#damien x district attorney

[fictionalsownme]

The fact that Damien canonically carried us to bed because we were too drunk to stand lives rent free in my bisexual head aghshhshshnsls 🥲💞

THEY WERE UNIVERSITY-MATES, YOUR HONOR (ft. my self-insert DA to illustrate the concept 😌💞)

You saying that got me thinking that Damien is so bisexual coded idek how to explain it okay. Obviously the fact that the DA is all of us, aka any gender, aka all genders, makes him queer if you believe he has feelings for us (which like HOW COULD YOU NOT) but it doesn't even matter your gender okay... boy is yearning this hard in the 1920s as the MAYOR?? for his DISTRICT ATTORNEY?? Closeted behavior, I feel. Hehehe ANYWAY--

I'm making a Markiplier Ego Discord!! Idk how interested people are but I thought it'd be fun to try! For now, just let me know if you want to join a taglist for when it's ready (soon!!) and give me name suggestions (please ;;-;;)! 🥰

[moonymoonsiplier]

And I'm still full of the love you want Still waking up, so alone And I'm still full of the love you want No matterwhat, forevermore -The Love You Want by Sleep Token

[theknightmarket]

Hi!!! It's the girl who made the original post about that mayor attorney "I Can See You" fanfic, and I'm here to say you have thrown me back into my hyperfixation!

I swear I don't only get ideas from Taylor Swift songs, but I was listening to "The Moment I Knew" after reading the fanfic and couldn't stop thinking about how good an angsty Damien x reader/DA story would be.

Kinda like he's busy with stuff and doesn't really want to be seen at the DA's party afraid it may stir up drama or something, and in all his overthinking he kinda just doesn't think about their feelings and they realize that the social pressure (or conceived social pressure) is putting a real strain on the relationship.

It could be just super angsty, or if you can think of a way to make a more neutral/happy ending, that could also be fun. I thought I'd just throw this request out there!

Thank you, love your work! :)

"He said he'd be here."

In which Damien is just too late. TW: none, but angst heavy Pages: 21 - Words: 8000

[Requests: OPEN]

In the midst of a winter night, the city hall was a beacon – a lighthouse for storm-tossed sailors. The garlands, the stars, the general holiday décor all culminated to form a masterpiece of cheer. It served two purposes, the first being to make the place look less drab than it normally did, and the second being to rope in the spirit of generosity. The season of giving, as it was so often called, only really worked when everyone was hyped up on champagne and cuts of beef. Not that you could begrudge them that because you were the one providing them with such distractions.

It was your turn to host the party. Every year, government bodies and notorious businesses combined to entertain members of the public at a charity event, the proceeds of which were spread between a select group of organizations. Officially, everyone was welcome, but the crowd who gathered tended to be the upper-class who had both the money to spare and an apathy towards the wholesomeness of the occasion. While most people were at home with their families, the city hall was full to the brim with entrepreneurs and their wives.

As you snaked through the main hall, you took stock of the people in attendance. You supposed you couldn’t be too aggravated with the situation. You weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to get home yourself. In fact, you wanted to stay here as long as possible – it was the one time of the year that guaranteed you would see certain people, and, while one you saw more often than not, it was the rarest of times it would be without a mountain of paperwork between you.

You skipped your gaze across the room like a stone, jumping from person to person, dress to suit, trying to discern that man from the chatter and chortles that permeated the space. Instead, however, you regretfully made eye contact with a member of the press, who was quick to duck between elbows in a steady path toward you. You hoped your sigh was disguised by the faint band playing in the corner. Pretending you didn’t see them wasn’t an option and waving them off was career suicide. You’d just have to suck it up.

That was easier said than done. The first few minutes were the worst, a social test to see how practiced your patience was. Given your experience with members of the media, you liked to think you had built up a tolerance, and it was proven when your cheeks started to hurt from effectively keeping up your smile. It was the anticipated small talk, the ‘oh, how nice you are to host!’ as if it weren’t your responsibility, and the ‘oh, how many people this is going to help!’ as if you hadn’t already seen the lists.

When their head pushed forward and their hands fiddled with their notebook, you knew you were in for the more specific – read: more invasive – questions. Most people would start to sweat at those signs, but you were well-prepared. In fact, you liked them more because you were on equal footing. The press couldn’t ask you too curious a question without risking you sending one back.

No, both of you had to be tactical, and that was your strong suit.

“It must have been very expensive to rent out the city hall,” was the first comment. They never started with a question. Small talk did nothing to test the waters, so this was the hand under the faucet.

“Surprisingly, it was less taxing than you’d expect – and, besides, we wanted to go all out this year to attract as many donations as we can.”

Casual denial mixed with a reputation boost. You didn’t want to give them any fodder to call it an economic waste, but you also couldn’t afford to tell them the full truth. Your relationship was still somewhat of a mystery to the media, and even many of your coworkers, so hinting that you had a discount on the city hall was out of the question. You weren’t lying, just hiding certain information, like any good lawyer did.

“Is there going to be a private after-party?” Their tone was a mechanical copy, intentionally casual with the understanding that you didn’t believe them.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think so. Tuesday nights aren’t the best chance for revelry besides good food and good wine.” You forced out a slight laugh, almost tempted to throw in a wink but that seemed to be a step too far. Someone of your social stature was far more vulnerable to accusations of manipulation that the reporter in front of you.

Still, they followed suit, obviously not wanting to appear cold against your chiseled warmth. They glanced around in a perfect circle before asking, “Are you expecting anyone else to show up?”

That was when your façade faltered ever so slightly. You propped it up as soon as it dropped, but you weren’t getting off the hook that easily. That tilt of their head shocked your nerves – that widening of their grin pushed your heart into overdrive – that suggestion frightened your thoughts into a stampede.

You struggled to keep your eyes off the front entrance.

“Nobody in specific, but we pride ourselves on always keeping the doors open.”

It was a lie, and both of you knew it, but what else were you supposed to do? It was eight-thirty, so dinner had gone by. Any self-respecting member of society would have sent word that they’d be late, any important member would have already been there regardless. Again, your eyes flickered like twin flames to the set of definitely closed doors.

The reporter opened their mouth to speak, probably to prod you about this mystery guest, but as you dragged your attention back to them, you noticed familiar faces. Not the man you were hoping for, but along the right lines.

You shot the person a faint smile, apologized for having to leave, wished them a good evening, and then rushed off without giving them a chance to respond. Good. They didn’t deserve one.

And you had more pressing issues to attend to than supplying their moment of etiquette.

You weren’t the first one to call out, even as you strode away from the crowd. Instead, you were greeted by a jovial, “Ah, there they are!”

You came to a stop in front of Celine and William, who stood side by side at the edge of the room. While you would have expected Will to be hopping from person to person, he had developed a habit for sticking by the more reclusive of your circle of friends. You didn’t blame Celine, of course, you knew recent years hadn’t done her any favors with the upper-class, and only when she was with people she liked did she act more her normal self. In this moment, you were actually relieved to see them on their own.

“I’m so glad you two could make it—” You felt that artificial smile give way to a genuine one, “—is Mark here, too?”

“Oh, he’s around,” Celine said, nodding. “Mingling with the other socialites, if I know him well enough.”

If there was one thing you were envious of Mark for, it was his confidence. He had the uncanny ability to enforce whatever reality he wanted, whether that was a playful conversation or the very fact that he belonged wherever he went. What was that phrase, fake it ‘till you make it? From his line of work, Mark was practiced in doing just that.

“Did you all come together?” You asked the question, but you felt hesitant in the second that followed. Guilty – for fishing for the answer, for avoiding the question directly, for acting an awful lot like that reporter when they were supposed to be your friends. But you couldn’t make your mouth form the words. You should have been the one to know, of anyone did, where he was.

You didn’t know if Will noticed your tone or decided not to question it, because he was quick to respond jovially, “Not at all! It was a coincidence that we ended up at the same table, and now that you’re over her, we almost have a full set.”

Your focus slid to the doors again. Although you tried to pull yourself away, you just ended up glancing to the window to see if he was walking by. When you managed to tear away and back to the conversation, you felt utterly pitiful. You were an adult with a job and a mortgage, but you acted like some abandoned child at the playground, waiting with tears in their eyes for their friend to show up.

The corner of your mouth fell down and, once again, you were too slow to pick it back up. Celine definitely noticed, her hand raised towards your shoulder, but the bustle of conversation interrupted any attempt at comfort. Colleagues of yours surrounded you with their complaints about new cases, and the prior subject was lost to the world of legalese and syntax. Luck was suddenly on your side – or else fate had decided you needed a break.

The doors were still closed.

It was half an hour later that you decided to leave the group, deigning to tend to the other circles of conversation. As much as you had been entertained by Will’s jokes and Celine’s taunts, you were the host, and you had the duties to go along with it. You weren’t able to stand around with people you saw every day when there were fires to put out between stockbrokers and generals. You had to hope they would stay metaphorical ones.

But you found the time to put them on the backburner when you noticed another of your friends in the hall. Like many times before, he was in the middle of the room, but strangely and for once, he was alone with a champagne flute in hand. You wondered briefly if he were looking for Celine, but it was promptly beaten out by the possibility of him not actually being alone. It was slim and probably stupid, but you were already walking over, and he did look off.

When you were close enough, having ducked away from a jutted-out elbow, you got his attention, saying, “Mark?”

You had tried to do it softly, as softly as the crowded space allowed, but that didn’t stop him from jumping. It was a reaction you had never prompted from him before, and the both of you looked surprised at it.

“You- um, you scared me.” Mark adjusted the red tie of his suit. “Splendid party you have here, dear, I must say.”

His irises darted around in the white pools in a familiar fashion.

Your eyebrows creased as you asked, “Are you alright?”

That brought his focus back to you, like a rabbit only noticing the headlights before impact. He rushed through his words, “Of course, of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re in a room of two hundred people, and you jumped when I said your name.” You weren’t sure if that was meant to be a joke or not. “And you look like you’re being hunted.”

“No, no, really, I’m…” Any protestations he might have had were undermined by his trailing off and keeping the reason a secret was a no-go when he was looking painfully obviously in the direction of Celine and Will. They were still surrounded by the lawyers, sometimes sharing a private comment followed by barely contained laughter.

“I’m fine,” he said hollowly.

Mark wasn’t fine – and neither were you. While he stared at the pair halfway across the hall, your thoughts drifted, as they inevitably did when given a moment of relief, to your own partner, who was nowhere in sight. You were conflicted, a battle of emotions waged in your heart and mind that was shaping up to be a war of attrition. You tried to accept that this was the reality. He just wasn’t there, nothing else to it, and feeling anything towards it wasn’t going to change anything. Logically, you should have pushed him to the side and got on with the festivities.

Too bad logic had no hand in your emotions. What was left made you livid. You had discussed this whole night, planned it out together and made sure to accommodate every little detail that could have ruined the event. There had been question of what to do if one of you didn’t show up, because why would there have been? You trusted each other. You trusted each other. And yet, there you stood, in front of one of your friends with nobody at your side, sending glances at those godforsaken doors like he might’ve decided to show up after all! If he had any sort of decency, he would have stayed right where he was and never gone near you again. 

But there was a part of you that wasn’t angry. A war had at least two sides, after all, and civil had never suited you. No, the side opposing the rage was betrayal, in that kind of bitter way where there was no room for temper or spite. Why didn’t he show up? Why wasn’t he by your side? A soft pattering of rain made the ire fizzle out into nothing but smoke, leaving you with charred remains that wouldn’t be fixed for a long while now.

Slowly, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Rationality covered up the hurt, like hell freezing over, but it boiled beneath.

“Hey,” you choked out, “if you need to go somewhere to take your mind off of things, there’s a spare office or two you could settle into.”

Mark’s eyes softened as he drew them back to you. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay.”

You assumed that would be the end of that, ready to bow out and find someone else to deal with, but Mark took a sip of his champagne and then quickly pulled the flute away again. That professional grin told you he had slipped back into the persona he toted for the screen.

“But enough about me. How are you doing?”

“In what regard?”

He made a vague gesture with his empty hand. “Making your way up the ladder, working on your public projects, spending time with…”

He paused and looked around, but you didn’t need him to finish to know who he was referring to. You’d look, too, if you didn’t think it would kill you.

When he came up empty handed, he asked, “Where is the old boy, anyway?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know. All you could provide was a shrug – much too limp for a social appearance but animating yourself felt like a chore – and a glance away. Not towards the doors. Not there.

Had you been in a better mood, you might have called out Mark not acting like a drama-queen. Instead, his shoulders dropped, and he placed a gentle hand on your upper arm. Solidarity. A little pact made, as if you were two schoolchildren playing heroes in the backyard.

“Remember your own advice, dear. There’s no shame in taking some time out of it.”

You nodded, only just meeting his eyes. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Good luck.”

“You, too.”

You parted from Mark, and, as he faded into the crowd, you jumped into your duties once more. Whenever you felt yourself getting closer to the entrance, you diverted to another group. Whoever made themselves at home near the doors would have to go without your assistance, you supposed, but that thought didn’t stop you from getting further and further away. Your effort was gradually being used to stop you from looking. You had to keep your vision straight, pretend you had horse blinders or something, anything to keep you on task and stop your thoughts from always wandering, slowly, painfully, like removing a knife from a stab wound when you wanted it to hurt, back to Damien.

Standing in front of the door, Damien felt paralyzed. He also felt selfish, guilty, terrified, all manner of negative emotions that created a storm in his mind, but none of those mattered as much as the fact that he couldn’t move his feet. He didn’t know why they refused to listen to his orders. Just an inch forward, that was all he wanted, but there he stood, statuesque and three miles from where he was supposed to be.

His eyes flickered to the clock. The larger hand was just ticking past eight as if mocking his stillness. He was already late to the event and, although it normally spurred him to action, it only served to stir up more hesitation.

With a huff, Damien decided to check some more things around the house – and as the thought occurred to him, the curse broke, and he was able to step backwards towards the kitchen. That sort of freedom might have been prompted him to try the door again had this not already happened three times over. The stove was off, the windows were closed, the daily chores were all completed to sufficiency – just as they had all been the last time he checked.

He was going around in circles, and, shamefully, he knew that. He just didn’t know what to do about it. Every time he got within reach of the door handle, he froze completely, his joints locking and keeping him from getting any closer. It was almost torturous, and he didn’t even know why it was happening…

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew why. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was no bluffing his way out of this. Simply put, he didn’t want to go to that party. College-him would have balked as his introversion and then more so at who he was brushing off in the process.

He felt bad, of course, he did. He could only imagine what you were going through, especially without having told you he would be late, but even getting a message to you seemed too much commitment.

He almost laughed. Commitment. The two of you had been dating for a year but telling you he wasn’t going to be there was a step too far?

When had he stopped in front of the door again?

Damien felt his grip tighten around the cane. He had a few choices, each with their own sub-categories and problems to match. First was blowing off the night altogether, shirking his clothes and responsibilities, and trying to get some sleep. What stemmed from that was the decision between facing your inevitable wrath or trying to avoid you for the rest of his life. The very thought of either of them made his stomach churn, with the likelihood of you never wanting to see him much too high whether he wanted it or not.

Second was forcing himself to attend. Late was better than never, right? He only hoped you believed that, because a spitting match in public was in the cards, and it wasn’t the only issue he might face. If it were, he would have arrived on time in the first place.

Damien’s current life was a deathly balancing act that threatened to topple him over every second he spent on the tightrope. On one side was his personal life that spawned problems of its own, chief amongst them being their freshly reunited group of friends. Mark, Celine, and William all in one room was a recipe for disaster that was only made worse combined with the other side that pressed down on him. Reporters were going to be swarming the city hall, a plague of locusts that would only let up in the light of the morning. If anything went wrong – Damien spilling a glass, saying the wrong thing, getting involved in an ill-intentioned marital disagreement – everyone would hear and then everything would be over before daylight.

Both options held a nightmare of uncertainties, and there was a miniscule change that he would get out scot-free. He had to choose, which was something he had never been good at. The only question was what he felt better losing – his job or you?

You wished you could enjoy the scene before you, but all you felt was bitter disappointment and the cold of the wall. Set away from the crowds, you watched them dance to the songs the orchestra had been playing for the last half hour. Joining in was an infeasible thought, but you tried to come up with a better alternative to this. 

Bursts of movement caught your attention before kids burst out from between suited legs, proceeded by parents with words of chastisement. It was well past their bedtimes, and most of the other families had funneled out a long time ago, but you were in no mood to deny reckless childhood. You could barely stand to look at them.

Directing your focus elsewhere was no better; the small group of remaining teenagers guided each other into waltzes and box-steps. Arms around one another, hands being adjusted like art critics working on their masterpieces, everything just so. When one got the spin wrong or stepped on another’s feet, there was an explosion of laughter and then helpful advice. It all made the corners of your mouth drop further, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

The thing that made you shove the heel of your hand into one eye and then the other was an elderly couple. They were engulfed by the other dancers, but they stood out to you, with graying hairs and wrinkled skin and content smiles pressed into one another’s shoulders. They swayed more in time with each other than with the music, as if their heartbeats created their own tune that only they could indulge in.

It was only when a wandering waiter crossed your vision that you grabbed a champagne flute off their tray and slipped off to one of those unused offices you had told Mark about.

Given your state, you would consider it to your credit that it took you fifteen minutes to get through your breakdown. There had been pride in your when you stepped through the door without collapsing into sobs – a feeling that was promptly swept up by the shame and betrayal that had seemed to be simmering during the night. You were lucky that the room was barren, or else the property damage expenses would make an awful night even worse. Nothing had been light enough to throw, and you weren’t unstable enough to try heaving the desk out of the window.

It was better that way. You wanted to preserve some decorum in front of your friends, after all, when they eventually found you. Unsure if you wanted them to see you like this, you decided on ignoring them for the time being as they took you in.

You surely looked a mess, with a drained flute and jacket draped haphazardly over the chair, but you weren’t willing to hide your face. While you were aware you had a good poker face, you had never seen it from the outside, so you underestimated your guard. Nobody was able to tell how you felt from that distantly dazed sheen over your eyes.

Celine was the first to speak, with the tentativeness of treating a wild animal – no, not wild. Possibly dead.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Similarly as slow, you dragged your attention to the group. The headcount surprised you, especially in such close proximity, but you didn’t comment on it aloud. Instead, you breathed in and out.

“No.”

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone, nor was Celine jumping to her brother’ defense. “I’m sure Damien just got caught up with something.”

The very sound of his name – the first time you’d heard it all night – demanded more tears in the corners of your eyes. When your despair trailed off into hiccups before, you had assumed you wouldn’t be able to cry for another week, at the very least, but today had proven the faults in believing past experiences.

“He probably got a call, something urgent- I mean, he’s the mayor—”

She was cut off by a sudden, strangely dull comment from Mark, “That’s no excuse.”

His distant expression was not lost on you, but you were in no position to be comforting him anymore. Hell, you were barely paying attention to the conversation, too caught up in your own dejection and the thoughts that spawned from it. Questions dominated your stream of consciousness, varying in emotion and intent, but all of them were focused on the reason for this situation.

Celine continued on without your input, saying, “Yes, it is. He’s just busy. He wanted to come, I know he did, he just got held up.”

You liked Celine, you really did, and you understood her natural instinct to protect Damien’s name – but you didn’t care. She could have told you he had figured out the solution to world hunger, and you wouldn’t care. In this instant, you were too overwhelmed to give weight to any of their words. All you knew was how you felt, the emotions that you had blocked out from your professional life and dumped into your personal turning from sweet to sour in just a few hours.

It was Will who noticed your state first, placing a hand on Celine’s shoulder to get her attention. Muttering her name, he nodded in your direction. The tears were no longer staying contained by your waterline. The nails you were jamming against the desk were bending under the force. The skin of your lips was being torn piece by piece off the flesh.

“Damien said he’d be here,” you said quietly. From anyone else, they might have assumed it was a statement of fact, but you delighted in the logistics of reality. This was a forlorn admittance of a disappointing truth.

When you repeated it, the words were laden with resentment. “He said he’d be here.”

“He’s just busy—”

“I know!” Your yell had Will leading Celine back a step, though it didn’t deter you one bit. “I know he’s just busy with important meetings and important paperwork and important campaigns, I just thought…” 

You choked pitifully before having to take a few seconds to collect yourself. Outbursts were not common for you but tonight seemed to be the blue moon that everyone talked about, only everything it was used in a positive context for was happening on the same day. 

Sighing, you let yourself drop further into the embrace of the desk chair as you finished your little rant, “I just thought I was important, too.”

It was in the proceeding moment of silence that a consensus was reached; Celine and Mark shared a look while Will checked down the hallway for stray guests who had missed the bathrooms. In a feat worthy of celebration, they quietly agreed to cooperate.

“You should go home,” Mark said, gently.

Your head lolled into the wooden back. “I can’t. I’m the host.”

“We’ll take care of everything here, and you can go home and get some rest. I mean no offence, but you look awful, dear.”

You huffed a weak laugh, only partly genuine. Being amused seemed so wrong in this moment, but shrugging the effort off did too. Your mood was bad enough already, you didn’t need the awkwardness of a failed joke to make it worse, even if it was only slightly. Still, you weren’t able to meet his eyes, or anyone else’s, as the sound trailed off.

Celine ducked into the hallway as she said, “I’ll get you a cab.”

Will followed her out, but he stopped by the door, standing guard with a returned air of a soldier. You appreciated it more than you were able to express.

“What time were you planning on ending the night?” Mark asked.

“Everyone is supposed to be out in an hour, but there’s sometimes stragglers.” Pressure from your hands as you pushed them into your eyes relieved some of the stress behind them. “The press tends to stick around for any bloto politicians.”

He nodded with absolute certainty. “They’ll be gone before the clock strikes ten.”

You assumed that was the end of that, and you were glad for it, too. Guiding people out with tear-tracks down your cheeks and red-tinted eyes was not something you looked forward to. Luckily, this was an appealing solution that only required you to get out the front door.

Just as you reached for your jacket, though, Will poked his head back around the corner of the frame, eyebrows furrowed together. “If Dames does come, whaddya want us to tell him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you answered immediately, gripping the sleeve like a lifeline. “He won’t.”

“He still has time.”

In a flurry of movement, impatience and irritation, you pulled on the jacket and readjusted your cuffs around the ends. “If he wanted to show up, he would have shown up before me.” You accidentally kicked a chair leg as you jumped from the seat, but wincing was beyond you. “You know how he is about punctuality. It’s all or nothing with him.”

This time, on the unfortunate flip of a coin, it was nothing.

The easy-going tone flooded back to Will as he spoke, “It’s his loss. I haven’t drunk as well as this since your graduation.”

The corners of your mouth dropped even further. Your graduation – the celebration of years of hard work and sacrifice to be enjoyed with your friends, family, and the very man who had graduated alongside you and was currently missing from tonight.

You cast your attention to the ceiling in an attempt to avoid crying again.

“Sorry,” Will muttered.

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t, not really. None of this was fine. For it to be fine, things would have had to change three hours ago, probably longer. For it to be fine, you would have been going through the motions of a waltz instead of holed up in an unused office. For it to be fine… 

You groaned. You didn’t have the energy to fight right now. Gradually, the anger nestled in your bones was waning to make space for fatigue. Your entire firm, and likely many other important facets of society, were going to be out of order tomorrow, so an early night and late morning were not out of the question. People were going to make assumptions, but better they thought you indulged yourself than fell apart at someone’s absence.

Steps along the corridor, the taps of heels, made you tense up, but your shoulders dropped when Will stepped aside for Celine.

“The cab’s here,” she said.

You nodded and started towards the door, Mark at your heels followed by Celine and Will when you got to the corridor. It was a slow process, especially when you hit the main hall, but you got by with a few smiles and waves. You didn’t stay in one spot long enough for anyone to ask questions, and you were forced to pick up the pace when you saw that reporter from earlier perk with recognition.

Soon enough, the night air was biting at exposed skin and soothing over raised hairs with the chill of the breeze. Just as Celine had said, there was a car pulled up on the side of the road, and it was such an appealing sight that you barely got out your goodbyes before you were rushing down the concrete steps. You would see them again, sooner or later, though you couldn’t predict the mood of the situation. Still, waiting to be courteous meant being there any longer than you had to, so it was with haste that you pulled open the car door and rattled off your address.

Forty-five minutes. Damien had forty-five minutes to find you, let you air out your grievances, and convince you to give him another chance – which seemed easy enough because you were the host, he was great at listening to you, and you loved each other, so there was very little that could go wrong – and the more he said it, the easier it would get!

However, he had to admit, avoiding being accosted by the press was making getting in much harder than it had to be. He took it as a hint where you wouldn’t be, though; both of you had long since shared an aversion to the media, and he knew the most you would give them were courtesy conversations about superficial topics. The sight of notepads and cameras drove him to the other side of the hall, though, strangely, it failed to put many people between them.

In fact, as Damien slipped to the back of the room, he noticed vacant spots appearing between groups. The empty space both teased him and pushed him into a flurry as he spun around businessmen and lawyers, none of whom you were with.

His wanderings only became more and more constricted as the minutes ticked by; he was already steering clear of journalists scattered around, but the sight of Mark and William standing far too close for comfort has him backing away further. This was what he had been worried about, but showing up three hours late hadn’t stopped it. The men’s clenched jaws and fists told him all he needed to know about how their interactions were going. He only wondered where Celine was, if they were on their own.

He got his answer not ten seconds later, meeting his sister’s eyes across the hall. Relief prompted him to take a calming breath, hoping that she would explain where you were, but panic returned to him when he saw her striding over with purpose. He set out to meet her halfway, curiosity and concern shoving him forward.

Damien was the first to speak, but he barely got out a rushed, “Celine, where is—” before she interrupted.

“You have seriously messed up.” A tone he was relatively unfamiliar with, at least when directed towards him, underlined her words. It was the frigid anger of hypothermia, which spread to his own body to send a chill up his spine.

“What do you mean?”

Celine didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. They both knew what she meant.

Damien swung his cane up to his other hand, wringing it as one would a rag as he thought it all through. He hadn’t taken a moment to consider what he would say to you, but admitting what he did was the first step. This was just practice.

“I know,” he muttered, “I know I’m late.”

“That’s an understatement, it’s nearly over.”

“I just need to find…” He surveyed the crowds while he spoke, the words trailing off as he placed more focus on where he was looking. All the formalwear was starting to blend together, the sleek blacks molding into one blanketed stretch of cotton that was broken periodically by dashes of white – stars in the night sky, but none of them you. The only person he recognized in the mass was Mark, who was speaking to a group and gesturing to the door.

His eyebrows furrowed, but the question died on his tongue at Celine’s words.

“They’re gone, Damien.” His head spun to look at her so quickly that his neck clicked, but all she did was repeat her point. “They left.”

“Why?”

“You weren’t here.”

Heartbeat overtaking her words, vision swimming at the edges, breath speeding up to the point that he couldn’t tell whether he was inhaling or exhaling, Damien froze. You were gone. He was here, but you weren’t, so where were you? Why did you leave?

“But they’re good at publicity like this, they didn’t need me.”

“That’s not the point.”

In the space of one of his rapidly accelerating heartbeats, he recognized the gravity of the situation. He had thought, perhaps only hoped, that this would be a simple conversation. Not because it was a trivial matter, but because you had gotten through these kinds of things before, with communication and perseverance. The battles ahead of you were nothing compared to what was behind you, and you had faced them together. A team.

But cliffs eroded, machines rusted, and what was behind you had knocked down your defenses. If he didn’t get to you soon, there was going to be nothing left.

As blood ran from his face, he too rushed to the front door, bypassing Mark and Will’s confused glances towards him. The front door barely registered to him, eyes landing on the closest cab that he was able to practically launch himself into. This was the second time he had given someone your address with such a shaky tone, nerves lighting his words ablaze, but that first instance only served to make his heart ache more in this moment. How things had changed in years past.

He spent the journey from town hall to your home in constant motion. Sitting still meant idleness, which meant not doing enough, which meant he was also groaning about the irony while tapping his foot against the bottom of the car. A tense fifteen minutes crawled by as though he were swimming through tar slightly too high for him – but the floor seemed to drop out from under him when the driver turned onto your street.

When they pulled up to the curb, it was all Damien could do to take a deep breath in and an unstable breath out.

Even as he handed over the cash for the driver’s time, he was barely paying attention to him, although he heard him say, “You want me to stay?”

Damien answered simply, “No, thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

He wished.

But first, he had to get to you, and, although crossing the stone path was akin to traipsing through a graveyard, it was seconds before he was at the door with a fist raised. Three solid knocks, the only stern action he was able to muster.

Initially, he received no answer – were you even home? Had you wanted to avoid him so much that you went to a hotel, another friend’s house, back to your office? The front windows showed static shadows, but you tended to spend evenings in the garden room with a book in hand and moonlight fading into the warmth of the lamp.

He wasn’t stupid enough to break into your back garden, so he knocked again in that thump-thump-thump pattern.

Luckily, he didn’t have to pitifully try again or leave with his tail between his legs. The slight creak of the door, a sound you always pointed out but refused to fix, had him holding his breath. When he saw you, however, his shoulders dropped, and a frown overtook his lips. You were indeed home, and you were making a good show of not being a wreck. You were disheveled and teary-eyed, but what he noticed most was your complete silence.

Damien spoke immediately, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You sniffed but held eye contact with him. “Why?”

“I didn’t make it in time. I got to the hall, but you weren’t there, and then Celine told me you’d already left. I came as quickly as I could.”

His explanation was lacking – he didn’t think he would ever be able to tell you exactly what happened – but you didn’t acknowledge any of it. Instead, you said, “No, why were you late? Why weren’t you there after you said you would be?”

All he had to do was ‘find you, let you air out your grievances, and convince you to give him another chance’. That was what he had assumed, wasn’t it? And yet there he stood, on your doorstep, hardly able to conceive a thought towards answering your question.

“I-I was busy.”

You were no more impressed with the response as he was. “You were busy,” you repeated, bluntly.

“Unexpectedly, yes, I didn’t want to be busy, but I was.”

“Go on then, what were you so busy with?”

A moment’s hesitation on Damien’s part had you scoffing and starting to close the door. On impulse, he reached out to touch your arm, stop you, stop the door, stop the creaking that he would fix if you just let him.

“Darling—”

“Don’t!” With that yell, you stumbled back away from him and into the shadow of a shelf. “Don’t touch me. And don’t call me that. And don’t- don’t lie to me. We both know you’re not good at it, so don’t even try.”

You weren’t trying to close the door anymore, but the disappointed look in your eyes was pain enough. It wasn’t a glare, just an exhausted glaze over what would normally be vibrant passion.

“Damien, people asked after you, nobody knew where you were. I didn’t know where you were, and now you’re here, but you won’t tell me why you didn’t show up.”

“I couldn’t.”

You waited for him to continue. He didn’t. As tension flooded the air between you, you took the cue to move into your living room, just a few steps and a turn from the door. So unused to the etiquette for this, you left the door open for Damien to follow – or, maybe, you just wanted him to.

From behind you, you heard him start to apologize again, but you cut him off before he could start anything meaningful. 

“I don’t care if you’re sorry or not.” You had to force yourself to turn around to see him. “I want to know what was so important that you missed a party you told me you’d be at.”

Fighting the urge to look away again, you watched as he opened and closed his mouth. It was a struggle for you both, and, in the end, all he managed was, “I couldn’t come.”

That was what you had feared; this conversation was devolving into some Sisyphean nightmare, and your options were limited as to how to break the cycle. Trying the first, you slapped your hands together, the sound ringing out like a church bell.

“Okay. Fine. You couldn’t come.” You spoke casually, like that was the end of that, but Damien knew it wasn’t. “But if you can’t tell me, then you can’t be honest with me, and eventually we’ll end up hiding more stuff from each other.”

It was no secret what, or who, you were referencing. Both of you had seen what happened to your friends’ marriage, and neither of you wanted it to happen between you, especially given you had yet to reach that stage of relationship yet. But what could you say? The two of you tended towards the nontraditional.

With that pessimistic thought, you ploughed on. “And at first, it’ll be the small things, you know, the mistakes that are cleaned up before the other can notice, but then it starts to get important, and then suddenly we can’t trust each other at all.”

You had failed to maintain contact with him, your attention drifting when it got too much. That overwhelming, pleading gleam in Damien’s eyes felt like a vice grip over your heart, slowing your heartrate into arrhythmia.

Dully, you finished, “And I don’t want us to get to that point.” Your voice was thick with unshed tears, which you tried your hardest to push away.

“We won’t,” Damien declared with a confidence that you envied. “I trust you now, and you trust me, right?”

“You’re the one who’s refusing to tell me why you didn’t come!”

“We haven’t been in a room with Celine, Mark, and Will since he got back from France—” He hadn’t meant to say it so suddenly, but the words burst from his mouth like a tidal wave, “—and there’s no way that we’d get through the night without something going wrong. Knowing them, it’d be Mark and Will taking cheap shots at each other and then getting into some fight in the middle of the hall. Celine would get involved herself and then we’d be left picking sides and putting out fires. I didn’t want our first big event together to be like that.”

He had seen Mark and Will at the end of the night, each with their jaws clenched and insults stirring in their minds; he knew what they looked like before they exploded, and after so many years of experience, he didn’t know how it went over your heard.

However, unlike Damien, you had seen them for the entire night. With a sardonic chuckle, you said, “Well, you’ll be happy to know that nothing like that happened. Wasn’t even close. Everyone was completely civil, because they’re not children, and I think you know that.”

“I also couldn’t risk being in a room with all those reporters, and the businessmen, and the lawyers, and every other sector of society who are waiting for me to mess up. If I make one mistake, I am done. I can’t afford to be seen so much by the public eye outside of office, or people will think I’ve been wasting time.”

A pin-drop was audible, though how it would have gotten through the tension in the air was a wonder. You both stared at each other, waiting to see who would make the first move.

“So,” you started, straightening your shoulders with faux composure, “our relationship is you wasting time?”

Panic shot through Damien’s heart. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He had meant… anything but that.

“Do I? Because everything that you just said was to do with work.”

“Are you angry that our relationship isn’t an issue?”

“I think it isn’t on your mind at all. You’re not worried about it because you aren’t even considering it.”

Now was not the time to point it out, but Damien couldn’t help but notice your habit of constructing stories. Holdovers from prosecuting defendants and defending patrons. He wasn’t the only one who had a poor divide between work and life, but he understood that it would only add fuel to the fire. Yours was steadily puttering out into a few stray embers.

Sighing, you dropped onto the couch. Plush pillows bent around your formal wear.

“Damien, I can’t do this.”

He didn’t blame you. The entire night had been an emotional rollercoaster, not to mention the workday preceding it.

He kept his voice soft as he said, “We can talk about it tomorrow if you want. I’ll call out from work, and we can have a conversation.”

After rubbing a hand over your eyes, you looked at Damien. Your poor, sweet Damien. The last few years had been amazing. You wouldn’t have wanted to spend them with anyone else. Even the parties in college, the ones you barely remembered beyond the off-putting taste of beer, you cherished, because there was that sense of safety that only came when he was nearby, joking and teasing your being a lightweight.

But that was when you were young, and times had changed. The world was harsher than it had originally let on, and there you were, facing your partner and resigning yourself to the chance of never loving again.

“No. We can’t.” Your words were quiet but firm.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s over, Damien.”

Realization dawned on him, an expression of dread overtaking it as soon as it came. “Wait. Please. We can- I can fix this.”

You got up, brushed imagined dust off your legs, and did your best to avoid his eyes as you said, “There’s nothing to fix. You’re not going to resign, and I’m not going to beg you to. It’ll be better for both of us, so please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You didn’t know who you were talking to in that moment.

“But it doesn’t have to be like this in the first place.”

“Why not? Give me one reason.”

“I love you.”

That was exactly what you didn’t want to hear, the ‘harder’ than it had to be. The vice grip squeezed your heart so hard that the walls and tubes burst, sending shockwaves through your body. Though you were relatively unaware of your lawyer-tactics in your personal life, it never escaped you that Damien had his own little tricks – like stating facts with both the utmost conviction and simplicity, as if it would never and could never be any other way. There was no room for argument, or else you would find yourself backed into a corner by well-chosen statistics and evidence.

In your silence, Damien continued, “You know I do. I want to make this work. Just give me the chance to make this work.”

You let him take your hand. You hadn’t noticed he was moving closer until you felt the familiar texture of bumps and ridges and bones. Warmth spread from the point of contact to the rest of your, replacing those shockwaves with a treasurable feeling, if only because you would never get to feel it again.

“I love you too. But it’s not enough. We’re done.”

[yeowch. eugh. oof. and all other manner of expressions of pain. Thanks for requesting – sorry this took so long, but I had a real rough time doing this. The concept was amazing, and I had so much fun getting the ideas together, but then it got to the dialogue and suddenly I was having to go on walks to alleviate my pain. In my mind, they reconnect just before WKM happens when the DA is made, y’know, the DA – they’re both excited to rekindle their friendship, they might even still have feelings for one another, but, well, it turns out how it turns out.

On a happier note, I also like to think that Damien and the DA pulled a Blair and planned that whoever got elected first would become the mayor (or whatever equivalent of the prime minister) and whoever didn’t would become a top lawyer. It’s very cute. Again, though, thanks for requesting, and I hoped you enjoyed :D!]

[reinxxoi]

𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒

𝕎𝕙𝕠 𝕂𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕚𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕣?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ๋࣭݁ ⭑🪩๋࣭ ⭑. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The Long And Winding Road The Beatles

“the long and winding road

that leads to your door.

Will never disappear.

I’ve seen that road before.”

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

Me and Mark had a lot of history. He’s the one who metaphorically pulled me out of the hole that is addiction. That night he met me in the bar I was wasted and up to my eyeballs in debt but he paid my debts and set me straight. It’s thanks to him that I have my current job as a detective. Despite how close we are it did come as a shock to me that I received an invitation to poker night at Markiplier Manor.

I hopped into my 1974 Plymouth Satellite and began driving. I had no clue what to expect, it had been awhile since I played poker. Gambling is the reason I went so deep into debt, tonight would really test my sobriety. Turning on the radio The Long And Winding Road by The Beatles came on and I found myself humming along to the tune. I was big into The Beatles, pretty mainstream of me right? But what can I say? I’m a sucker for Beatlemania.

Passing by the portrait-esque landscape got me thinking deeply about the upcoming party. I pondered what the purpose of this party could be, I’m sure Mark had some cause for celebration. He always was one for the flamboyant aspects of life and yet he was also someone who struggled so much. To be honest I admired him deeply, my infatuation with him only grew stronger with each meeting I had with him. There’s something so charming about him, may it be the charisma or otherwise… Regardless, my attraction to him couldn’t be denied. I just hoped that I would get the chance to confess these feelings I had for him…

I finally pulled into the long drive, parking my car next to a 1976 black Cadillac Eldorado. It was a nice looking car, must’ve been bought pretty recently. Whoever drives this must be pretty well off. I stepped out of my car, staring up at the large manor in front of me. Outstanding was an understatement to say the least. This manor was straight from a movie. Looking at my invitation one last time, I inhaled the crisp morning air and headed inside.

“Why hello, invitation please?” An attractive man greeted me at the door… His attire, he must be The Butler.

“Ah, right.” I brought myself back to reality, handing him the invitation.

“Right this way, I shall fetch you a drink.” He smiled charmingly.

“No need, I don’t drink.” I responded dismissively. I don’t even need the temptation of alcohol, I know how I get when I start down that path.

The Butler shrugged and walked off.

“Abe!!” I heard a familiar voice. Turning, I see that it’s Mark walking towards me. His red silk robe complimented his muscular build so well. “It’s been too long, old friend!” He firmly shakes my hand.

“Truly.” I agreed. “You know, I was surprised by the sudden invitation. Do you have cause for such a celebration?” I inquired.

“Yes, yes! This shall be the celebration of the decade! Mayhaps, even the century!” He smiled so brightly, it put all my worries at ease. “Oh yes, I should introduce you to my good friend Damien! Right this way!” Mark led me into the manor, there stood yet another very attractive man in a nice suit and cane… I recognized him. “Abe, this is Damien, The Mayor.” He introduced us. “I’ll leave you two to entertain each other, I have other matters to attend to!” And with that he left us alone.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I extend my hand for a greeting.

“Pleasure’s all mine, good sir.” He takes my hand, shaking it warmly.

“So how do you know Mark?” Damien asked me with genuine curiosity.

“It’s quite the long story and I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details, I’m sure you’re a busy man.” I dismiss the question politely.

“Oh please, we’ve got time! The Colonel hasn’t even shown yet… and who knows if he will.” Damien’s voice trailed off as his gaze fell elsewhere.

“If you insist…” I pause, trying to figure out whether or not I should tell The Mayor of my struggles with addiction.

“I do!” He eagerly interjects.

As I go on explaining my tale of woes to Damien I notice the door open and a surprisingly handsome and/or beautiful person enters, handing The Butler an invitation.

“Oh them?” Damien asks. “That’s The DA, and my old college buddy.”

“How nice…” I respond blankly. I was caught up with the person behind them. he wore a safari uniform… this must be The Colonel.

“Oh here they come! I must attend to this, pardon me.” Damien smiles softly, clearly allowing me to investigate this strange man.

I approach him cautiously, he was shockingly attractive. Under that helmet I knew he would be quite the gentleman.

“Can I help you?” He asks coldly, a stark contrast to the manner in which I expected from him.

“Perhaps you could, I’m Abe.” I extend my hand for a greeting.

“My friends call me The Colonel.” He grips my hand tightly. “I assume you shall call me the same by the end of the night.” He grins pompously.

“How long have you known Mark?” I inquire.

“Too long, that’s for sure.” He brushes aside the question.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, more curious now than ever.

“We grew up together is what I mean. And it shows.” He left it at that and before I could move on to another one of my many questions, our attention was drawn elsewhere.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all. My name is Markiplier, thank you for joining me on this auspicious evening.” Mark began to descend the stairs, stopping briefly to continue his monologue. “So good to be surrounded by such close and trusted friends… Now, this evening, it’s not all about the poker. It’s not all about me. It’s about you. So drink up and be merry! Life is for the living! And who knows? I could be dead tomorrow.” At that last statement he begins laughing uncontrollably. I was understandably caught off-guard by this but oh well…

We all go into the dining room and begin playing a round of poker, I didn’t want to drink very much due to my past in alcoholism but I figured I should take Mark’s words to heart, life is for the living after all.

We partied hard, The DA perhaps more than others. I didn’t expect someone so handsome and/or beautiful to party like an animal. Everyone was pretty black out drunk… everyone but me and Mark. We only got a little buzzed while everyone else went wild. After most people went to their rooms to crash, me and Mark were left.

The two of us sat on the couch for a moment..

“Quite the party, huh?” Mark smiled sadly.

“It certainly was.” I agreed, matching Mark’s somber expression.

“You know Abe… you’re my best friend” Mark remarked out of the blue.

“Where’s this coming from?” I was a little worried knowing Mark’s mental state..

“I just figured I should start appreciating the small things.” He stared out the window into the deep dark sky.

“Mark, you know you can tell me anything.” I took his hand.

“Abe…” He looked at me suddenly with tears in his eyes. “Not this, I couldn’t possibly tell you this.” Mark looked ashamed, as if he’d done something awful.

“I think you should get some sleep and we can talk it over in the morning, okay?” I pull him into an embrace. “Just sleep, don’t do anything else.” I mutter into his shoulder.

“I promise.” Mark held me tightly… too tightly.

I bid him a good night and started toward my room… I saw Damien carrying The DA back to their own room. I didn’t think much of it and I went into mine, crashing out at 1:16 a.m.

In the morning I woke up at 8:30 to an alarm. I definitely didn’t schedule it; so maybe Mark set it for the next part of his festivities. I got up out of bed and changed into some clean clothes, then I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I went through the mundane routines of the morning I began picturing Mark’s face last night… He stared at me as though that would be the last time I see him. I should really talk to him about my feelings, I’m terrified he could do something stupid.

I shook away the thought, I didn’t want to think of the fact that Mark could take his life.. I loved him too much to even consider the notion.

I finished up and headed downstairs, hoping to see Mark awaiting me. As I was headed downstairs I heard lightning strike.

“Did anyone hear that lightning?” I asked aloud to anyone. And then I saw The DA standing next to it…

It lay there cold on the floor… Mark’s dead body.

“OH MY GOD!! THERE’S BEEN A MURDER!” I scream for the whole manor to hear.

I run quickly to Mark’s side, trying to see if he was bleeding, perhaps we could still save him?

“Excuse me, did you hear lightni- OH MY GOD, MURDER!!” The Butler came in, seeing the grisly sight as well.

“Did you- MURDERRRRR!” The Chef screeched upon entering the room.

Each time the ‘M’ word was thrown around lightning would strike… It was almost supernatural.

I couldn’t help but notice how calm The DA appeared. Perhaps this murder had just occurred.

“What the hell happened here?! Who’s in charge around here?!!” I gripped The DA tightly by their collar. “Trick question- that guy. And he’s dead now, which makes ME in charge. So you better listen up good, bucko. ‘Case you haven’t been paying attention, there’s been a bit of a… killin’. ” I narrowed my eyes at them, hoping to scare them into confessing their crime.

There was a long pause, I was kind of hoping for a confession by now. No matter, I’ll just make it even more clear that this handsome and/or beautiful devil and/or angel is on my radar…

“And you’re my prime suspect. So you better get to explaining right quick as to the what, where, when, and why you happen to be here upon this man’s death.” I grill them even further. They seemed shocked by my accusation, perhaps they really didn’t do it..

“Sir, the body is cold… He’s been dead awhile.” The Butler interrupted. I felt my heart sink into my stomach, I felt like I was going to hurl. Was this my fault? Maybe I should’ve stuck by his side last night instead of telling him to sleep it off.

“A likely story… That I happen to believe completely. All right, you’re off the hook for now… But I’m a detective, and-“ Before I could finish my thought The Chef interjected.

“Oh yeah? Prove you’re a real dick!” He spat.

“Here’s my badge, asshole.” I showed him my badge but as I was doing so the photos of my old partners fell out with it.

The DA stared at them intently as if studying each of them individually. I saw their confused expression, they probably wondered how I knew these people.

“Ah, those are my old partners. Don’t ask me about them- Fine! I’ll tell you.” I didn’t leave much room for protest. “Each one of them died. Each death more tragic than the last. A few of them even died in ironically hilarious ways. Which made it all the more tragic” I explained.

The DA and Chef looked at each other in horror. I figured that’s the reaction I’d get, but I don’t need their sympathy or their trust. I’m investigating this murder case and that’s all that matters.

“But hey, you look like you’re up to the task. You’re my new Partner!” The DA shook their head aggressively clearly not wanting to become my temporary Partner. “That’s what all my old partners used to say… Right before they died.” I began to wonder if I may be cursed or perhaps unlucky.

The DA and Chef flashed each other another horrified expression. Specifically The Chef who looked like he had witnessed a murder before his very eyes… I should look into that.

“All right, hand me that finger printing kit behind you, partner.” I held out my hand waiting for them to do as I told them.

They reluctantly help me set up the crime scene, tracing the body, marking evidence, putting tape up. I was quite thankful to not be doing this alone, especially since the guilt from last night was taking over me… I felt awful for dismissing Mark the way I did.

After we set up the scene it was time to investigate..

“Thanks, Partner.” I nodded. I began inspecting the body when I heard footsteps approaching.

“What the hell happened here?” Damien asked, confused by the scene considering I had Mark’s body covered.

“Oh! Mr. Mayor… I’m so sorry, there’s been a murder.” As The Butler explains, lightning strikes.

“A murder?” Damien asks as more lightning strikes. “Who?” He continues with his questions.

“It’s Mark..” The Chef shrugs nonchalantly.

“I’m afraid he’s telling the truth… Mark’s been” I hesitated.. a part of me still didn’t believe it so to say it out loud was like trying to put your hand on a hot stove… realistically you could do it but something in your brain just prevents you from doing so. “…killed.” I finish.

“Why? Who would do this?” Damien didn’t understand any of this and it was clear. I know he’s childhood friends with Mark so this must sting twice as much as it does for me.

“That’s exactly what me and my new Partner are here to find out.” I reassure him. I know that I’ll uncover the truth and get answers to piece together why Mark of all people had to die.

“Um, excuse me. I feel like we should call the authorities for them to handle this matter.” The Butler chimes in.

“Look- Buddy, as far as you’re concerned, I AM the authorities.” I flash my badge at him. “The fact of the matter is… I believe the killer is right here amongst us in this very house.” My mouth moved before my mind did and came to the conclusion.

It shocked everyone else and even me… This night was for Mark’s closest friends so who here would want to kill him? And suddenly I made the connection… the lightning.

“With that freaky lightning storm outside, none of us would get very far anyway.” I concluded. I put my badge back into my pocket. “So in the meantime, we’re stuck here. But I’m gonna get to the bottom of this.” I reassured them.

I have full confidence in my abilities to find the culprit however I have this rookie with me now. I don’t even know why I brought them into this, something about their blue-ish, brown-ish, green-ish, hazel-ish eyes compelled me to do so. There may be hope for them yet, if we can just secure the area then together we’ll find the culprit.

“The rest of you, get back to your rooms, hunker down, and pray to God you’re not next to be murdered.” I firmly ordered everyone as lightning struck outside.

“I’ll… I’ll check on our other guests..” The Butler hesitantly left the room.

“I’ll get back to cooking… All this death made me hungry.” The Chef added, departing from the room.

“I- I need to talk to The Colonel about this.” Damien seemed to know more than he let on. Our first exchange was normal enough but when I met The Colonel… he was different. Damien left hurriedly, The DA staring at them as a lost puppy stares at a bone...

“All right Partner.” I brought them back to the reality of this tragedy. “It’s time to get to work. Judging by the temperature of the body that I measured rectally. Um, which is obviously the most accurate way to get the inner body temperature of a corpse… That’s a fact- totally procedure! Don’t tell anyone I did it.” I hurriedly finished the end of my sentence. “I am sure Mark was killed around 1:30 a.m. last night. So…” I stood up quickly. “What were YOU doing at 1:30 a.m. last night?!” I interrogated.

The DA told me that they had been asleep with their eyes open at 1:30 and so they couldn’t have killed Mark. And while it’s not a tight alibi, it’s the explanation I have to go off of so it’s time to question the other guests.

“I’m gonna ignore the strange fact that you sleep with your eyes open. But it checks out… So, we need to figure out where everyone was and what they were doing around that time or, at the very least, who saw Mark last.” I explained to my new Partner. “You need to get out there. See if you can piece together the story of what happened last night. I’ll stick around with the body and run more tests.” I kneel back down next to Mark’s body as The DA, my new partner, goes to interview the suspects.

I was conducting some more tests but the guilt of last night weighed heavily on my conscience so I left the room to get a class of alcohol from the kitchen… Something to calm the nerves, you know? But when I returned Mark’s body was gone

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

I knew I had to find my Partner and let them know what had happened. As I snuck out into the back I saw them talking with Damien. Hiding behind a bush, I listened in on the conversation. Once Damien began to walk away I knew I needed my partner’s attention.

“Hey! Partner! Get over here, now! Hurry up!” I whispered loudly, leading them back inside. “You’re not gonna believe this- I can barely believe this! The body- it’s gone. It’s just fucking disappeared. Look!” I led them back inside.

I showed them the scene and all that was left was an outline I drew before the body disappeared.

“WHO DID THIS?!” I shouted frustratedly. I couldn’t believe my stupidity. Once again my alcoholism is the reason people around me suffer. “It certainly wasn’t me! No, no… somebody, NOT ME, must have moved it between the time I was the last person alone with the body in the room and then stepped out for a few minutes to take care of some personal business that you don’t need to know about!” I began rambling again, speaking so fast I didn’t even know what I was saying. “Could have been anybody… except me.” I felt it was obvious although my Partner is new and might not be able to piece it together without me spelling it out.

“What the hell happened here?” The Butler entered, shocked.

“The body’s been moved.” I state plainly.

“On its own?!” He cried in terror and confusion.

“No- of course not! Unless it did, in which case we’ve got way bigger problems than a simple murder” A flash of lightning appeared in the sky after I said that.

“What the hell happened here?!” The Chef barged in.

“The body’s moved!” The Butler informs.

“On it’s own?!” He’s stunned at the notion.

“We haven’t ruled that out just yet, but let’s not forget we’ve got a murderer-“ The lightning interrupted me before The Colonel could.

“Bully!” The Colonel made his first appearance since last night… I had my suspicions about him. “Quite a storm out there, eh, chaps? What are you doing huddled in here in fear?” He asks without a care in the world.

“We have a zombie problem.” The Chef scoffs.

“Ahh, Homo Necrosis! The MOST dangerous game.” He gets in my face with that snarky smirk of his. “Well… if someone needs to put the old lad down again, I’m well up for the privilege.” He has a cheeky grin spread wide across his face… something about what he said didn’t sit right with me at all.

“What do you mean by again? And what do you mean by privilege?” I narrowed my eyes at him scouring for any reason as to why he’d kill Mark, his childhood best friend.

“I’m just saying… I’ve got plenty of- experience on the matter.” He gestured to the chalk drawing on the floor.

“So do I.” The Chef agreed.

“Yeah- that just raises more questions?” I was so confused… What could The Colonel mean? Was he speaking in riddles?

“Well I’m off to the grounds to see if I can catch a whiff of the old bag of bones, eh?” The Colonel walks off without a care.

“Wait- weren’t you and Mark the same age?” The Butler asks as The Colonel laughs boisterously.

I lean into my partner, if I can trust anyone with my detectives insight it’s them.

“All right. I don’t trust him. Then again, I don’t trust anyone.” The DA didn’t seem surprised. “All right, lock this place down. Secure the front gate. I don’t want anyone in or out of this place until we get to the bottom of this.” I ordered The Butler and Chef.

“Locks won’t keep people from getting out, sir.” The Butler timidly disagreed.

“Locks won’t” The Chef agreed. “But Chef will.” He walked out towards the front door.

“Look, you’re a real smart son of a bitch. handsome too, beautiful even.” I caressed The Butler’s face gently. “But! We don’t have time for this. I think we forgot the most important question of them all during our arousing game of whodunnit.” I began… “Why…? Why? Come, walk with me.” I gesture The DA to follow me.

We started down the hallway past the main entrance as I continued.

“Why did he invite us all here?? Why tonight?” I prompted the question neither of us had an answer to. “He said we were celebrating something, but he never specified what. It’s almost as if this whole shindig of a hootenanny was just a ruse.” I occasionally looked back at The DA who seemed to be lost in thought. Nevertheless, I continued speaking. “Mark was my friend, had been for years. But then he went quiet. I knew something was wrong, I just never figured out what…” As I went on, my body naturally came to a stop. “Now I guess I never will…” The words stung like a bullet to the heart, it was true though.

Mark is dead, he’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. If only I had known how much danger he was in… Maybe then I never would have left him alone last night… Maybe he’d still be here.

“Look… I’m gonna level with you. You’re my new Partner. I’ve been working with them for years.” I continue walking and occasionally glancing back. “Now I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I know something is wrong. There is a murderer—“ The lightning causes us to briefly stop in our tracks. I look at The DA to make sure they’re okay. “Here amongst us, and we need to find him.” We begin climbing the staircase. “Now you look a trustworthy…somebody. I know we just met, but I am an excellent judge of character… Excellent like a fox.” I winked at them.

I smiled and fed them a line of bullshit. The truth was, I couldn’t trust them any more than the other skuzz around here. But like my late partner once said right before he died, best to keep your enemies close. Wink wink.

I suddenly stop as we head back down a flight of stairs and turn to face The DA, jutting a pointed finger at them.

“You don’t look like you have a reason to kill him. And if you do…” I laugh mischievously. “Best to keep your enemies close, eh? Wink wink.” I said as I winked at them. After that I continued my descent. “So, the real question we should be asking is: Who stood to gain the most from Mark’s death?”

The two of us continued through the manor as we talked.

“Now, in my thorough analysis of the corpse’s anal cavity, I discovered that in addition to being stabbed 37 times, he was also poisoned, beaten, strangled, drowned, and shot, in that order.” I began giving them the rundown on the autopsy. “Now, if you ask me… That’s a lotta trouble to go through to knock off one guy, and it sure as shit is no accident.” I led my Partner back up the stairs once again, continuing the conversation “No. No, my friend. There’s gonna be no simple candlestick-in-the-library solution to this whole… puzzle… So, we’re gonna have to do the detective-ly thing and go through the victim’s most private and personal possessions.” I led them to a door and they stood there with a blank expression. “Well? After you.” I prompted them.

We entered the room, it was a disaster. Bed sheets tossed on the floor, pillows, blankets, towels, and books were thrown willy nilly.

“Looks rough, but I don’t think he was killed here. Take a look around, see if you find anything, but BE CAREFUL! I’ve lost three partners before to bedroom booby traps.” I warned my new Partner.

The two of us begin to look around the mess of a room Mark left behind. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was always the state of it… I wondered if Mark had been struggling much more than I expected.

“Make sure you don’t tamper with any evidence!” I call to my partner from across the room. “Let me know if you find anything.” I add onto the previous statement.

The DA caught my attention by holding up a shattered picture frame with the colonel’s photo in it.

“You find a clue?” I inquire. While they inspect it I continue to look around, not paying much mind to who enters the room.

“You’re quite on the case, aren’t you?” The Colonel must’ve come in while I wasn’t looking. “Say, Detective? May I borrow your friend here?” He requests of me. I didn’t trust him but I hoped my Partner could squeeze some info outta him.

“Yeah, sure.” I agreed. “Don’t worry, Partner. I’ll handle it from here.” I reassured them.

“Bully…” The Colonel muttered under his breath.

The two left the room, I really hoped I could trust my Partner to get some information out of The Colonel. Perhaps a friendly ear would prompt him to confess to his alleged crimes. I continued searching the room when I found it, a news article about The Colonel. He had “allegedly” “accidentally” “killed” someone while on a safari trip and Mark covered his tracks… There it is, that’s all I needed. Motive for murder.

I tracked down The Colonel in the living room and pointed my gun at him.

“You filthy murderer!” I shouted.

“What the fuck are you on about, Detective?!” He instinctually grabbed his gun and I lunged forward to disarm him when he fired a shot, prompting me to back off. We were at a stalemate.

“ARE YOU NUTS?!” I yelled so loud my throat stung from the tension.

“Back away from me you psychopath!” The Colonel hissed.

Suddenly Damien and The DA burst in and saw the interaction unfold.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at but you better lower your weapon, you murderer!” I grip my gun tightly, so much so that my whole hand turned white. The lightning was simply white noise in comparison to this chaos.

“I bloody well won’t! You’re the one that assaulted me! For all I know, YOU could be the murderer!” He stepped closer to me as I backed further away. Once again, nobody noticed the lightning.

“What the fuuu- Oh!” The Chef ran in and was shocked to see two guns pointed at him due to our surprise by his sudden movement.

“LAST CHANCE! Drop your weapon!” I shout, prepared to fire a bullet right between his eyes. I didn’t want to do it but he was leaving me no choice.

“Master’s prized vase!!” The Butler shouted over a vase we had knocked over.

“Everyone please! I know we’re all on edge, but can’t we solve this amicably?” Damien interjected.

“On edge?! This PSYCHO tried to SHOOT ME!!” I snap back at Damien.

“That’s a bold faced lie! I was merely doing some light target practice!” The Colonel keeps stepping towards me causing me to fall back towards the front entrance.

“Inside?!” The Butler nearly had a heart attack upon hearing such a thing.

“Well, yes, I couldn’t go on the grounds now with that bloody Chef in my way, could I?” The Colonel grit his teeth angrily.

“Damn right! You should’ve remembered that, Private!” The Chef lunged at him, waving a ladle in his face. “Besides! You’re not my boss anymore!” He taps him on the head with the ladle he has clutched in his hands.

“It’s Colonel now” He looked like he was about to kill The Chef for that.

“ENOUGH OF THIS HORSESHIT!” I shout “You knew I was onto you and you were trying to whack me off before I could finger you…… As the murderer!” I trailed off as the lightning struck outside.

“I will not be called a murderer in my own home.” The Colonel furrowed his brows in rage as lightning stuck once more.

“STOP!!” Suddenly a women burst through the door.

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“What are you doing?!” The woman shouts frustratedly.

“Who the hell are you?!” I demand.

“Celine? What are you doing here?” The Colonel’s expression softens…

"Celine? How the hell do you know her?” I once again demand answers from somebody, anybody.

“Madame, l'm afraid you've come at a very inopportune time. Something dreadful has happened here.” The Butler welcomes her remorsefully.

“I can see that, I’m just glad I got here before it got any worse.” She seemed relieved and yet worried.

“This is only the tip of the iceberg! And it's a big iceberg. How can I put this delicately…” The Chef seemed as though he was searching for the right words to say to comfort Celine and yet how can you find something to say for something like this… ”MARK'S FUCKING DEAD!” Well- so much for delicately…

“What?!” She was clearly shocked, she now seemed sad, guilty, and perhaps even a little anxious.

“Dead like my hopes and dreams…” The Chef went on… “And he’s a flesh eating zombie too!” He exclaimed.

“Homo Necrosis!” Celine repeated the same words I had heard The Colonel say…

“Exactly! Hence, the guns!” The Colonel waved his gun around like it was a toy airplane.

“That is NOT hence the guns!” I shake my gun around as a gesture.

“Stop waving those bloody guns around!” The Butler interjects.

Me and The Colonel, even The Chef with his ladle, shake our weapons in his face.

“Hol-Hold on! Tell me what happened! How did Mark…die?” Celine asked, curiously.

“It was murder.” Damien chimed in as lightning stuck outside. “And worse yet, the body is missing.” He added.

“What? Show me! And don’t say that word!” She ordered all of us.

“What word? Murder?” The Chef asked as lightning struck.

“Yes! That word!” She was insistent about it.

“Well I mean murder is a rather accurate description of what occur-“ The Butler ignored the lighting but was stopped by Celine.

“Do you not see the lightning?!” She threw up her hands.

“You sayin’ it was lightning that murdered Mark?” I asked this weirdo chick, also ignoring the lightning.

“Well, Mother Nature doesn’t exactly strike me as having murderous intent.” As the Colonel said that more lightning struck. “Unless you count that time I was sucked into the board game Jumanji and I wa-“ Celine interrupted him.

“Stop! Stop! Look, whatever’s happening here is tapping into forces far beyond our control!” She exclaims.

Everyone looks around at each other until we all look at The Chef.

“Murder” He says quietly with a cheeky smile as lightning strikes…

“Mur….doch?” The colonel tests the waters and nothing happens.

“Malarkey.” I decide to try it out as well, once again nothing occurred.

We all look to The Butler.

“Marco!” He exclaims as the loudest of the lightning strikes.

“ENOUGH!” Celine shouts and suddenly we’re all sat down at a table. “Look… Mark’s death is a terrible thing indeed. But I fear that there are forces much darker than anything we’ve seen here today.” Celine began. “I’m well versed in the arcane arts, but if you, untrained and uninitiated can summon lightning with a mere word… We’re all in far graver danger than anything we could ever hope to face alone.” She continued… “We’re gonna have to work together if we’re gonna survive this.” Celine seemed to have a plan in mind but what good would witchcraft do? My job was to solve this whodunnit…

“Celine, what are you proposing?” Damien seemed worried.

“We need to speak with Mark.” Celine kept it vague as if she couldn’t trust any of us with this information.

“I knew it! He’s a flesh eating zombie!” The Chef slams his hands on the table.

“No…” Celine sighs, defeated.

“Well, maybe one of those smart zombies: homeo sapio zombifus!” The Colonel proposed.

“No! No! I need to commune with the dead.” She finally put her real intentions out there.

“That doesn’t sound like a good Idea.” I advised against it.

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need your permission.” She glared at me. “But, YOU!” She pointed right at my Partner. “You’ve been awfully quiet through this whole thing.” Celine pointed out…

She did have a point, I didn’t even know my Partner’s name. All I knew was that they were the most goddamn handsome and/or beautiful person I had ever laid my eyes upon.

“With those beady little eyes.” The Chef added onto Celine’s statements about my so-called partner.

“And wearing THOSE rags? pff..” The Butler scoffed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted someone so goddamn gorgeous.” I shook my head in disappointment.

They looked towards The Colonel who didn’t notice at first.

“Oh- I’ll pass.” He refuses to add on.

“But I feel like I can trust you… I sense you have a far greater part to play in all of this.” Celine continues, staring deeply into The DA’s eyes. “Will you help me find an answer?” She asks them patiently awaiting an answer.

The DA thinks for a moment and then nods. They had made up their mind and I knew there was no changing it… But still, this was too dangerous and I had lost too many partners to allow this.

“Alright, that's enough. I'm not gonna just sit around and let you drag my Partner off to their very likely death. I won't stand for it!” I stood up, angry with Celine for dragging them into this messed up game.

“Well I trust Celine with all my heart! I see no reason why an-any-any one should doubt her!” The Colonel, too, stands up, slamming his hands down on the table.

“Well, I have to agree with our intrepid detective here. It just doesn’t seem natural.” The Butler sided with me on the matter.

“I never liked this uptight asshole. He walks around with a stick up his ass.” The Chef shakes a finger toward The Butler. “But I think he’s right… Something’s weird.” He ends up agreeing with him in the end…

“If it makes you feel any better, you guys can stand watch outside the door, but my work CANNOT be interrupted.” Celine tries to negotiate but this still didn’t sit right with me.

“Oh believe you me. I’ll be keeping a close eye on every single one of you.” I began, looking around at all these guests… I knew one of them had killed Mark and I was going to bring them to justice. “Even myself… Especially myself.” I finished.

Celine got up from the table hurriedly, Damien and The DA following close behind as they all went upstairs.

The rest of us stared at each other, waiting for someone to break the silence.

“I’m going to grab a drink from the kitchen, I’m parched.” The Colonel was the first to speak up after what had just happened. He stood up and began towards the kitchen.

“Oh yeah? Well I’m going to make sure my Partner’s okay in there.” I try to one up him and quickly follow the others up the stairs.

Me and Damien waited outside the room in silence, just listening in. We hoped that maybe we’d get some insight too. Eventually we heard Celine shouting about something and I knew I had to stop this.

“What the shit is this?!” I barge into the room seeing The DA at a small table across from Celine. On the table, there’s various candles, and tarot cards, along with crystals scattered around like stars in the sky. I knew this ‘Celine’ character was bluffing about being a seer..

“Get out! We are not done here!” Celine hissed at me, pissed that I was here.

“Celine, I think this is quite enough.” Damien, the voice of reason chimed in.

“It’s enough when I SAY ITS ENOUGH!” She violently slams her hands down onto the table as she bickers with Damien.

As this went on I grabbed a piece of paper that had fallen off the table. I looked at it and it was a drawing of what looked to be a gardener… What could it mean- A groundskeeper. I had to find The Butler.

“C’mon Partner, let’s go.” I try to get their attention but they’re hyper-focused on the argument “Come on! Hurry it up!” I grab their arm and lead them out of the room.

I pulled them further and further away from whatever mess Celine dragged you into.

“What did she do to you? What is this?” I was at a loss for what to even say “Butler! Butler!” I cried.

“What? What is it?!” The Butler exclaimed, confused.

“This mean anything to you?” I asked him, hoping to catch him in a lie.

I showed him the drawing and The Chef arrived soon after, drawn by the commotion. He stared at it for a moment and then opened his mouth, hesitating before saying anything.

“Well, maybe… no, sorry.” He shook his head.

“Spit it out if you got something!!” I urge him to continue.

“Well… it could be our groundskeeper, George, but he only works on the weekdays.” The Butler admitted.

As The Butler said this my eyes wandered over to the chef who was super fidgety and nervous. He must know more than he’s letting on.

“Looks like your friend here may disagree with that notion.” I cross my arms, staring at him and waiting for an answer.

“Me?” The Chef tried to act surprised but I could smell a lie even if it was deep fried and fed to a hippo.

“Yeah, you.” I sarcastically remark.

“Uh… I don’t know shit man! I plead the fifth, man!” He nervously stood his ground.

“Chef, if you know something, for god’s sake spit it out!” The Butler for once was reasonable.

“Okay, all right, you’re twisting my arm” He began. “All right, George has been living on the grounds for years.” He finally spat it out.

“WHAT?!” The Butler was mortified.

“And you just now thought to share that information with us?!” To say I was shocked in an understatement… This revelation could have solved everything. “For all we know, HE could be the murderer!” I shout as lightning strikes once again.

“For the last time, stop saying that word.” Celine joins us in the hallway, Damien in her wake.

“Look, George just tends to the grounds, man. He’s a fuckin’ hermit!” The Chef is insistent that this George has nothing to do with what occurred last night.

“I don’t care what the fuck he is!” I disagree, this guy could have killed Mark in his own home.

“Look, all of this arguing is getting us nowhere! Just go outside and talk to this George and be done with it!” Damien was obviously fed up with the investigations and interrogations.

“Hold on a sec? You’re not coming with us?” I scoff, after everything that happened he still thinks he can just sit by idly?!

“I-I need to stay here with Celine.” He gripped his cane tightly.

“I don’t need help! Especially from YOU!” Celine scoffed, turning away from Damien.

“OUR FRIEND IS DEAD!” Damien shouts but then regrets raising his voice. He’s breathing heavily, the man is clearly frustrated. “I’m sorry… I just need answers to all of this. I already lost one friend today. I don’t want to lose another…” He admits his fear of losing Celine…

“Fine… but I need to stay here.” She sighs, turning back to Damien.

“Fine with me.” He nods.

“Fine, good, yeah, whatever, who cares? All right, you’re coming with me!” I look at The Chef, pointing a finger at him. “Partner, you too.” I look at The DA and we begin to walk towards the stairs when I realized it. “Hold on a sec… we’re missing somebody. Who had eyes on The Colonel?” I couldn’t believe my carelessness.

“Well, he appeared tired and went back to his room.” The Butler explained.

“I’m sure he did. And with any luck, he’ll stay there. All right, let’s roll out. Come on.” I gesture for everyone to start moving, we didn’t have much time. That George guy could flee at any moment.

I grab The Chef, making him lead us to George.

“Move it! Come on, Partner, come on!” I call out.

We made our way down the stairs, stopping at the back door.

“Lead the way cookie.” I insult him.

“Cookie? I’m not your cookie! I spent three weeks at culinary school!! I earned the right to be called a chef!” He got in my face, shouting.

“I’m very impressed.” I sarcastically compliment him. “Just tell us where we’re going!” I order. He looks as though he wants to fight back but bites his tongue. I shove him towards the door. “Come on! Let’s go!” I was fed up with this bullshit. It’s time to end all of this.

We go through the doors, walking around the old stone bricked building. This manor would be beautiful if not for the skeletons in its closet. But that wasn’t important… As we come around to the old stone stairs I see him, tending to the grass in the middle of the night.

I turn to look at my Partner who’s still following close behind. They give me a strange look, wondering why I’m staring at them.

“I think I see him.” I finally point out. We descend the stairs and I pull out my gun, pointing it at him. “Hey! Buddy! Hands where I can see ‘em!” I shout angrily.

“Hey, my hands are where they’re supposed to be. Unless, of course, you’d like to dig the hole for yourself.” He seemed aloof and as if this was no big deal. But…

He was right… I didn’t realize it before. It had been too dark to see but he really was digging a large hole…

“What the hell are you doing here?!” I come closer, expecting him to make a break for it soon.

“I’m the groundskeeper. I keep the ground, all right??” He rested the shovel on the ground, leaning on it like it was a cane. “I’d say, look around! The ground is pretty well kept in this place right?” He gestured his free hand towards the grounds.

“I’m sorry man. This DICK made me bring him out here!” The Chef pointed at me aggressively.

“You shut up!” I spat. “How do you not know about the murders going on in this house?” I asked, shocked by the lightning that struck over my head. “How do you not hear that lightning!” I gesture to the sky.

“Lightning is the sky’s business! Look at the ground! When the ground starts shooting up lightning, I’ll let you know!” George sarcastically responded.

“Alright then, smartass, why exactly are you digging that hole? And why shouldn't we suspect you for taking part in the death of your employer?” I interrogate him further. He just laughs.

“Employers come and go! Some die, some don't, some are murdered, some are not. It's not my business!” He rolls his eyes. “I’m digging this hole for a burst water pipe, if that’s all right with your gracefulness?!” His sarcasm was really starting to piss me off.

“See? I told you! George didn’t do nothin’ man!” The Chef spat at me.

“See?” George slams his shovel into the ground. “I just did nothing.” He scoffs.

“Forgive me for not taking you at face value.” I began sarcastically. “But we’re all gonna come inside, we’re gonna sit down, and have a nice lovely chat. And get to the bottom of this before I lose my mind and start dabbling in murder myself” The lightning is so expected now I didn’t even really react to it as much as I used to.

“Now you listen to me, sonny!” George begins, angrily. “It’s been fifteen years since I’ve been in that house and I am not about to break that winning streak now.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care how many murders there’ve been. I ain’t going near that house!” He was very insistent on it

The thing is, that just won’t cut it. We need everyone in the house so we can finally discuss everyone’s alibis. I need answers, not just for myself… But so Mark’s soul can move on.

Before I could think of something to say that would convince him, he started back up.

“However, there is one reason. One incident. One manifestation. That will get me to go into that mad house.” He finished as a silence washed over all of us… “And you had better pray to God that that reason never comes to pass.” He broke the silence created by him.

Suddenly a big flash of lightning strikes above the manor as all the windows inside shone brighter than the sun.

“THAT THERE’S THE REASON!” George shouts as he runs towards the manor.

We follow him as he heads up the stairs.

“Go, go, go!” I shout, making sure my Partner is still okay.

As we run, we pass by The Colonel who’s in complete shock. Then a door flies open and Celine emerges with an eerie light cast on her. I didn’t know what to do, I just stood there pointing my gun at her.

“Somebody help me!!” George shouts as he struggles to close the door.

The DA runs to his side, successfully helping him shut the door on Celine.

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

George locks the doors with an old set of keys. Suddenly the house went back to normal.

“What the hell is going on?” The Colonel walks over to us, confused by the ruckus. “Where’s Celine?!” He asks, unusually concerned for her.

“She’s gone, and so is everything else.” George says bluntly, as he begins to walk away.

“Wait a minute! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” I shout.

“Away from here! This place is cursed. If you had half a brain you’d all do the same.” He spat, leaving without a second thought.

“Don’t walk away from me! Where’s Celine?! Where’s Damien?!” The Colonel shouts, frustrated with the lack of answers.

“I’ve spent 25 years cooking for these uppity fucks! I’m not about to die for ‘em! I quit! Bitch!” The Chef shouts, leaving as well.

“I know things seem far beyond your control right now, but such that it is for all of us here. I shall take my leave and I implore you to do the same.” The Butler rests his hand on The Colonel’s shoulder.

“I won’t let my friends die in this godforsaken house!” He begins angrily. “And if you all are too much of a coward to do the same, you had best leave before I kill you myself!” The Colonel looks more angry than I’ve ever seen him. But he walks away without another word.

“Now you hold on a second, I’ve got more questions!” I shout after him, grabbing his arm.

“Get your hands off me!” He pushes me away, storming off.

“What the hell is going on here?!” I ask The DA before chasing after the colonel.

I chased him to his room but he slammed the door on my face, locking it.

“You can’t hide in there forever!” I shout.

“Oh yes I can!” He taunts me.

“I’m going to find something to break this damn door down, let’s see who’s laughing then!” I scream.

I left to go find a crowbar or an axe or even a simple lock-pick. I searched everywhere until settling for a slim, thin knife from the kitchen. I head back up to the colonel’s room, fiddling with the lock when I heard it.

“DETECTIVE!” The Colonel shouts from behind me, with a gun pointed at my head and The DA in his wake. Instinctually, I pull out my gun.

“You’d better choose your next words carefully, Colonel.” I grip my gun tightly, ready to fire.

“Only my friends get to call me that name by that name, and you, sir, are NO friend of mine!” He shouts angrily.

“Well you’re one to talk about friends, you Murderer!” I scream accusations at him as the lightning strikes.

“I didn’t kill anybody! This is MADNESS!” He doubles down.

“Oh? You wanna talk about madness? Madness is stealing your best friend’s wife!!” I had put two and two together… It took me awhile to piece the puzzle pieces together but now it made sense. I had heard Mark mention a Celine and divorce long ago… and seeing how the two of them acted together, it wad clear to me that The Colonel was the reason for the divorce. Not to mention the article I found about The Colonel receiving money from Mark. “Madness is squeezing him for cash to fund your own sick sexual exploits with that very woman!” I scream flying accusation after accusation at him, waiting for him to crack.

“SHUT UP!” He shrieks

“Madness is plotting the death of your childhood friend because you can’t handle the—“ Before I could finish there was a gunshot… Did… Did I shoot him?

I fell to the ground as the world around me went dark… I knew that this was the end for me.. I wanted one last look at my Partner but then another gunshot rang and my partner fell backwards down the stairs. I closed my eyes and embraced the darkness.

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

I woke up in the hospital, my boss sitting next to me. He stood up upon seeing me awake.

“Abe!! Thank the gods you’re okay! Who did this?! Who shot you??” He held my hand, desperate to catch my attempted murderer.

“The… Colonel.” I whimpered weakly before the room went dark once more

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

back next

[elenavr13]

Echoes of Old Friends

Darkiplier x DA

Warnings: swearing

After the events of WKM, the DA attempts to move on & create a life for themselves despite being trapped in the mirror. Against their hopes & wishes, their past seeks them out in the form of a familiar face.

*What Could Have Been- Sting*

*I may expand this & turn it into a complete story in the future.*

--------------

            Daylight filters through the cracked glass reflecting the main entrance of the decrepit, forgotten manor. Mindlessly flipping through the pages of one of the books I have read a thousand times, I suddenly feel a chill crawl down my spine. What the hell? The physical feeling startles me back to reality because I haven’t felt anything like that in years. Immediately, I close the book & scan the room, nothing not even in the outside world. Faint tapping screams through the silence-drowned manor. Probably just the weather. After a few seconds, it occurs again. This time I realize the odd sound is coming from inside the house. My mind starts spinning with ideas of what type of animal has climbed through a broken window or one of the rotting walls. Maybe it’s another raccoon coming to search through the rubble or maybe the squirrel I saw the other day has come back. Excited to see a living creature, I get up to find it. Before I can even travel to the next reflection, a voice freezes me in place.

            “Y/n, I know you’re in there. Come out.” There’s people here!

            “Y/n?” I whisper to myself. Something about that name tugs at my heart. Then again that voice is also eerily familiar. I jump from reflection to reflection searching for any sign of the people with no luck. Suddenly, the realization hits me. Y/n, that was- is my name. My name is Y/n. I haven’t heard that name in years. The last time I…that voice…Damien?  Appearing in the mirror that holds my soul hostage, I see the man who used me & shattered my heart. Sorrow in addition to hope consumes me upon seeing him but it quickly gets replaced by bubbling rage.

            “Why are you back?” I seethe.

            “You don’t seem very pleased to see me.” His smooth voice provokes me.

            “& why should I be? You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

            His jaw clenches but he continues. “I can get you out of there.”

            “I don’t want your help.”

            He smirks. “Stubborn as always but I can give you what you want. All I’m asking is that you…”

            “I want you to leave.” He appears taken back.

            “Even after all these years you still blame me. We were happy before that night & we can still be happy if you will only listen to me.” Anger emanates from his voice as it increases in volume.

            Unfazed by his temper, I snap back. “We? There is no ‘we’ not after what you did, Damien.”

            “It’s Dark now.” He sneers

            “Oh, I apologize, Dark.”

            “That snake took everything away from me! I was merely protecting you from him. It was for the best.”

            “You know what would have been ‘for the best’? If I had never agreed to your fucking deal. I trusted you & you betrayed me. Mark may have been the cause of all this but he never did anything to me. You on the other hand took everything away from me! I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. Just leave me alone! Leave me alone like you have for the past however many years it’s been.”

            “91” My anger immediately dissolves from his simple answer. 91? It’s been 91 years since that night? I’ve been trapped in a reflection utterly alone for nearly a century?

            “You just expect me to agree to your plan after you abandoned me for a century? I’ve managed to make some semblance of a life without you- without anyone for that matter. I Don’t Need You. Why do you even want to ‘help’ me? I don’t have anything anymore. I am just a reflection of a person because of you. So tell me, what are you going to gain from ‘helping’ me? ”

            He continues to stare back with a blank expression which only ticks me off more. Before I do anything irrational –like I could– I begin to leave to another reflection in the manor. “I miss you.” His baritone voice stops me.

            Without turning back around to face him, I say, “Little late for that, Damien.”

            A deep growl keeps me in place. “I tried to play nice & you still view me as the bad guy. I thought you were better than that.” This time I spin on my heels to face the man I used to believe was my friend.

            “& I thought you were better than to destroy what we had.”

            “I didn’t destroy…”

            “Go ahead, keep blaming Mark for your actions.” Suddenly he takes a hold of the frame surrounding my vision of the outside world & rips the mirror off the wall.

            “I have heard enough of your insolence.”

            “Put Me Back! Damien, put…”

            “Stop calling me that name!” I glare daggers at him but he seems to be amused by it. “How are you even going to stop me, doll?”

            “I’m not your doll.” Rage gets the best of me I throw a punch which would have made contact with his smug face if not for the glass separating us. Instead of flinching, his smirk just grows as he leaves the manor with me in tow. I attempt to jump to another reflection but some force keeps me tethered to the single, wretched, glass prison. Knowing there is nothing I can do, I fall silent, exhausted from my outburst. Why can’t I just be happy? I was just starting to get better & move on. Now Damie- Dark is back to remind me of the life that was stolen from me. What did I do to deserve this endless suffering?

[1010codex]

Uhm..

(the 2nd pic, I just woke up earlier and drew that.. because I'm..I DON'T KNOW MAN-)

(The ship is stuck in my head.. help-💀)

[missxfaithc]

Can anyone recommend me some good DarkiplierxReader fics?

[thatchaoscreator]

Nightmares

(Word Count: 385)

DA x Darkiplier

TW!! Mentions of death, brief mention of rituals, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attack

Reader discretion advised

_________________________________________

I woke up with a start, a bead of sweat on my brow. I could only hear my heart pounding in my ears. It was another nightmare about that night.

I feel the bed shift before his arms wrap around me. I must have woken him up. I was still gulping breaths like I had just nearly drowned. I was surrounded by his cologne helping to ground me from the terror that shook my bones and sent electricity through my veins. I took a deep breath letting the smell of pine and peppermint fill my nose.

"Morning, Damien."

"Good morning. Are you alright?"

I turned to get a look at his expression. His dark raven hair draped around his face framing it like a portrait, his eyes a heterochromic red and blue, his appearance tainted from the cruel events that still torment my mind.

"...yeah, I'm okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He pulled me closer, resting his chin in my hair.

"You're still getting those nightmares, aren't you?"

I fall silent. It seems even after all these years he can still read me like a book.

"Yeah…"

"How far did it get this time?"

"It started with the ritual…" I pause. The next part was always the hardest. I always wake up shortly before or after my death. "I woke up when I landed." My voice died in my throat as I held him close. My stomach was still recovering from dropping to my feet after having been forced to relieve my death again. You never forget the feeling of falling to your death.

He didn't speak, merely nodding as he stroked my hair comfortingly as I rode out the final tremors of anxiety and adrenaline. Once my body deemed it safe to relax again, I slumped against him releasing the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. He still didn't speak much to my surprise. Then again, there were times where his voice alone was able to throw me into a panic. I appreciate his caution and consideration.

"Damien?"

I got a hum in response.

"hmm?"

"Thank you… for staying with me…"

"Of course."

The rest of the night was spent holding each other tightly as we ward off any more lingering memories of the night that tore us apart.

At least we have each other now.

[alaroweq]

Back on my markiplier universe songs bullshit. Going under by Evanescence but it's DA and Dark. That's it that's the post.

[shatteredglassandscattereddreams]

Who is the monster and who is the man? Sing the bells of Notre Dame...

[fictionalsownme]

the feminine urge to write damien x district attorney from their days back at university (silent yearning, a drunken kiss they both pretend to not remember, confiding in each other & taking care of each other in small ways no one else would notice) but knowing it would all end in tragedy anyway

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Blush

Usually I try to keep it pretty consistently in the 1920's, but for the sake of this fic, it's in modern times.

Damien x GN!Reader, TW: passing mention of alcohol Words: 465

You know that Damien would rather die than choose to air out his personal business, but you really wanted to show how much you appreciate him. Surely it can’t be too bad if you are just showing your love for him to the entire city, right? 

It took a bit to get all the information to the press, especially making them keep it under wraps until the day. You were basically buzzing with excitement, struggling to keep the smile off your face as you entered into his office with a bouquet of flowers. His face lights up when he sees you, looking up from his paperwork with a bouquet for you just beside him on his desk. Damien moves around his desk, exchanging flowers with a kiss to seal the deal. A tradition you’ve kept for every special shared occasion.

He sits back down at his desk as you sit yourself next to his papers, smiling down at him. All you get is a raised eyebrow as you make light conversation, continuously checking the time to see if it’s time yet. You sneak your hand across his desk, swiping his remote for his television in the corner. 

“Darling, what are you doing?”

“Nothing…”

With a wink, you turn on his television, and his face goes red.

“My little monster… what have you done now?”

You grin as the newscaster begins on the television behind you.

“Good morning, Jim! Today, we have a special message from our very own district attorney, wishing our mayor a very happy Valentine’s Day! This weekend, our mayoral office will be closed due to extended vacations taken by significant staff, so please postpone your lobbying until next week.”

He snatches the remote from you, turning it off before melting into a puddle of rouge. You ruffle his slicked back hair, earning yourself a polite shove off his desk before half-heartedly glaring at you from where you lay on the floor.

“I am going to get you for this, you know that, yes?”

“Oh I’m fully aware.”

You get up, but he spins you around by a grip on your waist and sends you flying into his lap. His eyes have that mischievous glint in them that only usually comes out when he’s had a bit too much to drink, but it’s far too early in the morning for that. He nips at the corner of your lips, pulling you into a hungry kiss, promising what will come later ten-fold.

“I hope you are glad you cleared our weekend.”

“I love you~!”

Damien sighs at your cheeky grin, softening and giving you a gentle kiss to your nose.

“I love you too.”

[theknightmarket]

same anon as before thinking again about odysseus damien and penelope da

instead of refusing to move the wedding bed i’m imaging a piece of jewelry, specifically a ring. maybe a promise ring or a wedding ring.

maybe because of their jobs they couldn’t have their relationship being public. damien gets the wedding/engagement/promise rings (whichever doesn’t really matter) and they both wear them around their necks on a chain or a necklace so they can wear it all the time but still keep it hidden. maybe they even got permanent jewelry like the ones you have to physically cut off to remove. ‘a symbol of our love everlasting’

just thinking about da saying if he’s not the same person then he should remove his ring and dark just telling them that he’d have to cut it off his body to do that. them being the only ones that even know about the rings tells da that he’s still the same person ‘only my husband knew that so i guess that makes him you’

idk if that even makes sense but i have so many thoughts about them

That's both painful and so, so good. A bed definitely would not be practical, and I think something that Damien would carry with him wherever he goes is amazing - because I can imagine that, if all the egos are still around, everyone notices there's a little bump under Damien's shirt, but there's the collective, silent, agreement that they shouldn't ask. Occasionally, they might see a little glint of metal between the buttons or when he rarely takes it out in privacy that gets interrupted. It's the only physical thing that remains of the DA.

When they finally do reunite, the moment the DA sees that ring, any fears about this not being him go out the window. In my mind, given the time apart, the DA has lost a lot of their etiquette and social mannerisms, so they fish the chain piece out of his shirt and inspect it for any cuts. When they see there are none, they cannot be argued with. He is their husband, he has the ring, that's that.

I'd also think that, despite it being metal, they've both taken such good care of their rings that they haven't rusted at all - maybe because they're actively cleaning it, or maybe because they absentmindedly fiddle with it when they're thinking.

(In this case, it's probably a petty thing when they tell him to remove the necklace - showing him that he is the same man they fell in love with while he's trying to be Stubborn and Brooding, because he's kept it on. Depending on how Odyssey-accurate this is, he might have even managed to keep it on during drowning and that 7 year wait)

Oh, and you just know that if Suffering goes down, Damien is not giving an inch when he doesn't see the matching ring - they're the only ones that know, so he clocks it immediately, and it's basically the inverse of when they do reunite.

Anon, I'm going to steal your brain, and I'm never going to stop thinking about them when I listen to the musical.

(and because I have the opportunity, the sweatshirt is so pretty omg)

also, do you guys remember when I said you can't really make any AUs because everything with the egos is kinda an AU already? Well APPARENTLY YOU CAN! Let's go :D

[reinxxoi]

𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ๋࣭݁ ⭑🪩๋࣭ ⭑. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

₊ ⊹✮.* ⋆ :.𖥔 ݁ ⊹✮ ⋆｡°✩ . ݁₊ ⊹

Wilford Warfstache x Detective Abe

Who Killed Markiplier Fanfiction

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

Detective Abe has Mark to thank for beating his struggles with addiction. Now that he’s well established in his career he has no problem avoiding alcohol until he receives an invitation to poker night at Markiplier Manor.

When the night goes from harmless fun to an unsolved murder, Abe is tasked with finding out who dunnit. This choice results in him being shot through the heart and on a manhunt for three years searching for Colonel William J. Barnum.

When he finally encounters him, there are more feelings than anger that Abe feels towards the man who stole everything from him.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬?

New chapters will come out as I write them. Please do not rush me as I experience burnout very easily.

Playlist

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Homophobia, Murder, Violence, Drugs, Sex, Mental Health, Suicide, and Addiction.

Other than that, please enjoy Murder at the Disco!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Prologue- Who Killed Markiplier?

Chapter 1- Fame, Guts, Glory

Chapter 2- A Dead End Road

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

[seaofghouls]

Iplier Falls

Authors Note: 

Hello hello and welcome back! ( Or if you’re here for the first time, I’m glad you chose to check this fic out! Welcome! ) Never thought you’d see a rewrite of Gravity Falls x Iplier Inc in 2024, huh? The ALTRVerse comic has given me the motivation to get back into Markiplier Lore and hence I’m here!

This is the prologue and hence it's just a test to see how people react to it. If people react well, I'll put the story up on AO3 and make more chapters!

Some things to note about this fic: 

It’s an X Reader and the reader is indeed the District Attorney from Who Killed Markiplier! ( So, obviously, WKM spoilers ahead! ) 

This is a Dark x Reader specifically. 

This fic is in the second person and the reader is gender neutral! 

Genderfluid Dark is canon in this fic, so I’ll be using He/She/They for Dark. 

In Space With Markiplier will also be incorporated, so spoilers for that as well. 

This story will follow the Gravity Falls story, but there’ll be added story for episodes revolving around the Pines family specifically. 

This story contains things like profanity, blood, near death experiences, talk of mortality/death, and angst! 

Tag List: @a-frozen-bag-of-corn @crazy-obsessed-enby @lunariasilver ( Not sure if any of you remember this series, but I figured I’d keep up the tag list! ) 

Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy it! 

—-------------------------------------------------------

“What has he done to you?” 

They looked so familiar. Like a far away dream. 

“Captain, you can’t possibly listen to this monster! You can’t trust him!” Mark yelled.

“My little monster, I beg of you. Open your eyes. He takes away all that you love.” She begged. 

That name.. It was like a puzzle piece. Everything snapped back into place in an instant. You weren’t a captain! You went to school for law, not to be the captain of a spaceship. 

“.. Damien?” You whispered. 

“Ugh, you’re just impossible!” Mark snapped, “How am I supposed to make the perfect story if all you do is mess it up!” 

You couldn’t help but tense up at the sudden change in tone. That was right, this wasn’t your trusted second in command. This was a man long gone, a man permanently warped by the manor. 

He twirled his cane in a clean and swift motion, aiming it towards you. 

“I’ll just have to make sure you don’t remember any of this.” He threatened. 

Dark intercepted Mark’s attempt with his sword, pushing Mark back a few feet. 

“Not on my watch. Never again.” 

Mark simply laughed, “The hero always wins. It’s the only way the story can go.” 

Dark simply grit their teeth in response, slashing the sword against Mark’s chest. Although it barely grazed, it was enough to catch him off guard. 

You watched as the two went head to head, being able to do nothing to stop either side. Even if you were willing to get in the way of the two, you had no weapon or no powers to do anything. 

Actor sputtered as Dark tore open a gash across his chest. His blood was red, but not the usual type of red. Bright red, instead of crimson. Actor was caught off guard for just a second until he scrambled back, unsheathing his cane. 

You’re sorry. Unsheathing his cane? That was insane! What was even more insane was the fact that the bottom of the cane was a dark red double sided axe. Dark seemed just as caught off guard as you were, as Mark obtained a window to slash her in the chest.

“Dark!” You called out. 

He only spared a moment to look your way, with a look in their eyes signaling that they were alright before attacking Mark once again. SImilar to Mark, her blood was an inky black. Something inspired Dark to go full force, you weren’t sure if it was you or the entire revenge pledge. 

He pierced Mark in the heart with their sword as Mark sputtered, that sickly red spilling out of his chest. He didn’t say anything after that, only heavy and labored breathing being heard from the previously lively body. 

“We best be going. The Snake never stays dead for long.” Dark said. 

You didn’t say anything as she opened a portal similar to the ones you’d seen as the captain of The Invincible. Except, it looked a bit like the Noir universe. A combination of black, white, and grey. You simply followed him inside the portal. What other choice did you have? Stay in this void until Mark’s body inevitably rose from the dead? The old Homo Necrosis didn’t sound like a fun route to go down. 

Which led you to where you are now. A sleepy town named Gravity Falls. Dark had said that the laws of the town would cover up the tracks of you two, making it harder for Mark to find you again. You still had quite a few strong words for Dark, considering he trapped you in a mirror for decades, but that was the thing. It had been decades. You didn’t know what else to do other than follow them. Mark was obviously a no-go. 

“Please, call me Dark.” He had said, “Damien and Celine are both.. Long dead. I have an apartment set up in the town, we can stay there until we know how to deal with The Snake properly.” 

“Okay.” You said, “In that case, call me Captain. The person I used to be died in that house.”

She simply nodded, “As you wish.” 

The two of you had been wandering around the town when you spotted a hiring sign for a tourist attraction. 

“We could work here.” You said, “We need some way of paying rent, right?” 

Dark hummed in thought, “It couldn’t hurt, I suppose.” 

You strolled into the attraction with Dark following close behind. You spotted an older man shuffling money while standing at the cash register. He was probably the owner, right?

“Excuse me, are you the owner?” You asked. 

He nodded, “What’s it to ya? You’re not the government, are you?” 

“No, no, nothing like that.” You said. A little like that, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“My friend and I heard you were hiring.” 

“Great! You’re hired. Call me Mr. Pines.” He said, “You start tomorrow.”

“We’ll be there!” You smiled, as you walked back outside to talk to Dark in semi private. 

“Have you learned nothing from your district attorney days?” He teased, “Truly, though, that man was a bit too eager.” 

“Hey, it’s a job, isn’t it?” You shrugged, “Times have changed.”

“That they have.” She nodded, “Would you like to get some champagne? As a little celebration.”

“Really? Just like we used to? Even after everything that’s happened?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Especially after everything that’s happened.” Dark said. 

You simply smiled in response as the two of you walked down the road to a nearby bar. You weren’t sure if he had said anything else to you, you were too consumed in your own thoughts. This seemed too easy, after everything that had happened. 

You were a district attorney. One that got shot at a party held by Mark himself. You didn’t blame William. Mark set everything up. A bitter man who fell victim to insanity. You had considered resenting Dark for what they did, but at the same time.. 

You knew deep down that this was a best scenario, as shitty as it was. You wouldn’t have survived. Of course Damien would pick his sister over you, even if you were close. You would’ve done the same. You did die, after all. Your time was up. 

Mark just couldn’t let you stay dead, could he? Pulling you into his games, forcing you to be his partner, his love interest. That was the thing. Dark had tried to reach you so many times, but you never remembered. Until now. What was different? Was the space adventure a finale of sorts? Was Mark’s grasp on you finally slipping? You didn’t know. 

“... Captain..”

“Captain.”

“Captain!”

You snapped back into reality, as Dark held you by the shoulders, attempting to ground you.

“Are you alright?” She asked, eyebrows knitted together.

“Yeah.. Yeah, I’m okay.” You sighed, “Just.. thinking.”

“Yeah? About what?” They raised an eyebrow. 

“He.. He really did take away everything from us. What’s the point of it all?” You asked.

He didn’t respond at first, hugging you tightly. 

“Making sure that bastard stays dead.”

[mayordamienisthesoftestbean]

Dark/Damien: *smashes a vase of flowers over Actor!Mark's head*

DA: *walks by*

Dark/Damien: *rushes to pick up the scattered flowers and chases after DA*