#marmien

this might be the cutest we can go..... also i havent drawn this ship in a while so thank you for the ask!

+ an extra doodle

HELLO FANS OF MARKIPLIER CINEMATIC UNIVERSE!

I'm looking for people to rp with! I'd play as Actor Mark - (we have our own headcanons for him so it will be slightly ooc? I like to think we make it more flamboyant and dramatic like he'd like) - and I'm looking for...about anything!

Actor x William, Damien, Darkiplier, Wilford, and hell, possibly even Celine!

I'm able to work with a plethora of different aus, points in the canonical story, branch offs, whatever! Just dying to rp as the diva himself.

If you're interested, please don't be afraid to comment or send me a dm! (18+ only, I'm 21)

( rbs / tags appreciated ♡ )

Turning. Emerging into consciousness draped in soft, silk sheets. His head pounded with the beginnings of the world's worst hangover.

Damien opened his eyes, squinted against the light pouring through the cracked curtains, and hoped fervently it was still morning.

One glance at the alarm clock on the-- mahogany, clearly expensive-- bedside table confirmed it was not; it was early afternoon.

Damien scrambled, throwing the covers aside and swinging his bare legs over the side, not sparing a thought for why he wasn't wearing any clothes, and why were his clothes from the party last night all over the floor?

The world tilted, a wave of dizziness washing over him suddenly, and he thought he might tip over, if not for the hand taking his arm, firm and warm.

"You stayed." Said the groggy voice from the opposite side of the bed, and Damien twisted to see Mark, blinking his eyes open, a soft smile gracing his face.

Damien melted a little. "Of course I did," he murmured, remembering last night, the stripping of clothes and the running of hands over skin. Out of every guest at Mark's party, he was only now remembering who it was he'd went to bed with. "I wouldn't just leave." He cocked his head. Smiled. "Didn't I say I'd always be there for you?"

"Well, get back over here, then." Mark tugged on his arm. "I know you have nowhere better to be."

Damien snorted, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and slipped back under the covers.

===

"You're a bad liar." Mark picked up the empty wine bottle, examined it for a moment, and threw it. It shattered on impact against the opposite wall, inches from Dark's head.

Dark didn't flinch. He leaned back and rested his head against the rotting, cracking plaster. Looked up at the decaying ceiling like it held revelation. Maybe it did. "To which instance are you referring?"

"I'll always be there for you." Mark said, putting in a flawless reproduction of Damien's cadence. Of his earnest, genuine, puppy-dog love. This was absorbed by the closed in box of the second-floor corridor, the Manor eager to eat up anything and everything. He leaned forward, draping his arms over his drawn knees. "Is that how you put it?"

"Careful." Dark warned. Wine-drunk aggression and decades-deep exhaustion warred for dominance in the blue-red stammering of his outline. "Celine never was too thrilled about that."

Mark coughed a sharp bark of a laugh. "She going to wake up?"

Dark snorted, and one half of his dead, gray mouth twitched up into a bitter smile. "Fuck, no."