#WKM The Mayor
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fictionalsownme · 6 months ago
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i'll be over him when I'm dead okay
I have covid!! or at least my brother has it who I live with and I am very very sick! I'll be fine but I'm staying home from class to avoid spreading it so I finally got some time to finish up some drawings I've been sitting on 🥰 you guys should know I watch every single notification that comes in and smile and gush about them like a creeper so thank you as always, it really does mean a lot!! If I end up testing positive I imagine I'll be out of school for even longer so at least it'd be nice to have some time to draw & write 💞 I really really love how these ones came out, they were supposed to just be sketches and then I just kept going lmao. I've been experimenting with rendering more and more so hopefully you guys like it too! It feels like everyone's getting sick rn so stay healthy everyone! 💞💞 Happy Thursday!!
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writtengalaxies · 8 days ago
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Continuing to think about like...the relationship between the twins and how that reflects in Dark.
Honestly like, all of WKM being centered around the relationships of one woman who is barely on screen. How each of the three men who are tied to her in some form, and their relationship with the concept of what it means to live, and how those words change and twist them with who they will become.
How Damien, Mark, and William all have a phrase about life. And Celine is a medium, talking to the dead.
Feelings.
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mbgcreates · 6 months ago
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Egotober Day 2: Bird
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While technically not the first time I've drawn a human with wings (thank u MLP), this is the first time I've drawn them partially open like this. I quite like this concept with Damien 😁
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midnight-nightrose · 1 year ago
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Wkm playing card ideas
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elenavr13 · 2 years ago
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Old friend!
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kevinzhechair · 2 years ago
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Fuck it Markiplier ego/aus sketch dump
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my swap au under
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So, I’m rewatching WKM, and I’m at the part where we find Abe’s evidence room with the cork board and newspaper clippings and such, and I paused on the cork board to read the sticky notes, and on the top of the “Safari Hunt Gone Wrong” newspaper, it shows a rather interesting headline:
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(Text reads: “City Mayor Is Secretly A Demon In Disguise”)
In conclusion,
DAMN YOU @markiplier AND YOUR FOR-SHADOWING DETAILS!!!!!!!!!
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msmaggie99 · 2 years ago
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Happy (belated) April Fools.
This was a project that was saved in Procreate from 2 years ago that I forgot and never posted, so don’t mind the old style
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iwouldfuckdarkiplier · 2 years ago
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Damien being so touch starved and needy that he does whatever he can to get you to fuck him.
Whether that be teasing you, making underhanded little comments, or brushing his hand against a sensitive spot so you'll get fed up and fuck him; only to completely fall apart whenever he receives even the slightest bit of touch.
You slipping your hand up his shirt, and him whimpering so needily as you do..
Quite the lovely imagine, I think.
Damien probably sounds really pretty whimpering.
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r0ttente3th · 2 years ago
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Damien seems a bit more worried than the Colonel!
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clemclamdoodles · 2 years ago
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Hey Mr Mayor!
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fictionalsownme · 2 months ago
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How do you feel about the original idea of William accidentally killing Damien instead of us?
I think the angst would’ve broken most of us in quarters, probably TWT Seeing art of this AU makes my heart clench for my poor boys (well it already does)
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AHAHAHA PAIN! THAT'S HOW IT MAKES ME FEEL. But okay I put some thought into it for these drawings so if you're interested in how I think it would go down, I put it all in the screenshot below (alt text available)!!
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So yeah!! I like this AU a lot!! There are some aspects I like better than what we ended up with-- William going insane for a life long friend rather than someone he met a day ago (even though I love that we made such an impression on him ;)), it could add a lot to Damien & Will's dynamic. I also like the seance idea I came up with! It'd be nice to give us some agency! And to try and save Damien too 👀 Also I think this version of Dark I came up with is so cool (👉🏻👈🏻) even though the effect would be like,, impossible irl
But there's way more that I think works better about the canon ending-- Celine's reckless pursuit of knowledge getting Damien killed is super fitting, especially since he seems to be the only loved one she has left, it helps explain how angry she is with Actor and the House (maybe that's why Dark is so unstable? I'm getting off track lol--) she's a righteous protector of someone who's already dead yk, whose death she caused. Also! In the canon version, we get to die! pretty fkn sick imo lol
thanks for asking!! I like to blabber!!!!
___
lmk if you want to join the taglist for when the Markiplier Ego Discord I'm making goes live or for any updates! I've been a little hesitant to work on it because my zone is at risk for power shut offs because of the cali wildfires (there's no fires near me so far) and if my power goes out while I'm working on it idk what that does ^^" but I'll try to update soon!
edit: added a cut and shuffled things around ;))
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coolmayordamien · 2 years ago
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Sweet Damien/(Y/N) the District Attorney fluff drabble because I cannot be stopped.
"My dearest friend," Damien greets you warmly, his eyes sparkling with unfeigned delight as he grasps your hands in his own. His ever-present cane leans against the bench that he has just vacated.
You cannot help but to grin in the face of his abject happiness. It never ceases to amaze you that a man such as this--wealthy, influential, handsome--can take so much pleasure from your company alone.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet me here," he says softly, politetly guiding you to the bench. The park that he has asked you to is not one that you have visited before, and it is lovely. There are many walking trails to choose from, a few of which seem to lead off into more private, wooded areas. You would like to walk with him, but his leg still gives him some trouble. You do not want to upset him by asking.
"Thank you for inviting me," you answer back. You are pleased to note a faint blush is dusting his features. It makes him look quite sweet.
Judging by the way he favors his right leg as he joins you on the bench, you were correct not to ask him to walk the trails with you today. That is just as well; it is thrilling enough to be sat next to him, watching people as they pass you by.
It seems to you that Damien has placed himself closer to you than is strictly necessary; although there is plenty of space to his other side, the pair of you are close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating through his suit jacket. If you were to shift slightly, your legs would be touching.
Some time passes in pleasant silence as you watch the world pass by. You and Damien do not always need words to understand each other. This is one of your favorite things about your old friend. You are simply comfortable together in a way that you do not experience with anyone else.
Eventually, though, he breaks the silence.
"My dearest friend," Damien says thoughtfully. "It is true, you know. You are the dearest person to my heart. Were our friendship ever to reach a parting, (Y/N), I simply do not know what I would do."
"Then I suppose that it's a good thing that we will always be friends," you say softly, placing a hand on his knee. You are startled when his own hand covers yours. It is warm, as warm as your cheeks are growing, and it feels so right to have your hand in his.
"I am so happy to hear you say that," Damien says earnestly, holding your gaze for such a long time that you can feel your blush growing.
"But," he continues, and your heart plummets, "I am afraid...I am afraid that I have been...I have not been forthright with you as of late, my friend."
"Damien?" you ask, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"
He is quite pale as he says, "I find my thoughts turning to you...quite often. I think of your smile, your friendship, your laugh. I think of the way you rob me blind in poker, smirking all the while, and I--my thoughts, (Y/N), have not been...quite gentlemanly. I believe that my feelings for you have evolved quite without my permission."
You cannot say a thing, and he turns away from you. His hand tightens over your own as if he cannot control it.
"I have grown quite fond of you," he whispers haltingly. "I...mayhaps I...mayhaps I even care for you in a- a romantic sense."
"Damien," you say gently. He faces you once again, his expression one that seems to be prepared for rejection. You cannot help but to turn your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.
"I am quite fond of you as well," you grin, and his face lights up. You place the palm of your free hand against his cheek, which is lightly dusted with stubble. His eyes close as if the touch has caused him great pain, or great pleasure.
"I am so glad," Damien breathes as he leans in to graze your lips with his own. "So very glad, my dear."
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mbgcreates · 5 months ago
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Egotober Day 14: Blue
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I was originally going to skip today, but since I did Celine as Red, I realized I had the perfect opportunity for Blue :3
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manebioniclegali · 2 years ago
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Nosy — Mafia AU
You've gotten pretty good at sticking your nose in places where certain people don't want you investigating. Unfortunately, someone's taken notice.
A/N: Gender neutral. I'M FINALLY POSTING THIS!! I've been sitting on it for monthsss. imo this works best if you don't look at the tags (unless you follow one of the character ones, in which case rip). If it wasn't for the fact I have to tag characters for this to be put out in front of people, I wouldn't've lol. It's not that much of a twist but I like the little element of (potential) surprise.
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The back of your head aches, the pain intensifying into a throbbing centered around a particular point on your skull. You’re laying down; this you know. You think laying on your side is making it worse. It’s dark out.
You open your eyes. It’s still dark out.
The rope biting into your wrists and the cloth gagging you make themselves known before you register the sack over your head as the source of the darkness; you can see pinpricks of light through the weave in the fabric. You shift to get more comfortable, but find something firm and unmoving against your feet.
“They’re awake.”
A male voice cuts through the quiet, addressing someone else in a hushed tone. It’s not as silent as you once thought, the sounds of cars bleeding through. You slide a little as they take a curve too sharply. Someone leans over in the seat by your head, maybe making sure you won’t fall onto the ground. Or maybe some other reason. After all—
Wait. Am I really being kidnapped?
Last you remember, you were following a lead on another business that might have been a mob front, one that you think could have led you to a prominent member of society, and it brought you to a part of town you thought would be fine, especially in the middle of the day. But then there was that sharp pain at the base of your skull, and the world going black…
…and now this, in an automobile going who-knows-where, with who-knows-who, wanting who-knows-what.
“Make sure they stay quiet,” comes the reply. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t still groggy. What the hell else were you supposed to do? “I don’t want to hear a single sound from them.”
The person beside you pokes your back. “You hear that? Keep your yap shut.” You huff, the sound a loud exhale through your nose. His hand reaches under the bag and checks the knot on the gag. It’s caught some of your hair, and you wince as it pulls at it.
The rest of the car ride is relatively uneventful as you lay on the cracked leather seat, save for more maneuvers that leave you progressively closer to falling to the floor. You suspect they’d just let you lay there if that happened.
When they reach their destination, it’s with a sudden halt, the brakes screeching in protest. Your seemingly-inevitable destiny of faceplanting is prevented by a hand gripping your arm, although your one foot nearly makes it there. The men in the front seat waste no time in exiting the vehicle, and next thing you know, all three are dragging you out and forcing you to your feet. You don’t have time to even think to make any sounds of protest: they quickly shuffle you in a building, a hand on both of your upper arms, stopping for a minute for some undiscernable reason; you swear it’s with baited breath. Then you move forward some more, followed by a ding and the telltale sound and sway of an elevator car ascending, your head spinning and stomach flipping.
The men holding you hostage do remarkably little talking, only giving each other directions when strictly necessary. You think there’s a hierarchy, but they’ve given you nothing more that you can glean information from. Your mind is still too fuzzy to figure out why, exactly, you might be in this predicament, despite how long this elevator ride is.
The bell is barely done ringing out and the doors are hardly open before you’re on the move down some hall, where the squeaks of your shoes are the only things cutting through the air. The sound quality changes, hardwood and then carpet dampening everything, and they slow down. You’re forced to your knees with a grunt at the impact against the ground. The burlap sack is finally pulled from your head, fresher air filling your lungs at the same time that the light blinds you. You shut your eyes and instinctively move to shade them. Quite obviously, you can’t do such a thing with your wrists tied.
Eventually, you’re able to blink and squint as your vision adjusts. The first thing you spot once your eyes are open properly is the large mahogany desk adjacent to you; then the leather chairs you’re knelt between; then the rest of the office before you—bookshelves fit to bursting, a few plants, a cabinet with its secrets obscured from you, and the carpet under your feet that reaches under the desk. You try to turn your head to look more, but one of the men behind you knees you in the back, and you hiss in pain.
“Are you being rude to our guest?”
A new voice, much more pleasant than the men who kidnapped you, draws your attention to the source of all this light—the large windows behind the desk, and the man who stands in front of them, drowned out into shadow. He turns, and you can see his face for a moment before it’s gone again. “And you’ve gagged them, too?” He sighs. “Do take that off, will you? This is no way to treat a guest.”
With a huff that could be accompanied by an eye roll, the strip of cloth is untied, albeit none too gently. You open and close your mouth a few times to exercise your jaw.
“There we are.” You think the man smiles, then he faces the windows once more. “You may leave for now. Wait outside.”
You don’t turn to watch the men leave, although you do glance when the door clicks shut. The new man doesn’t speak immediately, which you are glad for, because there is something nagging you about this one’s voice, and it gives you time to figure out why it sounds so familiar. You test your bonds: no give. You’re not sure you want to see what happens if you try and stand.
“They didn’t hurt you too much, I hope?”
His voice startles you, and you hesitate in answering. Will he even give a damn about any injuries you sustained? “Well, I was knocked out…”
He huffs in frustration. “Those fools. That wasn’t necessary.” He draws closer, and you’re able to discern details about him easier: dressed in a business suit, a bit of facial hair, coiffed hair…only now do you spot the cane. This man’s identity is at the tip of your tongue; you’re sure it should be glaringly obvious, but your damn brain— “I’m sure you would have cooperated just fine.”
You consider it for a moment. You don’t think so; they were probably smart for rendering you unconscious first. They were lucky you woke up in time, though. “Perhaps.”
He smiles easily, the kind that is hard to distinguish between genuine and practiced. “Once you realized the stakes? Of course you would.”
A pang of panic mixes with your confusion. “I’m…I’m sorry, is there a reason I’m here, sir?”
The man leans against the desk, his lips twitching. “Yes, of course. We ought to get straight the point, shouldn’t we?” His eyes flick over you, sizing you up. “I am a busy man, after all. This city can’t run itself.”
City…the cane…his visage…his voice, one you can so easily envision coming through on the radio… You blanche. “Mayor Goodwin?”
Damien grins. “I’m surprised it took you this long, considering how astute you’ve been in the past.”
“A— A bump on the head will do that to you—” Your mind is reeling. “Wait, why—”
“I’m sure you have many questions,” the mayor says, “but I’m going to answer your first one: You are here because you are a rather persistent person, and you are quickly becoming a thorn in my side.” His tone gradually loses its jovality, his frustration bleeding through. “Originally, I was going to have those fellows outside pay you a visit and that be that, but you just keep poking your nose into places too close to home for me to let you slide.” He straightens up and pops his knuckles. You notice your heartbeat louder in your chest now.
Never in a million years did you suspect the mayor of all people to be involved. You figured some councilmembers, but the youngest mayor in the city’s history? The man known for his friendliness and very much not for his apparent involvement in crime? “So why bring me here, to you?” you say, more hoarse than you want. “Why not just rough me up like everyone else who goes too far?”
“Sometimes a personal message is more effective.” He’s directly before you in mere moments, despite his measured steps. You had heard and read the mayor was taller than most, even seen it from far away, but here on your knees, you feel absurdly small in comparison. You’re not sure how you feel about it. You push it out of your mind as he continues. “Violence isn’t always the solution, my dear.”
Your cheeks warm confusingly as he brings himself down to your level, squatting slowly. “Plus,” he says, tilting his head, “you are such an incredibly fascinating case.”
“I could go to the DA,” you blurt. “I could take this story to the papers.”
A laugh bursts from him. “The DA? My dear friend since college? My right hand?” He uses one chair to help him stand again. “And good luck trying to get a story to the papers without proper evidence…and my word against yours. Besides, wouldn’t you rather enjoy a long, healthy life?” Damien winks. “I think the decision is quite clear for you.”
Honestly, it really should be. But you’re nothing if not stubborn, just in your own way. “So, what, you let me go? And that’s it? I just keep my mouth shut and everything is fine?”
He nods. “Exactly.” He retreats to his desk, pausing to think. “Well, not entirely, but you don’t need to know the details.” Damien chuckles. “That’s for me to know and you to, probably, never find out.”
The unknowns cause your stomach to knot up. “I’m not going to be found dead in a ditch tomorrow, am I?” You realize once you ask that question that you should really act and sound more brave, but it’s too late now. You start to try and stand. “I won’t go missing into the bay—?”
“Stay.”
The sternness has you following what he says, returning to your kneeling position. You don’t understand what’s happening in your chest. “No. I’m a man of my word. No violence against you…for now.”
“Man of your word…yeah right,” you mutter to yourself. The mayor turns back to you, steel in his eyes.
“Do not doubt me. Did I not promise I’d protect the city?” He frowns. “I did not lie.” He returns to the large windows, outlined in light once more. “Don’t make me regret my decision.” Loud enough for the men outside the room to hear, he calls out, “Come in.”
The door opens posthaste, and the men seem to pile in, from what you can hear. “You may take them home now.”
Your blood runs cold at the idea of a man like this knowing where you live, but being pulled to your feet jostles it from your mind. They start to remove you from the room, but Damien interjects, “Oh, one more thing.”
You’re turned back to face him. He has that politician’s smile on his face again. “I suspect that, despite this, we will meet again one day. Hopefully it is for the right reasons.” Damien grins. It has a sharpness to it you can’t place. “Have a good day, —”
He ends the farewell with your full name. You don’t have time to process what that evokes before you’re out the door and the sack is over your head once more.
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axs00s · 2 years ago
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Markiplier Egos LGBTQ+ Headcanons pt.2
a/n: Figured I'd share some more of these while we're still in June.
[part 1]
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DR. IPLIER
(he/him)
Cis-male
Queer
THE HOST
(he/they)
Agender
Demiromantic Asexual / Pan
BIM TRIMMER
(he/him)
Cis-male
Gay
ERIC DEREKSON
(he/him)
Transmasc
Pansexual
YANDEREPLIER
(any pronouns)
Transfem / Non-binary
Pansexual [maybe demi-aroace??]
THE JIMS
(are individuals with their own separate and equally valid identit- just kidding, it's a hive mind.)
(no pronouns - jim/jim)
Jimgender
Jimsexual [unlabeled]
DAMIEN
(he/him)
Cis-male
Biromantic Demisexual
THE COLONEL
(he/him)
Cis-male
Pansexual
THIEFIPLIER (HEIST MARK)
(he/him)
Cis-male
Bisexual
ACTION HERO MARK
(he/him)
Cis-male
Pansexual
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