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doctordiscord123 · 1 month

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Could I request a small follow up to “Who’s who again”? Like adjusting back to their own bodies, or lingering effects of the spell?

In reference to this work here.

The Host sat in his library, silent, and staring at nothing. He'd come down here to work, but...he couldn't really focus on that. All he could do was play the images of Dr. Iplier's face over and over in his mind, committing them to permanent memory, knowing he'd never have a chance like that again.

He knew it'd been Hell for Dr. Iplier. No one, and he meant no one should have to experience the Host's visions besides himself. They were a burden, he knew that, violent and bloody and often left him powerless despite knowing. The Host had had over a decade to get used to them, to learn how to deal and cope with the power that had sprung from his blindness. Dr. Iplier...had none of that, combined with the sudden loss of sight -- the man was still adjusting to the light a dew days later, even after only a week in darkness.

...But for the Host...he'd gotten to see. He'd gotten to see his family, his love -- his only lament was that he could never truly see the natural expressions of Dr. Iplier, the way he smiled or laughed, the way he pouted or how grumpy he looked in the mornings. Those things had been mirrored onto the Host's face, and he could imagine, sure...but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same, and the feeling left a cold pit in his stomach that wouldn't go away.

Somewhere above, he heard the telltale squeak of the library door opening, and not long after, footsteps were moving into his sanctuary, and a chin rested on his shoulder. "Hey." Dr. Iplier kissed his temple, then took one of his hands, pressing a warm mug into it. "Brought you some hot chocolate. Wilford made it, so you know it's good."

The Host smiled. "Thanks. What brings the good doctor down here?"

There was a brief pause, and a mumbled narration told him Dr. Iplier was raising an eyebrow. Such a pity, he had to go through the extra step... "Are you kidding? I can practically hear you thinking all the way upstairs. What's wrong?" Another pause. "Still thinking about the body swap?"

The Host sighed, and set the mug on his desk. Dr. Iplier promptly sat himself in his lap. "Just -- thinking. It --" He gestured to his own face. "The blindness, it feels -- darker, somehow, now. Just taking some getting used to."

"...Yeah. Now that I know what that feels like, it sucks! It's so --" Dr. Iplier waved a hand in the air, trying to find the word.

"Isolating?"

"A bit. Even with you there, knowing you were there, it's easy to feel alone when you can't actually see other people in the room. But you know all that already. Don't need my ass explaining it to you." This. This was a time the Host wished he knew what Dr. Iplier's pout really looked like.

In any case, he just shrugged, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Dr. Iplier's chest. "All the same...it's nice they have this as a shared experience now." He picked up Dr. Iplier's hand, running a finger over his wedding band, before kissing the back of that. "Just one more thing they've been through together, hm?"

Dr. Iplier sighed, and leaned against the Host more. "Just one more thing."

#ask discord #anonymous #my writing #the host #dr. iplier #dr. iplierst #dr. iplier/the host #the host/dr. iplier #dr. iplier x the host #the host x dr. iplier #markiplier egos

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

Text

━"Manning The Mics"

━Tw: None

━Notes: I have delted this over five times on accident. If there's any typos- too bad so sad I'm never revisiting this. It took so long ;-;

━Song: "Why Am I Anxious" By Tom Cardy

"You know I have the power to fire you right."

Giggles filled with pure mirth came from (Y/n) as they tried not to double over, staring at their unamused boss, whom, was covered head to toe in sticky notes.

Their record for how many post-it notes they could place on one person had been 18. Had been.

Now it was a whopping 23.

As one could clearly tell if they took one look at the man in front of (Y/n).

You know, suprisingly, working at a studio downtown dedicated to airing a local t.v channel wasn't all that entertaining. Especially when someone like (Y/n)—who had mounds of untapped potential according to the company—was stuck wiping the dust off of camera lenses instead of putting their four years at college to use.

What's the use of going to school for a degree in sound design if they didn't even use it.

So they had to find a way to spice up their day to day routine. That didn't involve loitering around the snack table untill the day ended. (The coffee tasted like shit anyways.) What better way than slapping half a pad of post-its on your co-workers.

"If I didn't like you so much I would have kicked you out a long while ago."

(Y/n) paused their laughing fit to swipe dramatically at the corner of their eyes, pretending to wipe a tear away.

"Yeah. But you wouldn't want to get rid of 'one of the most talented workers you've seen in years'. Your words not mine." They clasped their hands together with an overdone grin, looking up at their (still) uninterested boss. He just grumbled at them in response.

Honestly Robert wasn't a bad supervisor. He never yelled at anyone, only tossing the occasional death glare when people needed to be reminded of things. Which was much appreciated concidering his sagging eyebags and sardonic demeanor made it seen like he would and could snap at the smallest thing.

He was pretty nice to (Y/n) anyways. Treated them like a hyper cousin. You know; the one you always saw getting yelled at by their mom at family gatherings because they put a whoopee cushion on someone's seat.

"Listen. I didnt call you in here to talk about, er, this." Robert plucked a blue sticky note off his temple, crumbling the material up into a ball and flicking it across the room.

It landed in the waste bin by his desk perfectly, making (Y/n) widen their eyes with an entertained smile. Robert didn't share their enthusiasm.

"I got an email from HQ this morning. One of the cast members saw you, ah 'performing by the water cooler' the other day so to speak, and wanted to meet you for something in building 2M today. As in, fifteen-minutes-from-right-now today."

(Y/n) saw a flash of remorse pass across his eyes. His tone was gentler now. The kind of gentle tone people use when they tell you your dog was just run over by a steam roller.

They felt their heart drop, face twisting into an unpleasant expression.

It had just been a bit of goofing off. Balancing a cherry on their nose before popping it in their mouth and tying the stem like a magician presenting their next trick—that kind of stuff. They didn't even know a cast member would be there. If so they would have used one of their sick days ahead of time. (Can you blame them. No one wants to be in the same room as their boss when their working.)

"Do you know who saw-"

"No. I don't know. I'm sorry (Y/n)." Robert's lips twitched down into a frown full of sympathy. He reached out to place a hesitant pat on their arm, the gesture holding a lot more meaning than anyone would think.

"If they try to fire you, quit before they can. That's business 101."

Well that certantly made them feel a lot better.

"Thanks. Want me to just hand in my resignation now or-?"

"Shut up (Y/n)." He rolled his eyes. But there was no annoyance behind it.

"You need to get going anyways. And-" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"-good luck."

"Just make sure my headstone looks nice and neat alright?"

"Fuck off."

Offices surrounded by glass should be illegal.

That's all that was going through (Y/n)'s brain as they walked through the winding hallways of headquarters. More specifically building M2.

They could see everything going on in the rooms due to those stupid glass walls, yet nothing at the same time. It was anxiety inducing.

But also what-the-fuck inducing.

A man with a cowboy hat, sunglasses, and atrocious mouth mullet was talking to a group of terrified looking people in one area while waving around what was, hopefully, a fake gun.

In the room next to him was a masked figure in a skin tight black body suit, posing like a superhero while resting their comically large hands by his hips. They almost looked to be roleplaying if anything.

The company didn't talk about this in the introduction video.

What room were they supposed to be in again? The lady at the front desk had said the one with the cream walls right? Or was it gray-

They let their feet lead them down a few more twists and turns while trying not to think about it too much. The contents in the rooms only got more bizarre as they went, albeit less and less people occupying them untill no one was left.

The journey only paused when a room on their right came up, big bold letters above it reading Conference Room.

Hey, that room looked cream colored enough.

(Y/n) pushed the glass door open, head popping in as they scanned the contents of the place. Just as their view from the outside suggested, no one was in there.

"Yeah. Okay. That's great. Invite me up here why don't you. Give me a heart attack why don't you. Make sure not to show up before me why don't you."

Their words were full of nerves, bones in their neck popping as they cracked it anxiously.

Who exactly was the cast again? They knew the general idea that surrounded all of them. The Big Men. The bosses. The people who ran this entire company in their free time.

Wispers about who exactly they were ran rampant on set some days. How one was a demon. The other was an insane pink Willy Wonka. Someone even had a thoery that they were all just fragments of one mans mind, which was met with as many eyerolls and scoffs as one would think.

Honestly (Y/n) had never paid much attention to any of the theories. They were never gonna meet the guys in charge anyways, so why bother? They'd much rather spend their time getting their job done quickly so they could spend the rest of their shift goofing off.

But now, walking around the oval shaped table and eyeing the place skeptically, they wish they had listened in to those conversations.

"Ah! Wonderful! We were wondering when you would show up sugarplum!"

(Y/n) nearly jumped three feet in the air, whirling around to the source of their sudden spike in heart rate.

Right where seconds ago no one had been sitting were six individual men surrounding the brown table.

Everyone looked the same. But different. It was a wonder how they had never really seen any of them before, despite working on set and them being the 'main cast'.

They all were staring straight at (Y/n), who swore their face lost all color at the attention.

Each one was dressed in different attire, ranging vastly from suits to hospital scrubs. A couple of them even looked to be glitching. Or was that buffering? They couldn't tell.

"Well come on! Sit down sit down. There's a chair right next to Bim and Hosty right there!"

Their eyes flickered to the enthusiastic man with messy brown hair, his voice slurred as if he'd been drinking. A pink tinted mustache moved with his words, which they couldn't help but stare at for a moment.

Nonetheless they listened, walking over to the chair he spoke of and slowly sitting down. If they hadnt felt small enough being stared at by six separate pairs of eyes, they certantly did now.

The one—Hosty he had been called?—on their left was a man in a light brown trench coat. He was rather handsome looking, albeit solom. He had a bandage around his head, weaving through his dark tresses and covering his vision. There looked to be dried blood stains where his eyes were, causing them to wonder how he could even see them.

"The Host thinks it's rude to stare."

(Y/n) quickly looked away at their words, choosing instead to eye the other man beside their seat.

Not like they had much of a chance to before a hand was shoved in their face.

"HI! Bim here. Bim Trimmer. Extrodinare in everything! That's Bim Trimmer. B-I-M, T-"

"Alright that's enough Bim. You're startling them." Someone said with a sigh.

The hand pointing straight inbetween the area of their eyes slowly reclined, Bims smile still ever present—if a bit forced now.

Who the absolute hell were these people.

"Wilford, why exactly are we all here?"

"Ah, yes. That!"

(Y/n)s eyes furrowed in the slightest, shifting in their seat as they watched the smiling man shuffle around for some papers. His tounge would come out and lick his lips occasionally and they tried not to acknowledge Wilfords little wink when he noticed them looking.

He then slammed a file decorated with stickers down on the table, patting it gently as if he didn't just completely demolish it against the furnitures surface.

"(Y/n) (L/n)! Works in building 4A, mic check crew. Born in Nevada, moved to Ohio to pursue their career in sound design! An adventurous little thing."

"We know Wilford. I recal reading the report on their interview. A very interesting one." A very monotone voice said, before screaming.

(Y/n)s eyes widened as a red and blue verson of the person across from them split in the air, howling. They looked to be in the worst pain imaginable. It was enough to make (Y/n) forget about the mention of their rather embarassing interview. (Let's just say the janitor had to stay overnight that day)

And then the figures were gone.

"Host notices (Y/n) jump. He wishes tell them that they were not imagining that. It is simply Dark becoming a bit aggitated."

Alright. So that made no sense. Perfect.

How to deal with this. Avoid eye contact? No they were already doing that. Music? Earbuds were in the car damnit. Oh-

Humor.

"So, is this gonna be done by my lunch break, because I have some tofu in the fridge I really can't let sit too long. Last time that happened I had to quarantine for a few months and oh boy-"

Their words faded the more they talked, nerves increasing by the moment.

Alright so no jokes. Tough crowd.

"Are you going to fire me? Becuase if so I quit first."

That made Wiford let out a hearty laugh, a few others joining in with small chuckled. Even the monochrome ones lips tilted up slightly, his expression having been stony untill now.

"Fire you? Why of course not! On the contrary sugar! Here, have some candy."

Before (Y/n) could say anything in retaliation a lollipop was shoved forcefully in their mouth. They gagged on it slightly, muffling out a 'hey!' as the sweet flavor coated their tounge.

Wilford just winked.

Host quietly narrated their flushed face with a slight tilt of his head.

They worked the treat around with their tounge, successfully muted as Wilford continued to go on a rant, pacing around the room and its inhabitants. Tossing out reasons why he had called them all up here with the occasional off topic discussion.

"-ut (Y/n) we were wondering if you'd like to come work in our building! On Warfstashe Tonight to be specific." He finally finished, filling with his suspenders and leaning down to look them in the eye with half closed lids.

He was so close, they could have stuck him in the eye with the end of their lollipop stick—and honestly was thinking about it just to see what would happen. So thank god for Host.

"The Host feels a bit neglected when Wilford fails to mention his podcast."

"Yeah, what The Host said. I'm Bim Trimmer! The Bim Trimmer! I need a mic guy too for my show about me! Bim!"

"They could help me with my diagnosis'. It's always more fun to tell people that their dying with an audience."

"I-I have no-o use f-for a us-seless huma-an."

Fuck you too blue shirt guy.

"Settle now." The dark man said again. Wait, dark? Dark.

(Y/n) thought someone had called him that. Strange name. However, it fit them.

"Wilford I recommend you stop playing with this poor human and get on with it. We can all figure out a schedule later. We've already confused them enough."

"You're no fun Darky." Wilford pouted, snatching the lollipop right out of (Y/n)'s mouth and placing it in his own. He sighed as he walked away, licking it at his leisure.

They blinked at the unsanitary action.

"But fiiiiine. Meeting dismissed. That means you too bubblegum. I can escort you out to your car if you'd like."

The pinkette was smiling at them innocently while twirling the spit coated treat around in his hand. But with the way Wilford looked them up and down they felt like he wanted to do more than just escort them to their car.

By now most of the other members at the table had gotten up to leave, shuffling around and making small talk amongst themselves. Not many spared an extra glance at (Y/n). Which they were thankful for. Their head was already spinning a little.

"Uh, no thanks Wilford. I'll just go back to my erm, building now." They declined his offer as politely as possible.

"You have some important tofu waiting for you if I'm not mistaken." Dark smoothed down his suit as he stood up, red and blue iris' boring into (Y/n)s own as he spoke. They had forgotten he was even there, which unnerved them a little. Silent guy.

"Uh, yes. Yes. That's it. Mhm yes totally. Tofu. I'll go get that and then I'll just- see what's left to do around here." (Y/n) stuffed their hands into their pockets, already starting to inch towards the door stiffly.

Wilford whined once or twice. But the glass door slammed in his face before any real words could make it out of his mouth, (Y/n)s pace increasing as they sped walked away with eyes as big as dinner plates.

They mentally thanked Dark for an opportunity out of there. They had never had trouble socializing in any sort of way, but in that room being offered so many promotions—could they even be called promotions if you're just thrust into the job—it felt more like they were being cooed and ogled at by a bunch of higher beings. Mainly Wilford.

But- whatever. They would do their research. The deranged Willy Wonka theory didn't seem too crazy anymore.

For now though–

–they were really craving a lollipop.

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