#colonel wkm

[shabeeboothedrawingender]

I'm not good enough at art to redraw these two images in my style but OH MY GOD THEY WERE ADORBALE WTF??????????? HELP. I'M USUALLY A DILLIAM PERSON BUT CELINE AND WILL ARE ADORABLE SOMETIMES.

[wilfywarfy]

Happy Anniversary~

"...hello?"

It all looks so… familiar. Like he's home, but he knows he's not. There's no banter coming from the commons. Or the sound of pots and pans clashing against each other. Not even the sound of walking on the upper levels.

It was quiet. Too quiet. This wasn't his home.

"Hello?" He calls out again. Where was everyone?

"William?"

Wilford turns around. Not because it was his name they'd called out, but because there was someone else.

A man in a white dress shirt and black pants comes up to him. He wasn't completely sober. He could tell by the way he stumbled. He himself had stumbled like that many times before.

"Hmm? Oh, it's not-"

"'ve been wondering where you were! Come on, we've been waiting for you!" The man holds out a hand for him.

Waiting… for him?

"Well, I suppose I can't keep the party waiting! Oh, by the way, it's Wilford. Not William." Wilford takes the man's hand, letting himself be led.

"Haha, yeah, whatever you say, Will! Now… where's that poker room… oh, right." It seemed the alcohol was getting to his guide as he took Wilford to the party.

What he's met with, well, it certainly is a party. There's 2 other people in the room, both looking equally, if not even more, intoxicated. Both seated at the poker table, with large glasses of wine.

Wait… wait a second…

"Abe?"

The man looks at Wilford, squinting to try and get his vision to realign. "William! Where'd you go? We'd been waiting forever!"

"Uhm, Wilford. I… I just got here. I don't know where I am." He says honestly. There was no point in lying.

"Haha! Aww man, you are hilarious! Maybe you should stop drinking, you're starting to go insane!"

Even Abe didn't believe him? He spent a whole 19 minute special making Abe believe him! That was NOT a small budget special either. "No, I'm being honest!"

"Hah, sure you are! Come on, go pick up your hand again! It's your turn!"

Abe gestures to an empty seat at the poker table. Set up with a rather nice looking pile of chips. A tempting glass of dark red wine. And a hand with his name written all over it. Maybe he could tolerate being called William… especially if it meant a bit of fun.

"Well, don't mind if I do~"

It takes time to get into the swing of things. After all, drunk humor is different from sober humor. But if there's one thing Wilford was good at, it was adapting! Before he knew it, he had the whole table bursting out in laughter with every quip he fired out. And it was much easier with every glass of wine he finished off.

"Haha, William, my friend! You truly are a comedian if there ever was one! Say, why don't you come work with me? You'd make a killing, you know!"

"Oh, Mark, I'm already there! I'm one of the biggest names in entertainment! At least… I think I am."

"Hah, alright, Mr. False Memory. Whatever you say!" The rest of the table laughs.

Mark… Mark… why'd that name sound so familiar?

"What the fuck!?"

Everyone's attention snaps to the door. A new player seems to have entered the party. And he didn't look too happy, considering how he held out his gun. It was a rather nice looking gun, if Wilford said so himself. A beautiful revolver. Why, he had one himself!

"William!" Damien said, breaking out into a fit of giggles. "There you are!"

"Yes, it's me… what is HE doing in MY seat?" William points the muzzle towards Wilford, who's unfazed.

"Well, that's William!" Damien says, as if it's the most casual thing in the world.

Both Wilford and William look at Damien, before looking back at each other.

"Well, let me explain-"

"You can explain once you're dead!" William unclicks the safety, and continues to point the gun towards Wilford

"Hey! Wait just a damn second! As someone who also has a rather dapper looking mustache, I don't want to get into a squabble with a fellow stache haver!"

Wilford holds his hands up, showing that he doesn't have anything. Though in doing such, shows that he has his revolver tucked away in his belt. 

"You do have a dapper mustache, I'll give you that." William slowly points the gun to the floor, though he's still defensive.

"Exactly! There's no need to fight, friend!"

"Wait a damn second…" Abe says, as if he'd just made a discovery. "William… isn't William?"

"I've been saying that, Abe. My name is Wilford."

"It's rather rude that you would confuse us, Abe. We look nothing alike." Both Wilford and William look at Abe, both placing a hand on their hip, as if to say 'We're nothing alike! Just look at us!'

Abe is still very confused. But he's also very drunk. "...okay."

"Anywho, that still doesn't explain why you're in MY seat, drinking MY drink, and mooching up to MY detective…friend." William clarifies.

"Well, look…" Wilford looks at the badges on the man's uniform. "Colonel! Look Colonel, I mean no harm by being here… I don't even know why I'm here if I'm being honest. But this party is so fun! I couldn't resist! By the way, Mark, lovely party throwing skills!"

"Thank you, William."

"Wilford. Anyway, I never meant to harm you. Or anyone here. I simply wished to play poker. So… if you'd like, you can have your seat back."

William stares at him. The amount of pink on Wilford was nauseating to all his senses.

He then looks at his hand, or rather, what Wilford had done with his hand. He had more chips than when he left.

"...haha!" William throws an arm around Wilford, pulling him into his side. Wilford is caught off guard, but adapts, and tosses an arm around the Colonel. "Boys, I think we have another player in our party!"

The boys laugh, and raise their glasses in celebration. 

"Say, Mark. How do you feel about setting up a new hand for our new friend here?" Damien asks the red robed man.

That smile was fake. Wilford could tell a fake smile from a mile away. Why, Mark, why-.

"Of course! BENJAMIN!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Get our new friend his own glass. And bring up a new keg, would you?"

"Yes, sir!"

Wilford doesn't remember laughing this much. The only time he wasn't laughing was when he was drinking, and even that was a task.

His own vision becomes blurry. Time starts to slow. And the slur of his voice grows thicker.

"Say, Wilford… how do you feel about games of chance, hmm?" A sultry voice asks. Who exactly it is, it's hard to tell.

"Well… I do love gambling!" He gestures to his large pile of poker chips. Which he'd gained by, admittedly, changing a few of his cards. What was the harm if they didn't know? "Why do you ask?"

"Well… I challenged William to a game of Russian Roulette. It's a false round, no danger. So… what do you say? Want to bet?"

"Hmm… nah, I'm alright. You two have fun though!" Wilford went back to counting his chips… or trying to, at least. It was so hard to count. He's pretty sure he hears an 'Alright… if you say so.' From over his shoulder.

It's not even a few moments later before he hears it.

BANG!

Wilfords eyes grow wide. And it's like all the alcohol is flushed from his body, leaving him cold sober. That wasn't the sound of a false round. No, that was a bullet. A real, authentic bullet. He knew the sound by heart. 

He drops all his chips and scrambles out of his chair, his feet guiding him to what had happened.

There's so much blood… so much blood… so much blood.

"Haha, Mark lost!" William says joyously, clapping as he laughs.

"What… what the hell?" Wilford says quietly, taking in the scene before him.

Fuck, there were bits of Marks head splattered on the floor. Small chunks of muscle, skull, and brain matter in places where they didn't belong. Blood was pouring from the hole in his head, like some kind of fucked up syrup.

"No…no… this, this isn't real…" Wilford says to himself.

"Heh, damn right it's not real. Come on, Mark, get up!" William kicks Marks body. There's no response.

The smell of rot starts to spread out. Open bodies smelled like death. He knew it from first hand experience.

"This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real…"

"Oh, come on, don't be such a sore loser, Mark! Get your ass up, spoil sport!" The Colonel kicks him again. No response. "Ugh, Damien, help!"

"What's wrong, Will?"

"Drama boy here won't get his ass up."

"...eh, probably just fell asleep."

No, he's not asleep. He's dead. Wilford has seen many dead bodies. Enough to know that Mark was dead. There was no false round… Mark was dead.

"Wilford… you alright?"

Wilford looks at Abe, concern written on the detective's face. Meanwhile, his own was covered with fear.

Pure fear.

"He's dead… he's dead…" Wilford keeps stepping back, til he comes in contact with the poker table. He grips onto it. Hard. His nails make indents in the fine wood.

"He's dead… he's dead…" Once his hands hurt enough, he uses them to cover his face. Blocking his view of everyone messing with the body of their friend.

He's dead. He's dead.

And then… it's quiet.

Wilford looks again… everyone is gone. Mark… Damien… Abe… they're all gone. Hell, the room is gone. Replaced with the loneliness of black. 

"Do you remember yet?"

"...what?"

"Do you remember what this place is, William?"

"...why did you bring me here?"

"For you to remember…"

A crack of lighting strikes too close for comfort, thunder not too far after. It makes Wilford jump in shock.

"For you to remember what you did to me."

In front of him, a body drops. As if waiting for him, right here, at the right time.

It's Marks body. The wound is still fresh. He wants to throw up.

"For you to remember what you did to them." 

"William!"

"William!"

"William!"

Voices surround him. Ones that feel so close, and yet, so far. Never front and center. They hadn't been front and center for a long time.

"For you to remember the mistakes you've made…"

"I… I didn't know…" he pleads with the voice.

"All of those horrible mistakes…"

"I didn't know it was loaded…"

"Everyone you've hurt… everyone you've betrayed… all the pain you've caused."

"Please, I'm sorry!" He begs.

"It's too late for sorry…"

Wilford looks at his hands. They're covered in red. Dripping red onto the supposed floor of this void. He tries to wipe them on his pants, but nothing comes off. Blood just keeps dripping off, never ending.

"Do you think sorry will fix everything you've done?"

He turns around to where he hears the voice, but is met with bodies. Piles, upon piles of bodies. A sick mountain range of his own creation. All mangled in ways that he's caused. Some so bad that he can't even recognize them. The smell of rot is unbearable. The sight is unbearable. He has to physically stop himself from spilling sick all over.

"Do you think sorry would bring them back?"

He turns again.

There's 2 gravestones… overcome with the consequences of time. Both adorned with blue and red flowers respectively.

Damien Whitacre. Celine Whitacre.

"Damien… Celine…" Tears form in his eyes just from the names alone. Oh, Celine…

"Do you think sorry would fix all the pain you've caused him?"

"Why can't I remember?"

"Get your ass down on the ground!"

"Am I crazy?"

"Abe…" oh, his detective… he never deserved all that trouble… he deserved rest. Peace.

"Do you think sorry would fix all the pain you've caused me?"

A cold hand rests on the back of Wilfords neck. All his memories hit him like a freight train. Everything. Everything he'd done.

"Mark… please…" tears spill down his cheeks. He can't look at him… he can't look at him again.

"No… that won't do… not after everything you've done…"

The cold hand vanishes. And he's alone again… in the loneliness of black.

"It's all your fault, William."

Wilford looks around. There's nothing. And yet, there's everything. It's too much. "Mark, please, it was an accident!"

"You hurt me, you hurt your friends, and you left her to die!"

"I didn't! I didn't leave her! I swear!"

"So many people… hurt. Because of you."

"I didn't mean to! I didn't know!"

Ear piercing screams are heard all around him. Victims of his crimes. Innocent people, dead. Coming back to haunt him for his actions.

"Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Mark! I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, William! And it hasn't cut it for a long time!"

"I didn't know!"

"William!"

"William!"

"Please, William!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"You'll never be forgiven, William… no matter how much you try… you'll always be a murderer!"

"It was an accident! Please, believe me!"

"It's all your fault, William!"

"It's your fault!"

"It will always be your fault!"

"Murderer!"

"Please! Please, it was an accident! You have to believe me!" Wilford sobbed. Trying to plead to the voices of his friends. He wasn't a monster… it was an accident. A bad accident. He never meant to hurt them.

"It's all your fault!"

"Your fault!"

"Your fault!"

"It's all your fault, William!"

—

Wilford's eyes shoot open. His heart races in his chest. It's hard to breathe. The air feels like sludge, suffocating him. His face is wet from tears.

"It… it was an accident… I swear." He says to himself, in the dark of his room. The tears come again.

He's alone.

[omexaprime]

a cute little request i did for a campaign i'm apart of over on twitter in support of palestine :)

[ivy-creates]

It's still you...

I've seen many people say that this trend needs to be put with Wilford, so I decided to draw it! I hope you like it! (also posted on my Kofi!)

[riceflourapom]

random drawings

[squeeshh]

Since I drew the Actor, twitter wanted them too ✨✨

[friendzoned61]

I don’t even know why you’re so mad at me she was MY wife first you realize

[moonymoonsiplier]

I read too many WKM fics in one go and ended up making a silly comic \o/

[nimbasacrow]

" Care to join me for a round, old friend? "

(aka how WKM should've went /j)

[mothgodofchaos]

I'm on Nightmare Duty.

[bugteaaa]

Eeeerm... what the sigma🤓

[shabeeboothedrawingender]

Damien when he loses sight of William for two milliseconds:

[hiding-under-the-willow]

And maybe this is killing part of me But it ain't called love without a littlе tragedy

[urdadsceilingfan]

EGOOOOOTOBBERRRR: day 8 frame

[ivy-creates]

Fashion Icon

reference images from pinterest (i didnt know what to replace the phone with so its just a black box 😭)

[fuffleton]

i love market pliers characters