#wilford warfstache imagine

[trashbag-usa]

i keep thinking abt how mark was like 27/28 when wkm came out. not in a "wow he made smth like that at such a young age??" way, though that is cool, but in a Lore Implications way.

dames, celine, william, the DA? they were all around the same age. their lives fell apart so quickly, and just fuckin. Disappeared off the face of the earth.

they probably had parents, relatives, friends who missed them and mourned and died a long time ago with no idea where they were or what happened. no closure.

jesus christ dude, damien was the MAYOR. and he just vanished without a trace? god knows what the masses thought about that-

we're all so focused on the tragedies happening within the manor walls, understandably. but no one ever thinks about those who lived with the butterfly effects of that night.

#i know bc of the Benjamin stream from back in the day that Dark kinda paraded around in the DA's skin for a while #but after that they probably disappeared too #.... actually from a much less tragic perspective- #imagine the DA and the Mayor who are documented close friends disappear around the same time?? #there were probably tabloids who printed front page issues about “MAYOR AND ATTORNEY SECRET LOVE AFFAIR!! FORBIDDEN PAIR ELOPED TO FRANCE??” #ramblings #markiplier #who killed markiplier #wkm #mayor damien #celine the seer #wilford warfstache #william j barnum #wkm da

[valentivy-creates]

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's actually my birthday today too! So I drew this as a present for myself hehe

#ivys art #selfship art #self ship art #self ship #selfship #wivey #wilford warfstache #valentines day #romantic f/o #f/o imagines #self ship community #si x canon #si x fo #canon x self insert #self insert #is this sexual?? i thought it was cute but i could see why ppl may see it that way #just a disclaimer its not intended to be #just supposed to be fluffy for me and we all know he doesnt like to wear pants so #self ship positivity

[otterlyinluv]

A touch of darkness (pt.2)

Here's part 1

Summary: What happened after the office incident OR in which Yancy tries to eat breakfast and Wilford becomes a matchmaker

Pairing: Darkiplier x DA!Reader

Tags: sfw, fluffy, jealous Dark, proximity, thunderstorm, comfort, confessions and realisations

A/N: I apologize for the long wait, I actually finished it earlier but I decided to scrap the last third and rewrite it completely- Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.9k

"So you like Mr. Doom and gloom, so what?"

You almost choked on the chocolate milk Wilford made you.

"No, that doesn't make sense. Nothing even happened. He just fixed my computer, and then I felt weird."

Wilford raised an eyebrow at you.

"My dear, you might not see it, but you look like a lovesick fool."

Your face started to feel warm.

"No, I do not! I came for advice, Wilford, but now I know I chose the wrong person." You stood up from the armchair, leaving the chocolate milk on the desk, when Wilford started to wave his arms around.

"Okay, okay, fine, I'll stop." He grabbed you by the shoulders and plopped you back on the armchair.

"Now," he said, no longer in the spot he was a second ago. His little teleporting shenanigans didn't bother you as much as they did during the first months of your stay at the mansion. Whenever he suddenly disappeared and reappeared at a completely different place, you'd always get a mini heart attack, which lead to him doing it even more frequently to mess with you. What you hadn't realized then was he did it only to get you used to things that weren’t exactly normal. Wilford was a good guy at heart even if his methods were a bit... unconventional.

"Since you don't believe me, we'll go about it in a different way." You turned around to where he was. He made you stand up from the chair and gripped your hands.

"Which thoughts race through your head like fluttering butterflies frolicking in a field when he’s with you? How does he make you feel in general?"

The corner of your mouth turned up at the metaphor, and you looked off into the distance. After the encounter in your office, you started bumping into each other far more frequently than before. Or maybe you noticed him more. And when you did see each other, his gaze seemed to linger on you a suspiciously long time. Whenever you made eye contact during meetings, you felt a flutter in your chest. A flutter you didn't feel with anyone else.

You looked at Wilford with a sense of epiphany. His eyes seemed to light up.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dark said, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.

You ripped your hands from Wilfords'.

"Oh, Darkie. Why we were just having a lovely chat, nothing for you to worry about." Wilford drawled, putting his arm over your shoulder.

Dark's eyes darted to your shoulder, and his gaze hardened. The colored aura that surrounded him seemed to gain a more blue hue. It only lasted a couple of seconds before he rolled his neck.

"Excuse me." He suddenly ran off out of the room, his fists clenched.

You saw Wilford grinning out of the corner of your vision as he put his arm away from you.

"Wilford, what did you do?" You said, glaring at him.

"I just gave him a little push, that's all." 

--

You really wanted some cereal.

The mansion was pleasantly quiet because you liked to wake up earlier than everyone else. While listening to Illinois boast about all his adventures or Google try to subtly persuade you to grant him admin privileges was entertaining once in a while, it wasn't something you wanted to do first thing in the morning.

You were able to find your favorite brand of cereal, a spoon, and some milk. The only thing that was missing was a bowl. You looked into the cupboard where the bowls usually were, but there were none. You wondered who kept misplacing the contents of the cupboards and kept searching.

Still nothing.

You grabbed a chair to stand on so you could reach the cupboards that were higher up. You carefully stood up on it and opened the one closest to you. Finally!

Unfortunately for you, the bowls were on the top shelf. You huffed and stood on your tiptoes. After stretching your arm as far as you could, you were finally able to grab a suitable bow.

But you leaned back so suddenly you lost your balance. You flailed your arms in a futile attempt to regain stability. You mentally prepared yourself to come into contact with the cold hard floor when you felt someone grab your waist to support you.

You let out a relieved breath only to look down at the grey hands, which were now firmly holding you in place. The area which the hands were in contact with was completely devoid of color. You turned around to see Dark without his signature jacket, his eyes wide. You were frozen, but your skin burned where his hands were.

"You should be more careful. You would have fallen if I hadn't gotten to you in time."

You couldn't move. The only thing you felt was the oddly gentle hold he had on you. The bowl, which you were now holding safely, was the last of your worries.

"Still as clumsy as ever," he chuckled under his breath. His thumbs twitched, and you blinked at each other in realization of your compromising position.

He cleared his throat as he stepped back as if burned, removing his hands in the process. You carefully got down from the chair.

It was so quiet you could almost hear his aura crackle in the air like static.

"I, uh... Thank you for... that."

"You are welcome," he said quietly.

You were looking at the ground, your face strangely warm. Your gaze traveled to his shirt, the first two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands bordered with blue and red the hands that held you were now hanging at his sides.

You stared too long. You could feel him looking at you. You glanced at him.

He was looking straight at you. So intensely that you felt like he could see directly into your soul. So expressively, his eyes seemed more brown than black.

He took a shuddering breath.

"Is youse making cereal? Leave some for me!" Your head jolted to Yancy standing in the doorway.

Dark snapped out of whatever trance he was in and promptly left the room with no parting words.

"Woah, what got him so worked up?" Yancy walked to you as you looked at the door, deep in thought.

"I'd like to know that too."

--

After having finished your perfect bowl of cereal, it was back to sitting in your tiny office. Normally, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Nothing special, just you sitting behind your desk working at your computer. Except you weren't. You couldn't.

Not when whenever you closed your eyes, you could remember Dark standing over you so clearly. Your little... encounter happened a few weeks ago, yet you still couldn't focus properly while you were here. It took you at least half an hour to distract yourself enough to at least start working. It was frustrating, but there wasn't much you could do. Talk to him about it when he has most likely forgotten about it already? Yeah, sure.

Now that you thought about it, there was something else that was making you unfocused today. Why did Dark look like he wanted to murder Wilford when he was just being touchy as usual?

And this morning... He just caught you out of politeness so you wouldn't fall flat on your face. Or maybe he just didn't want you to break the bowl. You didn't allow yourself to even consider the possibility that maybe he didn't want to see you hurt. And the way his hands stayed on your waist just a few seconds more... Boy, did you forget how to talk then.

Maybe you were looking into it too much. Sure, he was nicer than before, but he could simply be more comfortable with you. As a friend. Yeah, that must be it.

Satisfied with your thinking session, you were ready to get to work.

Your concentration was disturbed by the sound of your door opening, followed by a thud of something heavy being dumped in, and then the door immediately slammed shut again.

You looked up from your computer to a sight you never would have expected - Dark rapping at the door, violently shaking the door handle.

"Now Damie, remember what I told you. If you want something, go get it!" Wilford slurred, his voice muffled by the door.

"Wilford, open the door this instant, or I swear I will kill you. I am serious."

"Oh, promises, promises. Focus your energy on the important things!" Wilford's voice faded away as he supposedly walked away from the door.

"That insufferable..." he mumbled to himself, turning around.

His clothes were wrinkled as if someone tried to physically push him into the room but was met with resistance. You couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Uhm, welcome, I guess."

He sighed. "Hi."

"So, what happened for you to end up here of all places?" You leaned on your arm. It might have been an unexpected situation, but that didn't mean you weren't going to enjoy it. Dark, on the other side, seemed really determined to fulfill his promise to Wilford. "When Wil sets his mind to something, nothing can stop him. Not even me." He tried to open the door to emphasize his point, and as expected, it didn't budge.

"Can you not get out by... other means?" You never really knew how his powers worked. And you doubted he would tell you even if you did ask.

"No. I don't know how he did it, but he managed to completely lock me out -" He looked around. "-or in. Technically."

As his eyes surveyed the room, you realized how small it was. It was enough for you, but Dark seemed to fill a big part of the room just with the colored aura that surrounded him. Come to think of it, why was he standing so far away from where you were?

"Well, I'm guessing we're going to be here for some time, so why don't we sit down somewhere more comfortable?" You pointed to a light brown sofa leaning against a wall. His eyes followed your hand to the middle-sized sofa. You winced. You didn't want to make it awkward for him to sit down there alone, but maybe he would rather you didn't sit with him. Why didn't you just ask him what he wanted in the first place-

He simply nodded and sat on the sofa. Having no other choice, you plopped down next to him.

Small raindrops started hitting the window.

You turned to say something to fill the silence at the same time as he did, which resulted in you looking away from each other. He let out the quietest chuckle, and you couldn't help yourself but do the same.

"You can go first." Dark said.

"Ah, it wasn't anything specific, just that the rain is getting stronger." You expected him to simply nod and direct the topic somewhere else. Instead, he looked over to the window. The rain was now strong enough to be audible if you were both quiet, which is what was happening now. Dark looked as if he was observing the rain. As if simply the fact you told him about it gave it value.

"It indeed is."

After a couple of seconds, he took a breath. "I've never noticed how small this office is."

"You're right, but I like it. It makes it feel cozy. It also holds memories more easily. " In fact, your brain was recalling a rather specific memory involving him. But you doubted he would be thinking of that.

"Well, I'm glad. The area carries a certain air that only you have."

"Oh, and what might that be?" You smirked.

"Comfort. Something you want to return to and treasure every moment spent with."

You stared at him wide-eyed.

"Ah, I said too much, didn't I? Forgive me." He looked to the door.

You were touched by how highly he thought of you. Yet there was an unspoken implication in his statement.

Thunder rang out.

You flinched and crashed into Dark. His arms shot out, cradling you against him.

"Are you alright?"

You squeezed your eyes closed as you tried to focus on your breathing.

"I... I'm just scared of thunder. The sound..." You trailed off, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

His hold on you tightened as he gently moved your head to the crook of his neck. He rubbed his hand across your back in soothing motions with a soft "Shh" every couple of seconds. You let him hold you until you eventually stopped shaking like a leaf in the wind.

That's when you realized what a compromising position you were in and stared at him in shock.

"I apologize, I overstepped." He frowned, untangling his hands from you.

As soon as you felt the absence of him, you realized.

"I don't mind." You said, and his face visibly relaxed. "I actually don't mind a lot of things when it comes to you. Simply being with you is... nice."

He let out a quiet laugh. You wished you could put the sound in a bottle. "You're just saying that because we are stuck together."

You laughed and let out a rebuttal.

Minutes passed with other witty remarks, and before you could realize, the brief rainstorm had completely passed. You were confused that you hadn't heard another thunder since there had to have been at least one. But you had gotten too involved in Dark's quips to notice the sound. Dark cracking jokes... now that was something you would have never imagined.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Dark asked, leaning his head on his arm.

"What?"

"You were staring at me without saying anything for a while now, so I figured you had something interesting going on in that brain of yours."

Heat rushed into your cheeks. You didn't realize you had been looking right at him.

You cleared your throat and saw him smiling out of the corner of your eye. "I was just wondering," you smiled back, "do you often run away?"

Dark quickly turned his head away in shame.

"First, it was when I was talking with Wilford. You came in and then suddenly excused yourself. Then, this morning, too... What's going on? Did I do something?"

He sighed. "No, no, you didn't do anything. It's me." He added quietly.

"How so?"

He responded after a couple of seconds. "I am afraid that if I tell you, a lot of things might change... between us." The look in his dark eyes was earnest, almost nostalgic.

Oh.

Oh.

You pondered upon his statement for a few seconds. "Does change always have to be bad?"

As soon as you said the sentence, you were hit with a sense of deja vu. You felt like you've said it before, but how?

In tandem with your confusion, a slight shock spread on his features. As if in a trance, you put your hand on his cheek. Looking him up and down, you studied his features. There was nothing different from what you've come to know. Why were you expecting to see something else?

Your fingers moved on your own in a caress.

His eyes fluttered shut. You traced over his forehead, moving to his cheekbones when you ended up near his lips. Features oh so familiar like you knew them for years. Now that his eyes were closed, he seemed different. At peace. So close.

He opened his eyes, and there it was again. The two of you in your office. The proximity close enough to feel electrifying. None of you said anything as a decision hung in the air. But only up until his onyx-like eyes flicked from your own to your lips.

He smiled. "Would it be foolish of me to say I want to kiss you right now?"

And you answered by leaning in.

You let yourselves be entangled by the sheer amount of emotion as your lips brushed against each other. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer like he wanted to drown himself in you. You basked in the softness of your embrace, finally feeling as if everything has fallen into place.

He pulled away as you tried to catch your breath.

"So beautiful." He whispered, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Before you could respond, he went right back in. Not that you minded, of course.

No sooner than a minute had passed were you interrupted by your office door swinging open.

"Glad to see you've finally figured yourselves out! Now, if we could-" Wilford's voice was cut off as Dark slammed the door with a motion of his hand.

He brushed his hair away from his face and turned back to you.

"It did look like he needed something." You gazed at the door pensively.

"I am sure he did, but," he smoothed out your shirt, "I do believe you don't want anyone seeing you like this."

You tried to keep from laughing as you regarded his own disheveled appearance. "You're not too neat either, Sir 'Irons his shirts every morning'."

He rolled his eyes but smiled at you regardless. Getting up from the couch, he held out his hand, which you accepted, and headed to whatever wacky escapade Wilford was up to this time.

#x reader #reader insert #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #darkiplier #damien x da #wkm damien #damien the mayor #awhm yancy #wilford warfstache #markiplier egos #iplier egos #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #imagines

[beybaldes]

Somewhere, Somehow

Abe x gn!Reader

“Out of the confines of fate, the detective and the DA be at last.”

Word count: 2.4k

As encouraged by @crazy-obsessed-enby and @enderman-ezra​‘s love especially, for the first and second parts. Thank you <3

————————————————————————

Part 1 - The Prying Hands Of Choice

Part 2 -  A Love Never Flourished

Part 3 - Somewhere, Somehow

————————————————————————

Night comes quick in the city; too quick. The days run away from you, sunlight slips through your fingers and the veil of night covers the sky. Breakfast becomes lunch and lunch becomes dinner and you've just woken up and are already going back to sleep.

Time doesn't wait for the bustling and busy ways of the city: it's easy to loose track of the days and the nights. But you've never felt so alive.

Not since before the cold, wooden floor of the manor was firm against your back, blood splattered across the oak and your shirt. Wilford's disheartened look and the detectives body the last thing you'd seen.

Space doesn't have time, always too dark to know what's night and what's morning or when lunchtime truly is. It's unnerving in a way, how quickly you lose ingrained routine for the vastness of space. But how different is the inner city from space? Times comes and goes and you wake and you sleep and the world moves on with or without you.

A too-loud rumble of a car startles you from low murmur of the TV - some rerun of an old show you've never seen before yet have seen a million times - and the coldness of the seat next to you. An army of throw blankets swarm around your waist, disregarded by their other - better - half, and missing the warmth he provided.

Abe.

Pushing the comfort of the blankets away from you, you stood from the worn, leather couch. The deep brown reminding you of the jacket Abe had been wearing when you'd found him again; the reason you'd insisted you just had to have it.

Many a night had been spent curled on that couch: a book, a movie, a shitty rerun of a tv show and some good snacks and company. Not tonight though, Abe's smell withdrawn from the blankets and his warmth gone from your hold.

Padding through the kitchen, past the small island littered with unopened letters, house keys and empty takeout boxes, you pull your sleeves down and the window up. Slipping through the cracked open window, you closed it behind you - not wanting the crisp air to invade the warmth of the apartment that you had been so preciously holding onto.

Rain drips over the ledge of the roof, splashing against the metal of the fire-escape balcony and beginning to soak through Abe's shirt. How long had you let him be out here?

Sneaking closer to the broad-shouldered man, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against the back of his shoulder.

"You shouldn't smoke; it'll kill you, you know." Abe looked down at his shirt-clad chest, his trembling hands coming to rest against and smooth out the fabric.

"Too late for that." He snarled, immediately apologising for his bitter tone and moving away from you. What was going on?

You often struggled to come to grips with the reality you found yourself in: the warped perception of life a side effect of falling through wormhole after wormhole. You'd awake from a dream that felt too real, just another reality you'd been briefly trapped in, sweating and screaming and crying out for Abe. Who was at your side, thankfully.

Night after night you dreaded the day would come where you'd awake to no Abe by your side, back in that cryopod with a glowing crystal in your hand. And Abe did everything he could on those nights to assure you it wasn't real.

He'd hold you, sooth you until you were fast asleep once again; promise he was here and not going anywhere while consumed with guilt at the white lie. Abe could not guarantee you that he'd come home each night, the work of a detective hard and demanding, so when he was there he made it count.

Except for on nights like these.

Abe constantly worried about you; worried you'd disappear again, die again, wake up alone and panicked because of his job. Fully driven by the idea it was all his fault, he'd made a point to tell you all of his partner had died, gone, been left behind - and yet he'd given you the title as though he was okay with that.

Letting out a deep sigh, he sat down on the steps of the fire escape that lead up to the next floor, taking a long drag from his cigarette before turning to face the sky, white smoke puffed into the black night.

Though your eyes had not left him, you now turned to face him, taking small almost meek steps towards your beloved detective. Taking one of his hands in your own, you caress the side of his face; a silent plea to talk to you.

Abe placed his other hand atop the two connected ones, giving them a gentle squeeze. The lit cigarette balanced between rosy lips, chapped by the cold and wind.

Slowly, he lowers his hands, his firm grip coming to rest on your hips. Gently he pulls you down onto his knee; your legs slotting between his own and an arm coming to rest across his broad shoulders. Resting your hand at the nape of his neck you begin to lightly scratch at the stubble there.

Abe's long-lost look dissolves from his face, his forehead knocking lovingly against your temple as he turns to face you, faces far too close for friendship.

But were you more then friends? You'd been friends when you met, and he held you like a lover. Looked at you as though you were his reason to go on and joked with you like a friend. You'd been everything and nothing entirely - something too complicated to put labels on; labels you'd love to see. But knowing Abe was yours was what mattered, and that he was.

"A penny for your thoughts dear?" Abe shakes his head, taking another drag from his cigarette then harshly blowing it out. "Don't give me that, I know something is wrong."

Taking his lit cigarette from where it was loosely held between his fingers, you took a long drag - holding the fumes in for a brief moment before teasingly blowing it in Abe's face. You move the cig back up to his lips and allow him to take a drag, then swiftly move it away from his face. Shuffling closer, you lean down; almost too close, a hairs length separating the two of you. You knock your nose against his, waiting for him to meet your eyes before you clumsily slot your lips against his own.

Abe instantly melts into the kiss, the smoke leaving his lungs as he brushes chapped lips against soft ones.

"Talk to me." You plead, wanting to know what was going on in his head. One hundred thoughts at once and you were ninety-nine of them; that one unused was reserved for whatever case he had been working on in that moment.

"Do you ever wish we were just the detective and the district attorney? And nothing more."

A daunting question. Life had been simpler then, sure, but the whirlwind of emotions Abe maybe you feel you wouldn't change for the world. Sometimes you don't think you were ever truly alive until you walked into the manor; Abe leaning against the doorframe of Mark's house while you were lounged across once of his many loveseats. It was like you were living for the first time meeting his eyes; as though you'd been born just in the doorway and he was the first thing you ever truly saw.

"What about less?" You asked, hoping and pleading that Abe got the sentiment behind your words: you didn't want less with him, you wanted security.

That's what Abe and you both lacked in this lifetime; knowledge that you would wake up beside the other everyday and that everything would be okay, safe and the same.

You would try and give him that, no matter the cost.

"Less is fine; good even. It's safe." Running your fingers along the back of Abe's neck lovingly, you lulled him into your touch, letting him really feel the heat radiating from your palm and know you were there. Right now. With him. Safe and sound.

The murmur of whatever you had been watching on the tv fades away and in its place is some 70s song - slow and relaxing - it's tune instantly making sleep sink into your bones and fill you with comfort.

"Dance with me?" You asked, barely above a whisper, Abe's head still resting against your own. "While I'm awake enough to."

Abe grunts displeasingly, and you think for a moment he's going to say no, then pushes you from his lap and the idea is almost confirmed. Though he pulls you close to him as he stands; you resting your head against his soft shirt and muscular chest beneath it. The brisk night air was harsh against your exposed skin eliciting a shiver - the cold quickly soothed from your skin by Abe's arms atop your own. Keeping you close and keeping the cold away.

Abe's hand snake away from yours: one reaching for your hand and pulling the intertwined pair up to the side of you, the other curling around your lower back and trying to pull you impossibly closer. Your own free arm is tucked under his, laying flat up against his back, allowing you to tuck yourself into his side slightly, hiding you away from the cold night air.

The pair of you move slow, in sync with the other and simply stepping from side to side, relishing in the moment of simplicity with the other.

"I'm glad it was you - this version of you - I found." You admitted, sheepish blush hidden by the dark of the sky and the way your head was tucked beneath Abe's. "All the other you's I encountered, they didn't have your eyes. Sure, they had your face, your smile or your charm; but they never had your eyes."

"I'm glad it was me too sweetheart." Abe chuckled, voice becoming raspy with need for sleep, night slipping further and further into day under the lights of the city. Rain became drizzle, the occasional pitter patter against the metal staircase reminding you it had rained at all.

You continued to sway to the lull of the song, recognising it to be the same that had played when you returned to Wilford's roller-rink , but choosing to keep that a secret for only yourself to indulge in. The only two times you had slow-danced with Abe were to this song, and you hoped it would be the only one you'd ever slow-dance to and he'd be the only one you'd ever slow-dance with.

As the song came to a sullen end, Abe pulled away from you, but only enough to look at your face. His eyes scoured across your features, taking across your face from your lips to your eyes and back: whatever he was thinking he settles for a chaste kiss against your forehead that makes you crinkle your eyebrows up at the ticklish sensation.

"You know, I'm glad that - even in another life - I got to travel the stars with you." Abe whispered his admission, something shy about it. You'd never mentioned how Gunther specifically looked like Abe; the ADS lead having you wrapped around his finger in ways you didn't even realise.

You'd almost called him Abe the first time you met him; everything about him all to similar to someone else. However, the first time he took off those sunglasses in front of you, you knew he wasn't your Abe, just some lookalike.

Though Abe had recalled your words at the roller-rink, in fact he thought of them often. About how somewhere out there you'd already found him; and somewhere out there you'd do it again. Somewhere, somehow - just like you'd half promised him before your forced departure from the disco.

"You'd have hated it up there. It's lonely."

"Not when I'm with you; never when I'm with you." Abe had always had a way with words; from your first meeting till now, he never failed to make you turn red at his sweet sentences.

"Whatever you say, pretty boy." You teased, pushing away from your detective and heading back towards the window, sliding it open enough to creep back inside and turning to face Abe. Palm outstretched you waited for him to take your hand, moving deeper inside the warmth of the apartment with Abe now in tow.

Pulling him by your connected hands, you led him through the messy room; ignoring the coat that had fallen from the hanger and the mess of blankets and pillows you had left on the couch, deciding they were all things that could be dealt with come morning or sunshine, whatever came first.

Arriving in your shared bedroom, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, his tie already hung loose enough to slip over his head and onto the desk, ready to use tomorrow. Abe stood there, looking at you in complete admiration as you took him through the motions: helping him get out of his work clothes and into his pyjamas as though it was routine.

Falling back into the mattress and mess of a duvet, still unmade from the morning before, you pulled Abe with you, shuffling up the bed to meet the pillow and letting out a deep sigh; sleep seeping into your bones once again as you finally, truly, relaxed. Shuffling about you made yourself comfortable, leaning into Abe's warmth though giving him enough space to get comfy himself.

It didn't take long for sleep to overcome you, time warped and unusual under the bright, city lights. But Abe watched until gentle snores left your chest, scratching his fingers against your scalp lovingly as he waited for you to fall fast asleep, dream of lands far away. Though not far away enough that you'd wake with a start worried he was long gone and this was all a dream.

Abe often found it hard to come to terms with the fact you were actually here, next to him once again, and that you wouldn't be gone the next time he woke up like the you he saw in his deluded drunken stupors and after a particularly shitty nights sleep.

And though Abe had never been a religious man, he thanked any God out there that you had been returned to his side.

————————————————————————

Hello my lovies!! This brings us to the end of this little Abe series I had planned. I love Abe and there's so little about him so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world.

Thank you for all the love. I am very happy to take Abe/Gunther requests so please send any in you may have!!

#detective abe x reader #abe the detective #abe x reader #detective abe #district attorney x the detective #iswm x reader #wilford motherloving warfstache #abe wkm #captain yn #wkm x reader #abe imagine #detective abe imagine #in space with markiplier x reader

[chocolatte-and-despair]

O.M.G YES! DEFINITELY!! PLEASE DO SOME FOR WILFORD WARFSTACHE💕💕💕I LOVE HIM

Wilford Warstache

When Wilford first saw you, you meant nothing to him. You were just a silly person being dragged into weird adventures by Mark, and he simply ended up needing to show up and put everything back in place.

But To say the least, things... Changed the more he started to watch you interact with others.

You were strange but in a good way. In a way that made him want to find out what you would do next.

You were unpredictable. He couldn't understand what you would do next. And when he thought that he had your personality down, you always surprised him. He loved it.

It took some time, but Wilford had decided that he found you fun to be around and that you should join his show. You wouldn't be put in dangerous situations, and he would always have you near him.

If you disagree... Well, he'll just have to put a bit more pressure into the matter to convince you that he's the best option you have right now.

#yandere markiplier imagines #yandere imagines #markiplier imagines #yandere markiplier headcanons #yandere markiplier #yandere #yandere headcanons #markiplier headcanons #wilford warfstache #yandere wilford warfstache

[mango-riot]

Raph headcanon: he's really into Lets Players but mostly Jacksepticeye. He picked up saying "LIKE A BOSS" from Jack and overall loves the energy from his videos :] He and his bros would watch his Happy Wheels playthrough the most and even start shouting "HAAAAPPYYY WHEEEEELS" at one another when it's time to watch another segment lol

In the same breath, Mikey would watch Markiplier and be just as terrified as him through the horror game playthroughs 💀 Even shouting at him to not take an action he's about to do, Donnie has to watch with Mikey for emotional support but other times they'll switch to a more comedic video of Mark's to lighten the mood

Leo watches Roblox troll videos, that is all.

#rottmnt #headcanons #personally i havent watched lets players in awhile #let alone jack #does he still say 'like a boss' at the end of his videos?? #its his thing! #also them watching happy wheels and being like 'i could dominate that map' 'i could have made that jump' #but his outbursts are just hilarious to them #also can yall imagine donnie getting hooked on wilford warfstache content and dressing up like him on halloween #leo: I SPENT ALL OUR MONEY ON ROBUX #or fortnite skins help 💀

[goosedoes-fics]

Quiet

Wilford Warfstache x nonverbal!Reader

Content warnings: Gender neutral reader, use of y/n, boss and employee relationship, what the fuck is a slow burn

Notes: this is another re-upload. errrmmmm wilford the silly

~~~~

"[Y/n]!"

A loud voice jolted you out of your imagination. It was a very slow day, the kind that you'd spend curled up in a blanket by the fireplace, but of course you had to spend it at work. Typical.

You turned expectantly to your jovial sounding co-worker. What you had assumed was correct, as usual. The boss himself, Mr. Warfstache.

To call Wilford a "friend" would be an odd choice of words. You preferred to think of your relationship as strictly professional, but Mr. Warfstache seemed to consider you as a close pal.

Wilford plopped himself unceremoniously next to your seat at the sound booth. A wide grin was present on his face, as usual.

"So! The day's almost over, yeah? You ready to head home?"

You shrugged slightly, hoping he would leave you alone. It's not that you disliked him exactly, but more that he didn't really understand your aversion to conversating. As usual, he paid no mind to your wordless response.

"Me and a few a' the guys are headed over to a fancy li'l resteraunt in the area. And y'know of course I had t' see if you wanted to come along!" The eccentric man grinned wider, maintaining eery eye contact with you.

Naturally, you didn't respond verbally. Honestly, you didn't respond at all. You gave Wilford a strange look, turning your head towards the soundboard and flicking off the power switch for the night.

Wilford leaned forward, trying to catch your eye again. "But, hey, if you don't want a crowd, we can just go by ourselves! The two of us!" he piped up hopefully, his odd voice taking on an even odder tone.

That... actually didn't sound too bad to you. You turned to face him once more, hesitating for a moment before giving him a small nod. His face immediately lit up.

Wilford jumped out of his chair, running a hand through his hair to adjust it. "Well! Let's go now, then!"

With a small sigh, you lifted yourself from the chair, stretching a bit before gathering your belongings and heading for the studio door. Wilford trailed close behind you, locking the door as you exited the building.

The walk was about how you expected it. Wilford chattered away, nearly talking your ear off, but thankfully stayed away from anything that required you to speak. The sun was starting to go down now, painting the sky with a lovely gradient from blue to pink. You took a moment to admire the beauty of the scenery.

It was a little while before you began to realize the two of you had been walking for quite some time. Wilford had piped down a bit, and was glancing around in confusion as he scanned the streets.

"...coulda sworn the damn thing was this way," he muttered, seemingly embarrassed. "Yeah there was... that big ol' sign? And further down was the restaurant, right?"

The odd man seemed quite nervous now. Bits of sunlight filtered through the buildings on the horizon, but the streets were dimly lit as the lamps littering the sidewalks had yet to turn on.

After a moment, Wilford sighed heavily, turning swiftly on his heels. "I don't want us to get lost. Let's just head back." He hung his head sadly. Something told you he had been looking forward to this for a while.

You reassuringly pat his shoulder, making Wilford jump slightly, as if he had forgotten you were there. He looked back at you, giving you a small smile. "Don't you worry, I know where the studio is from here."

The walk back was much quieter than before. Your boss was so uncharacteristically quiet that it startled you half to death when he protectively wrapped an arm around your waist. You didn't protest. The closeness was quite comforting.

Eventually, the two of you managed to return to the studio. It was dark out now, and Wilford dejectedly retracted his arm as he turned to look at you.

"I'm sorry this turned out so boring, [Y/n]," he commented sadly.

You patted his arm again, this time letting the touch linger a bit more than you realized. You swiftly brought your arm back to your side, gazing at the sidewalk with embarrassment.

When you looked back up, Wilford was a bit closer. You felt your face heat up immediately as he drew you into a strong hug. After a moment of shock, you put your arms around him and hugged back.

Wilford pulled away with a deep breath. "Ta be honest, I was really looking forward to spendin' time with you. I didn't mean to get all lost like that."

You blinked in confusion. Wilford was talkative, sure, but he never tried to "spend time" with you outside of work.

"Actually, I'm really sorry for a lot a' things. I know I talk a lot an', I mean, you don't." His words began speeding up as he started to ramble. "You always seem so... uncomfy when I talk to ya. Did it feel like I was pushin' the whole outin' on ya? Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about that, of course it must've felt like that. I'm your boss and you're always so quiet. I wish you had told me, not that this is your fault, but I mean-"

You put a finger over Wilford's lips to stop his rambling, and he cut off quickly. He stared at you for a moment, and as you realized what you had done, you quickly pulled away. You gazed at him and shook your head to indicate his worries were incorrect.

You both stared at each other for a moment. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment once again.

Wilford gently placed a hand on your waist. "Is it okay if I kiss you?" he asked cautiously.

Your face was now evidently reddened. After a moment of processing his words, you nodded slowly.

Wilford brought his face closer to yours, eyes narrowing slightly as he slowly planted his lips on yours. For how rough his hands were, his lips were comfortably soft. The way he kissed you made it seem as if he'd been waiting to for quite some time.

Slowly, he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours in a caring gesture.

The warmth of the embrace lasted some time before you stepped back, earning a sad whine from Wilford. You smiled slightly.

"It's dark out now. Can I walk you home?" he asked hopefully.

You nodded, grasping his hand firmly as you began leading the way.

The quiet of the night gave you some time to reflect. You realized how easy it was to communicate with Wilford, as you didn't have to say a single word. That was very comforting to you.

Maybe one day you'd even be confident enough to speak in front of him. You smiled at the thought.

Maybe the talkative man wasn't so bad after all.

#wilford warfstache #wilford #wilford markiplier #wilford warfstache markiplier #wilford x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #markiplier ego #markiplier egos #markiplier ego x reader #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier

[coolmayordamien]

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

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

You got it!

Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright," Dark agreed pleasantly.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

--

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

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

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

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

Damn it.

--

He could just open a portal-

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

Shit.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not a chance."

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

[infinite-infinite-stars]

...I think I finally figured out how to articulate what I always, like, assumed Darkiplier's whole deal to be.

Now keep in mind I'm basically a filthy casual when it comes to The Markiplier Lore™. I've been like, aware of it since pretty much the beginning, I think, but I didn't really start paying attention until Heist and Space (and even then, those two are what occupy my thoughts the vast majority of the time).

So correct me if I'm wrong I guess, but like... Darkiplier and Wilford Warfstache are both metacognitive, right? Like, I know Wilf is aware of the fourth wall and regularly breaks it, I know that's his Thing and it's (part of) why he's so, y'know. Silly-Wacky. Is Darkiplier in the same boat, at least to an extent? (Kinda genuinely asking here. Like I said, filthy casual).

Because like... Darkiplier and Wilf are both staples of Mark's channel as a whole. They both predate the MarkCU/CYOA series stuff, so they're not "native" to it the way, say, Yancy or Engie or Professor Beauregard or Gunther are.

So with that in mind, whenever Darkiplier is addressing the Viewer, I've always kindof assumed that he's talking to... the Viewer. Y'know? Like it's a Monika situation, where unlike the other characters, who are talking to Y/N the in-universe avatar, Dark is instead talking past Y/N, to the person on the other side of the screen, to us. I figured he understands Y/N is just an avatar. I think Wilf probably does too, come to that. I don't think either of them necessarily care if Y/N, the character, whoever you imagine them to be, has any idea what the hell they're talking about at any given time, as long as you do.

By the same token, whenever Darkiplier talks about Mark, I figured he was talking about Markiplier the youtuber.

Especially when he says stuff like "games were always his forte."

Because, I mean. Who's associated with "games"?

A let's player.

Not an actor, usually. At least, they're not who you're going to think of first when you think about "games".

Who do we know for absolute certain has been "spinning yarns" and making up stories and taking us, the Viewer, on adventures?

Markiplier the youtuber. By creating these videos.

So unless I'm missing something major here-- and it's entirely possible that I am!-- I think the idea is "supposed" to be: Darkiplier is aware that Actor is an avatar for Markiplier, the same way that Engie and Heist and Date all are, and the reason he treats them all as the same isn't necessarily because they're all secretly Actor, or because he thinks they're all secretly Actor, but because all of them, including Actor... are Markiplier. And Markiplier is his real nemesis. Always has been. That was like... the point of his original concept as a character, right? That he's Markiplier's evil counterpart?

...Is this anything??

#markiplier #darkiplier #obviously everyone else can continue to interpret things however they want #I'm not trying to invalidate anybody here or disprove anything #I'm literally just trying to make sure I'm not completely crazy #in space with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #who killed markiplier #wkm

[groven4]

Markiplier Egos with an Asexual DA / Viewer

a/n: I decided to write this specifically as you coming out to them after you've already been dating for a while so it'd be different enough from the Aro hcs thing I already did. We cool with that? Alright.

WILFORD WARFSTACHE

Like I've already said, he doesn't care what your sexuality/gender is, he's immediately accepting of you and your identity.

That really doesn't change if you're dating.

Boundaries can take a lot of getting used to for him; he's a very physically affectionate kind of person.

He tries his best tho and always apologizes if he realizes he's touching you in a way that you've said makes you uncomfortable.

There's really not much else to it, things just continue as normal.

DARKIPLIER

Doesn't care. (supportive)

It really doesn't affect your relationship at all.

He doesn't usually like people touching him apart from specific circumstances with those he trusts, so boundaries aren't really an issue.

Again, not much left to say.

GOOGLEPLIER

He'd probably recite the definition of asexual except it's like the one for reproduction.

He's not being a dick for once though, he's just genuinely confused.

After explaining it to him, he finds the right definition and is kinda just like: "...Oh yeah, me too."

BINGIPLIER

"...Like a plant?"

Yeah, he doesn't get it at first either.

"Ooohhhhh! Same, brah. Same."

ACTOR

I can't not see him as a little aphobic before the events of wkm, but considering he's now lived for over like a hundred years or something, he outta be a little less ignorant now.

I mean, he might not fully get it at first still, but he'd try his best to for you.

He'd never force you into something you're uncomfortable with like that anyway. If you really don't wanna have sex, he's not gonna throw a hissy fit over it. (even tho that does feel like a very actor mark thing to do)

Just remember to assure him that it has nothing to do with him specifically or it's gonna make him insecure. He's a narcissist, the love of his life not finding him attractive is gonna make an impact.

Very respectful about your boundaries despite being a touchy kinda person. If you're not okay with certain kinds of touches, just let him know.

Overall, it might take a bit for him to adapt, but his effort is at least endearing.

YANCY

As previously mentioned, he'll most likely already be familiar with it due to his very inclusive friend group.

He's at least knowledgeable enough to know that asexuality is a spectrum, so he'd probably ask you to explain what flavor of it you happen to be.

Very supportive!

He's never really felt like he needs sex in a relationship anyway.

He's honestly just happy you gave him enough of a shot to wanna be friends let alone date him.

Would stab an aphobe for you<3

ILLINOIS

Honestly surprised at first, he had no idea that was even a thing.

He's totally okay with it of course! He just didn't know you could have a relationship where sex isn't like...mandatory.

Similarly relieved as I've described before when you explain it to him. It's a welcomed change to be sure.

He'll hold back on flirtatious comments if they make you uncomfortable.

Tries his best to respect your boundaries. He feels lonely if you don't cuddle him at night tho.

Sexual intimacy has become something he dreads with meaningful relationships. He likes getting to focus more of his time on you as a person, making sure you feel loved, and just treasuring your time together.

Overall really supportive.

HEAD ENGINEER

A little awkward around the topic of sex I imagine.

Mostly cus you're still the captain so power dynamics and all that.

You're already risking a lot just by being together romantically, that kind of workplace relationship could definitely get you both in some hot water. No matter how temptingly scandalous it can seem.

This was basically the stuff that first came to mind once you told him and he almost felt relieved because of it. I mean, that's certainly a headache you shouldn't have to risk dealing with now.

Outside of logistic nonsense, he's very supportive all around.

Like I've said, he can sometimes overcompensate when it comes to boundaries, so assurance helps if that's not something that bothers you.

He came up with this like dorky way of quantifying things where basically he says any energy he'd put into sex he instead puts into cuddling you twice as much and- just- yeah-

MURDOCK

Very calm and reassuring if he sees you were anxious while telling him.

Even if you weren't he's pretty chill about it.

Every action of his is typically very calculated no matter the situation, even if in more of a purposely sporadic kind of way. So needless to say, he's pretty good about boundaries.

I mean, if you're in the middle of making a quick get away and end up having to get uncomfortably close to hide or something, that can't really be helped, but yk. (he'd make it up to you later anyway, probably something dinner related)

#markiplier egos x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #darkiplier x reader #googleplier x reader #bingiplier x reader #actor mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #illinois x reader #ahwm illinois x reader #head engineer mark x reader #space mark x reader #murderplier x reader #iswm murderplier x reader #iswm murdock x reader #asexual reader #asexuality #asexual

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 2: An Easy Offer to Refuse

((Wilford's a hard man to keep track of, especially when Abe keeps running into other passengers with their own issues.

Here's a link to Part 1: All Aboard, Full Steam Ahead and a link to the masterlist for the series.))

Spoiler alert? Why did that sound familiar? Where had he heard that before? Had he heard it before now, or…?

For some reason, seeing the phrase made Abe want to down his own drink in a single gulp, which is just what he did.

When that wasn’t enough to drown out the uneasiness building in his stomach, Abe stood and make his way back to the bar.

“Really?” Benjamin asked when the detective placed the glass down on the bar a little too hard.

“Got anything stronger?” Abe asked, and when the butler turned bartender gave him a look, he tilted his head in the direction of the chairs he just left.

Benjamin followed the gesture, his frown growing more baffled as he asked, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“It means of course I want something stronger, if I’m going to have to deal with—”

Abe’s voice caught in his throat as he looked back and found both seats empty.

“He was just—where did he go?”

“Where did who go?” Benjamin asked, only to raise his hands in defense when Abe shot him a glare.

“Wilford! Wilford ‘Motherlovin’ Warfstache, who else?”

“…Who?”

It dawned on Abe that not everyone had spent the last few…months? Years? Whatever, too long, chasing the man responsible for so many murders, a man who left identities in his wake like a terrible party clown leaving behind crying children.

“The Colonel,” Abe whispered, not eager to explain himself to the other passengers. Not that he could explain what happened back at that house, not even to himself. “He’s here, on this train!”

Abe expected shock, horror maybe at his words, not the pitying gaze before Benjamin refilled his drink.

“Abe, I think I would have noticed if the Colonel were here.”

“You didn’t know I was here until just a few minutes ago.” Abe shook his head. “And he’s not calling himself the Colonel anymore, he’s going by the name Wilford Warfstache now.”

“Oh really?” Benjamin cocked a smile, like that was even close to the most ridiculous name Wilford had used since the party.

Wingleheimer, really?

“Yes, really.” Abe snatched up the drink before Benjamin could rethink giving it to him and said, “Look, just keep an eye out and tell me immediately if you spot him, got it? If he’s running around here unsupervised, there’s no telling what might happen.���

“If I see that man, I think I would do more than that,” Benjamin answered, his voice sharp enough to make Abe do a double take. There was a glimpse of anger and something venomous in that scowl before professionalism and his neutral customer service face took over again. “But I think this is simply a case of mistaken identity, detective. Please, do try to relax on this trip. You do so look like you need it.”

Abe growled and walked away, mimicking Benjamin’s words under his breath as he plopped back down into the same chair as before, on high alert for any sign of the colorful killer. He was not about to let himself be taken by surprise by Wilford, not again.

Except the longer he waited there, the more Abe’s imagination conjured up images of what Wilford could be doing elsewhere.

The imaginary bodies were piling up and Wilford was at the helm or whatever they called the front of the train by the time Abe leapt to his feet and dropped the empty glass at the bar before charging toward the front of the lounge car.

Where he promptly collided with Harold Apless once again, sending the man staggering back into the small vestibule between cars before Abe shot out a hand and steadied him.

“Sorry about that, Haps,” Abe said.

“It’s Harold Apless,” Harold said, straightening up and dusting himself down with a frown.

“Yeah, of course. Hey, Happy, you seen anyone come through here recently? Man about yay high, black mustache going a bit pink around the edges, colorful suit that would stand out under a blacklight?”

“That…sounds like a hard to miss kind of person,” Happy said, brow creased as he considered the image. “But no, I can’t say that I’ve seen anyone like that.”

“Damn. Well, if you do see him, tell me immediately. He’s…” Abe hesitated. He didn’t want to start a panic among the passengers, but he felt a bit of a kindred spirit in Harold Apless. Maybe it was the image of a man just trying to do his job, whatever that might be, or maybe it was the resting sad face that looked too tired to be dealing with any of this, but there was something about the poor schmuck that Abe took a shine to, which is why he slid the door to the lounge car shut behind him and lowered his voice. “Look, Wilford Warfstache is a dangerous man, a wildcard that can’t be trusted. You see him, you keep your distance if you know what’s good for you. Got it?”

Happy’s hand went to his waist, to the weapon Abe knew was hiding under that long coat, and he asked, “When you say dangerous…?”

“He’s killed people.” No point in beating around the bush, after all. “I don’t know what he’s doing on this train, but I’m going to take care of him.”

“Once you can find him?”

“…He can be a hard man to find sometimes,” Abe answered.

“In his bright clothes and pink mustache.”

Abe might have suspected some sarcasm there, but Happy’s face looked just as serious as ever. Still, considering he was letting the man in on the situation, Abe figured he deserved to know a little more about the guy, which is why he asked, “What about you, what’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Happy tensed.

“I know you’re packing heat,” Abe said, gesturing toward the barely concealed holster that Happy quickly covered. “And you had to say or do something to keep it from getting locked up during the trip. Looking at the clothes, general demeanor, the haircut under that ridiculous hat of yours, and that badge sticking out of your pocket, my guess is a government agent of some kind. Sound about right?”

Happy jumped and reached for his pocket, only for his concern to turn to confusion.

“You can’t have seen my badge, it isn’t even in my pocket!”

Abe grinned. “Yeah, I kind of took a long shot and guessed on that one. Thanks for confirming though, Agent Apless.”

“Don’t…don’t call me that, please,” Happy begged, looking around as though someone might have snuck into the small space between cars without their noticing. “Look, you’re…sort of right, but I can’t go into details or explain…anything, really. I’m here on highly classified business, and if you tell anyone who or what I am, I will deny it until…Until…”

“Until the cows come home?”

Happy’s brow creased, eyes shifting one way and then the other as he tried and failed to follow that train of thought. “What do cows have to do with this?”

Abe slapped Happy’s shoulder, a friendly gesture that nearly knocked the man off of his feet.

“Don’t worry about it, your secret’s safe with me. You got your job, I got mine, and I’ll leave you to it. But if you see Warfstache or need any help, just give me the word, got it partner?”

“Partner?” Happy shook his head. “No, no, I don’t do partners.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Abe said with a knowing wink before stepping around Happy to get to the door leading back to the sleeping car. “See you around, and good luck with whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

“…Thank you?”

Happy stared after the detective before shaking his head and continuing on into the lounge car, muttering under his breath about cows.

On the other side of the set of doors, Abe stopped once again to consider the compartments to either side with the new information that these were the only ones on this train. One of them had to belong to Wilford, and while he would have loved nothing more than an excuse to snoop through each and every one, thanks to the music earlier he already knew where to start.

Abe approached the door opposite Happy’s compartment and, after trying in vain to get the right angle to see something beyond the drawn shade, pressed his ear against the wood and listened.

Silence, except for the muted vibrations of the train, and then—

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Abe turned to the man looking out of the next compartment over with a slow, dignified air that did nothing to erase the startled jump and swearing that preceded it, and answered, “What does it look like?”

The man, who clearly worked for the rich snob from earlier, frowned at him with the slightest shake of his head to announce his disapproval, which made it all the stranger when he said, “I was just coming to look for you. My employer would like to have a word with you, detective.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to have a word with him,” Abe pointed out.

“I believe you’ll find it well worth your while, if you take him up on his offer,” the other man said, and when Abe seemed less than persuaded, he added, “We’re just asking you to hear him out, that’s all.”

“Oh, so it’s an offer now, is it?”

The other man just smiled and gestured to the open door of the compartment. Abe had better things to do with his time, but curiosity was one hell of a temptress that he’d never learned to ignore.

The compartment was big, bigger than it had any right to be, and Abe might have given more thought to how the dimensions of the compartment failed to line up with the size of the train car it was in if his attention wasn’t captivated by the absolutely ostentatious decor inside the room.

Exotic furs served as both rugs and covers on the absolutely massive bed that couldn’t possibly have fit through the compartment door, and there looked to be a private bar in the corner stocked with so many bottles that it made the bar in the lounge look bare by comparison. Shelves lined the interior wall, full of ancient books, designed more to show off the wealth and culture of their owner than to actually be read, alongside displayed curiosities from around the world, such as an elegant porcelain mask on a stand or the solid-gold honeycomb that would make anyone with even a slight tendency toward trypophobia deeply uncomfortable. Hanging on the wall adjacent to Wilford’s compartment was an oil painting of a depressed looking man dressed in a red jester’s outfit slumped in a chair, his stare haunting until Abe managed to look away and focus on the man lounging on the couch opposite him.

“What do you think?” the rich man asked, seeing Abe’s eyes make a circuit around the room.

“Bit much,” Abe answered. “You don’t believe in traveling light, do you?”

“Why should I? Traveling for business is fine and dandy, but a man likes to have the comforts of home every now and then, don’t you think?”

Abe shrugged and admitted, “I wouldn’t know. Home comforts aren’t really in my wheelhouse.”

“Would you like something to drink, detective? You seem a little tense,” the rich man said, and with a snap of his fingers and a gesture from his assistant to the private bar added, “Don’t keep our guest waiting, Mack. And fix something for me while you’re at it, why don’t you?”

Abe noted the brief, blink and you’d miss it spark of irritation in Mack’s eyes even as he plastered on a fake smile that would give Benjamin’s a run for its money and said, “Of course, right away sir.”

 “Yeah, you keep calling me a detective, but I don’t recall telling you as much when we ran into each other earlier,” Abe said. He distinctly remembered being referred to as a “low class, ill-mannered lout” in fact. “Or you ever telling me who you’re supposed to be.”

“Name’s Richard M. Bags, Esquire,” the rich man answered over the sound of Mack uncorking a new bottle, although Abe suspected that “esquire” was thrown in to sound important more than to actually mean anything. As if to emphasize the point Richard added in a low voice as though imparting a secret, “The ‘M’ stands for ‘Money.’ I’m what you would call filthy, ludicrously rich, if you haven’t intuited that little fact.”

“I might have picked up on it,” Abe said, taking the glass Mack offered him and glancing at the contents with a frown as the assistant handed a second glass to Moneybags over on the couch. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Richard swirled the contents of his glass around, savoring the aroma before answering, “I have attained my vast wealth and estates through a mixture of hard, honest work and good business sense—”

Abe snorted back a laugh at that, and in his defense, Richard tilted his head and admitted, “And maybe some not so honest endeavors, although nothing that could ever be proven before a jury of my peers, even if there were many of those around. My point, detective, is that one does not reach my place in society without stepping on a few little people along the way.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this song and dance before,” Abe said, spinning his finger around to gesture for the man to hurry up and get to the point. “Let me guess, you got rich, made some enemies along the way, and now the consequences of your actions are coming back to haunt you.”

 Moneybags bristled, like most men of his kind did whenever someone suggested their situation was far from unique or even interesting, but Abe had dealt with too many similar cases to be surprised, especially not when Richard continued, “People want me dead, detective.”

Richard pulled a note from the chest pocket of his suit and held it out to Mack, who passed it to Abe for inspection as Mack explained, “This was slipped under the door after the train left the station. I looked, of course, and checked with the conductor, but we didn’t see who left it.”

Abe unfolded the note and nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship.

“Words cut out of a newspaper, nice.” Seeing the other two men’s expressions, he explained, “You just don’t see people taking the time to craft a quality threatening note these days. Obvious why some of these words are individual letters pieced together, but what are the odds of finding an article with the word ‘stupendous’ in it?”

“I’m glad you find the threat on my life amusing, detective,” Richard said, ice dripping from his tone.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Abe corrected while he reread the note again. “That would make it even a little bit interesting.”

Big Dick Moneybags,

Your stupendous greed and arrogance will be your undoing.

Enjoy your last night on the express train of life.

“Almost poetic,” Abe said. “You get many of these?”

“Threats on my life? All the time,” Richard said with a nonchalant shrug. “Like I said, enemies happen. But that was before the brake lines on six different vehicles I have been in over the last month were cut, before the stage light at the theater last night fell on the seat I was supposed to be sitting in if I had not needed to go to the restroom due to some questionable dining choices, before a rabid raccoon ‘accidentally’ got locked in the elevator with me at the hotel…”

“Before someone poisoned your drink.”

Richard froze, the glass pressed to his lips.

Abe tilted his glass this way and that, observing the powder that had failed to disintegrate in the alcohol swirling around at the bottom. “Unless you’re just in the habit of putting weird crap in your drinks. I don’t know, I’m just riff-raff that prefers a hard whiskey over whatever it is rich people drink.”

Richard lowered the glass and stared at the same off-color sediment in his drink before looking to Mack, whose face had visibly paled at the detective’s words.

“It was a new bottle, I swear sir,” Mack said, glancing over his shoulder at the offending bottle. “It—it didn’t look like it had been tampered with or I would have never…”

He gulped, trembling so hard Abe almost took pity on him.

“Not impossible to tamper with a drink and hide the evidence,” Abe said. “I’ve seen some clever stuff using syringes, or you could just pop the cork and reseal it with fresh wax. Takes a bit of planning, and unless they went through and tampered with everything you’ve got lined up over there, a bit of luck to make sure you end up opening the right one.”

Mack took both glasses carefully, as though afraid even touching the alcohol might be dangerous, and Abe added, “Of course, we can’t be sure without testing it, but if I had to guess…”

He stuck a pinky in one glass and, ignoring Mack and Richard’s horrified reactions, put it to his mouth for a taste before confirming, “Oh yeah, I know this one. I’d give somebody an hour tops after drinking that stuff.”

Abe, registering that they were still staring, said, “What? It’s not like it’s iocane powder or something,” his numb tongue only slightly slurring the words.

“What should I do with this?” Mack asked.

“Toss it, of course!” Richard rolled his eyes while Mack walked the glasses to the private bathroom, and Abe considered suggesting they keep the stuff for testing before thinking better of it. “See, detective, this is exactly why I’m looking to hire you.”

“You want to what now?”

“Clearly there is someone on this train who wants me dead,” Richard said, leaning forward as he spoke. “It took me a minute to place you after our little…unfortunate run-in earlier, but I overheard your spat with the conductor back at the station. Your list of accomplishments might not have persuaded him, but I believe you could be the solution to my little problem.”

“Your little problem being someone on this train wants you dead?”

“And I’m willing to pay you handsomely if you find and deal with them,” Richard said, and in case Abe had any false notion on what he meant by dealing with this potential assassin, “With a bonus for extreme prejudice. I don’t want this cretin getting off the train at the next station, if you catch my drift.”

Abe whistled.

“Wow, you really are a horrible judge of character if you think I’m going to get my hands dirty for you.”

“What…Are you saying no, detective?” Richard stood up from the couch, visibly shocked. “After I just told you someone is trying to kill me?”

“One, I’m a detective, not a hired thug. Two, I don’t work for rich idiots, kind of learned my lesson on that one the hard way. And three, there’s probably less than a dozen people on this train, I think you can narrow it down to the people who want you dead without my help.” Abe lowered his voice and added, “My money’s on your boy Mack, but that’s just because if I had to work for you, I might be tempted to knock you off too.”

“What?” Mack said from over by the bar, panic in his eyes.

“Just a joke, kid, kind of like this whole conversation.”

Richard was shaking with barely concealed rage, and his voice was as low and as poisonous as that drink as he said, “Get out. I should have known better than to look for help from some washed-up, drunk excuse for a detective. Get. Out!”

Abe shrugged, already on his way toward the compartment door. He’d been called worse, hell, he’d said worse stuff to his reflection in the mirror every morning back when he was trying to do the daily affirmation thing. It certainly didn’t do anything to stop him from feeling like he’d just dodged a bullet when he stepped out of the elegant to the point of suffocating compartment and back into the familiar hallway of the passenger car.

((End of part 2. Thanks for reading!

Okay, so technically "Big Dick Moneybags" is what Mark was called back on a Thankmas stream back in 2018 and not even close to an "official" ego, but I'm going to pretend like it counts. Because even if Actor Mark isn't here, he can still be with us in spirit. And be just as much of an asshole.

Link to Part 3: Dining Service.

Taglist: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard))

#markiplier #fanfiction #murder on the warfstache express #wkm detective #wkm butler #big dick moneybags #iswm mack #agent harold apless #abe is quite the connoisseur of death threats #he's seen more than most #and not all of them addressed to him

[julewolfstar]

i have a wonderful sims family

Wilford Warfstache, Darkiplier, Actor Mark, Antisepticeye, and of course, Bean (let's just ignore the fact that he's technically also Anti)

now they all went to university to get smarter.

imagine being a sim and just minding your own business in class when you suddenly see Darkiplier. at university.

#actor mark #markiplier egos #markiplier #wilford warfstache #jse #antisepticeye #darkiplier #the sims 4

[aestheticsquirmles]

New from warfstache incorporated:

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CALL 1-800-STACHE TO MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE! WHAT WONDERS (or death) MAY YOU FIND WITH YOUR NEW HUGGABLE SOFT INTERVIEWER?

LET YOUR WILDEST IMAGINATIONS FLOURISH!

YOULL NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN!!

(Warfstache incorporated is not responsible for any dismemberment, stab wounds, gunshot wounds or death of any kind that may take place- not the actual wilford warfstache- no refunds after 12 hours- shipping and handling fees vary)

Made this on good ol MSpaint. I was locked out of my room due to construction and had nothing else to do with my time- and decided to whip out old reliable and doodle my heart away-

It’s so hard to draw with a mouse I about near ended my own life.

#wilford warfstache #markiplier #markiplier egos fanart #wilford warfstache fanart #wilford my beloved #bubblegum bitch #markiplier egos

[altr5312916195]

Egotober '23 - Time - Darkiplier - Wilford Warfstache (TWs:none)

Dark panicked a bit, watching the DA, they were too collected for the situation and it filled him with unease. “It’s Dark..” He corrected them. They smiled. “I know.” 

“It’s been too long, frankly, I can’t imagine hiding something like this for centuries.” Wilford’s voice came out sharp, angry, his pointed stare stayed on Dark. “Wilford you have to know it wasn’t on purpose.” 

“I feel it was.” The DA cut in. “You are not helping.” Dark said quickly. “And why would I help you?” They asked.  “That was centuries ago, we were children.” Dark told them, trying to pull himself together. 

“That’s not an excuse.” Wilford snapped. “Wilford don’t you gang up on me with them. I didn’t have a choice!” 

The DA scoffed. “Everyone has a choice, at least that was your philosophy when I knew you.” “You don’t know us anymore.” “No kidding.” 

“Do I know you?” Wilford asked. The cold tone in Dark’s voice dropped when he turned to look at his friend. “Yes, of course. You’re my closest friend.” “Then why,” Wilford cut Dark off, “did you hide them from me?” 

“Wilford it was a long night, you know that. Things happened that shouldn’t have happened, people were put in tough spots. You should know I wouldn’t do something I didn’t have to.” 

“You honestly think that you’re the hero in all of this?” The DA asked. “You didn’t have to do that, Celine just thinks she knows everything.” The aura around Dark swelled red at the mention of Celine. 

“Dark, I will give you leniency for the night, that one night, you hid this from me for centuries!” “It wasn’t with ill intent.” Dark tried to promise. 

Wilford turned away from him, walking up the small steps that sat next to the broken mirror, walking deeper into the house. “Wilford! Wilford please, come back.” Dark called out to him, taking a few steps forward, then hesitating. 

“You’re a coward.” The DA told Dark, who had their back to them. “I know..”

#egotober #egotober 2023 #egotober 23 #markiplier #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #who killed markiplier #wkm

[markipwiwer]

Yo dawg. I see that you have requests open! May I humbly request a fic about maybe the first time Dark wanted to be the submissive one in the bedroom? Maybe him being nervous? Then finds out that he really likes it? (Preferably with Wilfy, but it's your story!) I love your writing! I hope you have a lovely day!🌻

Yooo don't y'all love it when I Come Back And Do A Thing

-

Dark had never in a million years thought of himself as the type to kneel to another. Once upon a time, perhaps some part of him had kneeled. Even took pleasure in it. But it was not a comfort he could afford himself anymore. If he wasn't strong, in charge, totally dominant, he felt off. Like he was... Vulnerable. Just the thought made it sick to his stomach.

Although it certainly did arouse certain other parts of him that he'd rather not think about.

Being with Wilford, romantically speaking, had felt almost exploitative at first. It had been extremely slow going. He could only assume Wilford thought they were an item for much longer than Dark had considered them truly together. Of course he would have laid down his life for the man long before the point where they kissed, and even that little event had been... Well, it brought up a few long-forgotten memories for Dark that he had to come to terms with very quickly. Luckily for him, Wilford had been so drunk he'd forgotten it the next day, and continued to flirt casually for months after as if nothing had happened.

There were parts of Dark that Wilford was, under no uncertain terms, allowed to know about.

Of course, seeing Wilford with his shirt off, sweat glistening in the sunrays of mid-Fall, chopping wood off the edge of the forest, that had made Darks heart flutter something fierce, and he attributed it entirely to Celine. A force of habit, almost.

But the kiss... Well, Damiens signature guilt was bubbling up in his throat, wanting so desperately to be let out, like something needing to scream, and it took so much of Darks willpower to wait until Wilford was passed out a little later to have his break down.

The first sober kiss was frustrated and blood-fueled, and he almost regretted treating Wilford so rough after that particular mission. He wished their first time had been something a little more careful, a little more... Romantic. He wouldn't have used that word to describe his feelings towards Wilford at the time, but fuck, he'd gone soft for the man.

Which perhaps didn't aid him in his need to feel dominant in their relationship. Sure, his imagination had occasionally gotten away from him when Wilfords voice got low, and Dark noticed how much he was dwarfed in the maniacs presence, and how he could feel safe being held in place by him, perhaps by the neck, being taken in the way he knew Wilford did with so many of his interviewees...

But damn it, he was no one to be exploited in such a way. He knew very well how carelessly Wilford threw his flings away after he was done with them - he would not be thrown away. He was Darkiplier, he ran this whole damn enterprise, he wasn't about to be another one of Warfstaches floozies.

Well, at least it hadn't been the plan.

-

Read the full fic at AO3!

#wilford warfstache #darkiplier #darkstache

[hiding-under-the-willow]

everyone has diff takes on dark and wilford so I'm curious to know yours!!!! do you see dark as damien, a mix of damien and Celine, a mix of damien and Celine and the entity, or something else?

Okay okay okay this one is fun.

I generally think of Dark as a mix of Damien, Celine, and the entity, but not like. A balanced mixed. I think at any given time either Damien or Celine can have more control, with the entity's influence just kind of always being a constant (think Celine's warning to Damien about how being in control changes you. That's an effect of the house entity's influence). So anyways, like, pre-DAMIEN Celine is the one with basically primary control of the body, but I think Damien still had an influence, even if he wasn't aware of it while he was in the cabin illusion. Meanwhile at the end, when Celine hands over control to Damien, that doesn't mean that she doesn't have any influence on Dark's actions in the future. I don't think that it's any one of them making complete and separate decisions at any one point, I think Dark is like. His own thing that combines all three influence, and while one of the three might have more influence at any given time, it's never like just one of them in the drivers seat. I'm also of the belief that at any given time certain environmental factors can push any one influence to the forefront.

Also this is just a fun fact about the specific way I see both the twins and Dark and how I portray them in my art. I picture both Celine and Damien with moles under their eyes, but on opposite sides, so when I picture Dark I imagine you can tell which one of the twins is the one with more control based on which side of his face Dark's mole is on. So if you pay enough attention to my art you can tell who's influence is stronger at any given time. Most of the time it's probably gonna be Damien cause most of the stuff I make is post-DAMIEN in the timeline but uh. There might be one drawing I've posted before now where it's Celine in control 🤫

Anyways onto Dark and Wilford's relationship. Uh. All I can really say to summarize what I think of them is it's about the inherent tragedy they were left with at the end of wkm, y’know 🤌

So I think Dark has these kind of conflicting feelings on Wilford, especially in the beginning. Because Dark is made up of Damien and Celine, who both loved William in their own right, but that's muddled when it comes to Dark both because of the influences of the house entity that make Dark the villain Mark wanted, but also because of just how much of William was lost at the end of wkm as he became Wilford. So I think there was this long period of time where Dark essentially just avoided Wil at all costs, which eventually devolves into keeping an eye on him from a distance because. Well. It's hard to stay away. I think this is part of the reason Damien hears Wilford and Abe's argument from Wilford Motherloving Warfstache in DAMIEN, because Dark was looking out for Wil. And I think that Wilford's own connection to the breakdown of reality is what led to the way Mark was able to find Damien in DAMIEN. And I think Celine probably realized things were going south. And I think that is the point at which Dark finally speaks to Wilford for the first time. After Motherloving, before Mark does his whole thing in DAMIEN. I think Dark, mostly under Celine's influence, connects with Wilford, and Wilford, more lucid than usual, more aware of his past than usual after his encounter with Abe, knows wtf is up with Dark. Like. Maybe he doesn't know the full extent. But like. He knows that there are some remnants of his old friends in there, he recognizes Damien's face. And he doesn't say anything. And Dark, who has known him as this avoidant, half present, completely disconnected from reality guy for so long, has no reason to think that Wilford is even slightly aware.

I've said before that everyone should listen to boygenius's cool about it and think about Wilford and Dark. This is why lmao

I think this is what leads to Wilford approaching Dark after the events of Damien with the Markiplier TV idea. He wants to keep his old friend(s) around, even if he doesn't understand everything that's happened, even if he doesn't actually want to think about the reality of it. And Dark accepts because. Well. He can't think of a real reason to say no. And he cares about Wilford, even if he would struggle to admit that to even himself.

So I think it's this kind of thing where they're both aware, but refuse to talk about it. And they both care about each other deeply, and out of everyone in the office they probably understand each other the most easily out of everyone, but there's this weird tension, a kind of rift between them caused by their inability to talk about the past. Like they can communicate without even having to say anything, Dark gives Wilford a look in a network meeting and Wilford knows he needs to get the others under control, that'show easily they connect most of the time. But you put them alone in a room together and things get kind of tense and awkward really quickly. But it's even worse when they do get past the tension and manage to relax around eachother, because when they do it begins to feel just a little too much like old times, and neither of them handle that reality all too well. I think it leads Dark to be kind of avoidant and dismissive a lot of the time, which can lead to Wilford almost chasing after his attention. Sometimes this forces Wilford to step up and be the more grounded one, the one who forces Dark to face the issues they're skirting around, showing this kind of contrast in their relationship where upon first glance it might seem like Wilford is the childish, avoidant one out of the two, but upon further inspection he actually happens to often be the more emotionally mature of the two. I've got this little storyline in the fic I'm writing at the moment that focuses in on this dynamic in their relationship and I'm super excited to write it. On the other hand, chasing after Dark's attention also can bring out just as much of Wil's immaturity as Dark's, as he often will come up with outlandish, unceremonious, or even outright dangerous schemes that only lead to further arguments, because part of Dark's reason for keeping up the Markiplier TV thing in the first place is because it keeps Wilford busy enough to keep him from putting himself in stupid and dangerous situations (or at least more stupid and dangerous situations than he gets into with his show lmao)

So, yeah, to say the least things are incredibly complicated between them. It's about the tragedy <3

#atlas speaks #god don't even get me started on the misic i associate with these fucking guys #I've got a playlist for just like. Mark's stuff in general but most wkm. #and never before have i so completely understood the people who want to annotate their spotify playlists #listening to that playlist does something to me dude