#projectdarkstache2020 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years

Text

Darkstache Week Day Seven: Ordinary People

Days: 1, 2 , 3, 4 , 5, 6, 7

At last, the final prompt of the wonderful event hosted by @projectdarkstache! Thank you so much for encouraging everyone to create such fantastic pieces and I hope all the works can be cherished by their creators! You’ve all done fantastic!

After years of causing chaos and trouble as the Actor, Mark uses his new freedom to bring the fictional world he ruled back to the modern real world. But what about Dark and Wilford?

Word Count: 2,437

(while not necessarily a warning, this does contain sympathetic!Actor becoming Youtuber!Mark in the timeline my stories are written in.)

If he was asked, Mark would admit he had no idea when he felt like ‘himself’ again. It had been decades since the troubled actor’s heart was shattered, the will to live had vanished, and the ability to die eluded him. His broken soul was utterly consumed by the terrors of the Manor’s arcanic past until he became a god-like figure in a world of his own creation. Former friends were moulded and reshaped into characters to suit his schemes. Poor, innocent souls over the decades were pulled into the cat-and-mouse plot to populate the worlds. Drama and chaos were on the regular schedule, and how the Actor thrived!

But now… Peace. And Mark was baffled by it.

He remembered standing at the edge of the city, watching the sun rise like he had never seen the day before. In all the years of darkness and being pulled like a puppet by unseen forces, maybe that was the truth. A new life, a new start. The ‘performances’ he had been part of were failed attempts to gain control over a world that had torn him to pieces and tossed him in the trash. All they achieved was pain and suffering. As he recognised this and wanted to do good, the world he had mastery over was fading and merging with the real world - the one he had left behind. With new independence, he was losing grip over whatever powers he had before. No more would he be able to cheat death or restart time. This was it, the final ‘act’. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. Mark was finally ready to break free from the puppet strings and start over… But there were two in particular he needed to apologise to. Trying to face Dark or Wilford now would result in mockery or gunfire (or both). However, from his spot on the hill, he could see a new opportunity. He could reverse the crimes that were cast. Let them and all their old friends live the lives they were meant to in this new, modern world.

Mark opened his arms wide as the light of the morning sun hit his weary body. At last, the game was up. He could set everything right.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour, Damien himself!” A familiar voice sang as he entered the office with his usual dramatic flair.

“It’s ‘Mayor Brooks’ while you are here, Mark. But it is good to see you.” Damien countered, playfully rolling his eyes. Even if Mark was a big internet celebrity, he made it his mission to check in regularly on Damien. It was a nice relief, even if the pair were trying to regain grounds on their friendship. Mark had dated his twin sister in university, but the manner in which the pair broke up was so dramatic, it caused a rift between the two young men. At least a friendship from childhood was not one that could be broken forever. He saved the document he was typing and closed the laptop. “If you are here, can I assume there is some great problem going on in your world?”

“Oh, no no. All good on my end!” Mark slumped onto the sofa to the side of the office with a laugh. “I recorded one huge game over the weekend and scored myself some free time. What better way to spend it than with my favourite politician?”

“As much as I appreciate the compliment, I would gather that your other friends are busy and you don’t have anyone else to turn to.” However blunt the statement might be, there was a smile on Damien’s face as he fell back onto the free half of the couch. Mark responded with a loud gasp and a hand on his chest, which only prompted Damien to lightly push him.

“How dare you! I’ll have you know I came here to see if you wanted to grab a coffee with me. I found ten bucks in my pants pocket this morning and I wanna splash out. Come on, Dames! Doesn’t your favourite coffee place have the best pumpkin spiced latte on this side of the city?”

“Mark, it’s May. They aren’t going to make that for you.” Now it was Damien’s turn to be pushed as Mark waved the ten dollar bill in his face.

“I think you’ll find myself and mister Alexander Hamilton will disagree with tha- HEY!” Letting his guard down was a mistake, as Damien took the chance to snatch the money out of his hand and jump onto his feet. “You crooked politician! Stealing the money of an innocent, hard-working man like me!”

Damien fetched his coat with a chuckle. “For someone who wants coffee, you don’t seem very keen in moving for it.” It worked, and a childishly offended Mark pulled himself off the couch. The money was returned to Mark as the pair exited the office. Damien did need a break, he decided as he locked the door after him.

Mark was an interesting man. He could act loud and brash, but it was only a mask that hid a soul that seemed older than thirty. Damien used to joke that Mark might be an old man stuck in a young body. The walk to the coffee shop took the usual diversion through a nearby park so they could swap stories and chat without the rush of the world shoving them forward. Mark and his content creator friends were busy working on a variety of projects, and he himself admitted he was feeling happier in himself than he had been in recent years. Likewise, Damien had been working on completing some important jobs around the city and trying to get some new schemes underway. It was busy, but rewarding. In times like this, neither had to play the part cast for them by society. They could be themselves, just like old times. It meant that Damien was more relaxed and jovial by the time they reached their destination.

The coffee shop had the familiar busy hum to it as the pair entered. Since Damien was a regular, there was never any fanfare of the mayor visiting their business. Mark’s ‘perfect’ disguise of a worn baseball cap and his glasses seemed to do the job of keeping a low profile. Surprisingly, the barista did indeed agree to make a pumpkin spiced latte for Mark, as well as Damien’s regular order. Both drinks and two large muffins were covered by the ten dollar bill, much to Mark’s delight. For now, they simply had to wait for their drinks.

“- And still no sign of a special someone?” It was a question Mark frequently asked. Damien seemed content to be ‘married’ to his work, but Mark would argue that the companionship would make the heavy workload more bearable. They both knew it was true, but Damien was a stubborn man. He was too proud to deal with blind dates, and seemed insistent on waiting for ‘the right person’. Instead, Damien countered with a question about Amy and how she and the two dogs were doing. A simple diversion, but a wholesome one, as Mark could share silly moments and photos on his phone, and Damien could enjoy the tales. How could he not be happy for his friend? It seemed like things were finally looking up for him.

At that, Mark’s drink and the muffins were ready, but there was no sign of Damien’s drink. He insisted Mark go fetch a table while Damien continued waiting. Several long minutes passed as people who ordered similar drinks received theirs, and Damien was tempted to ask one of the staff about his drink. Just as he was about to, the door slammed open as a man stumbled in.

“Geez, man! Could you not break that door, please?” The manager shouted at the stranger, who hurried over and apologised profusely while ordering his ‘usual’ summer iced drink and telling a story about a kid outside throwing ice-cream at him. Damien pulled out his phone to try and look busy, but his eyes strayed from the screen and darted to the man.

The stranger was a head taller than Damien and had a broad build that was emphasised by the fitted white t-shirt and jogging pants he was wearing. His black, curly hair looked somewhat erratic, while the large, bushy moustache reminded Damien of the chief of police from a TV show he loved. Facial hair of that style wasn’t in season anymore - not to mention this wasn’t as eloquently groomed as other moustaches would have been - so it was likely something important to the man. His face was framed by a sturdy jawline, which gave a somewhat intimidating air. But his eyes… Were looking in Damien’s direction. Oops.

The Mayor gulped and returned his attention to his phone.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Damien jumped at the sudden voice and presence beside him. The stranger had stepped closer without him realising it. “Is something wrong? Did that kid get ice-cream on my shirt?”

“No, your shirt is fine.” Damien responded quickly, intending to leave it at that. But the stranger stayed firm, bringing a sigh out of the politician. “I’m sorry. I know it’s rude to stare. I thought I recognised you, that’s all.”

“And do you?” The stranger sounded genuinely curious. That was enough to prompt Damien to lock and pocket his phone.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I do, and I wouldn’t forget a moustache like that, but I can’t place anything… Even if it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue.” Realising how odd that sounded, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “I’m sorry, this all sounds rather bizarre from a complete stranger -”

“No!” Both men were taken aback at the stranger’s interruption. “Er, no. Sorry. It doesn’t sound weird. I feel the same. I feel like I know you -”

“I’m the Mayor. That’s hardly a surprise.”

“- yeah, but like I know know you, you know?” The stranger shook his head, curls bouncing with a nervous chuckle. “I think this is a sign. Maybe we ought to get to know each other properly, just in case we met in a dream.” A large hand was offered to Damien. “The name’s William Barnum, but friends can call me -”

“The Colonel.” Damien finished. Confusion was mirrored on both faces.

“How did you -”

“I don’t know?” No matter how he tried to place a specific memory with the phrase, nothing came to mind. Instead, he pushed it aside. “My name is Damien Brooks. Despite the rather odd circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The large hand was taken, and they gave a firm shake.

Immediately, a memory crossed Damien’s mind. This man had pink in his hair. His own hands were gray. Mark had a shadowed, wicked grin on his face. But as soon as it came, it vanished, like trying to recall a fading dream.

“Hey, Damien?” William’s dark eyes had drifted aside as he tried to encourage the words to come to him. “Do you want to go out for lunch this week?” A simple question made Damien’s heart skip a beat as an all-too familiar sensation of butterflies in his stomach manifested.

“Are - are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah… Is that too forward? I feel like it’s the right thing to do. You’re very handsome.”

Strange. Why did Damien feel like William had complimented him like that a hundred times before? Stranger still, why did it make him feel so happy to hear the nervous rambling? He reluctantly pulled his hand away so he could snatch a napkin from the counter and the pen in his pocket. A phone number was hastily scribbled on it, before it was scratched out and written neater. Just in case, his name was noted underneath.

“Here. Text me later. If you’re free, we could always… Go for dinner?” It also felt like the right thing to do, like it was a regular event. William seemed to agree, as his face lit up. Upon receiving the napkin, it was treated like something sacred by William, who carefully folded and placed in his wallet.

“Yeah! That’d be - I’d really like that - Bully.” That exclamation of relief shouldn’t bring a familiar tugging of heartstrings to Damien, but it did. Only that he was with Mark (and that he has a job to return to), Damien would have gladly gone wherever William was going.

Both names were called as the drinks were finally ready. Each one was lifted, and the pair gave their parting words and a promise to arrange something as soon as William returned home. But just as Damien was about to turn and walk to the table, William leaned down enough to kiss him on the cheek, hurrying off before anything else could happen. All Damien could do was watch the larger man disappear with a wistful smile before turning to find Mark at the table.

“You’re putting the local tomatoes to shame. You okay?” Mark asked, innocently sipping his latte. It was still mostly full. The drink itself looked hot. How long had that moment actually lasted?

“I’ve got a date tonight.” Damien was so embarrassed after blurting his answer, he didn’t notice how Mark’s surprise was an act. “I started talking to a guy up at the counter and - well, we’re meeting for dinner.”

“I’m so happy for you, man. Look at you, getting out there and being ambitious! I’m sure he’ll be a great guy!” Mark grinned, letting the topic drop so the Mayor could get his head around the ‘unexpected’ event.

While they were talking after the drinks were finished, a text arrived on Damien’s phone. Mark noticed there was a number rather than a name, but it brought a smile to Damien’s face. The Youtuber waved his hand and insisted Damien needed to ‘urgently’ answer it. As the Mayor did so, Mark noticed how the shadow that was always looming over Damien finally dissipated. At last, the malicious claws from a lifetime ago were gone, and with that, Mark’s own powers.

But what did the loss of powers matter when he was able to use them to help Dark and Wilford start a new relationship together? They could live as normal, ordinary people, just like Dark had always vowed when confronting the Actor. Today: the Actor was dead, Mark was alive, and the curse holding them all down had been broken for good.

Now, if only Celine would talk to him so they could become friends again...

#projectdarkstache2020 #darkstacheweek2020 #writersofmark #dilliam #darkstache #who killed markiplier #actor!mark #mayor damien #william j barnum #Blue Soul (Damien)#Eccentric Goof (Colonel)#(I SWEAR I didn't mean for it to be this long but I SWEAR it's cute)

51 notes · View notes

doctordiscord123 · 4 years

Text

Day 5 - Cryptic

Dark takes Wilford somewhere new, and yet...it’s somehow familiar.

I’ve been sitting here dying and trying to come up with something for Darkstache week, and I’m actually quite proud of this :D

@projectdarkstache

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

Tags: @demon-dark-666 @devon-rever-860 @smash-ash26 @bender-of-life @verse2wo @vociferous-chaos @wraithik-vampire @itsjustkyss @takethepainawaybae @the-pan-anon @ts-famderartist @rottingmolars @revolutionbastard @toothfairy2298 @sororia04s @sirkawaiipotato @darkest-shade-of-light @bitchbyebibye @posts-random-art @xoskeletonkid If you want to be added to the list, just let me know! :D

Warnings: None Characters: Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache Pairings: Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache Word Count: 858 words

“Daaaaaark, where are we going?!”

“Patience, Wil.”

WIlford’s pout only deepened. “Aww, you’ve been saying that for ages now! Just a little hint, please? Pretty please? With sprinkles on top?”

Dark chuckled, a slight smile in the curl of his lips, but he said nothing, just continued to walk through the dark, empty city, Wilford clinging to his arm. And Wilford sighed, tightening his grip a little as he rested his head on Dark’s shoulder as they walked. He didn’t mind the walk through the city at night. Dark was always more active at night. Sure, it screwed up Wilford’s sleep schedule a bit, but...Wilford never slept much anyway. He’d do anything to spend more time with his husband, when both of their lives were so busy.

That being said...

Wilford made a grumbling sound under his breath, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “I hate when you’re all cryptic.”

Dark turned his head slightly in Wilford’s direction, prompting him to lift his own head up. Dark’s smile had shifted into a smirk, amusement glittering in his pitch-black eyes. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Wilford’s cheek, and promptly sending his face into flames. Dark couldn’t help his laugh. “Hate it all you want, my dear, but I still won’t tell you where we’re going. Just...” His smirk dropped, and he turned back to face the street ahead. “...We’ve been there before.”

Wilford immediately perked up, a bright smile appearing on his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet a little. “Oooh, are we going to the club? It’s been so long since we went back there!”

Dark made an odd choking sound, stumbling, and his face immediately flushed dark grey. “What -- no, it’s not the club!” At Wilford’s crushed expression, Dark sighed. “But...maybe we can go there after. Maybe. Maybe, Wil, don’t get your hopes up!”

Wilford laughed, pressing a kiss of his own to the side of Dark’s throat. “Too late~!”

Dark swore quietly under his breath, straightening his tie with his free hand, and Wilford counted that as a win in his score column. They lapsed into silence as they walked, Wilford once again laying his head on Dark’s shoulder. They walked for a long time, but neither felt the cold of the night -- Wilford was used to the cold. Dark was cold. Cold felt like...nothing but love to him now.

However...eventually, Dark began to lead him down a street Wilford didn’t know, out of the city, and up the lone mountain that sat on the outskirts. Wilford lifted his head again, to shoot a confused, curious glance at Dark, but Dark didn’t acknowledge it, just continued up. It was another long, exhausting walk up the mountain, but Wilford didn’t complain; clearly whatever was at the top of this mountain was...important, and Wilford had no desire to break his husband out of his strange...determined reverie.

And then they reached the peak.

And Wilford’s jaw dropped.

A manor sat on the mountain top, enclosed with an old, wrought-iron fence, with a grand gate to grant entrance to the property. The grounds itself was overgrown, the grass too tall, bushes wild, and young trees scattered about where ancient ones loomed. The manor had been firmly reclaimed by nature, vines and creepers growing up the walls, growing through the walls in some places, patches and holes in the structure, some of which had other young trees growing through. The place was obviously once grand and beautiful.

...Not anymore.

And yet the sigh that escaped Dark, the tension that seemed to bleed out of him as he pulled open the old gate that’s hinges grated on Wilford’s ears was...new. Dark looked...so uncharacteristically at ease here. His smile was...wistful, and sad, but happy as he glanced around the grounds, approaching the manor’s front door. It was...an expression Wilford had never seen on him before. Though...as he himself looked around the place, taking in the decay...

He couldn’t deny that this place felt familiar.

Dark pushed open the front door -- or rather, what was left of it, the wood rotted and hanging off its hinges -- and the two of them stepped inside. The interior looked no better than the exterior -- cobwebs and dust were everywhere, vines creeping across the floor to wrap around the staircase’s railings. There was a dilapidated white grand piano in an alcove next to the stairs, a spot seemingly made for the instrument, and...Wilford didn’t know why he felt -- sad, when he looked at it.

Dark ventured no further than the foyer they stood in, surveying the damage time had done. Only then, did Wilford notice the tears rolling down his husband’s face. Only then, did he notice that he was crying, too. He swallowed thickly, memories that -- that he swore weren’t his own filling his head -- “Dark.” His voice echoed in the manor’s empty halls, despite how softly he’d spoke. “What -- what is this place?”

Dark was silent for a long moment, his eyes locked on the piano, before he drew a shaky breath, and turned to lock eyes with Wilford. “...Home.” He smiled, softly, shakily, but...joyously. “...It’s home, Wil.”

#projectdarkstache2020 #darkstacheweek2020 #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache #nostolgia #my writing

44 notes · View notes

frozenrose105 · 4 years

Text

Flowers

Darkstache Week 2020 Day 2

TW: Implied major character death

@projectdarkstache

================================

Wilford walked quickly down the street, gripping three flowers tightly in his hand. So tightly, in fact, that the vibrant stems threatened to snap from the pressure. He didn't realize how tightly he was holding them. He barely even registered the thorn poking at his hand, threatening to break the skin of his pinky finger. No, his mind was elsewhere.

Roses were Dark's favorite flower. They were not to Wilford's taste. They were stereotypical. Boring. But Dark had always noted their simple elegance. Their beauty. Their romanticism. He had loved roses, especially red ones such as the ones Wilford currently carried.

However stereotypical they seemed, Wilford could see why Dark had liked them. As well, they represented Dark quite accurately. The same qualities that Dark saw in the roses, Wilford saw every time he looked at Dark.

The simple elegance could be seen and was noted by anyone who laid eyes on Dark. He carried himself as if always on a dance floor, sweeping through life and charming partners with his silver tongue. His mannerisms were that of two siblings, raised in a different time and meant to accentuate his magnetism.

Dark's beauty was something no one could deny. He never left the house in anything less than his best suits, his hair always styled perfectly. His makeup contributed perfectly to the look, the eyeliner bringing focus to his heterochromatic eyes.

Dark, too, was a helpless romantic, and his romanticism was rivaled by no other. He had taken Wilford on countless dates, each one seemingly more perfect than the last. When he became busy with work and other affairs, Dark would leave notes for Wilford, sometimes containing small poems, or simply the words "I love you." Wilford had kept every one of them, and now.... Now he was glad he did.

Wilford hesitated as he arrived at his destination, the metal fence looking foreboding. Unwelcoming. The sight of the cemetery caused a sick feeling to settle into the pit of his stomach. But on he went, even as the tears began. He had to go on, had to keep moving. If he stopped.... He feared he'd never start again.

#darkiplier #darkstache #wilford warfstache #darkstacheweek2020 #projectdarkstache2020 #tw: implied major character death #Markiplier egos #writing #em writes #fanfiction

33 notes · View notes

mermaid-nebula · 4 years

Text

Darkstache day 3: Feeling blue and Favorite things!

Dark feels sad and unlovable but Wilford reminds Dark that he loves him and that Dark is his favorite thing!

#project darkstache #project darkstache 2020 #darkstache #markiplier egos #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstacheweek2020 #projectdarkstache2020

22 notes · View notes

pull-the-hoodie-strings · 4 years

Text

darkstache week, day 2

Prompt- flowers

(I was on the struggle bus with this one)

@projectdarkstache

Occasionally, briefly, he found the time to stop. Or rather was forced to stop. It was either here or collapsing on the way back to his office anyway. This was far more secluded, not to mention having the better view.

Dark blew out a sigh, somewhat comfortable under the shade of an old tree. A cool breeze blew though and the sky was overcast. Though he didn’t have the desire or the time to grow them, he could still appreciate the flowers. From a distance at least they remained colorful. The brief respite was interrupted by another body settling down beside him. Wilford in contrast was sprawled out, nothing but carefree ease.

“Figured you’d be out here,” he drawled, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Since it’s finally not miserable out and everything.”

Dark hummed. He couldn’t really feel much of a difference but it was evident enough. A red hot spike of pain traveled from his back and down to his toes. Dark took a careful breath, closing his eyes briefly.

“What you want, Wilford?” He managed.

“Here.”

Something was being pressed into his hands. Dark blinked his eyes open to find a steaming hot mug of coffee. Wilford had his own, though by the looks of it the majority was not, in fact, coffee.

“Figured you could use a pick me up,” Wilford offered between sips.

Dark figured he wasn’t wrong and took the gift for what it was. The warmth helped somewhat at least. He had been sitting out here for a couple hours at this point and the worst of the pain had faded by now. They sat in companionable silence, the only noise breaking it was Wilford plucking blades and flowers. Dark couldn’t sit here all day though, loathe as he was to try and stand now.

Just as he was getting ready to, careful fingers were brushing back his hair.

“Wilford what-“

“There we go, perfect!” Wilford beamed, apparently proud of his work. “I’m always sayin’ you need a bit of color.”

The flower tucked behind his ear wasn’t one he was familiar with. Delicate yellow petals were only just visible though Dark could already see the edges going dull. The disappointment coming off the other man was palpable. From the few flowers in Wilford’s lap he apparently took his time selecting a perfect candidate too.

“Ah,” Wilford pouted, looking back to the ones he’d already picked, “guess I’ll have to stick the rest of these in your office or something then.”

A few stems still had dirt clinging to them so wasn’t hard to guess where they came from. “Bim is likely to have an aneurysm when he finds out.”

Wilford waved a hand. “Psh, he can part with a few without getting his panties in a twist. I can handle him just fine.”

Wilford hopped up, flowers clutched in one hand while he helped Dark to his feet with the other. Luckily the only result was a faint twinge in his back. Dark paused for a moment, considering. If Wilford snuck them into his office they’d likely be grayscale within a few hours. It’d a shame if they all went to waste like that.

Plucking a flower from Wilford’s hand, Dark threaded the stem behind the other mans ear. He brushed some of his errant fly aways back for good measure before stepping back to study his work. The color of the petals had barely been touched.

“Might as well make it worth it then, hmm?” Dark offered with a thin smile.

Wilfords grin in comparison could’ve lit a small room. “Aw, Darkie! Now we match!”

“Don’t push it.”

#projectdarkstache2020 #darkstacheweek2020 #fanfiction #darkiplier #wilford warfstache

19 notes · View notes

cadmium-ores · 4 years

Text

@projectdarkstache

I’ve got a fic for Darkstache Week, but I posted it to ao3 (since that’s where the rest of my stuff is) and I hope that’s okay.

Day 3: Feeling blue / favorite things

Fic Title: First Snow

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145495

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Markiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Darkstache, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache Characters: Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel Additional Tags: references to the events of Damien, pretty oblivious Wil, emotionally constipated Dark, Dark's chronic pain (left vague), Cuddling, that's it mostly just cuddling, this is the soft shit, Hurt/Comfort Summary:

The first real snow rolls in, leaving Dark in both physical pain and more emotional turmoil than they’re willing to admit. Wilford helps.

#darkstacheweek2020 #projectdarkstache2020 #Darkstache #my post #my writing #I'M SCARED ALKSJDFLKADSFJLKADSF I HAVEN'T DONE A THING LIKE THIS BEFORE #as in posting a fic to tumblr or participating in an event like this #BUT I SAID I WOULD AND I AM DAMNIT

5 notes · View notes

smiledog15578 · 4 years

Text

Day Three: Favorite Things

Idk if I’m supposed to keep tagging @projectdarkstache or not lol

Dark and Wilford love to get icecream on summer nights! Wilford always makes a mess so this time dark was prepared lol

#art #fanart #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstacheweek2020 #projectdarkstache2020 #ship art #icecream #chocolate #banana split

440 notes · View notes

indic0lite · 4 years

Photo

Day 3: Feeling blue / Favourite things

day 3 babey!!! I have no conext for this but Im guessing it’s a bad day for both :(

@projectdarkstache

#projectdarkstache2020 #darkstacheweek2020 #markiplier #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache #Bees sketches

88 notes · View notes

projectdarkstache · 4 years

Text

It's that time of the year again! It's Darkstache Week!!

Welcome back ladies, gentleman and all other configurations of beings! We are officially announcing Darkstache Week 2020!

The prompt list will be posted next month (April) with the event taking place in May, the 10th to the 16th!

Please let us know if you want to be tagged on the prompt list once it is posted and we will add you to the taglist!

We are hoping that this event will help to entertain you all while under quarantine! We're excited for another year of absolutely stunning creations!

Remember, attached to the prompts will be the rules, make sure you read them carefully.

If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask either myself or our other dear mod, Cookie!

- Mod Sam

#darkstacheweek2020 #projectdarkstache2020 #darkstacheweek #projectdarkstache #darkiplier #wilford warfsrache #darkstache #markiplier

47 notes · View notes

thomothysdoodles · 4 years

Text

Day 6: Dinner/Picnic 🧺

@projectdarkstache

#darkstacheweek2020 #projectdarkstache2020 #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache #darkiplier fanart #wilford warfstache fanart #darkstache fanart #markiplier #markiplier fanart #markiplier egos #my doodles

65 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years

Text

Darkstache Week Day One: Moonlight

Word Count: 1,207

When he was human, Dark loved the moon.

It was fitting, in a way. As a boy, Damien loved stepping outside to admire the moon from the garden, while Celine would push herself to catch the morning sunrise. It was another oddly thematic difference between the twins. Over the years, the moon was a constant for Damien. No matter where he went in life, no matter how alone he felt, there was always the comforting presence of the moon.

He wasn’t a superstitious man, but Damien had noticed an interesting pattern. If a full moon was acknowledged overhead, it brought good fortune with it. He received his university place the evening after a full moon. His first big success as Mayor hit the headlines after a full moon. William confessed romantic interest in Damien under the light of a full moon. Unfortunately, it only stood to reason that the opposite would also be true. Noting the lack of the moon in a clear sky brought bad news with it. His favourite grandparent passed the morning after such a new moon. The absent moon braced Damien for the worst when he was handed a letter detailing the extent of William’s injuries while on duty. A scandal he was unknowingly wrapped up in blew into the public eye after a new moon, one that almost cut his professional reputation to shreds. Damien caught wind of Celine’s affair and William’s final decision on a new moon.

There was a new moon the night of the fated poker night that changed everything.

After that, the moon was yet another thing that abandoned Dark to the grim reality of his fate. Even when his mind was clouded with hate, revenge, and playing the ‘role’ assigned to him, he would regularly throw his eyes skyward when outside at night. The clear skies would reveal the absence of a comforting sentinel. As the years passed, and Dark broke out of the ‘role’, the moon neglected to return. Maybe it was for the best, in one way.

Instead of the moon, a new presence emerged to keep Dark company - Wilford. The former soldier, moustache turning pinker as time passed, would manage to find Dark in a variety of different locations. It was the last thing Dark wanted. Why spend time with the man who not only broke his heart by choosing his sister over him, but had no recollection of ever doing so? It harked back to simpler times. Dark wasn’t sure if he wanted those memories to resurface in himself when he knew he could never be that man again.

But Wilford seemed intent. Despite his habits of one-night stands, he made a genuine effort to woo Dark. Flowers, fine wine (who knows how he got that), flirts. Sometimes, Wilford would do nothing at all and simply sit with Dark while the entity tried to focus on anything else. As with many things, it grew to be too much for Dark, and he attempted to push Wilford away through any means. Ultimately, this became a literal act. When Wilford tried to approach, Dark roughly shoved him back and hastily departed. He only made it to the car park of whatever abandoned building Dark had occupied before a warm hand slipped into one of Dark’s iced hands, tugging at the entity and forcing him to turn to face Wilford.

“Have I done somethin’ wrong?” Wilford sounded hurt. “I’ve been tryin’ ta get ya ta have drinks with me, or go on some sorta date. Ya don’t say yer not interested in me, but ya never take me on -”

“It’s not you.” Dark interrupted. By definition, he was right. William hurt him. Wilford never did. “The last time I let myself be vulnerable like that, the man I cared about ultimately chose someone else over me, despite swearing he loved me and that he would help make things work between us.” It was vague, but it might have been enough to jog a memory in the madman’s fragmented mind. He was relieved when it did no such thing. If anything, it made Wilford’s expression shift to something more thoughtful.

“So me sleepin’ ‘round is givin’ ya th’ same bad feelin’?” Dark didn’t answer, but it was confirmation regardless. There was a surge of warmth as a second hand covered Dark’s. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to stop that straight away. It’s a habit I can’t shake… But if ya have me, my love will only be yers.”

This was Dark’s sign to go. He knew this would only cause them both pain. It would hurt for them to stay together and realise they would not be suitable for each other. Wilford needed someone upbeat to keep him grounded, while Dark didn’t deserve anyone at all. It would hurt Wilford, but the memory of this moment would fade away once Dark kept out of sight long enough.

But why didn’t he make a move to leave? Why did his feet remain cemented where they were? What was it about Wilford that woke whatever humanity was still in his heart and made it sing in yearning for the other man? When Wilford lifted one hand to rest it against Dark’s cheek, why did he not pull away?

“Then can I promise ta try an’ be true. I don’t wanna hurt ya like th’ last guy did. Can I..?”

“Yes.” Whatever scraps of Damien still existed answered without hesitation. It was noticed by Wilford, whose smile appeared under the moustache as he leaned forward to kiss the other softly on the lips.

“C’mon. There’s this great little bar near here. Lemme buy ya a drink before I kiss ya again. It’s only good manners.” There was a moment’s pause, but Dark smiled and nodded. Boosted by the unexpected turn of events, Wilford led Dark out of the car park, hands intertwined. A light tug prompted Wilford to stop and throw a confused look to Dark, but the other didn’t notice. The other’s attention was skyward. “Somethin’ eatin’ at ya?”

“Oh… Nothing. Shall we?”

The pair crossed the street to the bar, watched silently by the full moon overhead.

#darkstacheweek2020 #projectdarkstache2020 #darkstache #writersofmark #under read-more for tidiness!#Cracked Mirror (Dark)#Rose Petals (Wilford)#(let's do this! >:D )

50 notes · View notes

frozenrose105 · 4 years

Text

Moonlight

Darkstache Week 2020 Day 1

@projectdarkstache

================================

It was late. Past midnight, at this point. Dark had been up late every night recently, working. He had deals to finalize, meetings and events to plan and schedule. There was no time for sleep, and Dark often cursed his mortal body for needing such things.

Dark sighed, shutting his laptop at last and putting his head in his hands. He still had much to do, but it would have to wait until tomorrow. He stood from his desk and made his way out of his office, carrying himself with his normal air of command and dominance despite his exhaustion.

It was as he was about to enter his room, hand on the doorknob that he ran into another ego. Quite literally, in fact. Wilford appeared directly in front of him, in the small space between Dark and his closed door, causing his eyes to widen and him to jump back.

"Heya Darky~" Wilford spoke, a grin on his face and his pink aura brightening the hallway around them. Dark took a breath, taking a moment to compose himself before straightening his tie and speaking.

"Wilford." He gave the other ego a nod. "If you would excuse me. I was about to go to bed."

"Bed?" Wilford asked with mock incredulousness. "So early on such a gorgeous night? That won't do at all. Come on." He grabbed Dark's hand, then, and proceeded to drag Dark through the halls of the manor. Dark growled in protest, wrenching his hand free and stopping.

"Wilford. What are you doing? It is late and I am exhausted." At Dark's words, Wilford stopped and turned to face him, his grin faltering.

"C'mon, Darky. I wanna show you something. I promise it won't take long."

Dark hesitated at that. He needed rest, he knew, and he should turn and go back. ...But, much as he would never admit it, Dark had a soft spot for the pink ego. He didn't want to upset him, and it surely wouldn't take long... He would be in bed in no time.

"...Very well. But, as I said, I wish to go to bed soon, so if it takes too long I am leaving." Wilford brightened and instantly took Dark's hand once more, continuing to drag him through the halls. It was an unseemly sight, he was sure, but not many of the egos should be about at this hour.

Dark knew the entire manor by heart, at this point. He knew every twist and turn and secret passage. He suspected that Wilford had found one of those. Which is why when he was led out to the balcony area, he found himself surprised and more than a little confused. There was nothing significant out there. Certainly nothing worth dragging Dark through the manor in the early hours of the morning.

"Wil-" Dark began, but cut himself off when Wilford stilled entirely, leaning forward slightly at the railing. His pink looked dull, in the darkness, as if some of the vibrance had been washed from it. Wilford faced the sky, and Dark couldn't help but note the way the moonlight reflected in his eyes and added to the surreal coloring of his outfit. Wilford, he thought, was quite beautiful.

Dark hummed and looked away from the pink ego, staring instead at the sky. He took in the full moon, and the stars covering the sky. He closed his eyes, listening to the calming sounds of the nighttime forest, and the wind blowing gently around them. ....Dark had to admit. The beauty of the night and the relief of stress were worth it. This was nice.

#projectdarkstache2020 #darkstacheweek2020 #wilford warfstache #fanfiction #darkiplier #darkstache #markiplier egos #writing #better late than never #em writes

29 notes · View notes