Damien The Mayor - Blog Posts

If I had a nickel for every time I got into a piece of media wherein there was:

- a mystery centred around the death of this high-status asshole who kind of isn’t dead

- a main character audience-insert who you never see and who must solve this murder with the help of the other characters

- the ex-wife of said high-status asshole, who hates him and has powers of precognition

- someone who was framed for the death of the asshole and has to flee

- a pre-established (and possibly romantic) relationship between the audience-insert and their ‘boss’

- that ‘boss’ character, who tells the audience-insert half truths in order to protect* them

…I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice

DAMIEN

@markiplier

DAMIEN

The Characterization of Damien

So a lot of people seem to be interpreting DAMIEN as a redemption of sorts for Dark. I don’t agree with this. I think this addition to the story is a way of making Darkiplier more of what he already was: a sympathetic villain.

Dark’s motivation comes from a just source: he wants to avenge the people he lost and take down this evil, manipulative bastard that is roaming around in his body, who stole everything from him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t use just means to go after him. Dark is more than willing to brun everything in his path to the ground as long as Mark dies; he’ll fight fire with fire, manipulating, torturing, and destroying absolutely everything and everyone to get to Mark, with no regard for the consequences. Somewhere along the way, that just motivation became a blind rage, and he stepped into the role that Mark put in front of him, the role of the villain, with too much zeal and enthusiasm. He fully embraced the darkness around him because he saw nothing but the power it would give him, and not the corruption that would overtake him. 

In this way, he shares a fatal flaw with his twin: he has a completely one-track mind. This isn’t even totally surprising; wasn’t his one ambition to make the city he presided over greater than any other? Wasn’t his one goal at the party to make sure that justice was served and the past was put behind us? Damien is very good at strategy in that he can get what he wants with ruthless efficiency, but he cannot see the consequences of his actions, and that, ultimately, is where Dark’s vilainy comes from. Dark would be a good guy if his actions didn’t cause destruction wherever he went, in a dark shadow of Actor Mark’s actions.

LAST MINUTE THEORY LET’S GO

Okay, so in the last 90 minutes before the video comes out, let’s discuss what we know so far.

DAMIEN is the story of everyone’s favorite unfortunate mayor POST-Who Killed Markiplier. Now this immediately brings up two questions: Are we following Actor Mark in Damien’s body, Damien in the DA’s body as he becomes Dark, or a combination of the two? My guess is that we’re following Damien, but we’ll encounter Mark, and/or we’ll watch Damien spiral out of control obsessed with finding him.

From what we’ve seen so far, Damien is wandering in the woods. Are we just outside of the House? Are we lost? (I say we because there’s got to be some element of the DA in Dark, which might be why he’s so unsettling.) As seen in the little teaser clip here on tumblr, and in the audio from Twitter, Damien is questioning what to do next, who he is now and why he’s still here. The lines between life and death have blurred for him, but not to the extent that they have for Wil. I think this is going to be what causes him to spiral, this need to finish Actor Mark but not knowing if it’s possible because to them, no death is final.

Final thoughts: I’m in love with the fact that this is an animated project. I’m also curious as to whether we’re going to run into Wil. I’m also also enjoying the pre-premiere chat full of memes and singing.

LET’S GOOOOOOO

BITCH MORE WHO KILLED MARKIPLIER LORE I AM SO FUCKING READY

Henlo this gave me ideas.

-

His voice was much croakier than it used to be. It was at the same time far too low, and just right. It was raspy and rough from disuse, or from strain, because all he ever did now was scream.

“Let’s go in the garden, you’ll find something waiting, Right there where you left it, lying upside down...”

He discovered that the old song’s lyrics were still stuck somewhere in his mind, and when he tried to pin down where it came from, he came up with an odd mix of faded memories; he was playing an acoustic guitar on the patio, badly, and his best friend was laughing and calling him a sap; she was dancing with the man she should never have fallen for, and he was singing in her ear, in the dark, far away from all the trouble that seemed to follow them constantly.

Most of the time, when he remembered them, the names he’d once owned and the faces that went with them, it would hurt. It would burn every fiber of his being until nothing remained but fury and hatred. He would be himself and no one at once, and it would tear him to pieces over and over again.

But today...

Today, he was just...sad. Not in pain. Not furious. Just sad. He was a boy who wanted to make his great city proud of him. She was a girl caught up in romance, with a ring on her finger and a rose in her room.

And in the hands of an old friend who’d just wanted to hear everyone laugh, and see justice served, was an old, nearly illegible ribbon, grey where it had once been black. They’d given it to him the night of the election,a joke then, but less so than the cruel one it had become.

“In little ways, Everything...stays...”

The voice that was all three of theirs, and no one’s, trailed off and went quiet. For once, his world was quiet.

FUCK this will never not hurt.

Visitor Pt. 3

A/N: I’m having fun with this story, more fun than I originally thought I would have, and a couple of you still seem to like it ( @alix-the-skeleton I’m looking at you, pal. ;) ). So I wrote another bit! Enjoy! Part 1 and Part 2.

The air was cold, tonight, and filled with gentle music from the party still going on inside. William laughed as Celine pulled him along by the sleeves of his uncharacteristically dapper suit, running with him in tow to the edge of the balcony and only letting him go so that she could jump gracefully to sit on the stone railings. She looked beautiful, a bright red ballgown that hugged her in all the right places and flowed, light as a butterfly's wings, away from her at the hips, her short hair swept neatly underneath a scarlet hairclip. She kicked off her heels and swung her feet, patting the railing beside her. "Really, now, Cel, you want me to try that in this getup? I'll rip something in this bloody monkey suit." "Oh, live a little, Wil," she laughed as he hopped up anyway. "You're reckless any other time, why care about some cloth now?" "Well, it's a loan, first of all, if Mark knew I was running about in his suit-" "Oh please, as if he doesn't run around in it enough." He laughed, shaking his head. They went quiet for a moment, listening to the music swell inside, and Wil watched the smile slide off of her face. "It's hard to believe you're leaving tomorrow. How long will you be gone?" "Well," he sighed, taking her hand and staring up at the stars. They were so bright tonight. "It's only basic training, so only a few weeks." A few too many weeks, anyway. "I'll be home again before you know it." He chanced a glace. "And you've got Dames and Mark to keep you company." "Yes..." She bobbed along to the start of the new song, smoothing her dress with one hand. "Wil?" "Yes?" "What do you think is out there?" "Out there? As in, in space?" "Yes." He studied the sky for a moment. "Well...stars and planets and all that, of course...some ice, so Mark tells me..." "Other life?" "You're asking if I believe in aliens?" He chuckled, and she swatted him playfully. "Don't make it sound silly. It's totally plausible." He rubbed his arm, feigning offence, but she brushed him off. "But, no, that's not what I was asking. I was thinking more...I don't know. Spirits, or...or powers, or something." "So...God?" "Maybe not capital-G God. But yes, something along that line." William took a long time to answer, getting back to his feet as he finally spoke. "I...don't know, honestly. But I like to think that perhaps there's more to this universe than we know." Celine smiled, and stood as well. As the music swelled again, she suddenly took his hands, putting one around her waist, pulling him to her as she started to dance. He gaped at her for a second before settling into it as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm really going to miss you, Wil." He pulled her a little closer. "I'm...I'm going to miss you too, Celine. So much." If Wil could've frozen a moment in time, he would have lived right there, with her in his arms, dancing under the stars, forever.

"I think I'm going to ask her to marry me." William was slow to respond. "You're...you mean...Celine?" "Yes, of course I do," Mark laughed, "who else?" He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head as he looked over at Damien. "What do you think, Dames? Have I got your approval?" Damien smiled brightly. "Mark...of course you have my blessing. God, of course you do." He stood and embraced him, clapping him on the back as both men laughed. Wil smiled tightly as Mark turned back to him. "C'mon then, gents, let's celebrate." "She hasn't even said yes yet," Wil said quietly, but followed the other two to the bar, which Mark leapt over, grabbing three tumblers and a bottle of Fireball and setting them down on the bar. That made him smile a bit as he slapped Damien's back. "Think you can handle a shot or two of this, this time?" "Of course I can, don't be ridiculous," Damien muttered, smiling slightly as Mark laughed loudly, pouring them each a generous shot. They each grabbed a glass and raised it. "To a yes," Mark said. "To a new brother in law," Damien added. "To...us," Wil said, and the other two grinned at him, Mark nodding and throwing an arm around his would-be brother, agreeing, "to us." They downed their shots and immediately started giggling as Damien choked.

"Wil?" "Go away." "Wil, please, talk to me." "No." "William, be sensible. You can't lock yourself away forever." He shoved the door open roughly, swaying slightly as he glared through his blackened eye at a disheveled Damien, cane twisting in his hands. He huffed and turned away, stumbling back to the quickly emptying liquor cabinet in the corner of his hotel room. "And what do you want?" "To talk to you, to work things out! Dammit, man, you left so quickly-" "OF COURSE I DID!" he roared, and Damien flinched. "THAT BASTARD WAS TRYING TO KILL ME! HE WOULD HAVE, IF HE'D BEEN GIVEN THE CHANCE!" "You slept with his wife! My sister!" Damien yelled desperately, and Wil grabbed him by the lapels. "You've seen what he's become! What a selfish, pompous son of a bitch he is now! He's not the man she married! He's not the same Mark that I grew up with! And she loves me, Dames, she loves me! Not him!" "Then let her get-!" "Get what, Dames, a divorce? Make her wait, and wait, trapped with him in that godforsaken house-?" "BETTER THAN RUINING HER LIFE!" Crack. Wil stumbled back with a grunt, clutching his face as Damien stared at him, wide eyed. "Wil...Wil, no, I didn't mean..." "What the bloody hell was that for?" He ran forward, grabbing Damien's lapel again with one hand, raising the other as if to hit him. "What the actual hell, Damien?" "I-It was an accident, Wil, I didn't mean to hurt you-" "Get. Out." Wil shoved Damien into the door with a dull thud. Damien looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided against it. He sighed heavily, resignedly, and pulled it open, stepping out. "I don't blame you Wil. And...and I'm sorry." "Go!" A bottle smashed against the closing door, and Wil finally broke down, sobbing silently as he curled up on the floor of the vacant, anonymous hotel room, far away from home.

Wilford gasped, bolting upright. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, apparently, which wasn't exactly a rare occurrence. He breathed heavily for a moment, shoving aside some empty bottles as he tried to remember where he was, who he was, what he was doing. The usual checklist. His dreams, tonight, they'd felt so...real. So vivid. He tried desperately to remember what they were about, but...no. They were already gone. Still, he was shaken. All he could recall was the name Damien. Damien. That name again, the one he'd called Dark. Who was Damien, to him? Had he ever even known a Damien? He couldn't recall one. All the name brought to his mind was a vague sadness, a vague nostalgia. As if he should know who is was, but didn't. He shook his head, standing and grunting as he stretched, old bones clicking. How old was he, he wondered? He wasn't sure anymore. Frowning, he tried to think of a time when he had known his age, or even his birthday. Further from that...where had he come from? He was sure he'd been born somewhere, he'd had a family, but, much to his mounting alarm, he found he couldn't remember them at all. He started to panic. Wilford Warfstache, he was Wilford Warfstache, world famous ace reporter, right? Wasn't that right? That's what everyone called him, that's how the others here knew him. So of course, he came from the Warfstache family, didn't he? But the more he said it in his head, the worse it sounded, the more...fake. Who had the last name of Warfstache, honestly? And even his first name, his perfectly normal first name, Wilford, the one he'd known for so long, felt...wrong, now. Felt rushed. The more he thought, the more it sounded like two different words. Wilford. Wil Ford. He jumped sharply as someone knocked loudly on his door. "Wilford? Hey, Wilford, dude, you up yet?" "Jesus, Bing, let a man have his beauty sleep!" Wil snapped angrily. "Go away! Tell the studio we're on hiatus!" There was a pause. "...seriously? Hiatus? Like, since when do you ever wanna go on-?" "GO!" Wil shouted, and he heard scuffling as Bing stumbled down the hall, probably wearing his Heeleys and tripping over them. On any other day, that would've made him laugh. Today, he scowled at his desk and pulled a flask out from under it, spinning the cap off in a smooth, practiced motion, but he paused before taking a sip. If he drank...would he forget again? Forget more than he already had? Why hadn't it occured to him sooner that he couldn't remember...anything? Wil put the flask back down, without taking a sip, and instead pulled out a legal pad and a pencil, beginning to write furiously.

Visitor Pt. 2

A/N: Alright so a surprising amount of people actually liked the first part of this (thank you @alix-the-skeleton for asking for more!), so I decided to do a follow up. Lemme know if you guys wanna see some more of this! I think it’s an interesting story to explore. Anyway, let’s see what happens when Dark gets home, shall we?

He was still shaking, physically shaking, when he returned to Ego Inc. His shell was cracking horribly, and his aura was all over the place, cyan and scarlet spikes shooting left and right, cracking the walls and bursting lights. Everyone that saw him come down the hallway ducked away as fast as they could. Everyone, that is...except the one person Dark did not need to see right now. "I saw, old man, where'd you scamper off to in such a hurry? Google's been doing nothing but complain since you left, he's insufferable." Wilford laughed as he tried to clap an arm around Dark's shoulders, but raised an eyebrow in amusement when he shrank away, sucking in a sharp breath as the pain of the sudden movement hit him. The pain of his shell cracking was enough without the extra weight of someone else. "Don't touch me-" he attempted to snarl, but cut himself off. No. Oh God, no, he still sounded like- "What's wrong with your voice?" Wil blinked, looking puzzled. He couldn't not speak to Wil, that would raise too many questions, but the more he talked, the more he knew he was running into dangerous territory, and why did he suddenly care so much, after years and years of feeling nothing but deep-seated anger and frustration? No, he knew why, but still, the sudden shift was unsettling, and he was spiraling. "I...nothing. Nothing, just leave me-" "I didn't know you could turn off the echoes, that's a clever trick. Have you always been able to do that?" He laughed again, twirling his mustache thoughtfully, seemingly oblivious to Dark's rising panic. "You know, without the effects, you almost sound like Mar-" “Shut up.” “Well, I was only saying, I know you hate him, but still, the resemblance is uncanny-” I know you hated him. His own voice rang in his ears and he shut his eyes, trying to block it out. “Shut. Up.” “You’re really not looking well, are you sure you’re-?” "Shut up, William!" Before he could think, his hand was shooting out from his side, and Wil grunted in surprise as he banged into the opposite wall, sliding down to the ground with a dull thud.

Dark's eyes widened. "Wil...Wil, no, I didn't mean..." "What the bloody hell was that for?" Wil snapped furiously, clambering back to his feet and rushing to grab Dark by the lapel, his other hand coming up in a fist. Dark braced for a hit. "What the actual hell, Damien?" Both men froze. Wil's eyes widened to match Dark's, seemingily more out of surprise than anything else. "Wait...no, your name isn't...why would I...?" "Wil," Dark said slowly, "let me go. Please." Wil glanced down at his hand, which had a death grip on Dark still, and dropped him as if he were being burned. Dark grunted as he stumbled back, bumping into the wall. Cracks appeared immediately. Wil backed up a few steps, still staring at him. "Thank you," Dark muttered, voice shaking nearly as much as he was, "Now, please, I have to-" "Yes. Yes, of course." Wil gestured off down the hall, shaking his head as if he were trying to clear it. There was an uncharacteristic frown on his face, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "You're...you're a busy man, after all, and...and of course, I am too. I should...I'll...I'll see you later." He walked away so quickly he was nearly jogging.

Dark stared after him. So he did remember, at least subconsciously. There was still some of the Colonel behind the bubblegum facade. But...if forgetting had done this to him, what would remembering do? And if he found out about her...

What have I done?

Visitor. (A WKM Drabble)

 A/N: So someone came up with the idea of Will and Celine having a kid, and my heart got really sad. So have some word vomit. (Credit to @turquoisemagpie for the neato drawing that gave Winnie her look and gave me the idea.)

Dark was mid-meeting when he felt it.

Someone was in the house. After all this time...he was here now, it'd been so long since he'd been back...but the feeling was familiar. He frowned, standing suddenly, earning a curious look from Google, who’d been trying to explain analytics to his uninterested audience. "Where's Wilford?" "He's in his studio, as always," Google replied, narrowing his eyes, "Why the sudden interest? We were discussing the primary-" "Excuse me." Dark moved quickly out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His aura was agitated, greying out the walls of the hallway, making Bim duck into a doorway to avoid it (it was unpleasant to pass through, to say the least) as he strode toward Wil's sound stage. He didn't bother to knock as he shoved the door open roughly. "Warfstache!" Wilford sighed heavily from his position in front of the green screen. "Dammit, man, can't you learn to knock? Jesus." He rolled his eyes and waved his gun at Jim, behind the camera, who quickly cut the take and scurried out of the room. Everyone in Ego Inc. knew what Dark slamming into a room would lead to. "Have you been back to the house?" "Are you out of your mind? Why would I go to Mark's house at this hour? I've been here, recording my new show all day. It's a real winner this time, Dark-" "You know damn well I don't mean Mark's house, idiot, have you been back to that house?" "What are you talking about?" Dark scowled at Wilford for a long moment. The fool couldn't remember, of course he couldn't. But that meant it hadn't been him. Of course it wasn't him, mumbled an annoyed voice in the back of his mind, how would he have gotten there and back so quickly? Besides, I still feel it so it can't be him. This bothered Dark even further. He hadn't heard that voice in years. Shut up. Dark turned on his heel and walked out, much to Wilford's confusion. He walked quickly, until he found an empty hall, and reached for one of the doors, concentrating. When he opened it, he found himself on the second floor landing. He stared at the railing for half a second, before huffing and walking down the stairs, looking around him for the intruder.

He found her in the foyer, looking...looking in the mirror.

The shattered reflection showed a pair of large, round lenses in bent black frames over two wide brown eyes, the arms curled under bobbed black hair. Her face was angular, but not particularly sharp, and she was smiling curiously. A small slip of a thing, really, her red collared shirt and high waisted black slacks clearly a few sizes too big for her, and the fact that she was lugging a massive leather carrier bag with the strap slung across her body didn't help with the delicate image. Definitely not your typical looter. She looked so much like him, the same silly smile and bearing, hands clasped behind her back as she inspected the antique before her, that Dark stumbled back a step as the old voice in his head yelled out in surprise. The noise alerted her to his presence and she whipped around, slapping a hand to the cover flap of the bag as if to grab something from it. "Oh my-! Oh, jesus, I-I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone still...but I mean the-the woman in the library said no one had lived here for...no, but that's no excuse, I'm sorry, I-I'll just go-" "Shut up," Dark said calmly, having collected himself a bit, but still reeling from the shock. She nearly bit her lip to stop herself, looking down at the ground and clasping her hands behind her back again. God, the resemblance...how...? "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" "I-I'm Winnie Ford, sir, a-and I'm researching for a school project, about abandoned buildings-" "Don't lie to me." The stairs below him went grey, and Winnie's face paled, but he was too distracted to notice. Ford? Her name was Ford? "Why are you here?" He repeated, more quietly. The air seemed to buzz between them. "I...I..." She seemed to be looking for an escape, but sighed as she found none, standing up a little straighter, as if to accept her fate. The confidence is impressive. No. Stop that. "I'm looking for information about my parents." She said it with false calm, the illusion of which was shattered as she retreated a few steps into the room as Dark descended the stairs and approached her. She bumped into the wall behind her, still trying to appear casual. "And why would you come here for that?" "Because this was the last place they were seen alive." He froze. Something must have registered in his face, becaues the girl frowned at him. "You...you live here, don't you? Do you...do you know what happened?" "What happened in 2017. The poker party." "Yes," she said, nodding slowly, taking a step closer. He flinched and she reflexively stepped back. "Yes, so you do know about that." He couldn't seem to move. "Your parents were...there, that night?" "So the newspapers say. So the orphanage said." "My god..." The voice coming out of his mouth was one he hadn't used in a very long time. He hadn't known he could use it anymore, hadn't known that the feelings now exploding in his chest, could still exist within this corpse of his. "Did...did you know them?" "I...no." He glanced over at the mirror, then back up at the stairs, then looked back at her, barely able to hold himself together. Being here, seeing her, it was too much, he wasn't going to be able to sustain himself, he should leave, shut down these feelings, eliminate the cause of them...no, that thought made a spike of pain shoot through his chest, and he gripped the table suddenly. Winnie took a few steps toward him, moving as if to put her hand on his arm. "Are you-?" "Don't," he said harshly, and she stopped, still looking concerned. She was stood right on the edge of his aura, couldn't she see it? If she touched it...but why did he care? "Don't...don't touch me. Don't come any closer. Please." The word sounded awkward, unfamiliar on this tongue. "Okay...Alright, I won't." Her tone was one you would use with a wounded animal. She's not afraid of me. Yes, she is. Shut up. "What do you know?" She leaned against the wall again, still trying to look casual. Why was he relieved when she stepped away? "Well...I know my mother's name was Celine Noir. But I don't know who my father was. That's the only name the orphanage had on file, and," she quirked a small smile, "that was hard enough to find. I was some kind of cover up, apparently." His eyes were blown wide, he could see them in the mirror, he could feel it. One hand twitched toward her, and he could see himself touching her face, cradling it, hugging her tightly and not having to lose them all over again. He could see himself taking her back with him away from this house, he could see Wil seeing her, coming back to him, he could see himself and this young girl and his best friend, a family once more, remembering, moving on, forgetting this place, forgetting what...what he'd... What he was. It came rushing back to him, but...but for this brief moment, he was still himself. He was here, and he was looking at her, and she looked so much like her mother, stood like her father, and god he missed them so much. Suddenly, he was talking, before he could stop himself. Stupid, stupid boy, what are you doing? "Your father's name was William Ford. You're a bastard, that's why she gave you up. She hated herself for it, wanted desperately to keep you, but..." But Mark, when he found out he wasn't the father, went berserk, nearly killed Will right then and there, if he hadn't stopped him... He took an unnecessary, deep breath. She was staring at him, the bluntness of his answer apparently surprising her. "William Ford...that's where the last name comes from, I guess. I wondered about that, why it wasn't Fischbach..." "No...no, she'd never let you take his name." Why were his eyes stinging? They shouldn't be able to do that anymore. "What...happened to him? To both of them?" Her voice was very quiet, but god she sounded just like Celine. "Who are you?" "I'm...not important." He took a few steps back. He couldn't be here anymore. "You should go. Get away from here." Get away from me. "But-" "Get. Out." He spoke quietly but the glass divider nearby cracked loudly. It didn't seem to phase the girl. "You haven't told me who you-" "You don't need to know that." She frowned, giving him a determined look. "Yes. I do. I want to know what the hell is going on. I want to know who I am. I want to know who you are." She put her hand on the table, it was too close to his, the grey was touching her fingertips. "At least tell me your name." He stared at the hand, trying desperately to pull his aura back into himself, but it wasn't easy to control when his emotions flared up, and it hadn't happened in so long he had nearly forgotten how. His eyes slowly moved to meet hers properly for the first time, and... He was face to face with a teenage boy with a goofy grin and a gun license and a draft haircut, asking this stupid kid with a sweater vest and too many political science books on the table in front of him in the lunchroom why he was sat on his own. He was looking at his sister as she asked him for help, tears in her eyes, she was begging him not to let Mark find out, one hand on her stomach, where a bulge would soon grow. He was looking at this girl, maybe twenty years old, who'd grown up in an orphanage, never knowing anything but her own name and her mother’s, and never even knowing her father’s name, who had his confidence and her smile and god, she even looked a bit like him, and his mouth was opening without his consent. "Damien." She smiled, a little confused. "Damien." Why did that name sound so natural in her voice? "Well, it's...it's nice to meet you." She offered him her hand again. Why was his hand moving toward hers? He stopped it, pulling it back sharply as he retreated. "You should go." "But..." "Winnie...I...you need to leave this place, it's..." Not safe. He was here. "It's not where you need to be. You need to go. I've told you all I can." His voice dropped in volume, but not the same way it usually does. This time, there was only one layer, and he sounded so much like...himself. "Please go." He wasn't sure what she heard in his voice, but it seemed to convince her. Maybe she was finally noticing his aura, maybe she was too afraid to stay with him any longer. She stepped toward the door. Pulled the handle. Took a step. Looked back over her shoulder. "It really was good to meet you, Damien." She had more questions than answers, he knew. She'd probably be back to this place. Her little frown, and the look in her eyes...he remembered seeing that look on another young girl's face. "You know, there's something terribly familiar about you." He didn't answer. Instead, he turned back to the stairs, and climbed back up them, and it was as if he were stepping back in time. He heard the door slam behind him, and paused. He was alone again. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie." But there was no one to hear the darkness return to his voice. No one to witness as he left this place, empty again.

‘Scuse me while I try a different pain.

BANG

The sound was familiar. The numbness, and then the sudden shock of pain as he collapsed on the concrete. This form had felt this before, the old wound ripped open with the new one, the broken bones jolting out of place with the fall. The Darkness tried desperately to pull itself back together. Why this wound? Why had this one broken him? He was fading. No, no, no! This can’t be happening! This isn’t fair! This isn’t fair. This isn’t...this isn’t...

Suddenly, Damien gasped. His breath was weak and rattling...but it was his. He knew that this wasn’t his body, that he wasn’t truly his old self. He hadn’t been for a long time now, he’d been nothing but darkness for so long, he’d hardly remembered his own name anymore. But now, and he could’ve laughed if he’d had the breath, as he was lying in this puddle of blood, their blood...he remembered. Without the influence of that awful thing, he was himself, he was Damien, and...and...

Oh god.

Celine. His own sister, he’d left her there. And the DA...had he really left them in that godforsaken house? All alone for all of these years? And...

Oh no.

“Will...” he wheezed. A tear rolled down his cheek as it got harder still to breathe. He couldn’t see anymore. “’m sorry...Will, ‘m sorry...”

“Dark?”

No. No, anything but that name. Please, just let him be himself again. If nothing else in this cruel world, let him die as himself, with what little dignity he had left. He didn’t want to be that creature anymore. He groaned weakly.

Footsteps. A thud of someone collapsing down next to him.

“Dark, old man, what happened to you?”

He knew that voice...but it was wrong...it was wrong, but it was him. The tears came faster and he tried to move but grunted in pain.

“W...Will...”

“Speak up, Dark, I can’t hear you with your face on the ground like that.” He was so cheerful. Stupid, stupid man, Damien thought fondly. A hand turned him on his back and he cried out. Will sucked in a breath sharply.

“That’s a humdinger, alright. A hell of a joke.”

A joke. No, Will, no. Damien suddenly remembered what Will had become and sobbed painfully, coughing up blood. He used what little power lingered from...it...to stabilize himself slightly. Just long enough to do what he hadn’t gotten the chance to do the first time.

“Will...’s me...’s me...”

“I can see that, Dark-”

“No. No...not...that...’m...’m back, Will...’m back...”

There was a pause. Then a rattling breath. Then, in a very small voice...

“Damien?”

He laughed, coughing again, and Will tried to help him stop. His hands were shaking.

“’s been...a long time...”

“I...I-it has, h-hasn’t it...”

“’ve got..pink...ha...ha...”

“A tease as usual, I see.” A tear dripped onto his face. “I’ve missed that.”

His breathing was failing again, and the power was fading. “’m so...so sorry...”

“I-it’s...i-it’s alr-right...” A hand closed around his, and he was sad that he couldn’t return the pressure it put there. “It’s qu-quite alright.”

“Tell them...’m sorry...”

“Of course.” Will’s voice was a whisper.

“‘m sorry...” he mumbled again. The blackness of the Void was closing in again, and it was getting harder and harder to hear anything. Will’s hand felt a million miles away. “‘s good...to hear...y’r voice...old friend...”

A rattling breath. He couldn’t tell whose it was anymore.

“Goodbye, William.”

Then there was nothing.

A short story? about Wiford finding out that we killed Dark (in A date with Markiplier) saying that he trusted us and we are the only monster here. Because i like to make me suffer

@markired

Guys...I just thought of a way to make this hurt more.

These guys aren’t from our dimension. These guys didn’t know how to use the power they were given, and while Dark, the combination of Damien, Celene, and our unnamed character, took his time learning to control it, Wilf just wandered. And I think Dark went looking for him, on the pretext of “He could be useful.”

They both ended up here, in our dimension, and found our Mark. And both of them were so broken from the tragedy that they couldn’t see that this Mark was everything that theirs wasn’t, or maybe isn’t. He’s a good guy, a hero, a friend, well loved and respected. They don’t understand that they never existed here. They don’t understand that he never hurt them here, and that he never would, should they tell him who they were and what happened.

They’re trying to get revenge on our Mark because they can’t find a way back to theirs.

What’s devastating is that these are two people who loved each other, who were best friends, who had a history together. And after losing everyone, his killer turned out to be Damien. And that’s why, even now, as heads of the Ego Table, both Dark and Wilford respect one another. They were both driven into madness and vengeance – and the only thing that remains is them and a primary objective.

So... I totally forgot that I made this a few months ago but...

This is my D/A - Sona for WKM with Damien. I tried to keep the 20's style but my dumbass completely forgot this existed so might as well share.

Annihilation of a mind

Based on the movie Annihilation and DAMIEN I have made this piece.

First of all that is a great song

Second of all, how are you so goshdarn beautiful I-

"Blue lips.

Blue veins.

Blue, the colour of the planet from far, far away.

Blue, the most human colour."

I am c r y i n g

But this is beautiful

Mayhaps... Darkiplier painfully reminiscing about William who may as well be gone forever, replaced by this pink buffoon... wishing for their friend and lover back... If that’s too difficult or too cryptic, I’m sorry heh

its sad hours my guys uwu