Hi there! I'm Ash, a procrastinating roleplayer. I mainly write Markiplier Egos with a speciality in fluff! Requests are OPEN! gottawriteinfo is the mobile tag.
Hi there! My name’s Ash (she/her). I’m 30+, and in the GMT timezone (EST+5, PST+8). I’m a roleplayer in this fandom since 2018 and a slow fic writer, so there’s no schedule in when things are uploaded. This pinned post is gonna have the important tags and links for quick browsing.
AO3 - gottawriteanegoortwo
Mobile tag for info - gottawriteinfo
Tags
Character Writing Tags and Headcanons
Visitation Series (personally, I’d recommend hopping to AO3 for this)
WKM Role Swap (AO3 link)
D.arkstache
D.illiam
M.armien
Personal Favourites
Prompts and Inspiration - Whether you want an idea to send me, or need inspiration for your own writing, this is the tag to check!
S.elfshipping
x Y.ancy (there will be overlap with the visitation series!)
x D.ark
x W.ilford
x D.amien
x I.llinois
The general tag because I’m sure I’ll forget characters over time.
A detailed breakdown of preferred shows was passed to Tenna to better analyse as they made their way to an empty office. This was the information that he wanted to know, and the primary reason for his visit. As he was asking about the duration of record keeping for the breakdown -
The sound of harmonious saxophone filled the air.
Tenna groaned and turned back to the trio a few paces behind him. The Shadowguys had conveniently stopped and were looking at Snow. It was clear to see Tenna had made a mistake. This was simply their attempt to 'speak' to Snow. Rather than scolding the pair, he decided to hold his tongue and step into the office. However, before he could close the door, there was the sound of an odd beat. Snow was hitting the hardcover notebook with his free hand. The Shadowguys were quick to play along with a bouncy, jazzy tune.
What a clever decision! Snow was a natural. If there was a way to help build up his confidence, he could be quite the charmer. Maybe he could charm Tenna too.
The channel of thought was quickly flipped as he closed the door. He needed to focus.
---
This is a bribe to go read my pre-Big Shot Spamtenna fic. It's silly and cute. And Tenna is quite gay for a cute White Addison by the name of Snow.
It was the end of a work day. There were no visitors allowed in City Hall, but the security knew you well enough to let you sneak in with a knowing smile. One of them even held the door open for you so you wouldn't have to put down the box you were carrying.
Even if you were someone given 'special access', you still needed to be careful. If any other officials caught you, there was no doubt that you need to explain a lot to avoid arrest for trespassing after hours. Your usual route to the Mayor's office was taken with care, and you went as far as dramatically poking your head around corners to make sure the coast was clear. This had been done to add to the humour of the moment, but it ended up working in your favour when someone did walk past. The lady was fuming, and you belatedly realised that she had just marched out of Damien's office. Her anger clouded her vision, hiding you from view.
You needed to hurry.
-
The heavy, wooden doors leading into the Mayor's office were ajar; allowing you to successfully enter once you had side-stepped and used your elbow to pry the door open further. Once more, you dramatically peered in to make sure nothing was being interrupted.
Damien was alone. The black ribbon had been clipped off and placed on the desk. That wasn't an unusual action. Once the working day was done, Damien liked to simply be himself again with no titles. However, the flower had also been removed and appeared to have been crumpled in the process. It wasn't just the lady who had been frustrated at the late meeting. It went wrong for Damien too.
His back was to you. He hadn't heard you enter. That was for the best. When he was annoyed with something, he preferred to have a moment alone to collect himself. This was enough time for you to sneak over to the small coffee table to your right so the box could finally be put down on the floor. At least you could put your plan in action another way.
The box you had carried the whole way in had toy building blocks in it. You knelt down and set to work. Small structures were quietly set in two straight lines. You were focused on making a tower when a light cough overhead interrupted you.
You looked up.
"I know I always say 'Life is Ours to Choose... But what are you doing?" The brief fear of testing Damien's patience was quickly washed away when you realised there was a fond, yet exasperated, expression on his face.
You explained that you were creating your vision of the city with your proposed changes.
"Oh? And what would that include?"
Your simple response of 'sharks' brought a surprised snort out of the Mayor. When he picked up an arched block, you knew things were going to be alright. He would talk about what happened when he was ready.
Mermay - Merman!Damien x Reader - Love Through Research
A Damien!Merman x Reader!Researcher AU, except both are nerds who enjoy sharing their findings. A visual for Damien can be found here but it isn't the same setting as that fic. This Damien is a full merman as opposed to one born to humans with magical genes.
Disclaimer: I'm not someone with expertise in marine stuff. I have not asked the opinion of friends who are. We're here to be silly, have some cutes, and see whether I can write. Don’t think too hard about the technical stuff.
Also I have such a fondness for MerMay and wasn't able to muster the drive to do something, but I refuse to let the month pass without doing something!
Word Count: 2,316
—
—
There are many benefits to being a marine biologist.
You chuckled as the familiar meme drifted through your head. It wasn't wrong… Hopefully. You were still in the honeymoon phase of working as a researcher in an aquatic reserve, documenting the water quality in a designated area on the coast. The only indicator of where this border was took the form of small, red buoys dotted in a neat arc. Each buoy had a small sensor to help provide data that would hopefully remain consistent. It was rather technical work, but you were eager to prove yourself to your new colleagues through helping in any way you could..
You and the team you were working with had returned to shore after performing a quality control test on the buoys. While the small boat was taken to the shelter by the small crew, and your coworkers returned to the main building to start on their own tasks, you sat on the pier while your tablet updated. It was nice to have some peace and quiet outside before having to return to the computer.
As your eyes lazily skimmed the surface of the water, it came to your attention that there was something partially poking out of the water, looking at you.
The eyes were in a similar position to yours, which didn't give many options as to what it was. The logical assumption could be a seal, but that didn't explain the white colour, nor the strange protrusions on the top of its head.
There were several options for what you could do but… you were a scientist. Curiosity was the fuel that powered your heart.
"Hey there!"
The creature had frilled ears, something you only saw when the top of them perked up at your call. It was smart enough to understand when it was being acknowledged. Before you could congratulate yourself on such a clever observation, the creature disappeared under the water.
Then, something was climbing onto the pier.
You let out a panicked gasp and scrambled to your feet. There wasn't anything dangerous so close to shore that would pull you in, yet one could never be safe. However, being at a distance allowed you to see a smooth, pearl-white hand reach up into view and grip the edge of the pier. Then a second hand appeared.
No creature that lived in the area had hands.
All you could do was watch with wide eyes as a dumbfounded expression as the hands tightened their grip and hoisted up a person - no, something other than a person. Was this a mercreature?
-
The top half was human-shaped with that same shimmering white skin broken only by a dark green, woven satchel. A pair of frills were on his collarbone like a decorative piece of clothing. Its forearms had small fins with sturdy spikes that could flatten at will. These, in stark contrast to the white canvas of his body, had the same colouration: a warm, wine purple at the base that gradually shifted to a pale blue at the tips that almost matched the surface of the water. It reminded you of a sunset where the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, in the moments just before the night sky took over.
Unlike in the cartoons you remembered, there was no 'line' splitting the human-looking half from the fish half. With this individual, it was a seamless transition. His tail was long and smooth, with the same texture as the torso. Three frills - one in the middle and one the left and right - draped down the tail at varying lengths, bearing slight similarity to an eel. Instead of the tail tapering to a point, it instead erupted into a large, beautiful tail fin with the same sunset colours.
From a ‘person’ standpoint, it was ridiculous that you were still standing there instead of bolting back up the path. It was too late for that decision, not when it was fully aware of you. At least you could be thankful that it hadn’t lunged… Yet.
From a scientific standpoint, however, it was fascinating to observe. Its hands scrambled to smooth the protrusions, and you realised that they weren't horns at all. Instead, it looked like hair deliberately styled into larger sections to make it easier to position. It was black, but you noticed how there was a blue tint to it when the light hit off it just right.
Once it was happy with this, the mercreature turned to look up at you. The dark brown eyes and smile were distinctly human-like, but the nose was more like a flat 'bridge' with no clear opening. You could even see the hints of tiny scales reflecting in the sunlight.
"Hello to you too! I was hoping I could catch a researcher today."
It smiled at you. It was warm and friendly, and you found yourself sitting down again. This was a dangerous situation. You were going to be dragged into the sea and never found again. Despite this, you stayed. Placing the tablet beside you, you asked the mercreature what it meant by that.
Apparently, that was the exact question it had been hoping to hear. The satchel was lifted as it pulled out a small, clear plastic bag with a secure zip. Inside it was a notebook and a pencil.
"My name is Damien and I am what you call a ‘merman’. I'm currently undertaking a study on wildlife diversity along different coastlines to see how subtle changes in water temperature and quality can either encourage or discourage certain species. I had noticed a strange uptick in the tuna population compared to other areas nearby and wanted to see whether you had any insight for that."
You blinked, unable to think of an answer for a well-rehearsed question. It was such a switch from what you had expected that your brain needed a moment to reboot.
"Ah… Did I make an incorrect assumption?" Your silence was taken the wrong way, judging by how Damien shrank back slightly in guilt. You were quick to interrupt and insist that he was correct, but you weren't expecting a work question. You simply needed a moment to overcome that little shock.
The tablet was grabbed and unlocked so you could open up the spreadsheet that had recently been updated. This was your way to start explaining your answer: it could be due to the efforts to clean the water in this particular area to document sufficient evidence to support a larger clean-up project. A tap of the screen allowed you to show the bar chart showing the breakdown of different elements in the water and the gradual purification of the saltwater thanks to reduced chemicals.
Damien scooted closer as you continued explaining the different diagrams so he could get a better look. He began taking some notes, asking suitable prompt questions to gauge your opinion on matters such as the benefits of using technology alongside practical, hands-on investigation. Each question he raised, you answered to the best of your ability.
In turn, when the opportunity finally presented itself, you turned the conversation around to ask about the findings in his own research. His face lit up as he flipped the notebook to the start to provide some context into the reason for this research. It had started after he had conversed with a merfolk community in Alaska, who had noticed a change in the migration patterns of certain schools of fish. He had grown curious as to whether this was a natural shift, or one spurred on by humans. If he could piece enough information together, he might be able to get in contact with someone who would be able to start making changes. So far, it was proving to be difficult to get consistency in the cause for shifts.
You crossed your arms as you mulled this. It sounded like both studies were connected. The quality of the water could have an impact on where wildlife may choose to go. The work that the organisation you were part of was allowed to work in a small area - you gestured to the buoys gently bobbing in the distance - so there is plenty of water that is 'normal' in comparison. In the same way that the organisation was comparing the quality of the water, Damien could compare the preferences of the local fish population. Perhaps your conclusions could lead to good action, if they aligned.
It was only after you shared this idea that you realised that you were not in a position to encourage someone to join the team, even if it was in an unofficial capacity. Damien did not appear to have the same thought.
"You mean it? It would be fantastic to have an opportunity to work alongside humans who have specialised expertise in the matter. I have been educated, but I do not have any qualifications for my research. Mayhaps life experience will suffice?"
The comment about his education made you smile. It did explain why he was so well-spoken, as well as why his penmanship was so neat. You could only think of two people who could match that. This all only solidified your decision. You would help Damien. It was so motivating to meet someone passionate about the same line of work!
-
And so it went. For the following week, you waited on the pier each evening for Damien, regardless of whether your work had required you to step onto a boat. The two of you would swap what you had learned and, where necessary, gave requests for the other to look into.
For example: Damien had asked you to check about the types of sea urchins. You were able to talk to a coworker who shared photographs of three different species that had been located. In return, he obtained samples of dirt and water from two locations in glass jars that you provided him with. This had allowed you to compare the oxygen levels and the PH balance.
You worked well together. The visits were quickly becoming your favourite part of the day, and Damien was the highlight of it all. You found yourself drawn to his friendly personality and his intelligence. He was curious about so many things. His passion for his research was hard to miss, but it stretched beyond that. In casual banter, you learned that he had an optimistic view on the world, even if merfolk were raised to keep to themselves outside of trusted human communities. He believed in the idea that life was something that could be improved based on how you handle it. Your choices mattered.
One evening, at the end of that week, the topic of the research was forgotten about entirely as Damien told you about where he spent most of his time as a youth. He and his sister had befriended two quirky humans when they were all children, and he was adamant that those experiences gave him the confidence to spread his tail out and make his own decisions.
You asked whether merfolk lived alone.
"Not where I grew up. Some may leave to travel, but there will always be a place for me in my pod whenever I return. It will always be 'home', and I think you would rather like it there." Your surprise at what sounded like an invitation was missed as he continued, "It is a little warmer, but nothing too unbearable. There is access to plenty of shade, and the waters are cool and clean. You would certainly find an abundance of nature!"
It was enticing. You would love to see it, of course, but you couldn't help but wonder about the practicalities. Merfolk were so far removed from humans. Why take the chance?
Damien smiled. "I believe there is good in you. You would embrace the opportunity to learn new things about the world. The chance to broaden your horizons allows for a better view. What do you say?"
You couldn't simply up and disappear. You would need to be working a little longer to be able to book a chunk of annual leave. But at the same time, it was enticing. More time with Damien? You'd be a liar if you concluded you didn't want that.
After a brief deliberation, you agreed. This was quickly followed up by adding that it would need to be later in the year. Damien laughed that familiar, musical laugh.
"Of course not. I wouldn't want you under such pressure! If we returned too soon, my sister would be asking whether we are partners and why I hadn’t told her!"
As much as you wanted to believe that he meant "research partners", you couldn't shake the feeling that he meant something else. It would bug you if it was left open-ended. You asked.
His ears flattened, but the fins on his collarbone flared in a brief moment of embarrassment.
"W-well… I have rather enjoyed our time together and, though I know any interactions of this sort between us might be unorthodox, it isn't… Wrong. I have heard tales of numerous cross-species couples. I would not want to put you under pressure, but, should you ever want to…"
You placed a hand over his, promising that you weren't feeling pressured. However, you would like to take it slow. Otherwise, should this be discovered, your colleagues would have quite the field day with light-hearted jokes.
"I can respect that. For you, I would do anything." He leaned in until he was close enough to rub his cheek against your jawline. It was a soft, slow movement, perhaps prolonged to emphasise the sensation underwater.
You mimicked the action by gently brushing your thumb along the back of his hand and you were rewarded with a soft gasp. Judging by how he rested his head against your shoulder, it was the right thing to do.
Just a little bit of fluffy Marmien to cheer up a friend.
Word Count: 458
-
Rays of the morning sun slipped through the cracks of the closed curtains and stretched across an occupied king-sized bed. The light brushed against the cheek of the actor, stirring him awake.
It was Saturday, a morning where neither he nor his partner were needed in the world. That thought made Mark smile. He was dating a man who was in high demand. The Mayor's attention was required from dawn until dusk every weekday. But on the weekend, the Mayor was just Damien, who could slumber peacefully without worrying about meetings or conferences. Not even Mark turning to watch his boyfriend sleep could disrupt this.
Damien was beautiful, that was an obvious statement to anyone who ever met him. But it was in moments like this, where Damien was fully relaxed, that he became almost radiant in the eyes of the actor. Mark treasured the mornings he woke up first, if only to be able to appreciate the view longer. He would stay like this all morning if he could, taking in each detail on the other's face: every strand of hair that had fallen out of place, every faded blemish, even the light wrinkles (or 'smile lines', as Damien insisted). After all, beauty was as much in the so-called 'imperfections' as in the required 'perfections'.
Alas, the peace was broken by a loud knock on the bedroom door, followed by a call of "Sir? A letter has arrived for you."
Mark rolled his eyes. It was Benjamin, ever-dutiful as always, but blissfully ignorant of the moment he ruined. Damien had woken from the announcement. He shuffled in the bed with a disgruntled hum.
"I'll be back in a moment," Mark whispered, only to swiftly find himself unable to move. In that brief exchange, Damien had rolled over and wrapped his arms around Mark.
"I will only be a few seconds, my muse…." His voice was soft as he gently carded one hand through Damien's hair while the other tried to pry Damien's arm off. "I will get the letter and will be right back."
"... Later," Damien mumbled. "You tell me to leave things for later…"
The attempted escape dropped in an instant. Mark had made similar requests of Damien, hadn't he?
"Benjamin? Leave it on the table behind you. I'll look at it when I am in the mood for reading."
"Yes sir!" There was the sound of footsteps growing fainter until the pair were alone. Mark's gaze lowered to Damien.
"You know, you are quite the rascal," he teased, raising an eyebrow in amusement. As he lowered himself back into a lying position, Damien was quick to nestle in closer. He had gotten what he wanted in the form of falling back asleep in Mark's embrace.
With Yancy out of prison, he’s learning the hard way that the world is a lot faster than he anticipated. But it’s not just him feeling the pressure.
Is Illinois nervous about the relationship moving forward?
(Inspired by conversation with @oonessawness !)
Word Count: 1,877
-
Parole was nothing less than a culture shock. Yancy had spent two days holed up in his tiny accommodation in the halfway house in a failed attempt to get his head around everything that was going on. The lack of a strict schedule was a change he had been prepared for, but there were so many other things that had not been taken into account.
Technology! Noise! The stress of hurrying somewhere! Everything was so rapidly paced and intense. If you weren't in a moment, you missed it, and you were punished for it. Cars were fast, bikes were somehow faster.
Prison's pace was slower and steady. There was a repetition that allowed any day to be faced, no matter how daunting it was. The outside world, however, offered no such safety net. Even if there was a routine established, there were too many curveballs and very few opportunities to make mistakes. You either kept pace at breakneck speed, or you tripped and fell flat on your face. There was no in-between.
Yancy was fully prepared to spend the third day in his room, unprepared to look at the world beyond the window, when he got a simple text:
* "Lunch?"
-
Ah, Illinois. Despite all the difficult changes, it was him that reached out and grabbed Yancy before he sank into the abyss. They had lunch at a small café nearby that Illinois was fond of, followed by an afternoon in the library. It was peaceful, and it was a chance for Illinois to show Yancy different things about the changed world in a settled environment.
“It’s okay, Yance. You’ll get the swing of it in your own time.”
For every new adjustment to normal life, Illinois was right there. There was always the reassurance and support, even when Illinois was out of town and could only phone. No matter how frantic the stormy waves of the world were, Illinois was his anchor, keeping Yancy grounded and reminding him of the important things in the moment.
As the weeks passed, Illinois was right. Yancy found he could breathe again. He was able to get a small job that gave a decent wage, he managed to keep his space clean, and he was learning the art of budgeting. He was starting to understand the high speeds, and was figuring out ways to manage them in his own way. Sometimes he tripped, but Yancy could get back on his feet before anything bad could happen.
And all the while, Illinois was there.
But once this sense of normality helped Yancy feel more settled, he realised something: Illinois was taking a step back. At first, Yancy put it down to the adventurer simply giving him a chance to be more independent, as though taking the training wheels off a bike. But when Illinois declined an offer to go for a walk after grabbing coffee together, Yancy began to suspect something was amiss. This wasn’t like Illinois.
During his next shift in work, Yancy spent the downtime wracking his brain for ideas. He had been on his best behaviour. He had dressed up nicely, he hadn't said anything reckless, and he had even walked around unarmed. Was Illinois regretting his decision? He knew what he was signing up for when agreeing to date the former prisoner. Yancy hadn't kept the truth about his situation and the parole process a secret.
… Then again, had Illinois told him the truth about his own life outside of exploring? Yancy knew he was a teacher, but he didn't know the age group of the students, let alone the location of work. Yancy didn't have a home address for Illinois either. When he sent a letter, it was to a PO Box.
Was Yancy not good enough to be trusted? Was he some dirty little secret? Maybe the 'exploring' was going back to his real spouse! Maybe Yancy really wasn’t good enough now that he can be seen regularly! Maybe Illinois was seeing the trash that Yancy really was!
No. No. That wasn't right. Illinois had done plenty to prove that side of his life was genuine. Yancy had a small album that housed the postcards he had received. Illinois had shown him photographs. Everything about that side of him was the truth, and he meant it when he said he wanted Yancy there.
But now, that other side of Illinois was right here, waiting to be discovered - and there were no more obstacles in the way. It was clear roads where the cars could go as fast as they wanted. Was the change in the relationship too fast? Was he nervous?
A tap on his shoulder from a co-worker snapped Yancy back to the moment. Surprise quickly turned to inspiration. Why was it only Illinois who was required to reach out? Why shouldn’t Yancy give it a try this time?
-
"Hey, so I's been thinking -"
"A surprising development."
"Shut up." Yancy leaned forward to lightly shove Illinois' arm, prompting the adventurer to laugh.
"Sorry, couldn't help it. What's on your mind, Yance?"
"I finally have the all-clear from the higher-ups to have guests. You wanna swing by before youse head back?"
Illinois blinked. "Right now?"
"Yeah. I know youse wanna have time to prep before work tomorrow. It won't be a dinner or nothing, but why not see the place?" As Yancy spoke, he watched Illinois' reaction. There was a brief moment of apprehension, followed by a sigh as Illinois forced himself to relax.
"Yeah, why not?"
-
The walk to the halfway house was a familiar one. The pair had taken the journey numerous times together once it was discovered Illinois could get a bus nearby. Yancy kept the conversation light as they went through the reception and let the staff know that Yancy had a visitor. Once the all-clear was given, the pair began the short trip to Yancy's door. It was up one flight of stairs and down the corridor on the right..
"I know it ain't a fancy place, but it's clean and safe. The door's lock works a treat, and the folks either side of me are nice. There's a couple on the left, they's the one who made me that cheesecake, remember?"
The new environment was strange, but Yancy’s voice helped settle Illinois' nerves.It felt like a huge, unexpected jump in their relationship, but Yancy spoke so casually about life in the halfway house. He could never understand how Yancy could take all these changes in his stride once he recovered from the culture shock. It was effortless, almost.
"And here we are. Should be clean. If it ain't, you don't see it and pretend it's sparkling." The click of the lock, and the door swung open to reveal the small place Yancy called 'home'.
The accommodation was laid out like a basic studio apartment. It consisted of one large room with a small bathroom poking out on the right. The kitchenette was on the left, hugging the same wall as the door. In the corner was a small table with a chair. On the opposite side of the room was a window where a worn couch and a small coffee table were positioned. To the right, around the corner from the bathroom, was a drawn curtain hiding the bed from public view.
Yancy stepped into the apartment, turning on his heel with open arms to emphasise the space. "Think I could get used to this sorta living. What do you think?"
Illinois stayed by the door, leaning against the frame as he took the sight in. "It certainly looks more comfortable than your old cell." If Illinois were to estimate, the cell would fit in this apartment twice. It wasn't a huge upgrade, but it was glamorous for someone who was used to the bare minimum. "How are you adjusting to it?"
"It’s paradise! I can read a magazine and leave it out without worrying that someone's gonna penalise me! I can cook cheap crap whenever I want! I don't gotta wait for the shower. Oh! And I can put shit on display! Look! I has a shelf that ain't for clothes!" He hurried across the small space, beckoning for Illinois to follow. When Illinois didn’t move, Yancy returned to the door to face Illinois. He reached out, took one of the adventurer’s hands, and slowly led him toward the living area.
There, at the wall beside the couch, was a small set of shelves. The collection was sparse, mostly consisting of little photo frames and ornaments. Yancy let go of Illinois’ hand and crossed his arms. "It ain't much yet, but I's planning to get a few more things. Maybe some sorta fake plant? Need a bit of colour, but I ain't ready for the commitment of a real plant!"
Yancy's words were partially acknowledged by Illinois, who silently approached the shelf. He lifted a tiny elephant carved from jade, only to put it down and raise a wooden sculpture of a deity that fit neatly in his hand.
"Yancy… Most of this is the stuff I gave you."
"And?"
Illinois looked like he was going to answer, only to change his mind and examine the shelf. It was rare for Illinois to hold his tongue.
"And," Yancy repeated after a short silence, "There's nothing wrong with that. The Gang is precious to me, yeah, and I miss 'em every day… But you means the world to me, Illinois." It was serious when Yancy used the adventurer's name rather than the endearing nickname. "Every day, I get to come over here, and see all these things… And it's a reminder that even though I never deserved it, I got to meet a guy who loves me. And every day, I tell myself that I wanna make him proud. I wanna be the man worthy of that love."
Illinois took in every word in silence, helpless as Yancy took one hand in his again. This time, Illinois’ hand was squeezed softly.
"I know youse would normally start on 'bout how I is worthy and all that, but that ain't the point. Everywhere you went, you thought of me. I wanna get to that point where I can give you reminders of everything that makes me think of youse." He smiled, before remembering why he was talking about this. "This ain't me trying to put pressure on youse or nothing. I just… Youse waited for me. And I is happy to wait for youse. Now that I'm out here, I don't feel that pressure to act fast no more. I wanna take it slow. I wanna go buy coffee and fuck up youse's order 'cause I keep forgetting what's a cappuccino or what's a mocolotive or whatever-the-fuck the coffee’s called. I wanna go on them little walks 'round the block. I wanna spend a full day at the museum. I just wanna live in this crazy world knowing that youse is there too. One day at a time, yeah?"
"Yeah." Illinois smiled, stepping closer so he could lean against the shorter man. "Thank you."
Yancy grinned, lightly bumping his head against Illinois' jaw. He didn't need to say anything - there was plenty of time ahead of them for words.
Do you like to create? Do you want a very real chance for your work to be published? Boy do I have the magazine for you! Submit either to our general submissions or our themed Labyrinth submissions for a chance to be published in my school’s literary magazine! You’ll get a free copy of the magazine if you’re chosen <3
One little art trope that I’ve really enjoyed seeing is when Dark is drawn interacting with Damien and Celine when they are children in some sort of AU or what-if setting. Examples of this are here and here. I’ve decided to finally contribute in my own way with my own spin on the setting!
I’ve wanted to try new approaches of narrative, in particular first-person and writing from a child perspective. In this case, I decided to combine the two into the exploration of a journal from a forgotten time in the past.
-
Word count: 2,590
Warning: there is a strong recurring theme of neglectful parenting throughout the entire piece. Please be mindful if you choose to read this.
—
[The latest addition to the museum is a diary that was found in [redacted]. The diary was written by an eight-year old boy and appears to have been an assignment in creative writing as assigned by a tutor. The journal was a chance for the child to practice cursive in a more casual manner while exploring his creativity with a story that was somewhat unusual for the time period.
For ease of access, we have provided a written transcript of the journal below.]
---
---
October 12, 10pm
Dear Diary,
My tutor (Mr. Bentley) has told me I have to write a diary to practice my handwriting. He said it would be 'more fun' than other tasks. Because I can talk about myself and my day.
My name is Damien. I am eight years old. I live with my parents and my twin sister Celine in a big house. My father works as a lawyer. I will be a lawyer too when I am grown up. I take lots of classes to make sure I am smart enough to be a lawyer.
Today I woke up and had breakfast and went to school. Then I came home from school. I had a glass of water and then Mr. Bentley arrived to start my tutoring classes. Then I had supper and finished my homework. Then I went to my room before bed to write this diary.
This isn't fun.
I don't want to write a diary. Sorry.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 13, 11pm
Dear Diary,
I told Mr. Bentley that I didn't want to write a diary. He said I had to if I wanted to have nice handwriting. But then he said that I could write about whatever I wanted instead of what I did for my day. He said it wouldn't be corrected like all my other schoolwork. I didn't have to show him the diary if I didn't want to.
He said that maybe I can find something fun to write about.
I don't know if I do anything fun. I can't think of anything good enough to write about.
Sorry if I never use you again, Diary.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 17, 9pm
Dear Diary,
I saw a man at the bottom of the garden today.
I was sitting in the back parlor with Celine. I wanted to go outside to get some air and take a break from study. It was raining today and Arthur (our butler) said I needed to wait until it was dry.
You are a book and cannot see so I will tell you about the garden. The garden is long and narrow. It has high walls and big bushes beside the walls.. There are steps that go to different higher parts. Arthur said these are 'levels'. The top level is grass. That is where I am allowed to sit if I can go outside. Mark said the garden is too small to run in. But I said this isn't a running garden. It is one for the grown ups to walk in.
But today there was a man standing on the grass near the back. He wore a white suit and his hair was messy. Then he saw me.
I ran to get Celine. But the man was gone by the time we were back at the window. Celine said I was seeing things.
Diary, you are going to help me remember what happened. I know what I saw.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 18, 6am
Dear Diary,
I saw him again!
This time I was in my bedroom! I was getting ready for school and looked out the window. I could see him from upstairs and he was right there at the bottom of the garden! I didn't move this time. I waited. He was looking at something on the ground floor. Then he turned and walked away.
But he walked into the bushes. As I told you in another entry, there is a wall behind the bushes. Is there a secret gate?
Diary, I think we need to look into this after school.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 18, 4pm
Dear Diary,
As soon as I got home I went to the garden. I went up all the steps and looked around. The bush I saw the man walk to is big and I could see a wall behind it. I moved some branches with my hands to look for a gate. I couldn’t find one. The wall is really tall too. I don’t know if any grown up could climb it.
Janet helps with the flowers and she asked me what I was doing. I asked if someone big could climb the wall. She said no. Then she said I might have seen a bird.
Is there a bird that looks like a person?
I should ask Mr. Bentley when he arrives but I don't want him reading you, Diary. Maybe I won't ask.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 18, 10pm
Dear Diary,
I didn't see the man again for the rest of the day. I did not see a big bird. I hope the man is in a house. It's too cold to be outside.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 19, 11pm
Dear Diary,
The man wasn't here today. Maybe he left.
Celine hasn't seen anyone new around the house. But there is a party tomorrow. Maybe the man is a friend of Father's. She said she will help me look at all the guests.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 20, 6pm
Dear Diary,
The man was not at the party. Celine called me stupid. I called her stupid. She pushed me and I kicked her.
We were both sent to bed with no supper.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 21, 7am
Dear Diary,
Father shouted at me today because of yesterday when I woke up. He said I will bring shame to the family if I keep acting out and being rude.
He took away the book I was reading and told me I was not allowed to eat until supper.
He nearly took you away until I said that this was school work. He sent me into the study and told me to do my weekend homework.
It's not fair. Celine started it and didn't get in trouble…
From, Damien.
---
---
October 21, 12pm
Dear Diary,
I don't feel good. My head feels funny. I stood up to get my history book and I fell. Only that Arthur was beside me I might have hurt myself.
Arthur was angry. I think he was angry that I wasn't working hard enough like Father wants, but he told me to sit outside to get some air.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 21, 2pm
Dear Diary,
The man came into the garden while I was in the garden. I was lying on the grass when I saw someone move behind me.
It was him! The man!
I think he is sick. His skin is grey. Maybe that's why his hair is messy.
I think he was surprised to see me there. I asked him why he was in the garden. He didn't answer and he asked me if I was alright. He knew my name. I never told him my name.
I said I felt a little sick, but I would be better soon because I had homework to finish.
The man sat on the stone step beside me and took a small orange out of his pocket. He peeled it and said I could have it.
How did he get an orange? They are a summer treat.
The man said that I was sick because I was hungry. I forgot I hadn't eaten since the party yesterday. The orange would help me feel a little better. I was told by Arthur never to take things from strangers. The man smiled and said he was a friend.
He did know my name. I said I didn't know his name. But I wanted to be friends.
He said his name was Dark. I asked why he was called 'Dark' if he had the whitest suit I ever saw.
Dark laughed. He said it's a nickname. That's when someone gives you another name that isn't your name. I asked if it's like how we call William ‘Will’. He said yes.
We talked. He had a really low voice. Sometimes it sounded funny.
He said I'm not a bad son. Brothers and sisters fight. That's what they do.
I think he wanted to talk more but he saw something in the house and said he had to go. I asked if he would be back. He said he isn’t a bird but it is a secret how he gets into the garden.
He said that he'd be there for me. I would only need to ask for him by name if I didn't see him. I don't know what that means.
He left a few minutes ago and I went inside and I'm trying to write everything before I forget. He was really nice.
The orange is nice too.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 21, 10pm
Dear Diary,
Celine doesn't believe me. She said she saw me in the garden but I was talking to myself. She said Dark was an invisible person and that I was being stupid again.
I pulled her hair and left her room.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 23, 4pm
Dear Diary,
I saw Dark again.
Mr. Bentley was here today after school so I needed to be fast. I crashed into Celine while running out to the garden.
I gave him this diary and asked him to write something in it so I could prove to Celine that he was real.
He wrote the message that's at the back of this book. There's no way Celine will call me stupid now.
From, Damien.
---
---
[This entry was at the back of the book. As we suspect this is the 'message' mentioned in the previous diary entry, we have elected to include it here.]
October 23rd.
Dear Celine,
I have been told you cannot see me. That's quite alright. Your brother isn't lying when he says that I am here.
Kind regards,
"Dark".
---
---
October 23, 9pm
Dear Diary,
Celine FINALLY said sorry for calling me stupid so many times. She saw me let go of the diary and saw it float in the air. I couldn't show her the message before Mr. Bentley kicked her out before my tutoring class started.
She doesn't know why she can't see him and is angry that Dark is hiding. I don't know why I can see him.
I said sorry for hitting her and calling her stupid. She accepted the apology and said I needed to help her meet Dark.
I think that is fair. I think Celine will like Dark too.
From, Damien.
---
---
October 25, 11pm
Dear Diary,
I had too much homework to look for Dark yesterday. I had lots today too. But I could go outside with Celine before it got too cold and dark.
Dark was surprised to see me and her together. I pointed and told Celine that Dark was right there. She said I was lying. I gave Dark my pencil to hold and she saw it float in the air.
She still can't see him but she could hear him a little better the more we talked. Dark told us that both of us are able to 'see' and ‘hear’ things that others cannot but it takes time to learn how. Celine said it wasn't fair that I could do it without trying. I don't think it isn't fair. Celine can do loads of things better than me and I don't get angry.
Dark asked the two of us to always take care of each other no matter what. No matter if we are happy or angry, we still love each other. He said that's very important.
Celine said that she always looks out for me because she is the big sister. Dark patted the top of her head and said she should keep doing that.
I'm big enough to take care of myself.
We talked for a little while before we had to go back inside. Dark gave me back my pencil and said he won't be able to stay here all the time like he had before. He had something important to do. But he reminded me that I can call on him if I need him.
Mayhaps I will try one day.
From, Damien.
---
---
November 2, 6pm
Dear Diary,
I haven't seen Dark. I called his name and he didn't appear. I hope he is alright.
From, Damien.
---
---
February 3, 1am
Dear Diary,
I didn't do well in my mathematics test. Father was very angry at me. He said that I cannot be a good lawyer if I can't problem-solve fast enough. He said that I was wasting everyone's time and money by not getting the best grades in my tests. He said I was going to have extra mathematics classes on Saturdays until I never do that bad again.
He sent me to bed before supper. I can't sleep.
Celine and Mark have been busy with the school play. William is helping his family after school. I haven't seen Dark.
I wish there was someone I could talk to.
From, Damien.
---
---
6.10am, February 3rd
Dear Damien,
I have finally managed to help you fall asleep. There is not much more I can do to provide you further comfort, but I hope this letter in your journal will suffice.
You are a wonderful, intelligent little boy. I do not think it is reasonable for your father to be disappointed in your grades. I checked the paper that was still on your desk and you only made six mistakes out of fifty: half of them being unanswered questions that you ran out of time for. That is an 88% grade, which is remarkable when you are covering a topic taught to twelve year olds that you are only learning outside of school.
I am very proud of you, Damien. I know you are capable of so many good things.
You do not deserve to be left up here alone. You should not be allowed to waste your days going from school to tutors to other classes with no time to be yourself. There are so many things in life that aren't judged by how well you perform in a school test or a piano recital. Your life is more important than results.
If I were not restricted by rules that I cannot explain, I would take you and your sister under my wing and bring you somewhere better, where you can play games and see the world beyond carefully curated gardens and stacks of books. Unfortunately… I cannot break these rules. However, it is unjust to simply leave it there.
Though I cannot do what I know is best, I refuse to accept that the 'rules' are more important. I will still find ways to visit you and make sure you are safe. So long as you are still able to see me, I will protect you when I am called upon.
You are much better than what your parents try to tell you, Damien.
I hear movement in the corridor. I suspect it is Arthur coming to see how you are doing. I will be gone by the time you read this, but know that my absence does not mean a lack of care.
You are loved so much more than I could possibly put into words.
Another year has come and gone, but this time, Damien is by himself due to everyone close to him having other obligations. But that’s alright, as a city comes alive on New Year’s Eve with fireworks.
But can he find a good place to watch them?
Warning: There’s suggestions of PTSD from firework explosions, but it is not discussed in detail.
Previous New Year fics: The Perfect Year, New Year(?), A Bumpy New Year’s Eve
Word Count: 1,387
-
Mark had gotten big news on Christmas Eve. He had been invited to a big event in a city out of state. With the journey that it would take to get there, he made the impulsive decision that himself and Celine would spend New Years together on vacation. Celine was surprised at this announcement, but it had been some time since Damien had seen his twin so excited about something.
He happily waved the pair off on the 29th, and left the Manor in the care of the staff.
With Mark and Celine out of town, and William on duty in the barracks, it would be the first time in many years that Damien would ring in the new year on his own. Even if it brought a small pang of loneliness, he didn’t mind. The other option was to spend it with his parents, and… He would rather do a full night of office work instead.
The staff in the Mayoral residence were given a few days off. He didn’t want them to feel they had to keep him company, not when he had a plan all his own.
As the night rolled in, he pulled on his coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and set out for a late walk. The fireworks were already starting, and they painted the pavement in flashes of blue and green. Damien had spent his whole life living in shades of black and white. Seeing the world alive in colour brought with it the simple joys of life.
Would the burst of colours symbolise the beginning of a brighter future, or would the fading to monochrome reflect the status quo continuing despite his best efforts?
Or… Could Damien stop thinking about work and politics for once and actually appreciate the moment without attaching symbolism to everything?
-
With that plan in mind, his eyes raised skyward once more in a quest to find the ideal spot to watch the fireworks. He had half an hour, that would be plenty of time to explore the city on foot. His destination was unknown, but Damien trusted his feet to lead him in the right direction. He simply needed somewhere with few obstacles overhead and a clear sky. Everyone would be either at home or with friends. There wouldn’t be anyone on the streets… But a hand grabbing his wrist and sharply tugging him backward swiftly proved otherwise.
“Damien? What the devil are you doing out here walking with your head in the clouds?!” The man was a head taller than him, eyes almost as wide as the large, circular glasses. Both his hair and moustache were unkempt, and his outfit was a simple shirt and trousers.
“William?! I could ask you the same thing! Aren’t you supposed to be on call in the barracks?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t stick it tonight. I forgot how close to the centre the barracks is, and everything is - it’s loud. I needed to get some air, but it’s worse out here than it was in there!”
Damien’s gaze lifted skyward again. He hadn’t registered the sound, while William couldn’t focus on the colour. There had to be a middle ground…
“Come back with me. I have an idea, but I need my car.”
“Your car? Dames, I really don’t think hiding in -”
“No no, trust me… Please.”
-
Damien held William’s hand the entire walk back, squeezing the soldier’s hand tightly every time a firework went off overhead. William was one who often kept his worries and fears to himself, but now was not the time to talk about it. Instead, Damien wanted to keep William company, especially now that they did have the chance to spend time together.
When they returned to the Mayoral Residence, Damien quickly unlocked the car and gestured for William to take the passenger’s seat.
“I really don’t think this will help,” William admitted quietly. “A car isn’t soundproof. The metal is far too thin to provide any sort of muffling.”
“I know. But that’s not why I wanted the car.” Damien stuck the key into the ignition and turned on the engine. The car sputtered to life and set off. Normally, Damien had a driver, but it was nice having his own independence. “It will help us get to our destination.”
“Our destination?”
“Yes. Somewhere outside the city. I think the hills would be nice to watch the fireworks. It should be far enough away to lessen the impact of the sound.”
“Ah.”
After that, silence fell. They were the only ones on the road, and both were made keenly aware of how quiet the streets were. No one would be out until the new year rang in. For now, the car was the only disruption to the tranquil night. Every road was quiet, and it was the first time that Damien was greeted by only green lights. His light-hearted comment about wishing he could get green lights when he was going to meetings fell flat. William really was troubled by this.
However, when they reached the edge of the city, William asked if they could stop by his cottage. Damien obliged, asking whether William wanted to go home instead. The soldier refused, reminding Damien that he would need to go back to the barracks after this. He didn’t give further clarification before he hopped out of the car and dashed inside.
Damien, too, stepped out of the car and leaned against it to look toward the sky. He couldn’t see the actual fireworks, instead being forced to be content with the faint flashes of colour. It reminded Damien of one of his visits to Mark backstage in the theatre, where the poor actor was fumbling as he tried to help hold a spotlight in place while a member of the backstage crew reattached it.
The view was pretty, but it wasn’t as impactful as when he was walking. If they stayed here, this wouldn’t do at all. But if it made William feel more comfortable, then he would gladly take the sacrifice.
“Dames?” At the sound of his nickname, Damien turned around just in time for him to be covered by something red.
“Since we’re going out, I thought I’d bring something to make it a date.” William lifted the blinding item - a blanket - so he could reveal a small basket with a bottle of wine and two glasses. The fact that William had specified they were going ‘out’, along with the items, had Damien blink as he processed the information.
“Will? You had a basket?”
“I’ve wanted to invite you out for a picnic for months but I’ve been too nervous to do so.”
“Nervous? Why would I refuse a picnic with the man I adore?”
“Because I can’t make bloody presentable sandwiches, and I’m not asking the Chef in Mark’s place for help. He’d never let me live it down!”
Damien laughed, taking the basket so he could put it in the back seat. “I certainly don’t object to a liquid lunch with you tonight.”
-
The further out of the city they went, the lighter William’s mood became. He was starting to register how the explosions of the fireworks were quieter when viewed from a distance. He was why Damien nearly twisted his ankle with how fast William dragged him up the hill.
The sky was clear, the view was perfect from the hill, and yet not a single other person had the idea to travel out. Damien held the basket while William spread out the blanket. The solider sat down first and offered a hand to Damien, and he was gently guided to rest his head on William’s shoulder.
The plan to share the wine was forgotten as the pair simply enjoyed the unexpected company of the other. Damien had even dozed off against William, but he hadn’t realised until he was startled awake by a sudden barrage of noise in the distance.
William chuckled, unaffected by the sounds. “I think it’s the new year, Dames.”
Damien rummaged in his pocket for his pocket watch, and gasped when he realised the time was indeed just after midnight. “You’re absolutely correct. Happy New Year, my love.”
“Happy New Year, dear.”
William leaned down to kiss the Mayor, and the pair were bathed in flashes of blue and yellow.
As Captain, you can finally return to your home planet, however briefly that might be. Your first free day happens to fall on the third Sunday of the month.
You thinking what I’m thinking?
Word Count: 1,976
(Note: Can be viewed either as romantic or platonic)
-
Ever since the colonists had settled on the new planet, you had received a request from the main association on Earth to provide an in-person status report. You had put it off because difficulties arose that you wanted to sort out. However, it also allowed Mark time to set to work on a new project.
You thought he never would have wanted to be anywhere near the Warp Core, but he promised he had one final spark of inspiration. You checked in on him frequently, and within three weeks, he had made an amazing adjustment to the computer. Somehow, he had managed to create a ‘route’ linking two areas between the two planets. The warps could happen safely now, cutting a trip that would have taken decades into a week, maximum
It meant you could finally agree to meet delegates in person and provide the required updated and progress reports. The plan had been to take a small crew who would help with other tasks on the home planet and leave the Crew Leads in charge, but Mark insisted he would tag along. He didn’t need to explain why - both of you wanted to make sure no one else remembered the events of the Paradox.
-
On Earth, your arrival was kept a secret, and both of you attended numerous meetings and conferences to provide updates and projected plans. You negotiated supplies to be brought back to help the colony’s establishment, and in return you provided suggestions on what could be done to help enhance the colony’s development.
Dawn broke on Sunday morning by the time you and Mark could drag yourselves out of the meeting room and get some fresh air on the walk back to the hotel. Conversation was good, but it was clear that Mark’s thoughts were elsewhere. This was only confirmed once you entered the hotel lobby. He paused, and stretched, hoping to relieve some tension from his stiff back.
“Well, Captain. I would love to talk more, but I think I’m gonna get some shut eye. I have a flight to catch this evening.”
This was new information, and you made this clear. What was he up to?
Mark’s face broke out into a wide grin. “I’m gonna go home and see my Mom. She’s no idea I’m here and I wanna surprise her tonight. I’ll keep you updated!” With a salute and a laugh, he hurried to his room.
A surprise visit? It was a good idea. You both had a few days before any official business resumed. But it wasn’t quite as easy for you as it was for him. You could visit your own family, maybe, and this idea spurred you to pull your phone out of your pocket as you made your way down the corridor to your room. A quick press of buttons unlocked the screen to the calendar page where you had last used it to schedule meetings, but something caught your eye.
The current date was highlighted. Sunday 15th. Not only that, it was the third Sunday of the month.
Wait a minute.
Once inside your room, you quickly checked the time, then opened the phone app. You had a call to make, and you needed to make it now.
-
The morning routine was the same as it always was. Get up for morning call, shower, have breakfast, then tidy the cell in the short lull before he was called for his first shift of the day. At least it being Sunday meant Yancy had a little longer in his cell. He could finally fold his spare prison outfit properly. It had been tossed on the desk on Saturday morning and he hadn’t time to fix it.
A knock on the heavy, metal door startled him.
“Uh… Yeah?”
The door opened. Officer Smith poked his head around the door. “Morning Yancy. You’re gonna need to get yourself ready.”
“For what? My shift ain’t for a while yet.”
“Well, you’ve got a visitor who wants to see you today.” Officer Smith looked rather pleased at this announcement, but the sentiment wasn’t shared with Yancy. He sighed and turned back to folding a t-shirt.
“Look. I, uh, I don’t mean nothing bad by this, but I ain’t going. I don’t got a reason to.”
“C’mon Yancy…”
“It’s true though. I don’t got any cousins in the area, or any schoolmates, or former work colleagues or whatever. I don’t wanna go all that way just to see that I is face to face with some reporter or snotty kid trying to do a psych report for college again.”
“Then what about a friend?” Warden Murder-Slaughter opened the door wider so he could also be seen. “I know yer a good fella, Yancy. It’d be rude ta leave a friend waitin’ out in th’ visitation room when they came all this way just to see ya.”
The shirt dropped from Yancy’s hands to land in a crumpled heap on the table.
-
Happy Trails had two areas dedicated for visitation. The first was for the unscheduled ‘drop-ins’, where you stepped into a booth and spoke through the phone. This space had multiple purposes: people who happened to arrive in, or were seeking an interview, people on official business like lawyers, or prisoners who were deemed too ‘dangerous’ to be in direct contact with visitors. This was where you had last seen Yancy, when you were thrown out of one wormhole and dropped onto a chair. You don’t know how long it had been since he had last seen you, but it must have been some time in the past if he was still using the cover of ‘space camp’. Once the dust had settled and the universe was normal again, you had remembered this, and felt guilty. He had been so surprised to see you, like he had expected you to never return.
Even now, he assumed you were on another planet entirely. Though, this time around, you were keeping quiet on purpose. You wanted to see the reaction.
By phoning ahead, you were able to arrange the visit in the public visitation rooms. Traditionally, this was the default location. Since Happy Trails focused more on rehabilitation, this room was one that would help bring a sense of ‘normality’ in an isolated setting. It was a large, bright, open room with tables and chairs dotted around the place. There were guards on duty, but if you had your back to them you could pretend you were simply catching up in any public setting.
A guard had assigned you to a small table beside the window. You shrugged off your jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. The plan had been to sit down, but a shout of “Yancy wait -” caught your ear. Your turned your head in the direction of the shout and had no time to react to a man running at full speed and charging into you for a hug. The impact hurt, and you collided with the floor, but you didn’t care as you returned the hug.
Of course, it was barely a few seconds before a guard pulled Yancy back onto his feet by the back of his t-shirt, while the Warden offered you a hand up.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Captain.” The Warden smiled as he patted your shoulder - you were able to hold steady and ignore the pain. “Normally we’d be raising alarms ‘bout a prisoner physically assaulting a visitor but… I think we can make an exception to this.”
You chuckled, turning your attention to see whether Yancy was okay. To no surprise, the greaser was lost for words, looking utterly dumbfounded as he stared at you with wide eyes. With this lack of response, the amused guard who had hoisted him up guided him to the free chair and encouraged him to sit down. Then, just for good measure, the guard gave him a light pat on the shoulder before he and the Warden walked away.
Silence settled in for the first few minutes, and you decided not to push Yancy into talking. In time, he reached forward and patted your arm, still holding an expression of disbelief.
“This don’t feel real,” he admitted, finally regaining the ability to speak. “Youse is… here. And not way out there. But… How? I thought this whole thing was ‘sposed to be a one-way deal. Once youse left… Youse wasn’t ever meant to come back.”
That was true. When you had agreed to the position, you had assumed it to be that way. However, Mark’s ‘extra experience’ with warp core technology, the distance was a lot shorter than it should have been. What should have been impossible was now possible.
Yancy’s head lowered as he processed this. “So… Wait. Why did youse come here, then?”
You shrugged. Wasn’t it obvious? You wanted to see him again. You had to make up for lost time.
“Yeah, and the fact that youse had to go before youse could properly hear that song. But that’s okay! I know youse is super busy and I don’t hold that against you.” You couldn’t ignore the way his expression softened when he realised that you were here because you wanted to see him.
You decided to bite the bullet and ask whether anything else weird happened the last time you visited. You needed to know what he experienced when the universe was in disarray
“Aside from the sudden leaving? Nah. Everything was the same as it always was, y’know? I mean, the few days afterward are a bit blurry, but that tends to happen. Prison’s got that routine, y’know? Very easy to lose track of the days if youse ain’t careful, so it ain’t nothing to worry ‘bout. I guess that’s further proof that nothing weird happened, eh?”
That did a little consolation, but the memory of the last visit brought another question to the forefront of your mind before you could stop yourself - did he spend many other visitation days waiting in one of those booths?
A hand slowly rubbed the back of his neck. “... A few. I knows I wasn’t ‘sposed to ‘cause I knew youse was gone by then but I couldn’t help it. I just thought youse would be pissed if I wasn’t there when youse wanted to come. Not that I expected that or nothing, youse ain’t under some sorta ‘contract’ to visit or anything like that. Youse got waaay more important things to do than to come here and -” Yancy stopped himself. He was rambling and risked spiralling into a low mood. He took a moment and exhaled slowly to get himself back on track. “Eventually the Warden told me that he’d let me know if anyone came to visit. Think he felt bad that I was sitting there for so long. But, uh, I guess he kept his word. He did come by and say that someone was here to see me. So… I owe him for that, I think. And aside from that? Uh, the parole stuff ain’t going nowhere fast. It’s, uh… Gonna be a long while, I think. Got a lot more hurdles than others given my, uh, ‘circumstances’.”
You winced in sympathy, knowing that it would likely be a difficult challenge for Yancy to pass the parole board. However, you didn’t want to spend the entire time worrying about the future. Instead, you looked around, dramatically making sure no one was nearby, before asking whether he wanted to see proof of aliens.
“You got something??”
You got something, and you pulled out a small photo album to prove as much. It would be a much better starting point for your space adventures that steered far away from the troubles of the past. Maybe he would be surprised when you reveal the stories of how you have befriended aliens!
Winter is beautiful, but it can be a stressful time of year. Damien has reached a cracking point of stress, and you're the only one there. Can you weather the winter storm with him?
Pre-Mayor era, doesn't have to solely be a (future) District Attorney!
Word count: 681
-
The middle of winter brought with it the bitterness of long nights. The air was sharp, the darkness was isolating, and the cold cut through you like a knife. Worst of all, Damien was in an unusually foul mood.
Not that you could blame him. He worked insane hours at his father's law firm, treated only slightly better than an unpaid intern. Even a man with bountiful patience would reach a moment of breaking point.
"- about my decisions! I qualified last year! I know what I'm talking about. Yet Father still acts like I'm that seven year old boy trying to understand law terminology." Not everyone was shoved into a profession from a young age. It was something more commonplace amongst the upper class, but few were thrown into the deep end as harshly as Damien was. You decided to keep quiet, letting him rant as you took the long way to where you lived. "It's almost like he's trying to belittle my education and prove that I should have stayed in this city to study. But it's a qualification! The level and standard of the degree are the same, and both institutes are renowned. They're on equal status! The only difference was that I wasn't - I wasn't stuck here!"
He threw his arms in the air, and you were quick to reach out and take one of his hands in your own. This wasn't something you could offer advice on. A gentle squeeze was enough for him to stop talking, blink, and sigh.
"I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you want to hear when you've had a long day and want to go home. But please, let me buy you a hot drink on the way. It's the least I can do, as an apology."
You shook your head, insisting he shouldn't. The plan was that he would walk you home, and then he would go home and get some sleep. It was better to stick to that. Damien - uncharacteristically - rolled his eyes.
"And what, speed up the return to the monotony of my existence? Am I not allowed to have some sort of life outside of my job? If you don't want me here, just tell me and skip the formality."
That wasn't what you meant, and he knew that as well as you did. He was twisting your words. You didn't want him to get sick because he's too exhausted to fight the seasonal flu.
Normally, you two were like two peas in a pod. There was little that you two would disagree on, and a compromise was found on the rare day it happened. This time, however, was different. Middle ground seemed like an impossibility. His anger was starting to rise. You were the scapegoat, and it was frustrating you. Trying to be the voice of calm - as he would often be for you - was only making matters worse.
Damien tugged his hand out of yours, about to say something, when he felt something land on his hand. His irritation shifted to confusion as he looked up. You did the same in time for something small to land on your face.
Suddenly, the heavens opened as snow began to flutter down on top of you both.
You found the abrupt interruption startled you out of the surging bad mood. But it wasn't just you who reached that conclusion.
Damien laughed. He was giddy, reclaiming your hand and yanking you into a tight hug.
"Oh, why am I quarrelling with you about this? I know you're thinking about my wellbeing in all of this. I'm sorry."
You pulled back just far enough to look at him and ask whether the offer of a hot drink was still there. You couldn't possibly go home when you were so cold!
A playful smile pulled on his lips as he pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around you.
"For you? The offer will always be there. And when I am finally move away from my parents, I'll buy you a hot drink any time you like. That's a promise."
Socialising is exhausting, even for those who have been doing it all their lives.
Word count:
787
-
Another Saturday night, another gathering of the upper class.
However, it was at the home of Mark's parents, recognising the work of a local orchestra at a recent event. Mark had been encouraged to come, and he naturally invited his three closest friends.
Spirits were high. Compared to the normal social outings, this was the closest to "among peers" any of them could get. There were no masks to don, no secret rules of formality to follow. Dinner was pleasant, and the music playing on the gramophone was keeping the jubilant ambiance going. Everywhere he looked, the people that mattered most to Mark were having fun.
Ah, life truly was for the living!
William could loudly announce he would challenge someone to a drinking contest and three people would shout their interest in participating. Celine could meet with the musicians she had studied with and gossip about people they all had the misfortune of knowing.
As for Damien….? Mark glanced around.
Strangely, Damien was nowhere to be seen. He was normally upfront with the actor if something was wrong, relying on little touches to give Mark a proper hint on what was on his mind.If his partner wasn't around, something must have happened. Mark stepped out of the main function room and began searching.
The other rooms dedicated for socialising were busy, but each lacked a familiar face. That ruled out the option of Damien making the social rounds. The bathrooms were empty, and he wasn't hiding in the kitchen. That didn't leave many options, unless…
He opened the back door to step outside.
Finally, there he was.
Damien was slumped on the stone bench overlooking the garden, head rolled back as he absentmindedly watched the branches sway in the late evening breeze. There was a small adjustment to his position as Damien noted Mark's arrival, but he made no effort to move.
"I'm sorry I stepped out without telling you. I didn't mean to worry you."
"You don't need to apologise. I know you were tired before we ever arrived. We can leave if you -"
"No, no…" Damien's interruption was slow, "I'm alright. You go back in and enjoy yourself. I'll be in shortly. I simply need a moment to collect myself."
Mark sighed. It wouldn't feel right leaving the politician out here alone. He threw a glance behind him, and an idea hit him.
"I'm not really in a rush to go back inside. Everyone is loud tonight. I tire of this party. I think a break would be ideal. Scoot over." Mark playfully waved his hand as Damien moved.
This was the perfect chance to strike.
Mark sat down beside Damien, wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulders, and pulled him close until Damien's head was resting on Mark's shoulder. Barely a second passed before Damien nestled in closer and let the arm that wasn't pinned in between himself and Mark drape lazily across the actor's chest. Once set, Damien sighed, and the tension he had been holding slipped away.
It was rare for the couple to be affectionate in public. With Damien's position, there was a high risk of trouble if he was discovered by his parents. However, not a single guest cared for his family here. The pair could relax.
Time was kind on the couple, opting to let the seconds pass slower so they could relish the other's company and the peaceful environment. The party felt like it was on the other side of the world. They could be anywhere else right now.
Hm. That was an idea.
Mark leaned down to kiss the top of Damien's head. "You know… I would be content to leave the party early tonight. I have done my duty as the faithful son."
"Mark -"
"I'm serious, Damesy. I've had the thought of us cuddling in bed together planted in my mind. That's far more inviting than anything here." He gently squeezed Damien's shoulder to support this. "What do you say? Would that be much better than this bench?"
"It does sound inviting," Damien murmured. "But you are sure you want to skip the rest of the night? You were so excited for this."
"I was, but now I want to go home. Otherwise, I will need to keep you in my arms everywhere I go at that party."
"You need to stop being so clingy."
"Actually, you need to stop being so perfect to embrace. It's like we were made for one another." Mark's words were familiar, and Damien lazily hummed in agreement.
The night was young, and spending the time together sounded ideal. The pair would have to move before the night chill set in, but there was no rush for that.
The memories of Wilford Warfstache are something that are generally underestimated. What if he was the one who remembered what happened before the events of Who Killed Markiplier, and Dark didn't?
Adding to that, what if William and Damien had been secretly dating, and William threw all that away in an act of selfishness?
(This story covers infidelity and arguing. There are also references to a gun.)
Word Count: 3,901
-
The night was coming to a close. With the studio focused on projects beyond the antics of the egos, there was ample time for those on the production and managerial sides to come together and focus on some well-needed restructuring and organisation. Meetings were long and dull, but productive. Plans were being put in place for the future.
It meant that by the time Dark and Wilford got home, it was nearly bedtime. The reporter had opted to have a quick shower to freshen up after his night routine. By the time he came out of the ensuite in clean, soft pyjamas, Dark handed him a cup of herbal tea and kissed his cheek before stepping into the bathroom.
Wilford slowly sank onto the bed with the cup cradled in both hands. The tea was the right brew that had been recommended to help Wilford relax before bed, made just the right way. Dark had even picked Wilford's favourite cup for the tea (distinct from his favourite cup for coffee).
He had always made it clear in the studio that he was the luckiest man in the world, maybe the shattered multiverse, to have Dark love him. Right now, that was all that was on his mind.
Why did Dark love him?
"Will? Something the matter?" Dark had stepped out, adjusting the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, only to stop when he noticed his partner's vacant expression staring at the tea. "Is it the wrong one?"
Wilford blinked, shaking his head as he looked up at Dark. "No… No, it's perfect. Have I told ya lately that I love you?"
"I would guess about an hour ago when I finally ended the board meeting," the entity answered with a smirk. He crossed the room and knelt down in front of Wilford. Placing a hand on the reporter's knee, he continued, "If there is one thing I know for sure in this distorted world that's a far cry from the one I grew up in, it's that you love me." Dark shifted himself so he could reach up and place the hand on Wilford's cheek. "You don't need to worry that I've ever forgotten that, William."
"Thank you, Damien." Wilford closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. For a moment, he could have the reassurance that everything was okay.
"Come on," Dark's hand gently patted Wilford's cheek, "It's time for bed."
-
Unsurprisingly, after such a long day, Dark had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Unsurprisingly, with so much on his mind, Wilford was wide awake. He turned to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. Both hands move to interlock on his stomach to stop them from fidgeting and lessen the risk of waking Dark.
Dark valued honesty in communication. If something was wrong, he wanted to be told. But how could Wilford talk about what was troubling him when the weight of truth was like rocks shackled to his ankles dragging him under the waves of guilt?
Dark should not love him. Damien would have never given him a second chance.
But Dark didn't know that there had ever been a first chance, or maybe he did; and he instead didn’t know that the first chance had been ruined beyond repair. Damien went through something as awful as William during their years apart. While Wilford ultimately picked pieces from the broken lives he had experienced to create the person he wanted to be today, Damien's memories had been smudged at points, as though someone had wanted to erase everything and leave him as little more than "Dark", the "monster". It was a miracle that Dark had regained any true semblance of self after everything.
So how could Wilford ask about something that Dark didn't remember? Why bring forward pain that wasn't there? Why give him memories that he never asked for?
But oh, how brightly those memories shone in the pitch black bedroom for Wilford. It had been some time since he reflected on the life of the broken soldier, yet the thoughts of his actions still brought Wilford pain.
-
-
-
The Mayor's office was resplendent. It was furnished with perfect, varnished dark wood features. Everything about the office boasted its age, wisdom, and experience, without considering the splendour that people like William would never afford. It perfectly encapsulated the "us and them" divide that was so clear throughout the city.
But there were two large windows at the back, letting the light of reality pour through and bring some sense of normality to the room from another world. More importantly, the sunlight gave the man sitting behind the desk a radiant glow. In that moment, Damien was more an angel than a man.
The fitted, black suit looked like it had been invented just for him, and every other man in the city suffered with the stiffness and awkwardness of the formal wear. There was not a wrinkle out of place, even after a full day of pulling the jacket on and off as required. The flower pinned on the lapel was made from fabric, preventing the warmer weather from wilting it too soon.
Not that William minded. Beauty blossomed on the young Mayor's face as he looked up and realised the soldier had snuck in.
"Will!" Damien scrambled out of the ornate chair, tripping over his own feet in his haste to throw himself at William. The action, though uncharacteristically clumsy of Damien, was rewarded with a strong pair of arms wrapping around him and holding him close.
Damien's beauty was an undisputed topic. Everyone knew it. Only William saw this side of him, where Damien's entire frame relaxed while he rested his forehead against William's shoulder. It didn't matter that strands of hair had fallen out of place in the flurry. Right now, all that mattered to Damien was pulling back just enough to beam at his partner.
There was no denying that this was a man in love; and somehow, William was the lucky fool who had captured his heart.
"I didn't think you were back until the weekend!" Dark brown eyes sparkled up at William, and he found himself briefly lost for words. Fortunately, Damien spared him from becoming too lost in those eyes as he nestled against William.
"Things finished faster than I thought. McKinley offered to take me out fishing to make up for the shorter security job, but I said I wanted to come home. I missed you."
“I missed you too. I can’t wait to hear the stories of what happened while you were away. I hope you were alright throughout it.”
Damien’s beauty was in more than just his appearance. He valued honesty, and loved the opportunity to have open conversations about the good and the bad. Whenever William had a problem, Damien listened, and William returned the favour when the roles were swapped. Things were perfect just as they were, with the pair in an embrace that brought a familiar comfort to it.
William didn’t answer, opting to kiss Damien instead. The moment was short-lived when the secretary knocked the door to ask whether the Mayor would be free to attend a meeting in ten minutes. The pair haphazardly sprung apart in case the door was opened.
Only a small handful of trusted people knew that Damien and William were dating. As far as the public were concerned, Damien was a bachelor - a fact that William loathed, and one that he hated being reminded of.
"Blast that woman," William hissed as he stormed over to a chair to sit on. "Can't we get five minutes in peace?"
"She's only doing her job, Will. She knows better than to throw the door open." Sighing softly, Damien followed William and sat on the other chair so he could rest his hand over William's. "I hate lying about us as much as you do, but it's something we need to do. I just need you to wait a little longer -"
"Haven't I waited long enough?"
"I just need a little more than a year. Please. My term is nearly up, and I'm not running again. One more year, and then I am yours, fully yours. I know you hate hearing people trying and play matchmaker with me, but surely you know my heart is only yours… Don't you?"
There was a short pause. William tried to hold firm, but a heavy exhale and a slump of his shoulders proved otherwise. "I know. I'm tired of pretending."
"And I'm tired of pretending we aren’t together." Damien softly squeezed William's hand in reassurance. "We're nearly there. Once the role of Mayor has been passed to my successor, you and I are going to France on that holiday you've been promising me for two years."
William's chuckle was hoarse. "You still want to go?"
"I've been reading books all about France! I want to see the controversial Eiffel Tower with my own eyes, with you and no one else."
The frustration passed, but the simmering anger remained as it always did.
–
Wilford sighed. That soldier was naive. He had grown up in the circles of the rich. He thought he knew their workings and believed Damien was overreacting.
In reality, however, William was only on the periphery. Damien was the one stuck in the circle of the elite from birth, forced to perform the same song and dance as was expected of his calibre. He was viewed with as much potential as thoroughbred horses. If there was any trace of imperfection, Damien would have been stripped of his family name and whatever savings he had, just like a horse only needs to trip once to be deemed worthless in the eyes of its trainers.
Had this happened in the world of politics, he would have been dragged through the mud and shamed with such intensity that he wouldn't be able to publicly show his face in the state again.
All Damien wanted was to wait before making the relationship public. In hindsight, it wasn't a big ask - but at the time, it was a large obstacle.
All William wanted, however, was to feel like he was in a relationship and not be some dirty secret. Damien might have been completely upfront, and the relationship was established on these terms, but it still felt like Damien treated him as an acquaintance when at an event. Just once, he wanted Damien to react to him in public the same as he did when no one was looking at them. He wanted to step into a room and see Damien's face light up. He wanted to be able to take Damien's hand, or kiss him on the temple like other men in relationships can.
Like how Mark could with Celine. Did they take for granted the simple luxury of expressing affection? Celine always looked somewhat indifferent to it, yet looked for that attention to show how important she was. Why couldn't Damien be granted that simple luxury? Was that too much to ask the world? Why was a man who had worked so hard to get to this place denied the basics?
… Why was William denied the basics because of this?
These thoughts were ultimately shoved aside, as they always were. He promised he would wait, and wait he would.
However, the longer he worked in the Manor of the Actor, the more he found these thoughts returning to the surface. Each time it emerged, it grew harder to fully quash it, until it remained in the back of his mind at all times. The thought began to sour his perspective of the relationship, as he reached a terrible conclusion: Damien was truly being selfish.
Was William not worth being seen? Was he some sort of embarrassment? Why couldn't he have something good for once?
After all, Celine was giving him a look when Mark was out for rehearsals. She flashed him a playful smirk that teased him to get more.
He would swear he could hear whispers egging him on.
So he listened.
By the time he realised the full impact of what he had done and the consequences of his actions, it was too late.
Mark had walked in on them one night. He lost his temper and threw the pair out without so much as handing them a jacket. Celine left town, revealing that the feelings were never mutual beyond a fling.The stories ran rampant in the local papers. His entire professional and personal history was on display for the whole city to see. His name was being thrown through the rumour mill over and over again.
And Damien?
Damien knew.
That was the worst thing of all.
-
Damien was Celine's twin, almost identical in looks, yet there were aspects that completely contrasted one another. While Celine had a notorious short fuse, Damien had the patience of a saint. He could weather many irresponsible mishaps, he could keep his cool during the most heated of arguments in favour of hearing out both sides. But there were two things he could not tolerate:
Liars, and cheaters.
Damien loathed the concept of dishonesty, and was known for looking down on those who would go behind the backs of a romantic partner. He was of the opinion that if someone claimed they were happily married, only to have an affair, then there was no redemption for you, for you could not be trusted with anything. Of course, things were not so simple, and situations might differ if a relationship was strained or potentially dangerous, but William’s actions were not caused by a neglectful partner.
---
The argument in William's home was explosive. For once, it was William trying to keep things calm.
"Damien, please -"
"Don't you 'Damien please' me!" Damien turned to glare at William, a fire burning in his eyes that didn't belong. "There is one thing I always made clear: if there was a problem with our relationship, tell me! We're both adults! We can have a conversation! We could have found a solution to what made you so unhappy-"
"But I am happy!" William countered. The words, however, had the opposite effect.
"Then why did you sleep with my sister?! Do you have any idea how vile such a thought is?! Did that empty head of yours consider, for just a moment, that choosing my TWIN over me was a bad idea??"
"What did you expect me to do? Life is short! I can't spend it playing pretend!" William's temper got the better of hindsight, but the anger was a spark in comparison to the inferno raging from Damien. The Mayor marched forward and jabbed a finger against William’s chest.
"When you courted me, I told you upfront that you would need to wait until I was finished my term as Mayor before we could go public. You agreed to this! You agreed on the premise that we spent weekends together where possible. And we did! The only times I have ever cancelled is when something came up last-minute, or we were spending time with Mark and Celine. I never went back on my promise!" With the cane thrown aside in frustration at one point, Damien began pacing the room, wringing his hand with such intensity that the knuckles were turning white.
"There are fourteen months left in my term. Three of those are dedicated to the local elections and preparing for the successor. I've had a calendar hidden in the top drawer of my desk since January. I've been marking off every single day that passes because, while I am honoured to be in my position, I want to experience life as a nobody. That promise of a trip to France kept me going through it all. I've hated every minute of pretending we aren't dating! I wanted to introduce you to others as 'my partner' for so long! I was going to propose to you the day after I finished as Mayor! I had already gotten your parents’ blessing, for God’s sake!"
The revelation forced Damien to a halt. Both hands dropped to his side.
William felt his blood run cold. The cards were laid out on the table before him and their message was clear: he ruined everything.
Tears began to line the Mayor's eyes as he shoved a hand into his pocket. "Fine. You win. If you want to be in a relationship where you can do everything you want at the drop of a hat, you can go right ahead and find it. I'm sure Celine would work." A brown key was taken out and slammed on the counter. "But as long as I live, Colonel, you'll never get that life with me."
William tried to reach out. His hand grabbed only the air as Damien pulled away. He lifted his cane and tucked it under his arm as he reached the front door.
"Goodbye, William."
The slamming of the door left with it an echo that was as hollow as the gaping hole growing in William's chest.
-
Mark was lucky, in one way. His descent from stardom and his gradual disappearance from the public eye could all be justified because of the affair and how he was handling it.
Damien did not have that luxury.
His relationship had never been discovered, so he had to go through the grieving process of a difficult break-up without anyone catching on. His personal life could not interfere with his duties. He had to pretend everything was fine, even when the reporters asked for his opinion on the affair and the consequences of it. When he responded that the matter was personal and that he would rather not talk about it, it was respected. The reporters all assumed it was because it was due to his sister's involvement, and Damien didn't have the energy to correct them.
Meanwhile, William had to live with the consequences. He had happiness. He had a life where someone loved him despite all his flaws and his problems. Damien deemed him more important than the moon and the stars that were so precious to him, and how did William repay this?
He threw it back in Damien's face because his selfish impulses won out over common sense.
When they would next cross paths, Damien would smile and be polite, but it was like nothing had ever happened between them. The gap was too wide. William would never be allowed to cross, and he knew Damien would never allow himself to love another person. They would both be doomed to remain unhappy.
Instead, all William could do was lie in a half-empty bed, hands interlocked over his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. How could he sleep when the pain of regret weighed heavy on his mind and his heart?
-
-
-
Wilford blinked, tears briefly blurring his vision. He turned his head a fraction to make sure Dark was still asleep.
Damien would find out the truth one day. Wilford could continue dancing around the topic and let Dark believe the lie that he remembers more than Wilford, but that wouldn't work forever. Celine would 'wake', and she would make a comment about it. Would it be in relief to see her brother happy, unaware he didn't know the truth; or a snide comment about giving chances to those who didn't deserve them? Either would be likely for her.
What would he do when that day arrives? He had behaved. He used to sleep around, but cut that out immediately the moment he realised he had a chance with Dark.
William had been asked to wait less than two years. Wilford had to wait nearly a century thanks to the soldier's selfishness.
This second chance, this ability to love Dark, should not have been permitted. Damien had vowed to never forgive William because he couldn't trust the soldier. Was Wilford just as bad for pretending he didn't know the truth?
He was happy. He didn't want to lose this second chance.
-
A sniff and a shaky breath stirred Dark from his light sleep. He blinked to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, realising that Wilford was still awake. The reporter was staring at the ceiling, ignoring the tears that stained his cheek.
"Will…?"
No answer. Wilford didn't even budge in acknowledgement.
The entity lifted himself up so he was propped up on his right arm and could place his left hand on Wilford's bicep. Thankfully, this gave a result.
"What are ya doin' up?"
"I could ask you the same question," Dark whispered. "What's wrong?"
"Nothin' is wrong. Go back ta sleep."
"I know when you're lying to me."
Wilford sighed. It was wishful thinking to hope that Dark would have been too groggy to notice anything was amiss. He should tell the truth and speak the thoughts on his mind, but the fear of losing Damien again makes him ask something else:
"What do ya think of second chances?"
Dark frowned. "What about them?"
"Do ya think people should get 'em?"
"I'm hardly in a place to make that judgement after all the atrocities I've committed." That seemed obvious to Dark, but he did acknowledge the possibility that Wilford simply wanted another opinion. "But to answer your question… A second chance is an opportunity for someone to prove they are better than what is perceived of them. If they seek such a thing in earnest, and prove themselves to be better, then I don't see the problem with trusting someone one more time."
Wilford frowned. That seemed too easy compared to Damien's previous stance on the matter. "What would ya do if I hurt ya?"
There was a short pause. "But you did. Remember when you shot me in the shoulder when trying to show off your 'gun tricks' to Illinois?"
The icy fear of the first sentence paired with the surge of relief with the second brought out a laugh from Wilford.
"Are you still worried about that? That was months ago. Everything healed just fine, and I already forgave you for it. Besides…" Dark lifted his left hand to rest it on Wilford's right cheek and gently brush away the tears with his thumb. "I know it was an accident. I know you can be impulsive, and you can be an idiot sometimes, but you're my idiot. You have a good head on those shoulders, and a kind heart in that chest." Then, Dark leaned down to kiss the tears away on the left side.
"It's okay to feel regret for the past, but you shouldn't let it hinder our future. Wouldn't you agree?" As Dark leaned back, he caught a hint of surprise on Wilford's face.
"Yeah… Yer right. C'mere, there's been somethin' else on my mind."
"And what would that be?"
"I'm low on my daily cuddles."
Dark snorted as he lowered himself to press against Wilford's side, and was swiftly trapped by a warm arm before he could change his mind. It was a familiar moment - a sense of safety that lasted a century.
"Dark?" Wilford's voice was soft after a moment of silence. "Ya know I'll never hurt ya again, right?"
"Of course I do. I banned bullets in the backstage areas for a reason."
Wilford chuckled, kissing the entity's hair. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it would help ease his troubled mind.
-
-
While this isn't a songfic, the song 5 to 7 Years is a great way to compare what Damien was trying to ask of William.
Sometimes, for reasons known only to fanon, Dark would spend his downtime in a dark, spooky place. For people like Wilford, it made it a pain to find him. It's not like the dark, spooky place has a particular location or building within it!
"Wilford. It isn't like you to come all this way. Is something the matter?" The book Dark had been reading was closed and put aside so he could give his full attention to the other ego.
"Sure is. Mark's been actin' out again. Folks have heard him talkin' 'bout some scheme 'bout magic an' horses an' how he needed to find some friends ta help him, an' while I'm not a guy who knows a lot 'bout anything, it might be -"
"Another production," Dark finished with a snarl. "I told him to only do such a thing after long discussions with the rest of the team. The days of pulling people into those stories are ones I want to keep far behind us. We have too many traumatised 'viewer characters' to concern ourselves with." He rose to his feet, the couch and coffee table vanishing in an instant as he stormed up to Wilford. "Thank you for telling me about this. I'll go have a -" Dark tugged the lapels of his suit jacket for emphasis, " - quick word with him about this."
With that, he was gone, and Wilford had been deposited into the empty meeting room in the studio. With the coast clear, he broke out into a goofy grin as he left the room and made his way toward the break room.
"You're looking very chipper today, sir," piped up Young Jim, who had fallen into step with the senior reporter.
"I just pulled off one of my April Fool's Day pranks. Mark's booked th' day off work, so I put a whole bunch of "My Little Pony" toys in his office like he was playin' with 'em. Oh how angry Dark is gonna be when he realises he's been tricked by such a devious scheme!" He turned his head to Young Jim, waiting for an agreement that didn't come. "... What?"
"Today's the second, sir."
"Hah, nice try, kiddo. Yer not gonna get me that easily."
"No, really!" Young Jim pulled out his phone and displayed the lock screen.
"April.. Second…" the rosy cheeks of triumph had been swiftly replaced with the blanched face of dread. "Jim, my boy? Ya might wanna go tell th' others there might be a fight. I gotta, uh, do an intervention…." Without waiting for a confirmation, Wilford broke into a sprint in the direction of Mark's dressing room.
How could friendship be magic if the people he was trying to make friends again were fighting??
Sometimes, for reasons known only to fanon, Dark would spend his downtime in a dark, spooky place. For people like Wilford, it made it a pain to find him. It's not like the dark, spooky place has a particular location or building within it!
"Wilford. It isn't like you to come all this way. Is something the matter?" The book Dark had been reading was closed and put aside so he could give his full attention to the other ego.
"Sure is. Mark's been actin' out again. Folks have heard him talkin' 'bout some scheme 'bout magic an' horses an' how he needed to find some friends ta help him, an' while I'm not a guy who knows a lot 'bout anything, it might be -"
"Another production," Dark finished with a snarl. "I told him to only do such a thing after long discussions with the rest of the team. The days of pulling people into those stories are ones I want to keep far behind us. We have too many traumatised 'viewer characters' to concern ourselves with." He rose to his feet, the couch and coffee table vanishing in an instant as he stormed up to Wilford. "Thank you for telling me about this. I'll go have a -" Dark tugged the lapels of his suit jacket for emphasis, " - quick word with him about this."
With that, he was gone, and Wilford had been deposited into the empty meeting room in the studio. With the coast clear, he broke out into a goofy grin as he left the room and made his way toward the break room.
"You're looking very chipper today, sir," piped up Young Jim, who had fallen into step with the senior reporter.
"I just pulled off one of my April Fool's Day pranks. Mark's booked th' day off work, so I put a whole bunch of "My Little Pony" toys in his office like he was playin' with 'em. Oh how angry Dark is gonna be when he realises he's been tricked by such a devious scheme!" He turned his head to Young Jim, waiting for an agreement that didn't come. "... What?"
"Today's the second, sir."
"Hah, nice try, kiddo. Yer not gonna get me that easily."
"No, really!" Young Jim pulled out his phone and displayed the lock screen.
"April.. Second…" the rosy cheeks of triumph had been swiftly replaced with the blanched face of dread. "Jim, my boy? Ya might wanna go tell th' others there might be a fight. I gotta, uh, do an intervention…." Without waiting for a confirmation, Wilford broke into a sprint in the direction of Mark's dressing room.
How could friendship be magic if the people he was trying to make friends again were fighting??
Tonight was the night of the charity gala, one that had been highly anticipated for some time now. There had been a large drive across the city to organise small events to raise money for a good cause, and this gala was no different. The organisers had put a lot of care into making sure everything would go just right. The guest list included both the Mayor and the District Attorney, along with names that Damien eagerly reminded you of. People that had supported him in his campaign, patrons, and not a single person that would give him a stress headache trying to avoid for the entire night.
It was strange to know it was one that Damien had no direct involvement in, but that was a nice relief knowing that he might actually be able to enjoy himself. As Mayor, he would have to socialise and make his presence known, but you hoped he would have time to just be Damien for a little while.
It would be nice. The previous few weeks were too busy for both of you to find time for a date, and you had already agreed to attend this event together. Would it be wrong to make the most of the night?
-
You stood in front of the bathroom mirror so you could make the final adjustments to your hair. Your choice of outfit was a simple one - neat and black, plain and simple. It had been Damien's idea to co-ordinate with only black, but you couldn't ignore the suspicion bubbling up. Damien, a man who loves the chance to dress up nicely, the man who had once confessed that doing so was a 'guilty pleasure', opting for something ordinary? He had something planned.
But what? Damien wouldn't want to do anything that would throw him in the spotlight when he didn't want to be. He also wasn't someone who would add a flamboyant flair to his outfit.
Before you could mull further on what said 'plan' could be, there was a knock on the door. He was here. Your hair would have to do. A coat with money in a buttoned-up pocket was plucked off a chair on your dash to the door.
Damien stood in the doorway like a lingering shadow. He had kept his side of the deal. His black suit was pristine, with barely a crease in sight. The mayoral ribbon he wore for public events was the perfect shade to blend in with the material. His shoes were barely visible thanks to your shadow obscuring them. Even his shirt and bowtie were barely discernable from the jacket. What you did notice was the lack of accessory on the right lapel. He was known for wearing a flower, and you had expected him to find a black blossom.
The cane was neatly tucked under his left arm so he could carefully hold a small bouquet of white roses with both hands, as though afraid a mere breeze would damage them.
"I'm sorry," he smiled bashfully when he noticed your eyes drop down to the flowers, "I know we had agreed that we weren't to give any gifts ahead of our 'date' but… they were in their prime, and I couldn't help but be reminded of your sweet smile. You look perfect tonight, my love."
Ah, Damien. Roses might be a symbol of love, but you knew they were one of Damien's favourites, even before you two started dating. Once you let slip that you preferred the white blooms over the red ones, they became a reminder of you. You playfully rolled your eyes, accepted the bouquet, and invited him in so you could fetch a container of water to house them in. You would never be forgiven if they were left to dry out in the open air all night.
As you began placing the stems into their temporary, watery home, your gaze drifted over to Damien. He had stayed near the entrance, staying quiet so you could focus on your task and occupying himself with admiring the pictures on the wall. It was a common tactic he used for the sake of good manners. You waved a rose to get his attention, joking that you thought he had long lost 'guest' privilege by now.
You hit the nail on the head as he sheepishly chuckled and scratched his cheek.
"Ah. Yes. Well… This is a date, and I don't wish to behave so casually when it is the first time we've been together in a while." He paused as he noticed your wave beckoning him over. Who was he to argue with that? Slowly, he crossed the space to where you were working. "I simply want to make this a special night, and make sure you know how thankful I am that it is me you love." Your hands were preoccupied, and he took advantage of this to kiss your cheek.
The wall of formality was finally lowered, as Damien relaxed enough to engage in casual conversation about how the day went for both of you. His cane
For those few moments, you had forgotten the purpose of the night, until you glanced in his direction and was reminded of the empty lapel. You were quick to point this out.
"I did think one of my flowers would be a little too 'much' for a night that I have no involvement in. However, I did have an idea." He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out two small, heart-shaped pins. One was red, the other was green. "A little gesture to show support, wouldn't you say?"
You flashed him a knowing smile. Your hunch was right, but you never would have expected how simple the act would be. He handed you the green pin so he could set to work putting the red one on your outfit.
"Sometimes, we have to remember the purpose for an event like this. It isn't merely to show how 'good' we are, or to make ourselves feel better. It's to help those who need it, and show that they aren't alone when it feels otherwise." With both pins in place, Damien stepped back to admire his handiwork. "There. Perfect."
You had a playful grin as you shook your head. You couldn't go just yet. His pin wasn't perfect, you claimed, as you reached back to the pin you had just put on him. He believed you, and that was his mistake. It left him open for your hands to swiftly move to either side of his face and pull him toward you for a kiss. When you leaned back, you saw a familiar lovestruck expression plastered on his face that you adored.
You asked if you should both get going to the gala. He nodded, leaning forward to close that gap between you one more time before it was time to go.
-
-
Do you want to help make a charity gala a success? Why don't you go check out Heropliers4Palestine, a week-long event dedicated to raising money to help the Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF). Click here for more information on how you can support a good cause or help raise awareness, and get yourself something special and made just for you in return!
Tonight was the night of the charity gala, one that had been highly anticipated for some time now. There had been a large drive across the city to organise small events to raise money for a good cause, and this gala was no different. The organisers had put a lot of care into making sure everything would go just right. The guest list included both the Mayor and the District Attorney, along with names that Damien eagerly reminded you of. People that had supported him in his campaign, patrons, and not a single person that would give him a stress headache trying to avoid for the entire night.
It was strange to know it was one that Damien had no direct involvement in, but that was a nice relief knowing that he might actually be able to enjoy himself. As Mayor, he would have to socialise and make his presence known, but you hoped he would have time to just be Damien for a little while.
It would be nice. The previous few weeks were too busy for both of you to find time for a date, and you had already agreed to attend this event together. Would it be wrong to make the most of the night?
-
You stood in front of the bathroom mirror so you could make the final adjustments to your hair. Your choice of outfit was a simple one - neat and black, plain and simple. It had been Damien's idea to co-ordinate with only black, but you couldn't ignore the suspicion bubbling up. Damien, a man who loves the chance to dress up nicely, the man who had once confessed that doing so was a 'guilty pleasure', opting for something ordinary? He had something planned.
But what? Damien wouldn't want to do anything that would throw him in the spotlight when he didn't want to be. He also wasn't someone who would add a flamboyant flair to his outfit.
Before you could mull further on what said 'plan' could be, there was a knock on the door. He was here. Your hair would have to do. A coat with money in a buttoned-up pocket was plucked off a chair on your dash to the door.
Damien stood in the doorway like a lingering shadow. He had kept his side of the deal. His black suit was pristine, with barely a crease in sight. The mayoral ribbon he wore for public events was the perfect shade to blend in with the material. His shoes were barely visible thanks to your shadow obscuring them. Even his shirt and bowtie were barely discernable from the jacket. What you did notice was the lack of accessory on the right lapel. He was known for wearing a flower, and you had expected him to find a black blossom.
The cane was neatly tucked under his left arm so he could carefully hold a small bouquet of white roses with both hands, as though afraid a mere breeze would damage them.
"I'm sorry," he smiled bashfully when he noticed your eyes drop down to the flowers, "I know we had agreed that we weren't to give any gifts ahead of our 'date' but… they were in their prime, and I couldn't help but be reminded of your sweet smile. You look perfect tonight, my love."
Ah, Damien. Roses might be a symbol of love, but you knew they were one of Damien's favourites, even before you two started dating. Once you let slip that you preferred the white blooms over the red ones, they became a reminder of you. You playfully rolled your eyes, accepted the bouquet, and invited him in so you could fetch a container of water to house them in. You would never be forgiven if they were left to dry out in the open air all night.
As you began placing the stems into their temporary, watery home, your gaze drifted over to Damien. He had stayed near the entrance, staying quiet so you could focus on your task and occupying himself with admiring the pictures on the wall. It was a common tactic he used for the sake of good manners. You waved a rose to get his attention, joking that you thought he had long lost 'guest' privilege by now.
You hit the nail on the head as he sheepishly chuckled and scratched his cheek.
"Ah. Yes. Well… This is a date, and I don't wish to behave so casually when it is the first time we've been together in a while." He paused as he noticed your wave beckoning him over. Who was he to argue with that? Slowly, he crossed the space to where you were working. "I simply want to make this a special night, and make sure you know how thankful I am that it is me you love." Your hands were preoccupied, and he took advantage of this to kiss your cheek.
The wall of formality was finally lowered, as Damien relaxed enough to engage in casual conversation about how the day went for both of you. His cane
For those few moments, you had forgotten the purpose of the night, until you glanced in his direction and was reminded of the empty lapel. You were quick to point this out.
"I did think one of my flowers would be a little too 'much' for a night that I have no involvement in. However, I did have an idea." He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out two small, heart-shaped pins. One was red, the other was green. "A little gesture to show support, wouldn't you say?"
You flashed him a knowing smile. Your hunch was right, but you never would have expected how simple the act would be. He handed you the green pin so he could set to work putting the red one on your outfit.
"Sometimes, we have to remember the purpose for an event like this. It isn't merely to show how 'good' we are, or to make ourselves feel better. It's to help those who need it, and show that they aren't alone when it feels otherwise." With both pins in place, Damien stepped back to admire his handiwork. "There. Perfect."
You had a playful grin as you shook your head. You couldn't go just yet. His pin wasn't perfect, you claimed, as you reached back to the pin you had just put on him. He believed you, and that was his mistake. It left him open for your hands to swiftly move to either side of his face and pull him toward you for a kiss. When you leaned back, you saw a familiar lovestruck expression plastered on his face that you adored.
You asked if you should both get going to the gala. He nodded, leaning forward to close that gap between you one more time before it was time to go.
-
-
Do you want to help make a charity gala a success? Why don't you go check out Heropliers4Palestine, a week-long event dedicated to raising money to help the Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF). Click here for more information on how you can support a good cause or help raise awareness, and get yourself something special and made just for you in return!
