#green glitch >> antisepticeye

[fromthedeskof-darkiplier]

What are your thoughts on Antisepticeye and Wilford Warfstache and when was the last time you saw them

Good afternoon, stranger.

This question is admittedly very funny to me. The feelings I harbor towards Anti and Wilford are comically disparate.

Anti is -- pardon my language -- a shitheel. He's obnoxious, he's an attention hog, and he has no tact. He's all bark and no bite comparable to that of a spoiled-rotten Chihuahua.

He's headache incarnate. Migraine made flesh.

And still, I'd take a thousand Antis over another minute spent around Mark any day.

Wilford, on the other hand...

Wilford is my husband. He is the sweetest human I know. I adore him, I respect him -- always have -- and I feel lucky to be able to call him my spouse. 🖤

How long has it been since I've seen either? Anti was at the channel studio last week, and Wilford is here in my office as I write this. He's keeping me good company, and we're discussing plans for Valentine's Day tomorrow.

Thank you for your question.

-D

[friendlystimboards]

Antisepticeye Stimboard

🟢/🩸/🟢 🩸/🟢/🩸 🟢/🩸/🟢

[horus-solis]

I MAY have high hopes but jack posting more breadcrumbs just like the old days, I HAD to draw anti again. its been what? six years since I drew him.

[doppostims]

Antisepticeye

With blood, dark green and glitch stims

For @satsuj1n

x / x / x | x / x / x | x / x / x

[th3w00ds]

Let’s Fix That with a Controlled Shock

@red-balloon12 @nwtbobsessedemo @colourfulmes

Fandom: Youtuber Egos

Trigger Warnings (if any): Character goes through a lot of pain, electrocution, betrayal, angst

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

Natemare sighed as he approached the run down building that two of his… “friends” had told him to go to for some meeting. Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. He looked up at the decaying walls, the plant life growing on them making it clear that the pizzeria hadn’t been open for quite some time.  He walked closer, opening the doors and stepping inside. The inside of the place looked even worse than the outside of it did, tables knocked over, the floors littered with garbage. Why the hell would they invite him here, to this shitty place? 

Natemare continued his walk inside the pizzeria, inspecting what he could see. No sign of either of the two. Were they even going to show up? He wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. 

Suddenly, the lights on the main stage flickered on. Natemare snapped his head towards it, and he looked for any sign of a person. Both the ones who invited him had electricity powers, so it could be either.

“Hey! Anyone there?” He called out loudly. A chuckle rang throughout the room, and bolts of purple and blue electricity arced onto the center of the main stage, forming a person amid the broken animatronics. The form was center stage, standing in front of the withered Freddy animatronic. The one stepped closer as he formed, and Natemare recognized him.

“Natemare! It’s been far too long, my friend!” Dawktrap exclaimed, hopping down from the stage in front of Natemare. The Brit wiped at his purple vest after, making sure he was immaculate as always. His glowing blue and purple eyes slowly dimmed back to normal as his powers weren’t being used. 

“It’s good to see you too, Dawktrap! Where’s Anti? Have you seen him?” Natemare asked, looking around the room once again. 

“The bastard will be here soon. He’s always late to these,” Dawktrap answered, also looking around for any clues to Anti’s appearance. 

A couple of seconds after that, a flash of green electricity happened. Natemare had to blink rapidly for a moment to get his vision back to normal due to how bright the flash was. When he opened his eyes, he saw Antisepticeye in front of him and Dawktrap.

“You two seriously expected me to be here at the same time you were?! I was running late, Seán’s other egos were being assholes and tried to fuckin’ stop me from leaving! Can you believe that?!” Anti said, his voice glitching sporadically. Anti growled, and began to fiddle with his knife. “Who do they think they are?!” 

Anti was one for tantrums when things didn’t go his way, he always was. Dawktrap giggled, and Natemare smiled. The three of them hadn’t had a reunion like this in quite some time. It was nice, but out of the blue like this was very strange, and especially at being at Freddy Fazbear’s. 

“Anti, calm the fuck down, will ya? Remember, we’ve got something to show Mare!” Dawktrap said, still giggling. “And put the bloody knife away, you’re so attached to that thing.” 

Anti glared at Dawktrap, “I’ll put it away when I fuckin’ want to.” Anti stepped closer to the both of them, and gazed around the building himself. Natemare shifted on his feet, wondering when Dawktrap and Anti would get to what they wanted to “show him.” It was vague and quite odd, Natemare thought. 

Dawktrap began to walk to an open area in the room, ushering Natemare and Anti to follow him. Anti picked up his pace to walk parallel to Dawktrap, leaving Natemare to walk behind them. They reached the area, stopping their movement. 

“Now,” Dawktrap said, clasping his hands together, “Me and Anti wanted to show you something, Mare! You want us to?” 

Natemare was confused, but nodded nonetheless. “Sure I guess,” He said. 

“Great.” Dawktrap said, smiling. Natemare noticed a glint in his eyes as they started to glow. He tensed up, and took a step back. He wasn’t so sure about their intentions with this meeting anymore. 

“What are you guys going to sho- AGH, FUCK!” A sharp pain erupted from below Natemare’s shoulder out of nowhere. He quickly turned his head to see what had happened, and it was Anti. Holding a knife that was lodged into his back. They were planning on fucking attacking him?!

Natemare started to breathe in, preparing to sing in order to control them both and get them to stop attacking him. He could do it despite the pain, he knew he could. 

“Ah ah ah! No!” Dawktrap said, aiming his right hand towards Natemare. Natemare saw, and tried to prepare himself for what he knew was about to happen. Blue and purple electricity shot out of Dawktrap’s hand, and onto Natemare. It felt very painful, like many knives stabbing into him at once, but he could take a shock from one of them.

Anti let out a deranged laugh, which made it seem like he was enjoying this. Anti placed his free, left hand on Natemare, and it let out electricity as well. Now a mix of blue, purple and green electricity was arcing over and into his body, his muscles beginning to spasm. Taking a shock from one at a distance was doable, but he couldn’t take a shock from both of them, especially with Anti’s hand having direct contact with Natemare. 

He began to feel lightheaded, and was breathing erratically. It hurt so much. He wanted it to stop, to STOP, but Natemare had no idea how long they would keep up their sadistic fun. 

Natemare was on his hands and knees on the floor, breathing in and out at a fast pace, and he felt nothing but pain. Sharp, electric pain. It was too much. He could let it out, maybe it would relieve his pain. Natemare took a deep breath in, and started to scream in pain. 

It felt like forever, like the pain was forever and he was screaming FOREVER. HE COULDN’T TAKE IT, SO HE CONTINUED TO SCREAM. 

IT FELT LIKE IT NEVER STOPPED. 

AND HE CONTINUED.

TO.

SCREAM. 

The pain began to dim, slowly fading, and he noticed that the electricity arcing across him had disappeared, but the tingling and the pain had not yet gone. 

He opened his eyes and let out a shaky breath, looking up at Dawktrap and Anti, who were looking down at him. 

“Pathetic,” Anti sneered, “You were one of the most powerful egos of your group! And now look at you, Natemare… A worthless, useless, GODDAMN FAILURE OF AN EGO WITH NO POWERS ANYMORE!” He shouted at Natemare.

Natemare’s breath hitched and his eyes widened. No powers? W…What the fuck did he mean, no powers?! He had powers! He could control people with his voice! 

He tried to speak, but nothing escaped him. Nothing. NOTHING?! THAT SHOULDN’T HAPPEN, THAT- This couldn’t be happening! Had he seriously lost his voice?! Anti had said no powers anymore, so… did that mean Natemare would be without his main ability permanently?! No, no no no! 

“Natemare, you must understand, we simply… how shall I put this, thought you were too weak as you were. With your voice being your one and only power. We’ve helped you, see. You can adapt, you’re the type of person who adapts to anything. I’m sure this will be no different.” Dawktrap said, looking down at Natemare. 

Adapt? To this?! To having his main power stripped away from him?! Yeah, sure, he totally could! Natemare glared up at the two. Then another jolt of pain coursed through him, and he flinched. The knife was still lodged into his back. 

“And I’ll take this back,” Anti said, gripping the knife and slowly tearing it out. Natemare tried to scream in pain, but his voice didn’t work. 

“We’ll be going now,” Dawktrap said, “I assume we’ll be seeing you.” In one last flash of electricity, Dawktrap and Anti disappeared, leaving Natemare alone in the abandoned pizzeria. 

…Abandoned. 

Like he was. 

[ijwrff]

Hey. I love your work, just an idea you don't have to do it. Yandere Antisepticeye x male reader who is weak. With some fluff?

Thanks? Hope you have a good day

Hiya! I hope you're doing well, I'm glad I could get to do this fic! It's not often that I write for male readers, so it's always a fun challenge ^^

Tw; bullying, injury, condescension, yandere typical behavior, and Anti typical behavior like a tantrum and a whole lot of swearing. Yanno. As he does.

Taglist: @thattiredanimator1t0mblr @serenitydusk @viciouslyyearning @jacksepticeye-simp

Word Count: 1,196

It wasn’t uncommon for you to get bullied in college, but for the most part, everyone had grown out of their bullying phase. Your campus was pretty safe, so you never thought something like this could happen. People said mean words, sure, but it never got physical. Today was special, you guess. 

You sighed, and opened your apartment door after fumbling with the keys. It wasn’t surprising when you walked into your house nearly trashed. Every time Anti visited, it was like this. He had a habit of making everything difficult for you, but you’d never tell him that it was actually welcomed. Today though, you didn’t hardly say a word to him, and just tried to brush off his presence. You didn’t want to get teased any more than you already had been, not when you were hurt like this. 

“Dude what the fuck?! You can’t just come in here and ignore me!” You heard him run over and it only pushed you to move to your room quicker. He wasn’t even human, so of course he’d be able to beat you to the door. You dropped your chin to your chest, before trying to turn away from him. “Are you being serious right now?” He scoffed, and grabbed your shoulder to turn you towards him. “The fuck is your deal? W-” He paused when he saw your face. 

It was silent, and you couldn’t meet his eyes, ashamed you couldn’t put up more of a fight against the bullies that did this to you. Your eye was swollen, and there was a gash across your cheek from how hard the guy punched you…you cursed him for wearing so many rings, they only helped to tear into your skin further than it would have otherwise. Your sleeves covered the bruises for the most part, though one of them was clearly in the shape of a hand. 

The air shifted, small charges of electricity coming from Anti’s form as he seemed to nearly glitch in and out of reality. You took a step back, but he grabbed your shoulder to keep you close. “Who the fuck did it?” He spat, his eyes glowing green as it struggled to keep his emotions in check, only to fail miserably. His grip was nearly painful on your shoulder, and it seemed like it was taking every last ounce of his control not to leave even more bruises, intended or not. 

You sniffled once, and flinched from how intense the situation had become. “It doesn’t matter…” He was lightyears stronger than you, so it wasn’t surprising that when you tried to pull away from him, you didn’t get far at all. “Just some guys. I fought back though, so it’s okay.” You gulped, and struggled to meet his eyes.

He grabbed your chin roughly, and forced you to look at him. It was intended to direct your focus at him, but when you flinched he growled and let go, storming into the livingroom and throwing your couch against the wall, leaving a large crack that seemed to go through all the way if the neighbors screams were any indication. 

“A-Anti stop!” You called, and rushed up to him, but soon all of your emotions were contradicting each other. Lashing out at him wasn’t something you wanted to do, but your brain was speeding through a million scenarios in the blink of an eye. “Why do you even care? You bully me all the time! How is this even different? I figured you’d be happy with how much you seem to hate me.” You winced at your own words, hoping you didn’t take it too far, but you did effectively make him freeze in his rampage of breaking most of the belongings in the living room. 

“Hate you?” He chuckled, before it turned into a cackle that could have come from a villain in a tv series. “Why the fuck do you think I hate you?” The electricity crackled around you, and he turned and stepped closer to you. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t bother spending time with you. I’d probably just kill you.” His grin was wicked, and you had a hard time focusing on his words while that terrifying look was on his face. 

“Y-You just kind of bully me a lot, so…” You mumbled, feeling like you’d upset him. That was the last thing you wanted right now, and his emotions were so unpredictable you never knew what he’d do next. It was a game with him, really. One second he could be beating the shit out of someone a few streets down, cackling wildly, and the next second he’d be sitting on your couch throwing popcorn in his mouth laughing at some bad horror movie. 

He scoffed and raised an eyebrow, but his grin never left his face. “Yeah. I do bully you, but I’m the only one allowed to.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If anyone else fucking messes with you, they’re gonna have to deal with me.” He cracked his neck, then his fingers as he stalked closer to you. 

It was a terrifying sight, and you backed away. Beforelong, your back was to the wall and he was towering over you. That grin only seemed to grow as your eyes widened in surprise. He elaborated, but really it only posed more questions. 

“If anyone’s going to break you, it’ll be me. You’re mine to tease, to taunt, to torment, and above all that? To protect. No one fucking messes with what’s mine.” He cackled, and leaned closer until his lips were only centimeters away from yours. “Anyone that hurts you only deserves the worst of what this world has to offer.” He leaned in, closing the distance between your lips. 

You gasped in shock at the sudden kiss, and he wasted no time in deepening it, one hand tangled in your hair as he pulled harshly and the other just barely at the base of your neck. It was nearly a desperate kiss, and you could barely breathe from how long he dragged it on for. Though after several moments of his tongue exploring your mouth, he pulled back. His smile was…still a wicked grin, but there were traces of tenderness in it. Very slight traces, but they were there. 

“Clean yourself up. I’ll be back.” He demanded, his voice sounding far too serious to have come from him. He snapped his fingers to make a display of his exit, before dissipating rapidly into particles and disappearing entirely. 

You pant to catch your breath, and stood there motionless. Did that…really just happen. Your hand trailed up, touching your lips softly to try and process the events that just unfolded. It wasn’t even clear how long you stood there, but a text notification popped up, and you pulled out your phone to see a message that gave you a genuine smile…despite questioning if it should have made you as happy as it did. 

“Sorry I wrecked your shit. Clean up your wounds. I’ll double check when I’m back from dealing with these pieces of shit.”

[jselorekeeper]

Definitely when I caught a clear glimpse of him when Jack kept ""glitching"" in his Sister Location gameplay for the first time

It wasn't scary by any means, but it WAS the first time I acknowledged this "Antisepticeye" dude

Jack managed to make Sister Location my favorite game because of his gameplay. It also began my obsession with FNAF

It's all because of this green man fr

Oh where so many people’s obsession started over this character 🥹

It was the perfect series for him

[antis-hell]

List of all my rp blogs in one spot

@green-grey-n-glitched - Antisepticeye & Darkiplier

@ilovelovebooks - Jim from good omens

@clown-prince-ofcrime - Joker - DC

@ivys-plants - poison ivy - DC

@the-w0lverine - Logan Howlett

[motoroil-recs]

[X / X / X] [X / 🏎️ / X] [X / X / X]

A moodboard for Antisepticeye with imagery of blood, knives, bandages, teeth, and glitches with a messy vibe in green and black.

[southerndragontamer]

Happy Halloween 2: Tricks and Treats

Halloween was known for being the time of year for costumes, for pranks and candy, for scary stories and for those who practiced magic to find a zenith of power from the veil between worlds being at its thinnest.

Of course for you, this meant you were at home for the night, porch lit for trick or treaters with a big bowl of candy and baked goods nearby and while you waited for anyone to show up you were watching scary videos. More specifically you were watching Mark’s and Jack’s older Darkiplier and Antisepticeye videos. What could you say, you loved the pair of dark sides and their stories even if Dark’s was more fleshed out at the moment, Anti’s was catching up with the lore from Anomaly.

As you switched from Raspy Hill to the start of Sister Location, you shivered as it suddenly felt like it got colder, as you heard the hum of your lights increase. You pulled the blankets more around yourself in response and tried to tell yourself you were being silly, you’d done this before and there hadn’t been anything like this. It was just the excitement of the holiday getting to you.

But for a split second you could’ve sworn there was an extra giggle in the video from the glitch.

When you switched again, this time to Dark’s part in ADWM, there was definitely an electronic almost static hiss and the lights dimmed a bit more than usual…you felt chills down your spine. You could’ve sworn for a second there was a smugness to Dark’s smile when he appeared. You had the urge to go check the breaker and out of worry for the wiring, you paused things and did so. Your flashlight scanned over the breaker box, nothing seemed out of the ordinary and when you touched any outlets they were room temperature so you didn’t think anything was in danger of catching fire, which relieved you as you went back to the living room.

You blinked, the video you’d had your phone on had changed to the PAX video for Anti. You hadn’t changed it before you left, had you? You must’ve though there wasn’t any other way for it to have switched, you shook your head and told yourself you were getting caught up again. But while it was there you clicked play.

When Anti said that you’d found someone to replace him, there was this sneer to his face that hadn’t been there last time…he spoke with more of a snarl. You swallowed down the instinctive rebuttal as there wasn’t any way for him to hear you anyway and this was an old video it shouldn’t be changing…Then Anti suddenly laughed, a feral grin stretched across his face and you felt your stomach drop as his voice whispered in your headphones.

“Are ye so sure o’ tha’ puppet~?”

You threw your headphones off, paling as the realization that you were in the middle of something you really should not be and yelped as a clawed hand broke through the screen of your phone like it was little more than water. You threw your phone as the lights flickered and started to flare green and then red like an alarm.

Anti glitched his way out of your device in a way that looked painful considering how small the screen was, his form flickered between the more animalistic and more calm fury he’d shown recently, scar dripped with almost black blood as his eyes either green eyeshine or a manic green and blue or black, locked onto you.

You bolted and he cackled, the sound piercing and made your head ache to the point you almost collapsed, you were half blind in panic as you ran through your own home to try to get to the backdoor. It felt strange all of a sudden, the wood creaked and groaned and seemed to warp under your feet, the static and white noise was right behind you. Lights popped and glass shattered from the overload of power that was forced through them with a near hungry hissing growl.

“Ye can run but ye can’t hide from me puppet~”

You felt your lungs begin to burn, your blood roared in your ears and you couldn’t speak from the terror that constricted your throat, the static felt like it was right at your back. Anti was closing in on you, you had to get away you didn’t want to be caught, you sprinted and leapt for the doorway.

The ground suddenly fell away underneath your feet as if it had never been there, a furious, brain scrambling sound that was almost a roar almost made your ears bleed as clawed hands swiped against the ends of your hair in an attempt to grab you as you fell into cold black that surrounded your home.

The air was stolen out of your lungs, you didn’t have any time to scream as wind whipped around you and you subconsciously flailed blindly in an attempt to try to catch yourself. But of course in the void there was nothing to grab onto, instead a hand clamped around your wrist and almost wrenched your shoulder out of its socket. Your head snapped up, wide eyed as you began to pant now that you weren’t in an endless free-fall into oblivion…to meet Dark’s gaze.

The shadow smirked at you as he lifted you to the patch of land that appeared underneath him. It looked like glass…or maybe a frozen lake, it shined like a black mirror…and let you go. You panted hard, trembling as your body tried to leave the adrenaline fueled survival state you’d just been in. There was a soft tsk, and your chin was being tilted up just so to make eye contact with Dark as he softly rumbled.

“You poor thing, so terrified…Anti’s always been a brute on these nights. You’re fortunate that you weren’t solely in his camp hmm darling?”

You shivered softly and swallowed, you didn’t really know how to react to any of this even as on reflex your cheeks tinted with heat. You felt calmer now, the last of the panic left you as he talked like a hypnotic charm. Dark stroked your chin just once before he stepped back, his touch lingered on your skin. You took a deep breath and stood up as you refound your wits, about to answer him when there was a cascade of static and green flared into black as Anti manifested on the other side and prowled over to reach Dark.

“Oh no ye don’t ye icy bastard! They’re mine!”

Dark chuckled and smirked, hands behind his back in his usual position as he responded back with a twitch of his lip.

“Your name isn’t on them Anti, and they quite literally fell into my hands. Am I supposed to just ignore that?”

Anti bared his teeth in a feral manner, crackling with energy as his body flickered and glitched and you couldn’t really look at him for long or your eyes almost crossed.

“Fockin yes! Ye know what my strings feel like and they’re covered in em!”

You looked down at yourself confused and partly in shock and concern and gasped a little as you saw green strings coiled around your wrists and body, you felt them tight around your throat like a choker. Dark’s scoff made you look up to the arguing Egos.

“And you know what my shadows feel like, and they’re also covered in them.”

Your eyes widened more as you saw them as well now, wispy smoke-like shadows curled around your body just like Anti’s strings, the two forces were mixed around, the static sparked against the frost that the shadows created. Clearly, neither of them liked ti share, which was proven when Dark sighed and let out a growl at the same time.

“It appears we’re at an impasse, they’re equally claimed.”

Anti didn’t speak in words but the visceral sound of fury he made in response made you clamp your hands over your ears to try to stop the pain that erupted in your mind. Your vision swam in and out of focus after it stopped and you whimpered a little, unsure if it was the aftermath of whatever pulse had been through your body or if it was the fact that you were in the Void but Dark and Anti didn’t..look normal.

Anti was a mess of static, glitches, multiple eyes of different shades of green, black or blue even brown, and too long limbs with knife like claws, too wide grin with too many teeth, for a few moments his neck looked like a second maw, as his body contorted and twisted you felt nauseated.

Dark was almost the same shade as the abyss around you all, outlined in red and blue that was cracked and fractured and held together like broken glass, three pairs of eyes, one blue, one red, one outlined in a faint silver, his body looked too big, too much in the space and you felt squished.

You couldn’t really…focus, it felt like too much for your human mind, the next second the two of them flickered back to ‘normal’ human bodies again. Masks back in place. They looked at you, then each other and then they both smirked.

“Looks like you have to make a choice darling.”

“We do not share puppet, yer lucky I’m even entertainin t’is shite”

You looked between them and your heart sank slowly in your chest and you swallowed hard. You didn’t know who you should pick…what would happen if you made the wrong choice…but you had to. The clock was ticking, unless time didn’t exist here? Time was broken for the both of them after all.

There was a soft hum and it was both of static and shadow as they waited for you to speak up, to make a choice between them. Between Dark’s cold nature that spoke of blunt truth, that you’d be treated like a bird in a gilded cage who would hardly notice when something happened. Or Anti’s unpredictable nature that was hard to tell whether he lied or told the truth, that you’d be treated like a plaything who would need to pay attention.

This was a twisted Trick or Treat….and you had no way to know which would be which until you picked it.

[fromthedeskof-darkiplier]

Who do you hate the most? Anti or Actor?

Mark. By a mile.

-D

[mothgodofchaos]

Spook

It’s time for the birthday boy! Math homework was a bitch on top of the massive caffeine crash so I was literally speed writing this. Enjoy.

Antisepticeye x GN!Reader, TW: blood mention, haunting, knife (unused) Words: 939

You knew that he wasn’t one for big celebrations on his birthday, but you wanted to make this one special for his first birthday together with you. You were used to scouting out all the local haunted spots, and found an abandoned animatronic restaurant nearby that was set to be demolished soon. A perfect opportunity to add a bit more haunting into the ghost hunters’ lives as you brought your electronic demon of a boyfriend along to spend a day having fun and scaring people while you giggled silently from your hiding places.

He was at first begrudgingly coming along, until you pulled into the parking lot, and the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up as he gremlin crouched in the passenger seat. “T’is place haunted?” “Supposed to be.” “If it wasn’t b’fore, it sure will be now!” He excitedly glitches inside, flashes of green fractured through the broken windows as you let out a giggle. You brought along his birthday present, a hunting knife for him, and a few batteries for snacks in case he got hungry while excitedly exploring the abandoned pizza restaurant. You walk in through the front door, or rather around it through the broken front window. You found it humorous that it was still locked, even if the pizzeria closed down nearly a decade ago. The room smells of blood, rot, and cheap pizza sauce. Not unusual for a haunted place since people like to do weird rituals for views on the internet, trying to summon demons and the spirits that haunt the grounds. You always knew if there were any actual demons or spirits around, mostly because Anti would sniff them out in the first place, often scaring them out, or at least keeping them away from you. He was like a guard dog in a sense, always taking his reward in the form of snacks and chin scratches after an investigation.

But this wasn’t a job like any other day, this was a day where he got to go have fun, explore around, and you’d just make sure he stayed away from any amatuer demon traps or pull him out of any territory fights. You looked on stage and found the gaze of the animatronics creepy, you felt as though their eyes were watching you, unblinking. The brown bear stood in the center of the stage, holding a microphone with a small top hat and bowtie. A purple bunny stands off to the right of the bear, holding a worn, broken guitar that may have been red at some point. The third is some kind of bird, but you can’t quite make out if it’s a chicken or duck. Maybe at some point it was wearing an apron or bib, the straps still around its neck, but the clothing is long gone. Their never turning heads give you a sense of security, but you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched all the same. You follow the stage until you reach a curtain in the corner, a deteriorated “OUT OF ORDER” sign in front. A peek behind the curtain reveals nothing there, but you hear the gentle creak of mechanics behind you, until you start hearing loud footsteps, sprinting at you. You turn around to see a rotted fox animatronic sprinting at you, mouth agape and claws ready to slice. You scream for Anti, diving behind the curtain when a familiar metallic giggle rings through the empty birthday room. “YOU MOTHERFUCKING GLITCH BITCH- I DON’T CARE IF IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY I WILL FUCKING EXORCISE YOU-” He stumbles out of the suit, collapsing onto the floor in a hysterical giggle fit, clutching his stomach as his glitching is off the walls. After a few minutes of you standing above him, tapping your foot with your arms crossed in disappointment, his giggles calm and he stands, wiping away a tear from his eye. “Ye should’ve seen yer face! Ye really t’ought ye were goin’t’ die, huh~?” “I will murder you~” He kisses your face with a cheeky grin, before moving to latch onto you, backpack-style. He pokes your cheek with his finger, his other arm around your neck loosely to keep himself from falling off. “Snack time~?” “You done trying to scare me?” “...maybe~” “Anti…” “FINE-” “Thank you~” He grins as you squeeze his hand lovingly, holding batteries up to his lips as he happily munches. You sigh lovingly, enjoying your koala cuddles in the middle of the gross, cold, dark, definitely haunted pizzeria. You walk around a bit more, looking for any other animatronics, wincing as the fox one collapses to the ground. He giggles, which causes you to join in with his laughing this time. “You happy with your birthday celebration, diabhal~?” “Absolutely, acushla~” He piggybacks on you back to the car, where you give him the new knife out of your backpack. He holds it as he gremlin crouches in the passenger seat again, before glitching back into the pizzeria, testing it out on the animatronics once more. You hear him yelp, and glitch back into the car. “GO- GO- GO- GO- GO-” Stepping on the gas, you peel out of the parking lot, seeing glowing eyes through the broken window as the animatronics run up to the front entrance. You see the fox animatronic make a gesture with its hook that you can only assume was an attempted flip off. You glance at Anti, who looks a little spooked himself. “Kids are spooky…” “Of course you did…” You laugh as he blushes bashfully, embarrassed that he was bested by a group of kids. “Happy birthday, Anti~”

[daka-d3monb0y]

JSE Altrverse Fic I made like a week ago.

⚠️NO ALTRVERSE SPOILERS⚠️

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

Marvin hurriedly searched through his spellbook. Page after page, flipping through them all. The demon was nearing, he needed to be quick.

"Marvin~" Anti's glitchy voice said from nearby.

Marvin picked up the spellbook and ran. He attempted to continue to find what he was looking for.

Looking behind him we could still see Anti. This hallway was endless, and no matter how fast he ran the demon was always close.

He tripped and fell, his face smashing onto the ground. "F*ck!" He said. His glasses were destroyed. He put on what was left of them and attempted to look through the book. One last page turn, and there it was.

He looked behind him again. Anti was now walking. He wanted Marvin to run. He wanted Marvin to fear him. The chase was the game, not being caught.

Marvin began saying the incantation, holding one hand out in front of him.

"It's no use!" The glitch spat. "You're weak. It won't work."

Marvin didn't stop. He kept at the spell until a green portal began to form at his fingertips.

Anti growled, standing a few feet behind Marvin.

As the portal was fully made Marvin laughed. He closed the book and ran through. It began closing behind him.

Antisepticeye jumped through, just getting through the portal before it closed.

Behind them, though, a body lay. Long green hair and foggy grey eyes, a familiar mask in his hand. But it wasn't in the hallway. It was on the ground, the spellbook open beside the breathless body. No movement. A soulless husk in the dirt. The book lay open to a page labeled VERTO CORPUS. (Body Swap).

-----------

EXPLANATION:

(Basically in my AU, Egos cross over AU, Marvin gets magic from Anti. Well Phantom gives him the Antimatter in question which is still sentient Anti if he uses too much power. This AU I used a similar idea with Antimatter.) So this universe's Marvin knows he's dying, so he tries to swap bodies with himself from another universe. But uhhh he dies. But the spell sort of works. He can't transfer his consciousness because he dies, the never ending hallway is his hell. But it transfers his power/Anti. So however Marvin gets his powers is ACTUALLY just a coincidence and he now has sentient Antimatter from another universe inside him giving him magic powers. So uhh that's how Anti would become a problem in the comics.)

This AU would go like Alterverse!Marvin gets it mysteriously and then he gets memories he doesn't know. This was just an AU and not a theory or anything.

Anyways that's all ^^

[elfmoon3]

It's Sam

This only took me about minutes.

I found this wooden eyeball Halloween decoration at Michael's and thought, "Hey, I should paint this green like Septiceye Sam." It is kinda a rarity to find things that remind us of our favorite YouTubers, like if someone saw a pink mustache they automatically think of Markiplier or if they see an hokey mask they think of H2ODelerious.

I like to tribute @therealjacksepticeye when I can with arts and crafts such as this. Also, I never had any neon green paint, so I asked my brother's fiance if she had any, but she said no, but she gave me a green that could work. I even painted the veins, but it didn't turn out well. I'd also like to thank @green-grey-n-glitched Especially the Antisepticeye of that blog, for telling me about Sam's color. Maybe next time I see some neon green paint, I'll probably do a canvas art of Sam. If anyone has any ideas for another project, I'm all ears.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Unravel (17/20)

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Things are finally starting to improve at Ego Inc., but there’s still more to do to prepare for Anti’s return - including a return to a place thought lost, for a person thought gone. Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

It happens only a day after Google, Chrome, and Bing finally finish repairing Oliver and Plus. After this, there’s truly nothing left to do but wait for something to happen. Many days have passed since the battle with Anti and his puppets, and the thought of him coming back still looms large. Surely Jackie and Marvin are alive again by now, given their popularity.

But before Anti can return, something else happens instead.

One day after Oliver and Plus are repaired, Chrome is lingering in the workshop anyway, ostensibly creating some small gadget but more aware of his brothers than the metalwork in his hands. He is impatient as he always is. Google is outside the workshop using a video game for distraction, and Chrome has tried that, but felt the need to be close to his brothers. Maybe a part of him knew what would happen, maybe his internal connections to his brothers let him know that something was going to change.

Whatever the reason, Chrome is in the room when Plus wakes up.

His eyes shoot open, and his whole system stutters in what would be a gasp if he were human. But Plus has no real need for air, so instead, he’s seized by a body-wide glitch, but only for a moment. In the next, he is sitting up, astonished, frozen in place by the shock of being alive.

He glances around, and sees Oliver, still dead. He sees Chrome, also frozen, staring at Plus in amazement, the way early man might’ve stared at the sunrise. For many long moments, nothing happens. Both are in too much shock. But it passes before long, as memories start to flood into Plus, and emotion starts to flood into Chrome.

“Green,” Chrome gasps, walking towards his brother. Walking, but then running.

“Red,” Plus says back, voice just as strained, unable to get out anything else before Chrome slams into him, squeezing him hard enough to crush if he were a human.

Plus sobs, tears falling out of him without his control, hands clinging to Chrome’s shirt, looking for grounding. Chrome is crying too, as he has done many times in the recent past, but this time it feels different. It still hurts, but the hurt is warm, red-hot with love and joy that he has his twin back.

It’s at that moment that Google, attracted by the noise (and immediately recognizing the sound of his once-dead brother’s tears) slams open the door of the workshop, too single-minded to care about damaging it. Google sees the pair of them, and his core thrums with that same sort of joyful pain that Chrome is feeling too, but he sees something else just beyond them that makes his eyes go huge. Chrome and Plus look at Google and turn to track his gaze.

In their reunion, they didn’t notice Oliver sit up in his own stretcher, hand over his core at the memory of it being ripped from him, gasping. He feels eyes on him and looks up, sees his brothers staring.

“Guys?” he whimpers, already teary-eyed, already strained, already rendered quiet from the sobs building in his throat.

Google’s by him so fast it’s like he teleported, holding him close, and Oliver feels the tears of his stoic, cool-headed big brother seep into his hair. That’s all he needs to start crying too, much harder, much messier than all four of his brothers. He glitches, not as bad as Plus did, but repeatedly, emotions running so high that even his sophisticated metal cortex can barely process them.

Each pair comes together, in a circle of equal parts relief and joy, terror and regret, pain, love.

“I’m sorry,” Chrome sobs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

“I-It’s not, no-o-ot–” Oliver tries to say, but can’t get through his sentence for glitching.

“Ollie’s right, i-it wasn’t your fault,” Plus explains and affirms, leaning forward and letting his forehead touch Chrome’s.

“We’re okay,” Google murmurs, the only one not talking through sobs, though his voice is still warped from tears. He kisses each brother’s head. “We’re all okay now.”

He’s hyper-intelligent, they all are, yet none of them can think of anything more to say. It’s so very human, the way their emotions are clogging their throats and scrambling their thoughts, but none of them care. Their family is whole again, and nothing else matters.

The news that Oliver and Plus are alive spreads fast, and the egos are overjoyed for them, relieved to have something good to break through the fear and despair they’ve all been feeling, happy to have Plus and Oliver back, glad beyond words that they did not fade away into the ether.

The Host is happy for them too, he supposes.

As happy as he can be, while Dr. Iplier remains dead. Google stitched him up days ago, yet he still hasn’t woken. Oliver and Plus woke up immediately after being fixed, but here is Dr. Iplier, body whole, yet without a soul to call it home.

Host is with him now, in Dr. Iplier’s room and sitting at his bedside, as he always is lately. He only ever leaves him to sleep in his own room (he did try to sleep alongside Dr. Iplier once, but he was too cold and too still, and it provided Host no comfort). He only ever stays away when his despair prevents him from getting out of bed. Yandere at least has Chrome to concern himself with, and Yancy and Wilford to turn to when he desires a break from staring at Dr. Iplier’s motionless face, and is thus here less often than Host is.

But Host has no one else. Dr. Iplier is his all. It hurts Host so desperately to be in the room with him, to hear the silence where there should be breath, to feel how much colder Dr. Iplier’s hands are than they should be. But what else can he do? He loves Dr. Iplier, he can’t stay away. If Dr. Iplier faded away while Host wasn’t with him, Host would never forgive himself for not being there. He wonders if this was how Dr. Iplier felt when The Author died, when he was waiting and hoping for him to wake, dreading the thought of him disappearing, consumed by paranoia and terror and slow, aching agony. Host would not wish this feeling on even Dark.

But he wishes it on Anti, if only the man had someone he loved enough to be hurt by. Host is only ever not numb or depressed when he thinks about Anti, no doubt annoyed at the last battle’s stalemate but otherwise content. Meanwhile, here is Host, dying the slow death of grief. When Anti ripped out Dr. Iplier’s heart, he ripped out Host’s heart, too.

There’s a meeting today. Host was summoned. He does not care. He will stay here, by his doctor, because now that Oliver and Plus have woken, it’s only a matter of time before Dr. Iplier either wakes or fades. No matter which it is, Host will be there for it. He can’t help but narrate every so often, just so he can visualize Dr. Iplier and make sure he isn’t going transparent. He’d probably feel it if it began to happen, feel Dr. Iplier’s hand become incorporeal in his. But he doesn’t want to take the risk, so he narrates, even as it pains him to see his love this way. He used to talk more, used to whisper to Dr. Iplier, tell him how missed he was, how loved, how desperately needed. But Host has run out of things to say, and he finds himself always exhausted, too tired to speak much at all. He used to cry, but he can’t muster it now. His eyes bleed anyway, enough to have Google changing his bandages every day, but Host never sobs, and his voice, though raspy and quiet, does not waver with tears. Were Host human, he would surely have bled out a hundred times over since Dr. Iplier was killed.

But he will stay, stay until Dr. Iplier comes back to him or leaves him forever, and either way, he will bleed out a hundred times more.

At least, that is his plan, until Wilford comes into the room after the meeting Host skipped.

Host doesn’t need his eyes to know it’s Wilford. His steps are heavy, louder than they need to be, but springy in a way that the similarly weighty steps of the androids aren’t. Wilford’s not alone either; feather-light steps come behind him, suggesting a small stature and subdued manner, yet with a similar bounce to them as Wilford’s. But Host mainly recognizes Yandere’s steps from all the times he’s heard them in the recent past. Wilford and Yandere come into the room, and one of them (probably Yandere) closes the door behind them.

“Host,” Wilford begins, “We missed you at the meeting.”

Host lets out a noncommittal mumble. 

“We have…” Wilford starts, unsure of the words to use, “We have a plan, something we want to do to help us with Anti and help bring back Dark. But we need you to help us do it.”

“What exactly is this plan?” Host asks. He doesn’t direct his head towards Wilford’s voice, or really move at all, but he is somewhat curious. As current second-in-command, he supposes it’s for the best that he cares.

“Well, Celine has gotten a bit…restless, lately,” Wilford says, and Host can hear the tension and frustration in his tone. “She’s been going through Dark’s office, looking for anything useful. Damien wasn’t aware of anything there, he said as much, but Celine looked anyway, and she found something.”

Host isn’t surprised to hear about Celine’s restlessness. The emotions between Wilford and Celine were so thick in the air that Host could sense them without even narrating, and it had only seemed to get more intense the longer Wilford helped Celine develop her magic. Though Host was rarely with them while they trained, he could sense the romantic turmoil they were feeling even when he encountered them separately. Wilford certainly had it more deeply, but Celine had love for Wilford too, Host could tell. Maybe she still does, but something happened not very long ago that changed the air between them. Their emotions around each other now are much more subdued, sadder, solemn, frustrated. Host doesn’t know what happened, but whatever it was, it affected them both greatly, apparently enough to make Celine look for an escape.

“What did she find?” Host asks.

“Notes. About…” Wilford huffs out. “About the manor. And a map. Dark…” Wilford huffs again, sadder and slower. “Dark knew where it was this whole time.”

Host sits up straighter at that. It astonishes him, that the manor exists out there, the pure fact of it, and then the fact that Dark knew about it, and finally the knowledge that Dark kept it a secret. But once the initial shock wears off, he finds it to be unsurprising. Of course the manor exists, why wouldn’t it, given the magic it held? And if it exists, it follows that Dark would be the one to find it, given his deep connection to the place. The fact that he hid it is harder to swallow. Host is, frankly, amazed that he never noticed what Dark was hiding this whole time. But then, he always knew Dark kept secrets, kept things close to his chest. Host never cared to reveal them because he doubted it would lead to anything useful. If anything it would only draw Dark’s ire, the last thing Host wanted. Wilford, in his normal less-than-lucid state, would have never sought out the manor or questioned if Dark knew about it. There was no one brave enough or clever enough to figure out what Dark was hiding…no one until Celine, herself a part of Dark.

Host turns his body to Wilford and angles his head to face where his voice is coming from, though he remains seated with a hand grasping Dr. Iplier’s.

“That is quite the revelation.” An understatement, but Host is still reeling. “Do you know why Dark kept this to himself?”

“From his notes, and from knowing him, it seems like he was worried about setting off Actor. He’s never bothered us, even with all of Mark’s projects, and maybe messing with the manor could put him on our paths again.”

Host can understand that. All these years, none of them knew if Actor could pop back up again, and what kind of havoc he’d cause if he did. And Dark, one of the very few who knew firsthand what he was capable of, would have wanted to keep him contained. Host can imagine Dark trying to figure out how to root Actor out, how to kill him, but failing, and thus resolving to keep the manor hidden and secret so no one could set him free. All the more reason not to tell anyone about the manor, lest some curious or adventurous younger ego find it and release Actor by accident.

All that considered, Host can tell in Wilford’s voice that there’s more to the situation. He didn’t just come to relay information to Host, he said there was a plan.

“But…?” Host prompts Wilford.

“But…Actor’s not the only one still trapped in the manor. The District Attorney’s there, too. They’re stuck there, but Celine thinks that if we freed them, they could help us reform Dark. Since there’s always been the problem of not having his body anymore…maybe this would help us get it. And who knows what sort of power the DA could have now; that could help us, too.”

Host considers this. That makes sense, too; DA was kicked out of their own body and left in the manor’s mirror, by all accounts they could still be there. And the DA is much less feared than Actor. They’re an audience insert, and though Mark’s audience is fickle and fanatical in equal measure, the community is bursting with joy and humor and love for Mark and his creations. If the DA is still in the manor, they’d be as much of an ally to the egos as Actor is an enemy. The DA could be a huge help in defeating Anti and bringing back Dark…but getting the DA could free Actor. And Host still doesn’t know why his help is needed.

“The Host is intrigued,” Host admits, “But he wonders what his part in this is meant to be.”

Wilford sighs. Not the short huffs he made before, but something a little longer. Yandere makes the first sound he’s made since he closed the door earlier – fidgeting on his feet, shuffling quietly.

“I need your vote on whether or not we try to free the DA, for one thing,” Wilford says, “And, well…if we do go get them, Bim and I are going, but we might not be enough. You’re nearly as strong a reality-bender as I am. So you would have to come–”

“No.” Host turns away from Wilford in an instant, refocusing himself towards Dr. Iplier’s bed. “The Host is not going anywhere.”

“Host, come on–”

“The Actor could do much worse to us than Antisepticeye if he was able to get free of the manor. We cannot risk that, not for the reward of a potential body for Dark. Either way, The Host is staying with Dr. Iplier.”

“Host.” Wilford is annoyed, his voice is short. “This could be the edge we need against Anti, and we can’t just not stop him. We have to try every option. We already failed against him once, we can’t afford to fail again.”

“There is no “we” failed,” Host snarks, “The Host recalls using his narration to salvage the fight and stop Anti from causing more deaths. Host has earned the right to sit this out.” He clenches Dr. Iplier’s hand tighter. “Oliver and Plus have woken up. Dr. Iplier could wake up or fade away at any second. Host cannot leave him now.”

“Host, I hate to play this card, but you’re second in command right now. You have more than just Doc to think about.”

“Convenient, then, that your role and the situation we’re all in allows you to only think about Dark.”

“That’s not the same thing and you know it!”

“Answer this, Wilford,” Host intones, voice dropping lower, “If you could return to the past, return to when Dark was still here, in the clinic, healing from his burns, would you have left his side, knowing what you know now?”

Host can imagine Wilford opening his mouth and closing it again, but he doesn’t narrate, doesn’t know for sure if that’s what Wilford is doing. But he hears no good retort, only a long pause, followed by an angry growl. Wilford stomps out of the room, opening the door so roughly it slams the opposite wall.

But Host does not hear a second set of footsteps follow him out. All is quiet for a moment.

“The Host knows that Yandere is still here,” Host says. His voice is not so low, now. Only tired, as it always seems to be.

“Yeah,” Yandere acknowledges. He moves, but only to shut the door of the room once again. He doesn’t leave.

“Why have you stayed? If Wilford could not convince Host to cooperate, why do you think you can?”

“I…” Yandere steps closer. “Well, I get where you’re coming from, at least.” His footsteps stop when he’s right beside Host, right at Dr. Iplier’s bedside with him. “I love Shishi, too.” Yandere’s voice is suddenly wobbly.

Instead of responding, Host narrates to himself, and sees Dr. Iplier’s face in his mind’s eye. He wishes every time that this time might be the time he sees color flow back into his doctor’s cheeks, sees his eyes open, hears him breathe, feels his hand squeeze Host’s hand back. But this time is like every other, Dr. Iplier seems no closer to waking, but no closer to eternal death.

“Katarite-san, I know you miss Shishi,” Yandere whispers, too choked up to speak more loudly, “I miss him too, and I miss Yami, I know how you feel. I know how it feels to…to lose your person.” Yandere sniffles. He must be crying now. “I don’t know Shishi as well as you do, b-but I know he…he’d hate to see you like this. And h-he’d want you to help us beat Anti. He’d want you to help fix what he started.”

“Is that how you think of him? Of this?”

“N-Not really, but he would. You know he would.”

Yandere has a point. God, Dr. Iplier would despair, wouldn’t he, if he could see Host now? If he saw how many meals Host has skipped, how much sleep he’s lost, how sad and empty and angry he’s been. And Dr. Iplier hated himself for the lies he told, for the awful things he did to create the situation the egos are in. He’d be begging Host to help, begging Host to go with Bim and Wilford to get the DA and get a step closer to fixing things.

But. Host feels glued to his chair before Dr. Iplier’s bed. How could he leave him now? What if he fades? It may be selfish, but Host cares more about his doctor than anything else now. Without Dr. Iplier, Host has nothing. If Dr. Iplier disappears without Host there, the regret will destroy Host for the rest of his life.

“Host can’t leave him,” Host whispers. His voice is low again, not angry and cutting, but quiet, sad, desperate.

“I’ll be here,” Yandere says. He sniffles again, but Host can hear the brush of his hands as he wipes his face, hear him take determined breaths to stop weeping. “Katarite-san, if you go with Wil and Bim-san then I swear I’ll stay right here and tell you as soon as anything changes. I know how to contact you, and I promise you I will if something happens. And Wil could teleport you back here in an instant.”

It’s an offer anyone could make. An offer that Host should refuse. Fading is often fast; by the time Host receives the message, it could already be too late, even with Wilford’s teleportation. But it’s not anyone making this offer, it’s Yandere. Yandere, who’s already lost the person he loves most. Yandere, who doesn’t love Dr. Iplier the same way Host does, but loves him just as fiercely. Yandere, who understands more than anyone could the full gravity of what’s at stake, who understands exactly what Host has to lose. Yandere, who is making this offer with the utmost sincerity, who would take it more seriously than anyone else could. Yandere, who has reminded Host of what Dr. Iplier would choose for Host if he were able.

All of these things play a part into why Host thinks for many long moments, but ultimately sighs.

“Fine.”

“You – wait, you’re gonna…?”

“The Host will go with Wilford and Bim to the manor, if you promise to stay with Dr. Iplier, and to call Host if anything at all changes.”

“I promise, Katarite-san, on my life!”

Host believes him. Before getting up, he begins to narrate to himself, under his breath. Maybe Yandere can hear him, but if so, it would be just barely.

“In front of Host lies Dr. Iplier, as still as he ever is, as cold and absent as he’s been for many days. His expression is neutral, empty. But he is still Host’s doctor. Host can imagine now exactly how his features would appear if they sprang to life in this instant. It is this image that he hopes to ingrain in his mind, just in case.” Host leans forward, closer to Dr. Iplier, lays a hand on his cold cheek. “Host asks his doctor to stay, just a while longer, at least until Host can return to him.” He leans further, until his lips are a breath away from Dr. Iplier’s forehead. “I love you,” he says, so quiet he hardly hears himself, before closing the gap and kissing Dr. Iplier’s forehead. He lingers there for a moment, but eventually forces himself to pull away and stand.

He doesn’t trust his voice any longer, and instead moves to leave the room (Dr. Iplier’s room is familiar enough to him that he needs no words to navigate). He hears Yandere take his earlier seat, hears him get in the chair and scoot it a little bit closer. Host finds Yandere hard to trust in most respects, but he trusts him now, with this.

Host finds Wilford (and Bim, and Damien and Celine) in his studio, no longer so angry at Host’s earlier refusal but pensive and worried. Host isn’t noticed right away, so he lingers where he is for a moment, observing.

“Well, even if Host doesn’t want to go, can’t we just go on our own?” asks Bim, anxious, but whether he’s more anxious about confronting the manor without Host or about the tension in the air of the studio, Host can’t tell.

“Host wasn’t much a fan of us going anyway,” Wilford admits. Host can tell he’s biting his thumbnail through his words; a nervous habit he’s had for a long time but one that he rarely feels enough nerves to do. “It might have been an excuse so he didn’t have to leave Doc, but he has a point. I mean, Dark was worried enough about Actor to let this lie for so long…” He sighs. “It’s still so hard to believe.”

“It’s hard to believe you didn’t find it sooner, Damien,” says Celine, sharp. “Dark’s office has been yours since you woke up, and in all your effort to figure things out here, you couldn’t find what I found in a few days?”

“I’m not a snoop,” Damien mutters, “What are you trying to say?”

“Celine–” Wilford starts, not quite warning, but almost pleading with her.

“Maybe you didn’t want to find anything to help get Dark back,” she says, “You never seem very excited about the prospect in meetings.”

“And you are?” Damien scoffs.

“I understand what has to be done,” Celine snaps, “I always have. And you’ve always been in denial.”

“Celine,” Wilford says again, still pleading.

“That’s hardly fair!” Damien yells. By the sound of it, he gets up from the chair he was sitting in. “You can’t seriously call what I was doing back then “denial,” not when you were trying so hard to keep me there!”

“Well, I’m not trying anymore!” Celine yells back. Host gets the sense she’d stand as well if she could, but as it is, her wheels click, and a breath of narration tells Host that she moves right up to Damien to get in his face, even though their eye levels don’t match. “I’m not trying to keep you from understanding anything or hiding the truth anymore, so what’s your excuse for ignoring it this time??”

“Host! How long have you been here?” Bim suddenly exclaims.

Even without narration, Host feels the atmosphere of the room change as the others notice his presence.

“Host?” Wilford asks. “Are you…?”

“The sooner we go to the manor and find the DA,” Host says, “The sooner Host can come back to Dr. Iplier.”

“Okay. Okay!” Bim says, trying to hype himself up for the trip.

“Alright then,” Wilford says, clearly wondering what prompted the change of heart but not wanting to ask and risk Host changing his mind. “Let’s go. There was a photo of the place in Dark’s notes, so I can teleport us there easy.” He pauses, and Host narrates enough to see Wilford turn towards Damien and Celine. “Are you two…good?”

“Good enough,” Damien mutters, sullen. Celine says nothing.

“Alright,” Wilford says awkwardly, not believing him but not about to push it.

In the next moment, Host is weightless, and the smell of cotton candy fills his nose. In the moment after, his feet hit the ground and he nearly stumbles.

Under his shoes is grass, Host can feel the bounce of the earth. The sun is shining, the breeze is light. He hears the gentle rustling of tree branches in the wind. He wonders where exactly they are. Still in California, surely, but Host can’t know for sure. The place sounds and feels nearly idyllic. But Wilford and Bim are silent, aside from the awed gasp they each let out.

“Holy shit,” says Bim.

“Bully,” breathes Wilford.

Host narrates.

“Before the three men is the manor, the place where Wilford and Dark were made. It looks as old as it is; the walls are crumbling, moss runs up the stone, the windows are broken with cobwebs replacing panes of glass. Yet it is huge, it towers over the landscape, and despite the bright sun surrounding the group, all three feel a chill staring up at it. Though they came here with a purpose, they hardly want to go inside. The manor is stirring something in their blood, as if their very bones know the significance of this place.”

“We’re gonna have to go in eventually,” says Bim, though he does not move.

A long pause. Though Host is still eager to finish the task at hand and return to Dr. Iplier, he finds he’s much less eager to go into the manor. The building should be benign, now; Dark’s aura is no longer there, after all. But there’s still magic emanating from it, so strong that even Bim should be able to feel it. Magic that is perhaps keeping both the DA and Actor contained. Instinctually, Host doesn’t want to disturb it.

“Come on, then!” Wilford suddenly says, brisk and sharp, practically storming off to the manor’s front door. Bim and Host follow.

Wilford hardly has to push the door; it’s so frail and the wood so rotted that it nearly opens itself, and the group step onto the cracked tile of the entryway. Host narrates to himself as the others look around.

“This room was grand, once. The ceiling is still high, the chandelier still hangs, the furniture still exists. But much like the outside of the manor, the room too shows the years it’s sat here abandoned. The fabric of the couches are ragged and rotting, the chandelier is broken and useless, the ceiling has holes that let sunlight leak through. The balcony above is sagging under its own weight, the wood railing is splintered and cracked. The mirror at the other end of the room is cracked in a familiar pattern, and it and the table before it are covered in dust. Bim is looking at the place with amazement and only a little disgust at the mold and rot. Wilford wanders about as if in a trance, taken in by memory.”

“Shoot, are you gonna be okay, Wil?” Bim asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wilford replies absently, “Just…taking a look at the place, is all.” Host’s narration shows Wilford ending up at the mirror and laying a hand on the table in front of it, taking no notice of the dust. “It’s funny, the place doesn’t feel so…so ominous anymore.”

“You sure about that?” Bim mutters, no doubt eyeing the decay of the space.

“The aura’s not here anymore,” Wilford murmurs, almost sadly. “This place is just a building, now.”

“Nearly,” Host says, “The manor is still a magical centerpoint, Host can feel it. It was marked by what happened here, and there are forces here still at play, however subtle.”

“That would explain how it’s managed to go undisturbed so long,” Bim muses, “It’d probably have a few squatters otherwise.”

“Makes sense,” Wilford says, still quiet, and – Host guesses and confirms – still looking at the mirror.

Host resumes a slow walk around the ground floor of the manor, narrating to himself as he goes. He takes in the scenery, the rays of light coming through the windows and holes in the walls, the peeling wallpaper, the dust, the mold – the cracks in the tile and steps down that threaten to trip him up. Even now, the manor has its tricks. Host has to wonder what happened to the chef, the butler, the groundskeeper, whether they escaped with their lives somehow or if the manor subsumed them like it did Actor and the DA. He figures that if one of them was still here his sharp ears would’ve heard them by now. As it is, there is little sound at all, aside from birds chirping outside, the occasional wind blowing through the decaying walls, and the soft footsteps of himself and the others. Host isn’t quite sure what he’s searching for, but he knows he’ll understand it when he finds it. The magic in the air is still humming at a constant flow, never seeming to increase or decrease.

Host narrates, trying to see if Wilford or Bim have found anything. Bim is at the foot of the staircase, regarding the dark, rotten steps with trepidation, probably trying to decide if it’s safe enough to climb. Wilford hasn’t moved from before the mirror, still staring at it intently. His gaze is no longer wistful, his brow is slightly furrowed. Host makes his way to him, planning to ask him what he’s noticed, but Wilford yells out in shock before he can.

Host nearly jumps at the sudden noise, and hears the crash of Wilford falling backwards.

“Wil??” cries Bim, rushing from the staircase to help him up, “What happened, are you okay!?” Host continues to Wilford more calmly.

“I’m fine,” Wilford says, “The mirror, I saw something moving in it, I saw–” He cuts off.

“Oh my god,” Bim gasps.

Host can already sense something, he already feels something from the mirror, a magical energy he’s never found before, one that he can’t quite pinpoint. Its resonance matched the rest of the manor earlier, but its signature is much clearer now. Once again, he narrates.

“In the mirror, obscured by the dust but unmistakable, is a person. Surely, it is the DA, but…The Host cannot tell for certain. The person in the mirror is difficult to make out, their features are indistinguishable, only a human form is visible. Whoever they are, The Host feels their eyes on him, though he – and the others – cannot see them. They are being blocked out by more than dust, the mirror seems deeper than the pane of broken glass that comprises it. The person in the mirror radiates power, unlike Host’s, unlike Wilford’s, unlike Bim’s, unlike even Dark’s or Celine’s.”

“It’s gotta be the DA!” Bim cries. He pauses. “Unless it’s Actor. Oh shit, what if it’s Actor?”

“Old friend?” Wilford asks, having gotten up from the ground and approached the mirror again, “Is that you in there?” His gaze is far away.

“Wil, hold on a minute,” Bim frets.

“Whether it’s DA or Actor or someone else there,” Host says, “Wilford may be the best person to call them forward enough to be discernible.” 

“But what if it is the Actor??”

“We knew that would be a possibility, did we not? We can’t go back now.”

Something in Host tells him not to be worried, even as Wilford lays a hand on the mirror, fingers spread across the cracks, making marks in the dust.

“Come out here,” Wilford murmurs, “It’s been so long, and…and there’s so much I want to say to you.”

Host whispers his narration so as not to distract Wilford. In his mind’s eye, he sees some fog clear away from within the mirror, and the figure comes closer.

“It is you,” Wilford says, shoulders drooping with relief, “Of course it’s you, who else would be in this mirror?”

“Why do they…” Bim squints, “Why…why do they look like that?”

Host furrows his brow, narrating louder as he concentrates.

“It is the DA in the mirror, now closer to the surface, fully visible as they are, but their presence provides no clarity. Their appearance shifts every second, features changing every moment. A few forms seem clearest, however. One is brown hair, long enough to brush at their ears and sweep across their forehead, brown eyes deep enough to drown in, and skin so white it’s almost gray. The other two forms are familiar to the group looking upon them. One resembles Amy Nelson, but younger, hair curled and dyed blonde instead of straight and dark brown. One resembles Ethan Nestor, again younger, hair swooped up and bright blue like it used to be years ago. Each form represents…represents the different parts that make up the DA. Amy and Ethan, in part, portrayed them in the videos that made them, but the DA is also a blank canvas, the audience insert. The DA is everyone, no one, themself. The DA stands in the mirror, mouth in a line. They must see the group in front of them, but they make no move, say no words.”

“Oh,” Bim murmurs, awed. “Wow.”

“Friend,” Wilford whispers, tears in his eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Host knows through his own whispers that the DA looks at Wilford, gaze piercing.

“It happened a lifetime ago,” says the DA – at least, they seem to; their mouth doesn’t open, their throat doesn’t move, but their voice is audible all the same. “My forgiveness must mean little. But you have it, William.” Their words are resonant and echoing, deep and high, sharp and soft, loud and quiet in equal measure, as varied as their face.

Wilford sniffles, laughs a little.

“That’s not my name anymore.”

“Of course, apologies. You’ve been Wilford longer than you’ve been William.”

“What about you?” Bim asks. “What’s your name? We’ve just been calling you the DA, but…”

“My name has been lost to time. I have none now.”

Host would expect a person to say something like that with great sadness, but the DA presents it as neutral fact, without emotion.

“We can’t just call you the DA,” Host muses, “That’s hardly a proper name to refer to a person with.”

“I remember their name!” Wilford insists. “They’re…they’re District Attorney…oh, it’s in there somewhere…”

“It isn’t,” the DA says, still matter-of-fact. “My name is gone. I may not have had one at all.”

That much could be true. The DA is an ego, after all, and if Mark didn’t give them a name and the fans couldn’t agree on one, then the DA has nothing but their title.

“What should we call them, then?” Bim asks. “Maybe Daniel? Or Danielle, it could be both at once.”

“That’s boring,” Wilford scoffs. “They deserve a name with more pizazz!”

“Dahlia?” Host offers.

“Maybe. But it’s so frilly, there’s not enough power in it.”

“Darcy?” Bim suggests.

“That’s more powerful, but still too frilly! It doesn’t suit them at all!”

“You said you wanted pizzazz!”

“Yes, but not fancy! The DA wasn’t prim and proper back in the day, a fancy name would be weird!”

Host notes with some amusement that DA, the subject of this discussion, is watching silently, with a slight look of bewilderment.

“Well, what ideas do you have?” Bim sniffs at Wilford.

“Maybe we can call themmmmm…” Wilford thinks. “Dana!” He exclaims. “Dana, there’s a good name. Short and simple but not boring, very handsome and/or beautiful.”

“Perhaps we should ask DA what they think?” Host says with a slight grin.

Bim and Wilford look at the DA expectantly. They are silent for another long moment before speaking.

“Dana is fine,” they say.

Host can practically feel Wilford’s triumphant grin, no narration needed.

“So, now what?” Bim asks no one in particular.

“Now we get them out of the mirror!” Wilford says.

“Hm,” Dana says. For once, their voice has emotion: a touch of discomfort.

“Do you wish to stay in the mirror?” Host asks.

“I’m not overly attached to this realm,” Dana explains, “But I do not wish to re-enter the surface. It has been too long, and there is nothing for me out there.”

“What!?” Wilford exclaims. “But there is! There’s a whole building full of egos for you to meet, and, well, we need you.”

“For what reason?”

“It’s a long story,” Wilford sighs, “But basically, an enemy of ours killed Darkiplier and took his aura. He’s killed a few of us with it, plus a whole bunch of other people, and he’s looking to kill us all. We need help to stop him, and we need help to reform Dark.”

Dana outright sneers at that, so vitriolic that Host’s voice wavers just a bit as he narrates it and Bim takes a step back.

“It is Dark’s fault that I have become this,” Dana says, voice low and angry. “Dark abandoned me here, when he had every opportunity to free me. I used to beg him to release me, to use his power to undo what he did and allow me to exist again. He rebuffed, he rebuked, he ignored.”

“But I thought you didn’t want to leave anymore?” Bim asks, confused.

“Just because I’m making that choice now doesn’t mean it should’ve been my only choice. At one time I would not have chosen this. But too much time has passed, Dark has taken too much. I will not return, and I will certainly not return for Dark.”

“But it’s not just about Dark!” Wilford insists, “There’s so many egos who’d love to meet you and who need your help, and I bet you’d get along great with them! And Damien and Celine are here right now, you’d get a chance to see them again!”

Dana straightens at that, but almost immediately deflates again.

“What is the point of seeing them again if they’re meant to become Dark again?” they mutter. “I have little affection for Celine as it is, but Damien…” They look away. “I cannot see him again, if he will be forced to leave so soon.”

Host doesn’t need any further narration to read into that tone, to understand Dana’s averted gaze. It’s love, Host can see it clearly.

“Even without the other egos you could meet, even ignoring the stuff with Dark,” Bim says, “Wouldn’t it be nice to leave the mirror? To exist out in the world?” Bim gestures out towards the door he and the others came in. “The weather’s so nice outside the manor, it’s nice back in Los Angeles where we live. Outside the mirror you can walk around, eat, play a video game or a sport, talk to someone, do something. If I were you I’d be bored out of my skull!”

“You are not me,” Dana says, voice cold. “I have no need of the outside. I do not wish to see how the world has moved on without me. I have no interest in anything offered there. I am not content, but I will never be. I will stay here, rather than expend effort to feel the same as always, or worse.”

No one seems to know what to say to that. Host’s narration tells him that Bim is awkward, staring at the ground and fidgeting, trying to think of something to say. Wilford is crestfallen, sad at meeting his old friend and having said friend want to stay put, where they can’t help the other egos. If no one says anything, Dana will retreat back into the mirror, and they will be unlikely to return if called.

Host steps forward, past Wilford and Bim, closer to the mirror.

“The Host does not understand how Dana feels,” Host begins. “He doesn’t know what it’s like to be trapped and stuck for a hundred years, he doesn’t know what it’s like to be so demoralized that freedom no longer feels like a cure.” Host breathes in. “But Host does know, very well, what it’s like to be changed. He understands how it feels to be subject to forces beyond one’s control, to be irrevocably damaged.” He can’t stop himself from adjusting the bandage around his eyes. “Host imagines that you were not always the person before us now. Host was also not always the man you see. Change of this sort is painful, horrible, unfair. Host understands this.”

Host pauses, in case Dana has anything to say. They remain silent, but Host can feel their eyes, knows they’re still there. He continues.

“The Host also knows how it feels to love as deeply as you appear to.” His breath hitches just slightly. “Host has not had a hundred years to love another person, but he has had two lifetimes, and he knows what it’s like to have a person be one’s world. He knows how it feels to lose that person. But…” Host ducks his head, wills himself not to sob. “But Host is here because he knows that this is what his love would want. He died trying to fix his mistake, the mistake that led to Dark being destroyed. He would’ve wanted Host to press on looking for solutions, and so, Host is here, pleading with you.” Host lifts his head again. He can feel blood streaming down his cheeks. “If where you end up matters so little, then Host asks you to picture what your love would want. Host asks you to decide if your love would want you to be this miserable, or if he would want you to have a chance to start over, to have happiness. And if that is too selfless for you, Host wonders if you could be convinced to leave the mirror to see your love again, even if only for a short time, even if it reopens the pain of loss when he goes.” Host smiles sadly. “If Host had to make that choice, he would choose it every time. He would give anything at all to see the man he loves again, even if not forever. He suspects that, somewhere deep within, you might feel the same.”

A long silence stretches. Host hardly dares to break the silence with narration, but he does, just the slightest breath of volume to know what Dana is doing. Their face is the most emotive it’s been so far, twisted in anguish. Their eyes are teary. The endless cycling of their form has stopped, and they have settled on the version that’s ghostly pale, the one that looks like themself, not like Amy or Ethan.

“Will I survive it?” Dana asks, a tear rolling down their cheek. “Will I survive losing him again?”

“Maybe not,” Host admits, blood still dripping down his own face. “But would that make it any less worth it?”

Dana purses their lips, trying not to sob. Tears continue falling, and Host’s whispered narrations pick up Wilford and Bim’s stares, equal parts amazement and concern. It takes a few moments for Dana to regain their composure, to finally raise their hand and wipe their tears away.

“Fine,” they say, voice wavering at first, then stronger word by word. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

“And you’ll help us?” Wilford asks, eyes big and pleading.

“I suppose.”

It’s good enough for Wilford, who breathes out a relieved chuckle.

“Awesome!” exclaims Bim, “But, uh…how do we get you out of the mirror?”

Dana steps forward, even closer to the mirror’s surface.

“Dark suggested it was a matter of pulling me out,” Dana explains, “With strength, but moreover with magic. There was…is a risk that disrupting this place could shatter it completely and set free more than just me.”

“We know,” Wilford sighs, “But we’re willing to take the risk if you are.”

It’s Dana’s last chance to back out, but they steel themself instead.

“I am,” they say.

Wilford and Bim walk up to the mirror, Host following behind, whispering narration all the while.

“Wilford and Bim each place a hand on the mirror, and they can feel Dana just beyond the glass, feel the churning of the mirror’s dimensional pocket, feel the power contained there. It is a null space, emptier even than Dark’s void, yet it thrums with its own life, like the floor of the deepest ocean.” Host can sense when Wilford and Bim start to use their magic, feel the increase of power in the air, smell the cotton candy of Wilford’s magic and the lavender of Bim’s. He raises his own hands and continues to narrate. “Host reaches out through the mirror, between the cracks, finding the curling black of the void space, and Dana standing just there, ready to leave it. Host’s own power feels around, searches for Dana’s answering hands. Behind and around are Wilford and Bim, Wilford pushing back the mirror dimension, Bim extricating Dana from its grip, little by little. Host assists Bim, the scent of ink and golden tendrils melding with purple, further reaching, offering something for Dana to grab onto.”

Host hears Dana gasp. Host can see through his power, see Dana there in the dark, see them find Host’s hands, find Wilford’s hand, Bim’s hand.

“The closer the three get, the more power they funnel, the more the space between the mirror and its dimension widens, the more space there is for Dana to come forward, the more fragile the mirror becomes. It is already cracked, but the cracks get wider, they splinter off into the previously-unbroken panes, threaded with pink and purple and gold. Wilford and Bim’s hands phase through the glass, they come out on the other side and reach something tangible. It is Dana, guided by Host’s power, bringing their hands together. Wilford has one, Bim has the other, Host is behind them both, and they all pull at once.”

It is Host’s power that allows him to see Wilford and Bim pull their hands from within the mirror, each holding one of Dana’s hands, pulling them through the mirror and out into the surface. As Dana leaves it, the mirror shatters. Glass rains around the trio, but they ignore it, and Host spares a sentence to prevent them from being harmed by the falling shards. Dana stumbles forward, unsteady on their feet, but with Wilford and Bim gripping their hands tight, they stay upright.

Out here, in the surface world, they don’t look quite so ghostly. Host’s whisper tells him that Dana’s skin is not as deathly pale now, their form continues to be stable, their hair is still soft brown and gently ruffled. But there are deep pockets under their eyes, and said eyes are so dark brown they’re almost black. They’re a bit shorter than Bim, and much shorter than Wilford. They look up and meet Host’s sightless gaze with awe.

“I’m out,” they gasp. Their voice still doesn’t come from their throat or their mouth, but it is no longer so imposing. It still slightly echoes, but the tone is even, gentle, slightly monotone even in awe.

“You are,” Wilford replies, his own voice soft.

Bim has already let go of Dana’s hand, but Wilford hasn’t. Host’s narration tells him that Wilford’s grip is gentle, friendly, but maybe a little protective, a little afraid to lose yet another piece of his past. Dana doesn’t seem to mind, though; maybe because of all that time they spent in the mirror without touch.

“Do you think…” Bim begins, looking back at the remains of the mirror.

“The Host can’t tell,” Host says, “This building is still magical, that has not changed. But that doesn’t mean anyone is still within.”

“You mean Actor, don’t you?” Dana says. “I can’t say I know, either.” They glower. “That’s why Dark never let me go.”

“A reasonable fear,” Host admits, “But we have no choice, now.” He smiles just a little. “How do you feel, now that you’re out?”

“I feel…” Dana puts a hand over their own chest, feeling the clothes on their skin, the temperature of the air. “Not exactly as I did before the mirror, but…much closer.”

“Is that good?” Wilford asks.

“I think so,” Dana answers. For the first time, they smile. It’s slight and subtle, but unmistakable, and Wilford beams to see it.

“Well then!” he exclaims, finally letting go of Dana’s hand only to smack their back, brisk. “Let’s get outta here!”

Wilford ushers Dana, expression slightly alarmed from the smack, out the door, as Bim and Host follow.

Host has just left the steps of the manor’s porch and began to feel the sun on him again when his cell phone rings from his pocket.

“Call from, Yandere,” the phone chirps, and Host freezes.

This can only mean one thing: On the other end of the line, right now, the love of Host’s life is either waking up or disappearing forever. Yet Host can hardly bring himself to answer, because what if Dr. Iplier is dying? What if Host is about to lose him?

Host’s breath is caught in his throat, so he has no idea if Wilford or Dana can hear his phone ringing. But Bim is right next to him, and he’s just as still as Host. Host feels Bim’s hand squeeze his shoulder, sympathetic. Bim, too, is familiar with that endless wait, the paranoia of wondering whether or not he’s going to lose his person. It ended well for him, Oliver woke up. But will Dr. Iplier?

“You gotta answer,” Bim murmurs, voice uncharacteristically even and solemn. And he’s right, Host can’t let it ring forever. He can’t let it go to voicemail. It’s too important to ignore.

His hand still shakes as he removes the phone from his pocket and tells it to answer the call.

“Yandere?” he asks, and he could cringe at how small and scared his voice sounds if he wasn’t too anxious to care.

“K-Katarite-san,” Yandere says – no, sobs. He’s crying on the other end, so hard he can barely talk. But he is, like he promised he would. The tears make Host’s heart rocket faster. Yandere cries so easily, his tears could mean anything, but Host fears the worst.

“Yandere, please,” Host gasps. A trail of blood comes down his cheek, he can feel the new wetness cut through the drying tears from earlier. There’s so much to say, and nothing at all. “Please.”

“Shishi, he’s…” Yandere gasps, trying to catch his breath. Host stiffens all over. “…he’s awake, Katarite-san, h-he just woke up. He’s okay.”

Host could collapse. He almost does; body doubling over. Something inside him breaks open, filling his chest with warm, spiky pain. After all the sleepless nights, all the tears, all the whispered bargains and begging, Host had feared it would never lead to this. He had felt so desperately that leaving Dr. Iplier to come to the manor would be the last he ever saw of him, the last time he touched him. He has never been more glad to be wrong. His chest still hurts, hurts with emotion bursting out, breaking up the numbness that’s been lurking there for so long. Host can hardly breathe, his throat is closed over with sobs. He can’t even begin to narrate to orient himself against the tide of feeling, so it washes over him, and he is pulled under. It hurts more than anything. It’s unbearable. Host has never been happier in his life.

“Host!?” Bim asks from beside him, alarmed. He takes Host’s arm, the one not holding his phone, making sure he doesn’t fall. Host can’t blame him for worrying; his tears are coming out in full force, sobs are falling out of him without control.

Dr. Iplier is awake. He’s awake. He’s alive. God, Dr. Iplier is alive. And now, finally, so is Host.

“I’ll l-let you go,” Yandere says, sniffling, but Host can hear the smile in his voice. “We’ll be h-here when you get back. See you.” True to his word, Yandere hangs up then.

“Host, is Doc…?” Bim asks Host, voice frayed with nerves. In response, Host laughs. It’s quiet and choked, but unmistakably mirthful.

“He’s alive,” he gasps, “Yandere said he’s alive.”

Bim sighs in relief. Host keeps weeping. He’s not sure he’ll ever stop. The sun on him feels warmer than before, the ground beneath him softer, the air smells sweeter, the chirping birds in the woods sound more pleasant. The world is better, now that Dr. Iplier is in it again.

“Hey, what’s going on??” Wilford exclaims, followed by his footsteps running closer. He must’ve finally noticed Host’s tears.

“Yandere called,” Bim explains on Host’s behalf, voice giddy, “Doc is awake!”

“Bully!” Wilford practically shouts, so joyful he doesn’t care to moderate volume. “You gonna be alright there, friend?” he asks Host, voice a bit more gentle.

“The H-Host has never been better,” Host says, laughing a little yet again, wiping blood off his face with both hands. “He would like us to go back to Ego Inc. now, since we have found Dana as we desired.”

“True,” Wilford says. “Let’s go now!”

“How are we getting there from here?” Dana asks, possibly attracted into the conversation by their name. “There don’t seem to be any roads.”

“We don’t need roads,” Wilford replies, in a tone that Host knows is paired with a cheeky wink even without narration. “I can teleport!”

“Maybe brace yourself,” Bim warns, “He teleports through his void, and Wilford’s void isn’t anything like the mirror dimension.”

“I see,” Dana answers, a note of curiosity in their tone.

Host has never been excited to teleport with Wilford; his void is disorienting even for the sighted egos, and it’s much worse for Host. But now, there’s nothing more he wants to do than go through that void and go home.

Home to his doctor, at last.

[worldtravelerbuff]

IRIS Meow Wolf inspiration attraction idea?

so recently i have been watching Meow Wolf content including Food Theory videos of one of Meow Wolf’s attraction; Omega Mart. And something clicked in my mind for an idea for a Meow Wolf attraction. So, if you see the title as anyone know from the Jacksepticeye community, last year on Halloween he released the IRIS Project livestream. This was a project that took 6 years in the making. During the livestream people using the chat to solve puzzles and codes, and some parts of the livestream revealed lore, etc. But...the problems, some parts of the livestream were getting technical issues (originally it was going to be a week-long thing for the livestream) so Sean decided to give us the entire livestream.

 But towards the end of the livestream Sean decided to put the end in a separate video due to technical issues once more. The end video that Sean put in another video gave us the reveal of the return of our favorite Glitch demon turtle Antisepticeye (ALTR 114209) Back to the topic, so for a IRIS Meow Wolf inspiration attraction, there can be locations/secret locations from the trailer, the livestream, Anomaly Found (the shorter version of the livestream), other locations, etc. (There are a lot of locations from location options that i mentioned and also looked up as well for research as well for notes that you can also look up as well.) It's like the different locations/secret locations within Meow Wolf attraction(s) that you would go to. There can puzzles, codes, documents, lore, etc in an IRIS Meow Wolf attraction just like you would find when you go to a Meow Wolf attraction.

Here are some idea examples that someone thought of from a Discord server:

-For one of the rooms in a Meow Wolf IRIS attraction, we'll have what looks to be a distorted sector or hallway of IRIS. It's gonna look like it was ensnared by some glitchy, vivid ALTR. In an area of this distorted and messed up sector, you'll find a trippy hallway that has red, blue, and green triangles coiled around it, like that one painting frame hallway from the LA Van Gogh immersive experience. -This hallway leads to a house. More specifically, we'll make it a memory version, because this is a special house, AND Meow Wolf is a family friendly thing. In a bedroom, you'll find drawings on a table. What's the drawing of? A family. Who's family is it? Chase Brody's family.

-I was also thinking we could do a room like this, where you have to press buttons on the walls in a certain order, and if you do, you can pick up a small telephone at the back wall with the screens, and once you do it activates and plays a scene which would reveal some lore about IRIS

Y'KNOW, JUST LIKE THE LIVESTREAM!

So what do you think for an IRIS Meow Wolf inspiration attraction. Would you pay to go see it for something like that? You can put your thoughts including ideas in the comments below. I would love to see about your thoughts and ideas. Also have you been to a Meow Wolf attraction(s) if so which one(s)? you can put them in the comments below as well.