose to run so the common people would have a voice that wasn’t tainted. You don’t speak for the rich snobs who already have other politicians in their back pockets. You’re already making waves and getting people to pay attention.”

“Yes, but -”

“Those who don’t like you can see the change you’re bringing. It was easy to keep the status quo when the majority weren’t paying attention, yes?” Mark’s question earned him a slow nod from Damien. “It means you’re doing everything right. Things wouldn’t be easy otherwise, and where’s the fun in that?”

“Easy for you to say.” Damien huffed, glancing aside. “You’re the one who could break an antique vase and still have everyone loving you by the end of it. I wish I could back out, but it would prove everyone right -”

Words were not going to help quell the worries in the young politician’s mind, so Mark opted to lean forward and kiss Damien on the forehead. When the action prompted a brief pause, he ducked down just enough to peck Damien’s lips.

“What you need right now,” he murmured, refusing to move too far back, “is a nice cup of tea, a chance to sit down, and something else to worry about. I mean, not that I’d know anything…”

“Mark…?” When the actor coyly stepped back, Damien reached out to grab his wrist. “What else is going on?”

“I mean… You didn’t hear this from me, but our childhood friend with the yard brush for a face accessory was an absolute buffoon when he came with me to the theatre’s band practice yesterday.” The opening line was all he needed to have Damien’s attention shift away from the worries of today. Mark seized the opportunity to pull Damien close to him, wrap an arm around his waist, and lead him into the kitchen.

#writersofmark #marmien #actor mark x damien #before the mayor was mayor!#who killed markiplier

9 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

A Quick Trip with Illinois - Illinois x Reader

Word Count: 472

The heavy stone door slammed shut behind you, narrowly missing your foot. You stumbled out of the haunted ruins into the morning sunlight. Both hands were thrown ahead of you to press against the long, damp grass and attempt to save you from an embarrassing fall.

Unfortunately, your shoes did not provide adequate grip in said damp grass, ensuring you slipped anyway.

A chortle had your head snap up in fury, like your glare alone could prompt your adventuring partner to share your fate. Illinois was not affected by your powers. His left hand flicked the brim of his hat up a fraction, as though making sure you could see the glee on his face at the sight of your bad luck. Slowly, he sauntered over, unwilling to lend you a hand as he instead crouched down so he could be at your eye level. How the wet grass was not hindering his footing was an infuriating question that you knew you’d never get an answer out of him.

"Bumpy landing, partner? When you said you wanted a bath after this excursion, I didn't think it would be quite this early."

You adjusted your position just enough to flip him the bird, though your action didn't faze him at all. Instead, it prompted him to stand back up and take your hand.

"Alright, let's get you back on your feet. Can't have you getting a cold as a souvenir."

His hand was warm and calloused from his time on the road, but you had learned it was more than merely wear and tear from the harsh weather conditions he willingly endured. There were small cuts from fights, a bruise on his wrist that was finally beginning to fade (admittedly, you poking it when you wanted Ilinois to shut up might have slowed the healing process), and a small, red mark on the bend of his right middle finger from where his sketching pencil would press a little too hard while he was lost in his work.

His grip was tight, but not painful. It was one fuelled with experience of rope climbing, of abseiling, and of making sure a retrieved artefact did not slip away. But it was also protective, one that accompanied a squeeze when he guided you through the labyrinthine backstreets of an unfamiliar city.

A turn of his wrist flipped your hand, leaving the back of it vulnerable for a kiss. His head tilted up a fraction, letting you see the warm gaze of affection just below the rim of his hat and strands of messy curls.

"I do recall saying I owed you a night in a hotel to make up for our spoiled vacation. Shall we make tracks, darling?"

You nodded, though you were quick to remind him it was two nights he owed you, not one.

#writersofmark #illinois x reader #selfshipping #awhm illinois #fluff #(one day I'll share my Illy propaganda for headcanons; but today isn't that day. Back to work I go! :D )#(It's already getting late here my time so I might consider scheduling some as I go)

6 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 months

Text

I hope people are in the mood for short fluff with kisses today.

#(I wasn't planning on doing anything but I figure I need to practice shorter pieces that don't need world building)#(I have at least four ideas so far. I'll see how things go after that)#ash rambles #(What ships? Uhhhhh I don't fully know. Whatever I feel like)

3 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 months

Text

Acting Attorney: The Props that Shape Our World

When you step out into the world on your own in university, there are many new challenges to face as part of growing up.

But what do you do when you have a crush on your best friend’s childhood friend? And worse… What do you do when your best friend knows?

Word Count: 2,655

University was a strange place. Uncharted territory. Countless unknowns. You found you were constantly bracing yourself for the worst. Someone would pull the rug out from under you and deem you unworthy of attending this course. Someone would come up from behind and stab you in the back while taking what little savings you had. Something, inevitably, would happen, and these safe spaces that you were only starting to get used to would be lost forever. This was all too good to be true.

The betrayal you were expecting. But never from Damien. Never about Mark.

The first meeting had not gone well. Mark had specially travelled to the campus for a visit. His academic hours were far fewer, allowing him more time to make the short journey to where you and Damien were staying. You were left with a sour taste in your mouth because Mark oozed rich kid energy and seemed so out of touch with reality. You could have said the same about Damien, but Damien at least was raised in an overly sheltered, narrow-minded environment. Mark didn't have that same excuse.

You would have left it there, but you couldn't disappoint your friend. It was a begrudging promise that paid off. The second time Mark came over, it was to get out of his own place for a little while. He was stressed, pacing back and forth across the tiny living room with such intensity that you were surprised a path hadn't been worn into the floor by the time you arrived. He had his first performance exam coming up, and the nerves were kicking in. Damien had quietly explained to you that Mark always hated exams, especially auditions, even though he was more than capable. When he stepped out to fetch drinks, you had stepped in to help.

Somehow, you had pried the book from Mark's hands and began to guide him through the soliloquy he was assigned. Damien was right - Mark was confident in the performance, but it was the worry of ruining an opportunity that was eating him alive. When Damien returned with three glasses of water, you suggested that the legal students should pretend to be an audition panel, even going as far as pulling out the heavy winter scarves and messing each other’s hair to complete your "disguises". It had been so ridiculous, but it worked. Mark couldn't stop snickering, and afterward had questioned whether you had missed your calling in the theatrical world.

His grateful smile after it all stuck with you for some time. Just when you thought you could box everything up and move on, Mark would swing by, and you'd have to start all over again. You'd keep this to yourself. You had more important things to focus on. A crush was not one of them!

But Damien. Your best friend, your worst traitor. He grew up in the legal world. He was an ace in reading body language and subtle cues. When you tried to insist you saw Mark simply as a friend, you knew he didn't believe you (truthfully, you didn't believe yourself either). You had never seen him give such a mischievous smirk when he was presented with clear proof of your infatuation from your disastrous attempts to lie. When you pleaded with him not to say anything, Damien had promised you he'd never initiate such a conversation with the man of the hour.

Nothing more was said.

Trusting Damien to leave it in the past was a mistake.

Your course was on break for a week, and he decided that the two of you should pay Mark a visit for a chance. It was in the same city, nothing a short bus trip couldn't handle. However, he immediately set off toward the main campus instead of what looked like the residential area.

"Mark mentioned in his last letter to me that he was helping his tutor go through the storage backstage," Damien explained as he pushed one of the doors open. "I'd hazard a guess he's still poking around here. If he had any excuse to spend more time around props when we were children, he'd take it. Otherwise, we follow the, uh…" He trailed off, passing the page he had been carrying to you. Instead of writing out an address and directions, Mark had opted to draw a map.

Ordinarily, a map would be a fantastic aid, a guide through the labyrinth of buildings and streets to help lost travellers find their way. Unfortunately, in his excitement of potentially having visitors, Mark had made what was frankly the worst map you had ever seen:

It was made in a hurry by someone with a heavy colouring pencil and no eraser. The road outline was scribbled over several times to try and hide a mistake. One building had an extra piece attached to it, while another had a corner that was slightly scribbled out. His pencil had even made a small hole in the paper from the pressure. Finally, the rectangle in the top-right had a poorly drawn face with two bold arrows pointing to it. However, Mark had neglected to label a single thing. Without suitable directions (or even any sort of visual landmark), you understood why the university was the safer option.

You handed it back with a grimace and Damien swiftly pocketed it. At least the floorplan in the main entrance hall was easier to navigate than Mark’s diagram of lines and boxes.

The auditorium was nothing like the lecture halls you attended. While those were tiered seating with built-in chairs and long tables, this was a single level hall with a large stage at the back. Chairs were set up in neat rows, with a gap in the middle for the main aisle. You did recall Mark talking about lectures happening here. Without even a small table clipped onto the side of the chair, you felt sorry for the students that would try to take notes here. Surely students couldn’t take notes here, right? They would have terrible back strain!

Damien had approached an older lady and asked her if she had seen Mark. She pointed to the back and said he would be finishing up soon. Once she had hurried off, he led the way backstage.

"Really, Mrs Butterly. I told you I can manage this just - Damien!" Mark scrambled out of the prop set he was tangled up in so he could charge over and pull the law student into a tight hug. Then, as he pulled back, he noticed you standing just behind Damien. There was a flash of confusion that was quickly replaced with a grin. "I thought Damien said you had study classes today. Come here!"

As you were pulled into a hug, you glared at Damien. In response, he shrugged with feigned innocence. "Apologies. I must have misremembered my dates. Mayhaps that is happening next week?"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to. Doesn't matter. You're both here! And it's the perfect time to do so. Once I finish here, I'll be free for the day. Is there anything at all you want to do?"

"Find a bathroom," Damien unceremoniously answered when Mark moved back toward the boxes.

"Oh! That's simple. Go back out the auditorium the way you came, then take the left corridor beside the steps. You should see the door signs from there."

"Thank you. Won't be long."

It wasn't until Damien was gone that you realised you had been betrayed. He left you! Alone! With Mark! How on earth were you going to get out of this??

An idea hit you as you stepped over a box and asked what Mark was even doing.

"I volunteered to help one of my lecturers go through some of the props we store backstage. They want to take inventory to see what we can keep and what we can throw away to replace. It's a treasure trove, and we've barely scratched the surface. I'm just putting all these items away."

A large assortment of items were scattered around the floor surrounding the three large boxes: mugs, books, gardening tools, board game pieces, empty photo frames, folded cloth, and that was at a glance. A fourth box was behind Mark, the flaps on top loosely closing it. In the distance, you could make out other large containers stacked against the walls.

You offered to help tidy things away, and Mark was delighted to have another pair of hands. As you gathered the pieces of a chess set, Mark explained that there was currently no system as to where to return items. The plan over the upcoming summer break was to renovate the storage space, and then better homes would be assigned for items in the fall.

You admitted it sounded like a lot of work, and Mark agreed.

"You don't realise how much goes into acting. In order to recreate the feeling of watching life unfold, you need everyday items." As an example, he lifted an empty tool bag, "But with so many stories, there are so many props. It's a world all its own. It follows the rules we expect, but has its own laws." As he lowered the bag into one of the boxes, you found yourself unable to look away from the sweet, wistful smile on his lips that often appeared when he could talk about the arts. "It's easy to lose yourself in all the things you can find. Life seems so much simpler in a story, and yet… It's a weird world. We found two broken tubas this morning. Not even Mrs Butterly, the head of drama, could tell me why they were here."

The ridiculous example, along with Mark turning his attention to you, wasn't what you expected, and it brought out a surprised snort. The moment seemed to spur inspiration that brought joy to Mark's face.

When you later found a set of thimbles, questioning why actors needed something so tiny that the audience wouldn't even see, Mark reached over and snatched one out of the box, along with his coat. In moments, he had created a scene of an older lady standing by the window, trying to focus on her sewing when she knew her granddaughter was in the maternity ward. His hand shook, miming the needle pricking his hand despite the thimble.

"- which symbolises that despite the familiar security, the suspense for big news has her distracted." He carefully returned the thimble to its place once he had finished demonstrating his improvised scene, and dumped the coat back on the ground. "Even if the audience can't see it, it helps the actor portray a scene to the best of their ability. You get what I mean?" Chocolate eyes glanced to the side to look you in the eye, and you nodded with a breath caught in your throat. Whatever he saw on your face was enough to prompt Mark to drop to his knees and rummage through the box.

"It's like, uh…" Several things were lifted and taken out. Mark was muttering, stalling for time while searching for something. You stayed on your feet as you peered into the box, like you could somehow magically know what he was looking for. It meant that you could see the way his face lit up when he grabbed a small box and presented it up to you.

"Like this! To the audience, this box could be anything, but you and I can see the fake glass in the lid to allow us to peer in and see what's really inside." You gasped. It was a beautiful golden pocket watch. The face was a pale cream with bold, black Roman numerals circling it. The hands were stuck at half-past two, but that didn't matter. "It adds to the surprise when the audience sees what your character is excited about, only having to wait a moment for you to open it and share the discovery with them."

"Something to share with me?" A new voice startled you both, heads spinning to see Damien leaning against the wall with arms crossed. "Well, I didn't think you'd propose quite this fast, Mark."

Your head whipped back to look at Mark, suddenly keenly aware of the situation. Him, kneeling on one leg with the other raised and foot on the ground for better support. You, standing as you hold a generic jewellery box. You felt your face heat up as you watched Mark's cheeks begin to turn rosy, only to glance away and try to admire a ladder resting against the wall when Mark caught your eye. Anything was better than looking at Damien's smug face. He was probably relishing seeing his two friends caught right in the middle of a moment.

"I, uh, well, it's more that…" Mark fumbled over his words as the ability to give a reasonable explanation was surprisingly sparse. It was as though something was very suddenly on the forefront of his mind and he was trying very hard not to blurt something out about it. "We were - we were acting! Testing their ability to react to a present."

"Uh huh…." Damien wasn't convinced, even if it was the truth. "So, do I get to be best man?"

"Damien, you are one of the best men I know."

"You're still kneeling."

That, finally, prompted you and Mark to break from the prolonged freeze-frame and scrambled to his feet with such haste that he nearly tripped into the crate. Dropping the jewellery box back where it belonged, uncaring whether it landed safely, you surged forward to help rescue Mark before he became part of the prop inventory.

"Hey, uh… sorry. For putting you in that situation, I mean. I didn't realise what I was doing…"

"Living out your daydreams?"

"Can you stop being a third wheel for ten seconds, Damien?"

Your gaze lowered for a moment while you struggle to think of a response. Was Mark apologising for the embarrassing situation, or for having feelings for you?

"Are you okay?" Cautiously, Mark rested a hand on your shoulder. Your silence had made him grow hesitant. "I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I?" You shook your head, deciding to redirect focus back to him with your question of whether he was uncomfortable. "Me? I, um, I don't want you to think that I am at all because, well -"

"He wants to ask you out for drinks."

"DAMIEN!!"

"What? You said ten seconds. I gave you fifteen!" Damien raised his hands in self-defense, but you knew that smile was one that was tinged with evil. He was enjoying every minute of this. "Look. You've both danced around this for weeks. And since you've both foolishly confided in me, I decided to take matters into my own hands instead of subjecting myself to any more of this farce. The feelings are mutual, so we should hurry up and get this tidied up so you two can go out and enjoy yourselves."

In all the time you knew Damien, you never expected him to be so blunt about a matter like this. Judging by how Mark's mouth was gaping open like a fish, he was thinking the same. Damien casually stepped around the two of you and began lifting the scattered props like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest secret you and Mark had been desperately trying to hide from one another out of fear of rejection.

"Would you be okay with that?" Mark's whisper caught your attention. When you confirmed as much, Mark leaned over to kiss your cheek. "We'll plan something nice when we're back at my place." He turned away with the intention to help Damien. But when you didn’t move, seemingly still trying to comprehend the last few minutes with eyes lowered, he returned to your side and gently squeezed your hand.

You looked up at him. He smiled.

Somehow, you knew that smile read ‘I love you’.

#writersofmark #acting attorney #actor mark x reader #who killed markiplier #selfshipping #wkm actor mark #mayor damien #(look. I like writing a sweet Actor.)#(read more is for tidiness! :D )

10 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 months

Text

Hello again. I know I had said I had plans for November, but.... let's just say I had a pretty big thing happen a week after I posted that has resulted in me not talking to a group of people I've known for nearly a decade for the last two months. Apologies for that.

I've had another idea, and this one won't be happening any time soon. I simply want to gauge interest when I get it finished.

As I mentioned before, I rp Wilford on this site. I'm also known for over-complicating things. Put these together, and I've been working on a very long-winded backstory since the summer to fill in the gap between 'William' and 'Wilford'. It's currently just shy of 5,000 words after a lot of brainstorming.

In the video where Mark talks through Motherloving, he made a comment about how Abe had only just woken in this fictional place, whereas it was implied Wilford had been there for years. And.... I decided to try and put a timeline of a sort together. Me being me, it quickly spiralled out of control into something that a bullet-point summary wouldn't easily cover without causing more confusion.

Including William and Wilford themselves, there are six key 'roles' that span this in-between era, amounting in a minimum of seventy years in some shape or form (a chunk of this is sitting in one place at one point in time and watching the world go by without him). These key roles are to over-emphasise negative traits within the Colonel himself - cowardice, unreliable memory, alcohol usage, violence, lack of trust, and eccentricity - while there are implied blurs of other 'roles' in between that have been lost through the ages or didn't exist long enough to warrant noting. There's even a love story at one point, though it is not a fanon ship, and it does not persist to modern day.

These identities also include those that Abe grabbed from his file, and gives one reason as to why files existed to begin with. These main six have been sketched out, so a visual can accompany the different names. There would also be a post to help keep track of who is who and what their significance is.

There would be warnings that cover matters such as blood, violence, alcohol usage, death (murdering, being murdered, and dying through illness), and potentially others one I can't currently think of. I would make sure these are suitably laid out at the start, and nothing immediately triggering would be above a read-more.

Anyway.

#I've put literal months into figuring this out knowing full well that it won't impact my rp blog #I am doing this purely because I want to fill in that gap for myself #If the majority is 'no'; that's okay! I'll stick with my original plan of a tldr summary #and other links if people I write with want to learn more #(For those who may be into musicals; I do indeed have a mantra to remember the order based on the opening of 'Six'.)#( <- prev tags)

10 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 months

Text

I've had another idea, and this one won't be happening any time soon. I simply want to gauge interest when I get it finished.

Anyway.

10 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 months

Text

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

15 notes · View notes