#darkstacheweek2019

[tyrannysaurusfloof]

Darkstache Week - Day 2

Prompts: Past and Present Pairing: Darkstache Summary: Darkstache through the ages. A/N: I decided art is a good way to go for the second day of Darkstache week. I love this prompt, it’s adorable  @projectdarkstache

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstache #floofy art #day 2

[pharaoh-writes]

Last day, day 7 Spring/Flowers! Look at these sleepy boys :3

@projectdarkstache

#Darkstache #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstacheweek

[lostcybertronian]

Darkstache Week- Day 2

Prompt: Past and present

Warnings for implied PTSD

@projectdarkstache

---

The Fourth of July was a momentous event at the Manor. Mark’s parties were always spectacular, but he really went all out when it came to the Fourth of July.

And this year would prove to be the greatest yet, Damien thought, feeling a shiver of excitement as his car pulled up the Manor’s drive. William was home for the first time in two years, and that was cause for celebration. He had been quiet, though, since his return. It was unlike him; but Damien assumed that the horrors of war could change any man.

Mark, however, insisted that William merely needed a good party. A good party, some good booze, and some good women.

And he must have decided some fireworks were in order as well, because as Damien’s driver let him out of the car a streak of light shot up into the darkening sky, lingering there for a moment before it exploded with a deafening boom.

A second later there was another. And another. And another, until the sky was filled with colors and noise and the grounds outside were flooded with partygoers, whooping and cheering them on.

William didn’t seem to be among them. Damien caught no glimpses of his friend amidst the sea of drunken faces as he made his way toward the door, nor did he hear familiar booming laughter echoing out over the crowds.

    The Manor’s front door was propped wide open, allowing Damien to walk right in, his cane tapping over perfectly polished tile- that Benjamin must have spent hours on- that gleamed under multicolored party lights.

    There were still many people inside, though most had gone out to watch the fireworks. Damien weaved in between women wearing festive flapper dresses and the men who held their arms, all the while keeping an eye out for William.

    He half expected to find him by the bar, already half-seas over and wooing some choice bit of calico, but instead he found Celine, nursing a glass of red wine.

    “Damien!” She chirped, her black-painted lips pulling into a sloppy smile. Clearly, she had had too much to drink. “I thought you’d never arrive. What kept you?”

    “Just some work,” Damien replied casually. Then, “have you seen Will? I thought he was supposed to be here tonight. He is the guest of honor, after all.”

    “I think he went upstairs.” Celine flicked her fingers dismissively. “Party pooper.”

    “Alright. I’ll go check for him there.” Damien started toward the stairs, then paused. “Take it easy, Celine. Don’t overdo it.”

    She giggled. “You worry too much.”

    The Mayor shrugged, then headed upstairs.

---

    He found William in his room, perched in an armchair that had been shoved up against the wall and holding a mug half-filled with whiskey, though he made no move to drink from it. He was pale, but still he gave Damien a grin when he eased open the door.

    “Celine told me I would find you here.” Damien crossed the room. His footsteps creaked over the decades-old wooden floor. As he spoke, there was another boom. More fireworks. “Why did you leave the party?”

    “I was feeling rather tired,” William offered, “I’ve been busy, you know.”

    Damien frowned. “Before you went off to war you loved to party, no matter how ‘busy’ you were.”

    William opened his mouth to answer but there was another boom. He flinched, fingers tightening around the handle of his mug. His eyes darted toward the window, then back to Damien.

    It dawned on him all of a sudden. He’d read about men who came back from the front-lines traumatized, and some of them were completely unable to tolerate loud noises.

    “The fireworks.” Damien murmured, staring down at him. “I can go down there, have Mark stop-”

    “No!” William lurched out of his seat, nearly spilling his drink and startling Damien into taking a step back. A moment later he paused, seeming to force his composure back into place. He set the mug down onto the nightstand beside his bed. “No. No. There’s no need for that. I-”

    The window lit up and there was a noise that shook the Manor to its foundations. William jerked, hands flying toward the pistol he always kept tucked into a holster at his side, face panicked and eyes somewhere far away.

    “Will.” Damien grabbed his hands before he could pull his gun, dropping his cane to the floor with a clatter. “It’s alright! It’s alright.”

    “My apologies,” the Colonel stammered, sounding shaken. He squeezed Damien’s hands tightly, as if his touch were the only thing keeping him there, in the present. Muttered, “they sound like gunshots.”

    “There is no need to be sorry.” Damien pulled him close. Held him there. “It’s okay.”

    “Stay with me?” William’s voice sounded small and afraid. So unlike him. The William Damien knew was large and bold and afraid of nothing.

    Damien nodded, feeling a pang of sadness in his chest. “Of course I will.”

---

    Everyone was setting off fireworks outside. It was a foolish endeavor, for a foolish holiday.

    Why was he so shaken?

    Dark shuddered as another explosion shook the windowpanes, and retreated further back into the shadows of the kitchen. Every flash of light, every deafening noise, set his teeth on edge and grated on his ears and on his nerves. Memories floundered at the fringes of his mind. Memories that weren’t even his.

    Suddenly, the door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. Wilford barged in, clutching a fistful of unlit sparklers and wearing a wide grin.

    “Ya gotta come out and join us, Darkie!” He said, coming over and all but shoving them in Dark’s face. “Quit bein’ cooped up in here all by your lonesome.”

    “I’d rather not, Wil.” Dark cringed away from the sparklers and started toward the living room, a look of distaste crossing his face. “Leave me alone.”

    “Aw,” Wilford whined, following him like a lost puppy. “What’s the matter, Darkie? Don’t like fireworks?”

    Dark scowled, and opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the crashing rumble of yet another firework being set off outside. He couldn’t repress a flinch, couldn’t banish the ringing of gunshots in his ears as he fell back, back, back over the balcony.

    But then Wilford’s hand was in his, dragging him back to the present. Dark glanced over to see him drop the sparklers to the floor.

    “What are you doing, Wilford?” He asked.   

    “Well,” Wilford said, puffing out his chest. “I’m not about t’letcha stay here all by yourself. You’ll get lonely.”

    “I assure you-”

    “Nonsense!” Wilford insisted, raising Dark’s hand to his lips. “I won’t letcha be alone.”

    Dark heaved a sigh, even as, inwardly, he felt a flicker of relief. “As you wish.”

#darkstacheweek2019 #darkstacheweek #projectdarkstache #darkstache #dilliam #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #mayor damien #celine the seer #william warfstache #william jackson barnum #william j barnum #colonel william #markiplier egos #writersofmark #fanfiction #lostandwandering #my writing #lost writing tag #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #tw ptsd

[xpouii]

Darkstache Week: Day 7

Day 7 of Darkstache Week 2019 by @projectdarkstache

Today’s prompt was “Spring Day”

               Dark was on the balcony, eyes closed as a warm breeze blew his hair away from his face. Spring had undeniably arrived—probably weeks ago while Dark was locked up inside. He almost smiled before he heard voices, and he watched as Wilford and Google walked by below him. Perhaps it was the warmth of the sun, or the smell of flowers on the wind, but he let his eyes wander, over Wilford—and over and over—until he noticed Wilford smiling up at him. He jerked back and turned away to hide the way his cheeks were coloring before hurrying back inside.

               He’d barely sat down at his desk before Wilford was stepping through his door. Dark kept his eyes downward, wishing his face would cool down. Wil moved forward without a word, resting his hands on the large desk and leaning in. Dark slowly lifted his gaze, meeting Wilford’s eyes. “…yes?”

               Wilford smiled and sat in his chair—his because Dark wouldn’t often suffer anyone else sitting across from him while he worked, “I couldn’t help but notice you enjoying the weather. It was nice to see you in the sun. It doesn’t happen often.”

               “I thought you preferred me in the dark,” Dark muttered, trying to make a snide remark.

               Wil’s eyes darkened, and he grinned, “Oh, Dark, you know I always keep the lights on. I couldn’t bear to miss anything.”

               Dark raised an eyebrow, “Can I help you?”

               “I didn’t expect you to be so pliant!” Wilford said gleefully. “I want you to go for a swim with me.”

               “A swim?”

               “That’s right.”

               Dark snorted, “Have you lost your mind?”

               “When’s the last time we went swimming together? It’s been years! Besides, don’t you want to see me in my suit?”

               “That hideous thing?” Dark mused, trying to get out of this. On the inside he was full panic mode, sirens and screaming and desperately digging through his options.

               Wilford’s mustache twitched in amusement, “Actually I was referring to my birthday suit.”

               Dark’s neck twitched and he cleared his throat, “Wil, I have things to do.”

               “Dear Prudence,” Wilford crooned, standing and walking around to sit on Dark’s desk.

               “What are you-” Dark’s heart flipped, and his mouth twitched upward at the corner until he bit the inside of his cheek to stop it. “Don’t sing, Wil, whatever you do.”

               Wilford laughed, “Then won’t you come out to play?”

               Dark rolled his eyes, but his lips were twisting into an involuntary smile that he couldn’t will away, “You’re an insufferable idiot.”

               “That’s not the worst you’ve ever called me,” Wilford said, leaning over to kiss Dark.

               Dark smelled the flowers again, and he thought about the pink flower—and the echo of Wil’s voice in the icy void, the way it broke him out of that endless loop. Perhaps a swim wasn’t so much to ask for in return. Dark broke the kiss and stared hard at Wilford for a moment, then sighed, “Fine.”

               Wilford jumped to his feet, “Wonderful!”

               “Once the sun goes down,” Dark said. “Not a second before.”

               “I’ll make sure the pool heater is turned on,” Wilford said, walking out of Dark’s room.

               Dark rolled his eyes again, but when he tried to get back to his work, all he could do was draw flowers.

#darkstacheweek2019 #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache #ego shipping #fanfiction #it's short but I'm ok with that

[mydetheturk]

Darkstache Week Day 6

half a day late but potato crashed. anyway

PRIDE DAY PRIDE DAY PRIDE DAY

@projectdarkstache

---

Dark took a breath, then tipped his head to the side, letting Bim paint a flag on his face. It was the City’s Pride celebration, and even were he not the mayor, he’d be going.

“Thank you, Bim,” he said, once the younger demon was finished.

Bim was decked out in a suit that was primed in the colors of the Bi flag, and hadn’t yet covered himself in glitter. “No problem, boss. I’ll catch you there, yeah?” Bim replied, flitting off to who knows where in order to finish getting ready himself.

Dark looked at himself in the mirror briefly, taking the sight of himself in jeans of all things. His shirt was still nice, but it was partially unbuttoned and he had his sleeves rolled up. He looked like Wil, in a hilarious way.

Teleporting himself to the parade grounds, Dark appeared where he was supposed to be. He was meeting some of his staff there, to go over anything before the celebrations started up proper. Everyone was dressed down, more comfortable than what they’d normally be wearing at work.

Dark kept the meeting short, and everyone scurried to their places.Dark found himself near the Jims, RJ and CJ fully set up and doing brief interviews already.

The twins were dressed in green and purple and grey, striped flags painted on their cheeks as well. Dark knew Bim had ambushed everyone who was going to be at the event, getting them ready in his way. Dark was likely to see him later with Yan - the two were going to be out a bit later.

“Mayor Jim! Mr. Pink Jim will be along in a bit!” RJ called, skidding to a stop in front of Dark. “He’s talking to some other Jims who were being… rude to some of the other brightly colored Jims!”

CJ made a face and shifted his camera.

Oh. That was fine. “As long as he’s here to host and not covered in blood, that’s fine, Jim,” Dark replied.

That’s when CJ nodded at someone behind Dark and Dark felt a pair of arms encircle his waist. His yelp of surprise turned mostly into laughter as he was picked up and spun a little bit.

“Hello, Mr. Mayor, are you ready for your interview?” Wil asked teasingly.

“I’d be much readier, Mr. Warfstache, if you’d put me down,” Dark said. He was smiling anyway. Wil was all done up in a fancy suit in Pan flag colors, and had a Bim-painted flag on his cheek. Dark was gently placed on his feet again, and he couldn’t even be annoyed that the Jims had gotten several incriminating photos of him smiling.

Couldn’t be helped.

There was, actually, going to be an interview, but Wil wasn’t going to be the one conducting it. RJ had some relatively basic questions to ask Dark, and Dark would be off to wherever he was going to be in the parade while Wil provided commentary from the reporter’s box. They’d meet up afterwards once Dark had collected their wayward children and minions that had come to join them and weren’t planning on staying out late.

Dark was content. Nothing was going to happen, the kids would be fine. It wasn’t the twenties anymore.

They could have pride in who they were.

#darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstacheweek #myde writes #bim trimmer #jim twins #almost forgot my boys

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Darkstache Day One: Winter

Every November, Dark takes a week off. This year, Wilford gets to go with him. Both are reminded that even love can be cold if it’s meaningful.

Word Count: 966

--

When November rolled in, Dark would take a week off and travel out of town. No one knew where he went, until the year he asked Wilford to accompany him. While Wilford had expected a trip to Florida (don’t cold creatures migrate south for the winter?), a cabin near the Rockies was on the bottom of his list of his predictions.

The cabin was part of a campsite, but far enough away to give a sense of isolation from the families and college students in the other cabins. It was postcard perfect, including the snow lazily drifting down. Wilford hesitated by the door, using the moment to take the sight in. It was beautiful, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

“Will?” A voice stirred him from his thoughts, but the touch made Wilford yelp in surprise. Dark, equally startled, immediately pulled his hand back with a look of regret. A quick apology was given, and Wilford was left alone.

Dark was cold to the touch. That wasn't new. However, Dark's hand was ice. As long as the pair had been together (admittedly, not that long), Dark was never that cold. Was it the result of being somewhere colder than usual? Wilford was used to having that cold hand in his, and had become fond of cuddling his favourite ice cube. The cold wasn’t an issue, yet why did the surprise upset Dark? He didn’t have a chance to ask when the entity made a comment about Wilford losing his nose if he closed the door.

As the pair unpacked and a tour was given, Wilford noticed that Dark kept his hands behind his back, much like how they were before they became a couple. Professional, curt, polite… hiding the truth. Wilford tried to reach out, an attempt to show that it was okay, but Dark moved aside. Guilt began prodding at Wilford like someone was trying to put as many cocktail sticks into his arms as physically possible. He wanted to apologise, but he could tell talking about it was the last Dark wanted to do.

Trust him to accidentally spike Dark's paradoxical view on touch - being both touch-starved and aversive of it. He'd need to remedy this before the week was ruined, and fast.

-

After spending the night on the couch - no point making matters worse - Wilford had a brainwave as he looked out the window. It was snowing! They could go outside! If he needed to remind Dark about how the cold touches didn’t bother him, they needed to be outside. It took half the morning to pester Dark into going for a walk, but it was absolutely worth it the moment the front door closed.

First step of the plan - Wilford forgot his coat and winter accessories. As an entity so used to the cold, it wouldn't cross Dark's mind that this was a mistake.

Second step of the plan - make a snowman. This was a two-pronged tactic. Not only would it let the pair reconcile after their blunder the previous day, but it let Wilford dig his bare hands into the cold snow over and over again without drawing suspicion.

Throwing an odd glance Dark's way, Wilford could see the small smile threatening to spread. Those violet eyes had a slight glimmer to them. Even if he wouldn't break into a giddy mood, Wilford was confident the other was having a good time.

“I'm so used to staring out at the snow that I forgot what it was like to be out in it for a while,” mused the entity as Wilford put the final touches to Twigface the Snowman. “There's a sense of tranquility I find here, like I can slip back into a simpler routine.” Even last night, Dark had chopped some firewood. He wouldn't have the ability to chop a tree without being riddled in pain - nor would the campsite owners allow that - so it was a suitable alternative. “Mayhaps it's that familiarity with death that draws me. Everything is dead, barren, bleak…”

“Refreshin’, white…” finished Wilford with a grin. “Y’know, I'm pretty sure it was Host that told me that things aren't dead in winter. They're asleep. Th’ trees can lose their leaves so they can get new ones fer th’ spring. Animals go ta sleep an’ keep cozy. As fer you?” Wilford climbed onto his feet with a chuckle. “Yer not death. Yer Dark. Sure, yer not as bubbly as someone like Mark, but wouldn't life be borin’ if we were all th’ same? Ya keep me from floatin’ away, an’ I make ya smile. Then my hands always…”

“Warm - WILL!” Wilford, taking the distraction as opportunity, put both his ice-cold hands on Dark's cheeks. Then, to the reporter’s surprise, Dark began to laugh, and covered the hands with his own. “You're like ice.”

“As are you. I'll stay out here all day if I get ta show ya how much I've missed holding yer hand since we got here.” That made Dark wise up to Wilford’s plan. While guilt lingered, he was disappointed in himself for not realising it sooner. He had let old worries get the better of him. That wasn’t fair on Wilford.

“Alright... If I bring you back inside so you can have a shower and warm up, I'll let you hold my hand. Deal?”

“An’ cuddle ya in th’ fluffy blanket I brought?”

“And cuddle in the blanket, yes. It wouldn't be a break if I didn't take time to relax, would it? But, dear… Your cheeks are turning purple.”

That was more than enough for Wilford, who was quickly pulling Dark back toward the cabin. All he could feel was cold, but nothing was more comforting than the cold hands in his.

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstache #writersofmark #(hello hi I'm Ash and I'm taking the chance to try developing my Dark in particular this week :D ) #(the readmore is for neatness; don't worry!) #Cracked Mirror (Dark) #Rose Petals (Wilford)

[doctordiscord123]

June 21st’s prompt for Darkstache week is Proud, which I’m going to take as Gay Pride, so I can post the wedding for Darkstache and actually do something for this! @projectdarkstache

#darkstacheweek2019 #darkstache #wedding #writing #my writing

[fleecal]

June 19 (Wednesday): Dark’s birthday

I’m really proud of this one.

If you asked Dark, they did not have a birthday. The Doom twins had a birthday, June 19, 1896, and Dark came into existence on October 13, 1922. But they did not consider either of those dates their birthday. That isn’t to say no one else did.

Which is why Wilford was busily hanging decorations in his studio while Dark was working. Birthday or not, Will loved Dark more than anything and he wanted to celebrate his steady. For this reason, Wilford was filling his studio with streamers, balloons and black lights. Dark loves black lights. Chef Iplier was in the kitchen making a chocolate cake, Google was making sure Dark stayed in their office until it was time, Bing was putting together music Dark would like and Bim and the Jims were helping everyone pick out presents for the Darkness. Will, of course, already had his present, ready and waiting. He was so excited to give it to Dark. But first, decorations.

-

A few hours later, everything was ready. Everyone was waiting. Will texted Google that it was time to bring Dark over then signalled he everyone to get down as he turned off the lights. They soon heard the door open and Dark call “Will? Google said you needed to show me something?” Suddenly the blacklights turned on and everyone jumped up.

“Suprise!!”

Dark laughed softly. “Wilford. What is all this?” Wilford just smiled, slinging his arm around Dark’s waist and holding a small box in front of him. His moustache glowed brightly in the lighting.

“Well, I know you don’t consider any day your birthday, but I wanted to celebrate your life and the years we’ve spent together. So, happy life, Dominique. Open this in your office.” Dark took the box and nodded.

-

The party was fun. They danced, they laughed, Will shoved cake into Dark’s face with a giggle. It was a nice time. Dark also got some nice presents. A new watch, some expensive ties, a fun whiskey decanter and some whiskey, a hand-made throw blanket and cologne. Now, Dark was sat at their desk with Will’s gift. What had their boyfriend gotten them, Dark wondered. They opened the box to find a simple wooden box and what appeared to be a hundred puzzle pieces. The wooden box was heavy and mad of some kind of light coloured wood, with the words Do not open until you finish the puzzle. engraved on the top in Will’s handwriting. Dark sighed out a chuckle and got to work on the puzzle. Dark soon discovered the puzzle appeared to be pale pink words on a black background, with red, blue and hot pink hearts scattered around.

After about an hour, Dark had completed the puzzle. In Wilford’s handwriting, it said

I have loved you for almost 50 years, if not longer. I want the spend the rest of my years with you.

Dominique Gabriel Liy, will you marry me?

Dark was so overcome with emotion, they could barely text Wilford “Come”, but Will still showed up in the office seconds later. He hugged Dark tightly and rubbed their back.

“I didn’t expect you to cry, love,” Will said softly. Dark just nodded.

“Yes. Yes. I will marry you, Wilford. I love you so much and I want to be your spouse.” Will smiles and kisses Dark's head. His eyes drifted over to the wooden box.

“Oh! You finished the puzzle, but you didn’t open the box yet.”

“I’ve been a bit overcome to do so, Will.”

“Well, let’s open it together!” And so, with one arm around Dark, Will undid the latch and the two betrothed pushed open the lid. Inside was an expensive looking champagne bottle, two personalized champagne flutes and a diamond ring. Will gingerly picked up the ring. "I love you so much, Dark." He said as he gently took Dark's left hand and slid the ring onto their finger.

"I love you too, Will." And they proved it by kissing Wilford.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek #darkstacheweek2019 #Darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #Darkstache #Iplier Egos #Bee Writes

[tokidokkeart]

I haven't drawn in like 20 years now but I can't not draw for my favorite ship- So here's day 1 for #darkstacheweek : Winter! . @projectdarkstache (it's been 80 long years-)

#darkstache #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek2019

[maple-monarch]

Darkstache Week: Day 1

It’s late and a little rushed, but here’s day one (Winter) for @projectdarkstache ‘s Darkstache week! Hope you like it ^^’

#darkstacheweek2019 #read left to right? #It's 1:30 am and I just wanna sleep :P

[tyrannysaurusfloof]

Darkstache Week - Day 6

Prompts: Free Day/Pride Pairing: Darkstache Summary: Non-Binary Dark and Bisexual Wilford - both of them proud A/N: I had to do an actual Pride day, so I was very happy there were two prompts based around Pride! @projectdarkstache

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstache #pride #moodboard

[pharaoh-writes]

Quick doodle for Darkstache week! Late first day theme winter/snowed in! @projectdarkstache

#Darkstache #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstacheweek

[lostcybertronian]

Darkstache Week- Day 7

Sorry this is a bit late! And many thanks to @projectdarkstache for doing another Darkstache week. I had a lot of fun doing it.

I feel like I should add more to this, but it already gave me a hella hard time. So it stays as it is.

Prompt: Flowers/Spring

---

It was still a few days shy of officially being spring, but that didn’t stop the flowers: bright patches of color dotted the Manor grounds, and the saccharine aroma of Sweet Williams drifted through open windows and doors, mingling with the coppery tang of fresh blood.

    “Oh, c’mon, Dames! Don’t cry.” Mark stood over him, brandishing his firepoker. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

    Damien sniffled, clutching at the gash in his palm as it dripped red all over the tile floor. He didn’t say anything, but William- who had knelt next to him and was currently attempting to tear off a strip of his shirt to do what he called ‘field dressing’- stood up. “Phonus balonus! You didn’t have to hit him at all.”

    “I had to slay the villain,” Mark insisted. “It’s not my fault his hand got in the way.”

    “I don’t want to be the villain anymore,” Damien muttered.

    “I’ll be the villain next time, Dames,” William promised. It earned a small smile from Damien, but a scoff from Mark.

    “He’s the perfect villain,” he complained, turning and striding off, waving his firepoker like it was a sword.

    “Don’t listen to him,” William whispered, kneeling down beside him again, taking his injured hand, and using his shirt to clean off the blood. “You’d be a much better hero, but he always has to hog it.”

    “There,” he said a moment later, grinning a triumphant, gap-toothed grin and giving Damien his hand back. The blood flow had slowed to a trickle, and now that Damien got a better look at the thin, red line crossing his hand, it didn’t seem so bad after all. And it didn’t hurt as much either. “All better. I betcha you’ll have a kippy scar.”

    Damien smiled, and lifted his uninjured hand to brush the tears from his face. “Thanks, Will.”

#darkstacheweek2019 #darkstacheweek #projectdarkstache #dilliam #mayor damien #colonel william #william j barnum #william jackson barnum #william warfstache #actor!mark #the actor #markiplier egos #writersofmark #fanfiction #lostandwandering #my writing #lost writing tag #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #tw blood #tw physical violence

[xpouii]

Darkstache Week: Day 2

Day 2 of Darkstache Week 2019 by @projectdarkstache

The prompt today was “Past and Present”

               Dark could feel the cold before she woke, stirring in his chest and behind his eyes. He had locked himself in his room, wondering if he should fight to keep her asleep—and how would he? It hadn’t been long. Was she even rested? He closed his eyes for barely more than an instant, and he woke up in the cabin, with the damnable storm outside. “Celine?”

               “Damien. How are you holding up? You look terrible.”

               Dark scowled, “I’m not… Celine, I’m fine. You don’t have to wake up.”

               Celine looked up, her dark hair hanging in her eyes, “Damien, you can’t carry hatred like I can. You’re too soft. You’ll fall apart. You can’t do this alone.”

               “I’m not Damien,” Dark said. “And I’m not alone.”

               Celine opened her mouth to reply, but a voice outside caught her attention.        

               “Dark! I’ve got a surprise for you!” Wilford called, barging into his room. “I made pancakes!”

               Celine snarled and wrestled control over Dark’s body, dragging him to his feet. Dark struggled, but there was no stopping her; she was ten time stronger. The auras blazed red, and she reached out to slam Wilford against the wall. He yelped, dropping his plate, “Dark! That was supposed to be your breakfast! What’s gotten into you?” Wilford folded his arms, working up to one of his famous pouts, but Celine had other ideas.

               “William!” she roared. “I’ll kill you where you stand!”

               “Celine?” Wilford’s eyes glazed over, and his jaw went slack as he froze in place.

               “STOP!” Dark shouted, picking up one of the logs from the cabin’s blazing fireplace and tossing it through the small window. Glass shattered and the cold swept in, shocking Celine out of control.

               Dark stumbled away from Wilford, holding onto his desk, “Get out, Wilford! Run!”

               Wilford hesitated, but another red flash of Dark’s eyes sent him scrambling out of the room; inside of Dark, they were struggling in that stupid cabin. “Celine you don’t know what you’re doing! Wilford didn’t do anything!”

               “You can’t keep coddling him, Damien! That’s how it’s always been! You make all of these little allowances for him and he leaves you holding the bag! Every time!”

               “It isn’t like that now!” Dark growled. “We work together. He’s helping me with Mark.”

               “Please!” Celine laughed. “Helping you with Mark! Nobody’s ever been able to touch Mark aside from me. You expect me to believe that William and you are going to kill him?”

               “You don’t know me anymore,” Dark said. “You don’t know him. You’ve been asleep for too long to wake up and take over.”

               Celine folded her arms, “So you’re in charge now? The younger sibling surpasses the older?”

               “I am not Damien!” Dark roared. “Get that through your head! I’m not Damien and he isn’t William! And you… you’re not the strongest anymore.”

               “What’s so different now?”

               “I love him,” Dark said. “I love him and if you hurt him… I’ll kill you. I don’t know how, but I swear-”

               Celine laughed again, but there was no bitterness in it, “Oh my god. How many of our hearts does he need to tear through?”

               “Just mine,” Dark said. “Go back to sleep, Celine. When I need you, I’ll wake you up.”

               “You don’t even know what you’re doing,” Celine said. “You’re just… playing Mark’s games.”

               “I’ve made my choice,” Dark said. “I make the choice every day. We all chose the game, and I’ll keep all of us safe until he’s dead.”

               Celine sat at the broken table and sighed, “And how many are there?”

               “Maybe a dozen now,” Dark said. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

               “How many are you going to let him ruin?”

               Dark walked to the door, “Just me. Now go back to sleep.”

               Celine looked at him, and suddenly she looked tired. She gave him a small smile, “Goodnight, little brother.”

               Dark watched the cabin—and Celine’s wasteland—melt away around him, and he was in full control of himself again. He sat heavily on his bed and adjusted to the shifting of the auras again, balance—more or less—restored.

               Wilford peeked his head in the door and spotted Dark sitting on the bed, “Celine?”

               Dark jumped and wiped his eyes, “She’s sleeping… again.”

               “Right,” Wil said. He stepped into the room and walked over to sit next to Dark. “Good… it was nice to see her.”

               Wilford smelled like caramel corn and cotton candy, like younger days spent at the circus, laughter and soft looks and camaraderie. Dark leaned against him and inhaled just a bit of his humanity back, sighing around a mouthful of painful nostalgia. Wil lifted a hand and squeezed Dark’s shoulder, “Well, at least she didn’t try to carve your heart out.”

               “I would have let her,” Wil said.

#darkstacheweek2019 #projectdarkstache #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache #ego shipping #fanfiction #celine

[gay-for-tord]

June 17th: Winter/Snowed in

Damien stared down at the flower, disbelief clear across his face. "You don't die very easily, do you?" He didn't quite understand how the flower was still alive despite the cold harsh winter raging around it, but he did think it was pretty. In fact, it reminded him of someone. Someone who was as pink as this flower.

 As to who the pink person was, Damien didn't have a clue. In fact, trying to recall anything before today made his head hurt. So he didn't bother. Maybe he could ask Celine? It was possible she would know. But then again, she would probably just dismiss the question and tell him that no such person had ever existed. Along with telling him to get some rest while she went out to hunt.  

But that was ok. The flower meant winter would soon be over, and he wouldn't have to chop down trees for firewood. And maybe he'd get to seek out the pink man and give him the pink flower. Until then, Damien hoped the flower survived.

________________________________________________________

So I know it wasn’t night when Damien was cutting down trees, but the snow wasn’t showing up very good so I had to color the background black. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

@projectdarkstache

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek #darkstacheweek2019 #tw egoshipping #egoshipping #darkstache #dark x wilford #wilford x dark

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Darkstache Day 2: Past and Present

Dark remembers a time when the concept of him falling in love was impossible. But the past is not what the future is, and it requires a little support to help him see that.

TW: Implied conflicted internal homophobia (but it’s a happy ending!)

Word Count: 1,425

--

“Reality”

--

They say the truest form of loneliness is when you are in company. Damien would hasten to agree. Ever since he became Mayor, he felt isolated from everyone, and yet he was surrounded by more people than ever before. It was a bizarre reality he found himself in.

If he were to be honest with himself, it only became more apparent once he began attending formal functions as the City Mayor. The invitations always read “Mayor Brooks plus one”, yet he nearly always went alone. He was a very busy man, Damien would tell himself. He didn’t have time for love. While he would engage in polite conversation and socialise, Damien would find himself watching couples mingle or dancing on the floor. Ultimately, it would remind him of the cold reality that he refused to acknowledge - no woman really took his attention.

When he watched couples dance on the floor, it was the male partner that drew his eye. That neat, well-fitted look of a man in a suit was something a part of him longed to draw close to. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could never trick his foolish brain to do what a normal man ought to and view the woman in the same light. Of course he could see their beauty, of course he would compliment how fair and pretty they looked with utter sincerity; but it was impossible to imagine himself in a happy relationship with any lady he met.

Damien would never be able to love someone as he wanted to. That was his reality. The parties reminded him of this time and time again. They were far more sophisticated than the soirees Mark would host - Damien would often compare the formal events to games of chess. One wrong move and it would all be over in a flash. When conversing with other guests in groups, he would learn of rumours and stories of others in this ring of society that he was still adjusting to. A man was caught cheating on his wife, but instead of a mistress, it was another man. Two men living together for years were considered “a bit funny”, but no one could say for sure if it was true or not. Constant little reminders that if Damien was caught with another man, he would be publicly disgraced (without bearing to think of how it would affect his personal life). He had fought hard to get to his position and stay there by 27. As much as he wanted to be in a loving relationship, it just wasn’t worth the risk of losing absolutely everything.

He would insist he was too busy for love, that he “wasn’t looking”, or any excuse for someone not to try and find him a partner. He had so much love in his heart, but he loathed that part of himself. Why couldn’t he be like a normal man? Why couldn’t he have had his heart stolen by a charming young lady? Why did he have to be broken?

Even now, he was broken.

Physically broken. Emotionally broken. Not quite mentally broken, but certainly cracked.

It was the reality Dark lived in.

And yet… There was Wilford.

Wilford. That mysterious, wonderful man that was nothing like the soldier he used to be and simultaneously the exact same The man who could find the strangest ways to bring a smile to his face. It was so long ago now, Dark couldn’t remember if he had romantic feelings for William when he was Damien; but it was a fact he couldn’t ignore every time he looked at Wilford.

Speaking of, the reporter was staring at him rather intently.

“Somethin’s troublin’ ya.” Three simple words, and Wilford hit the nail on the head. Dark’s gaze shifted to the side, before he let out a slow sigh.

“Will… Do you this is all… Strange?” It was difficult to explain it. Frustration was clear on the entity’s scarred face.

“Everythin’s strange, sugar. That’s th’ beauty of life! A bitta madness goes a-”

“No, no. I mean us.”

“Us?” Wilford sounded hurt at that, and Dark internally scolded himself for being so inarticulate. He would only make matters worse if he kept dancing around the topic that had been troubling him all day.

“No, that’s not - Let me start over. I… Will, do you not find it a little strange that we - two beings who identify as male - are in a romantic relationship?” He lifted his hand to interrupt Wilford’s likely counter. His nerves began to fail, and he had to drop his eyes to the ground so he could attempt to continue. “It goes beyond what is considered the norm, and has so many… Risks.”  It was strange. No matter how many times he had made this argument to himself, Dark couldn’t find the words to express his internal conflict. However, Wilford’s worry shifted to calm understanding as he pieced together what was going on in the other’s mind.

“You question why our relationship goes beyond the norms others have set?” Wilford asked for clarification. His voice lacked the normal drawl. Dark nodded. “Despite not raising an objection to this when I asked you out on our first date, you feel a little uncomfortable?” He waited for a response, and a long moment passed before Dark nodded. Shame radiated through the gentle glow of red and blue. The reporter reached out and put his hand on Dark’s shoulder. When there was no attempt to brush it off, he knew he was safe to continue.

“Dark… Do you love me?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“And I love you too. That’s all that matters.”

Dark finally braved looking up at Wilford, and at last he could see what was going on. Black was peppering that pink moustache. Those eyes held more resolve than ever before. His posture was slightly straighter than usual. It was as if the Colonel sensed the Mayor’s distress and was trying to reach out in his own way. As though acknowledging this, Wilford smiled.

“Love is love. It doesn’t matter what gender the other sees themselves as. It doesn’t matter what the world says. If you’re in a position where you can love, then love. You might have been taught that love can only be in a certain way, but things are different now. You and I… We’re just as valid as Mark and Amy, and no one can change that. You deserve love. Our friends supported both of us through this. I spent weeks trying to woo you. I’m not letting you slip away because of the fear of what others might think of you. Sometimes… A little risk reaps all the rewards you’ve ever wanted.”

Dark didn’t object when the larger man pulled him close for a tight hug. After all the thoughts of uncertainty and the memories associated with them, he felt grounded. He felt safe. And if a tear or two slipped down grey skin, neither would comment on it.

“I love you, Will,” he murmured against the other’s shirt.

“I love ya too, Dark.”

It was several minutes before either pulled back, though Dark didn’t leave the other’s hold. Wilford was back to normal. Black strands had faded into pink. Chocolate eyes gazed down with pure affection. The past had quietly slipped away to let the present shine bright, as was the right thing.

“You always know the wisest thing to say.”

“Ya think? ‘Cause Bim insists I’m a ‘feather-brained oaf’ after th’ time I cut all power ta th’ buildin’ when I tried ta connect my phone ta YouTube.”

Dark kept close to Wilford, listening to him ramble on about some scenario that belonged in a cartoon. In a romantic sense, his life in the 1920s was bleak. But that didn’t mean his life in the modern day had to be. If ever Dark was invited to an event, he always had Wilford as his ‘plus one’. Dark’s name was already tarnished by a shell of a man who stole his body. What more could he lose if people thought ill of him for loving a man? But even if only a handful of people knew of this relationship, they all supported him. Had he really been so worried that he never considered that?

Purple eyes lifted to meet chocolate ones. A smile was returned with just as much love. No matter what, he would have Wilford by his side.

This was his reality.

For the first time, he was content with it.

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstacheweek #writersofmark #darkstache #(I.... Didn't expect it to be this long but I'm really proud of it!!) #(the linked song was the ambience I had when writing. The lyrics don't really match up) #tw homophobia #little angst with fluff at the end #Cracked Mirror (Dark) #Rose Petals (Wilford) #love is love