the host*

okay but what if the egos just turned into really shitty versions of themselves.

• wilford turns into a boring and unimpressive reporter who has an even more boring brown mustache. speaking in a monotone voice.

• dark turns into an edgy, angsty teenager. bright red hair, black choker, and constantly blares my chemical romance and panic! at the disco.

• king of the squirrels turns into a dude who collects squirrel items like keychains, books, shirts, and hats. he’ll drone on and on about facts on them.

• ed edgar turns into a hillbilly with a slight beer gut. shouting on and on about his new invention (which is really a cheap way around fixing simple things.)

• silver shepherd turns into a guy who hangs around comic book stores and never lives out of his cosplay. he basically lives as if every day is comicon.

• dr. iplier turns into a doctor who is TERRIFIED of gore and blood. he constantly runs away if he has to treat anything but a common cold

• the host turns into a fanfic writer. writing badly written kinky smut or horrible self inserts. he reads his fics aloud to the others, much to their displeasure.

• bim trimmer turns into a struggling actor. only getting background roles in commercials. he wont stop talking about the time he got a one (1) line in an episode of Glee.

• yandereplier is turns into a weeaboo. he screams about his favorite anime of the week, eats pocky, and calls all his crushes ‘senpai’. he has no real need to wear the school girl uniform, the man graduated high school years ago.

• google is a nokia phone from 2007.

The Circus

The circus comes without warning, and you find yourself among the crowds of people that wander from tent to tent in a current, bending and winding as it goes and leading from one amazing sight to the next.  Upon entering the circus grounds, you are greeted by a man on a stage. He wears a red and white striped coat and a large top hat, and with a bejeweled cane in is hand, he calls to the passing crowds. “Ladies and gentlemen and all other configurations of being! Come one, come all! Prepare to be amazed, astounded, astonished!” His pink mustache practically glows in the light of the little bulbs strung up above the crowd, and as you pass his raised platform, you could swear that he looks right at you and wiggles that silly, curled mustache with a twinkle in his eyes.

The first tent is a royal blue with a smattering of silver stars. They say the man inside can tell you your deepest thoughts and possibly your near future. Visitors are only allowed in one at a time, and when it comes to be your turn, you slip through the silken sheets into a dimly lit area. The ground has been covered in beautiful rugs, and a small table sits near to the ground at the center. You seat yourself across from him on the pillow provided, and through the smoke of burning incense, you see his face is partially covered by a bloodied cloth. He startles you with his quiet words, speaking your every thought aloud as you think it, and when you ask him what he sees in the future for you he says only, “There is a great misfortune in the very near future.” Insulted and somewhat scared, you rise from the pillow and storm out the other end of the tent as you hear the man call for the next visitor.

The second tent is bright red, flamboyant and loud, and as you wander inside, you squeeze through the tightly packed crowd until you get a glimpse of the man inside. The sharp-shooter, they call him, and he displays his abilities with terrifying precision, firing his gun from the back of a horse as he rides around the center circle of the tent. When his show comes to a climax, he flips from the horse and lands in the center, taking off his leather cowboy hat and giving a grandiose bow at the hip. The crowd cheers and applauds, but you wander on.

The third tent is a motley of colors, red and blue and green and yellow, all woven together into an eye-catching mosaic. Inside, four men spin, suspended above the crowd by long, flowing scarves of fabric. Each one is one of the colors of the tent. The tricks and flips that they do are mind-boggling, their strength and agility baffling. At times, they don’t even seem human but rather like something more powerful and graceful altogether. Each of the four men are also garbed in one of the four colors, and strangely, you find they all look very similar, very much like every other performer you have already seen. With this thought in mind, you move on.

The fourth tent is a glittering gold and shimmering silver woven into the shapes of many wild animals. The two men inside, one dressed in kingly apparel and the other dressed as a silver court jester, stand alongside ferocious lions and snow white leopards that perform, leaping through hoops that the men hold above their heads and climbing an enormous, spiraling platform towards the top of the tent. The cats act with lithe grace while the two men dance around beneath like clowns, and the show is both amusing and wonderful. As the two men and their animal friends take their bow, you slip out of the tent and on to the next.

The fifth tent is striped bright blue and deep purple, and inside you find a magician and his assistant. The magician, pushing his spectacles back into place on his nose, smiles towards the crowd as his assistant, garbed in blue lies down in a large box, his head exposed on one end and his feet on the other. As the magician in the purple suit saws his assistant in half, you cannot help but think of the fortune-teller’s warning earlier in the night, but as the assistant shouts, “I’m sorry, but I’m dying!” you laugh along with the show and assure yourself that nothing bad could happen. The assistant, of course, emerges unscathed having been “sawed in half” and then put back together by the other man’s magic, and you applaud before moving on to the final tent.

The sixth and last tent is a simple black and white checkered pattern with flourishes of scarlet red trimming the edges. You find that this corner of the circus seems nearly abandoned, and as you step inside the tent into the darkness, there are very few circus-goers remaining to fill the seats around the tent’s circumference. You find a seat in the low light of a few lit torches and wait patiently for the show to begin. Gasps erupt through the scattered crowd as a man emerges into the single spotlight. He is barefoot, shirtless, wearing only black pants and a black mask over his eyes. In each hand he holds a dual-sided torch which he lights from the caldron of fire that appears at the center of the ring. Somewhere out of sight, a band of string instruments strikes up a lively song, and the man begins his display. He moves with dark grace as the fire spins around him, at times, too close for your own comfort. The song grows louder and louder still until every person is on the edge of their seat watching this man and his glowing flames.

At the last moment, he brings one of the torches to his lips and a great burst of fire erupts from his mouth like a dragon laying waste to a village, and when that bright billowing flame disappears, the tent falls into darkness like pitch and complete and utter silence. The sudden change is jarring, so much so that no one claps, no one cheers, no one even moves. And then you hear it, somewhere, everywhere in the shadows, a dry, echoing laughter. You feel suddenly very, very alone as the fortune-teller’s words come crashing back to you and a hand brushes your back. The last thing you remember is a voice whispering through the acrid air, “You’re mine now.” Then nothing.

And the circus moves on.

I digitally drew the sketch I posted early with The Batter and the Host.
I literally love drawing The Host without his bandage now, although it would be OOC because I feel like he’s self-conscious about his lack of eyes. I just loved the idea of these two being friends and going around to beat people (or spectres) up together

saltyguavaflavoredpancake  asked:

Can we get some wholesome hosty teaching wilford how to read??

Wilford throws the book across the room… again. “I JUST CAN’T DO IT!” Host takes a deep breath and gets up to retrieve the book, but Wilford jumps up. “No, no, I’ll get it. Sit back down.”

The Host sits down with a slight sigh and shakes his head. “Wilford, it’s just going to take time. You must learn to calm yourself.”

“I know, I know.” Wilford plucks the book from the floor and walks back over to the table where the Host waits patiently.

“Let’s start again from the beginning, ok? And go slowly.” The Host leans his head back and listens for Wilford’s reading.

“All chi-children, ex-ex…” Wilford pauses and squints at the word.

“Except,” Host says softly.

“Except! All children, except… one, grow up.” Wilford smiles, having finally finished the first sentence.

Host pats Wilford’s arm. “Keep going.”

Wilford nods. “They soon kn-know that they will grow up, and the way…”

“Wendy,” Host whispers, already feeling sleep pulling at him and trying to fight off a yawn.

“And the way Wendy knew was this.” Wilford sees the Host stifle a yawn out of the corner of his vision and smirks, continuing. “One day when she was two years old she was… p-playing in a garden, and she plu-plucked another… flower…” The Host doesn’t hear anymore because he falls fast asleep, snoring ever so softly as Wilford continues to read, slowly and patiently like Host told him to. “You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.”

(This might be the purest thing I’ve ever written…)

pfftwhatnoimhuman  asked:

Have you ever heard of the Sander Sides??

“‘Oh, yes, I think I have heard of them,’ the Host responds. ‘I didn’t know they were called that as a collective group, though. I think they’re interesting–Thomas Sanders is another person who has multiple figments. I haven’t met very many of them, but they aren’t too bad. And… you know, they’re less murderous than some of Mark’s figments.’“

Hall of Mirrors (pt. 9)

“Do you think you can move that bookshelf over a bit, Google?” The droid complies with a little grumble, and Amy can’t help but smile at him.

Mark and Host sit in the corner. “So this is what it’s like for you all the time?” Mark asks, a blindfold over his eyes.

The Host reaches over and flicks Mark’s ear, causing Mark to freak out a little bit. Host smirks. “Yes, that’s exactly what it’s like all the time.”

Wilford covers his mouth with both hands and continues to giggle loudly. “He’s going to flip when he sees this!”

Bim elbows him in the side. “Help me with the plants and quit squealing like a little girl.” Wilford rolls his eyes and moves the potted plants over to the window where they’ll have plenty of light. Bim smiles at their work. “Remember, I left their watering schedules on the desk, Amy.”

Amy smiles and walks over to Mark who is fidgeting nervously. “Thanks Bim. I’ll remember that.” She kneels down beside Mark and puts her hand on his knee. He jumps a little. “Are you doing ok?”

He smiles, but even without seeing his eyes, Amy can tell that the smile only goes so far. He’s having a hard time, which is understandable with Dark’s constant oppression over his thoughts. “Don’t worry about me,” Mark says softly, even though he knows it’s a useless thing to tell her at this point.

“We’re going to fix this. It won’t be much longer.” Amy pats his knee a bit before getting up and taking a look at where Google has moved the bookshelf. “That’s perfect, Googs. Thank you.” She pokes the android in the side, but he doesn’t react except to flash his blue eyes at her. Amy ignores it and starts to rearrange some of the shelf’s contents from where they shifted.

Dark walks in moments later and stops dead in the door, looking around with his usual steely gaze. “What is this?” He storms in, slamming the door behind him and pointing his finger around at all of them. “What are you all doing in my office?

Amy turns to him and rests her hands on her hips. “Oh, this isn’t your office anymore. It’s mine.” She gestures around. “What do you think? I want to hang a few more posters on the walls, but other than that…”

Dark’s explosion cuts Amy off mid-sentence, and Google quickly moves to place himself between her and Dark as the Ego races forward in a raging fury. “Just who do you think you are?” He swipes the droid to the side, but Amy doesn’t flinch as she comes face to face with Dark.

She glances down at Google, and the droid nods up at her as he scrambles back to his feet. Amy turns back to Dark and smiles. “Let Mark go. Now.”

The Ego’s eyes cut over to where Mark is sitting nervously, gripping the arm rests of his chair so tight that his hands shake. Somehow, even with the blindfold on, to keep Dark from seeing through Mark’s eyes and finding out what they were doing, Mark can tell he’s being watched. He removes the blindfold slowly and swallows. Dark seethes, “Our agreement was that you would not tell anyone.” Dark smirks. “You know what that means…

“He didn’t tell me, Dark,” Amy says, completely monotone. Dark’s eyes return to hers, and she can tell he’s about to attack. “Let him go, or else.”

Dark laughs in her face, aura swirling around her, waiting to sink its teeth into her. “What? What will you do to me?”

“Oh, I won’t do anything.” Amy points over Dark’s shoulder. “She will.”

Dark spins around quickly to find Wilford and Ed holding Peevils’ mirror only inches from his face. The figment in the reflection smiles at him sweetly as Dark tries to protest, “Starlight, I…” She puts a finger to her lips, winking at him, before she surges forward and grabs the front of his shirt. Kicking and screaming, she pulls him into the mirror with her.

With his abilities, Bim quickly seals the mirror again and gives a sigh of relief. Amy turns to Mark and rushes to him. “Did it work? Mark?”

He blinks a few times before looking down at her with a smile, a real smile that lights up his eyes and melts Amy’s heart. “Amy, you’re a queen!” Mark gets up, sweeping Amy around and into his arms. “You did it! I can’t believe you did it!”

Amy laughs and wiggles out of his hold. “Hey, what happened to trusting me?”

Mark kisses all over face. “I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I’ll never, ever doubt you again.”

Amy squinches up her nose and giggles until he finally releases her again, and the Egos rush in for a group hug. “So, can we have breakfast now?” Wilford asks. “Because I’m hungry.”

Host pokes him in the stomach. “Oh, yes, and if you don’t get food right now, you’re going to simply waste away.”

“Precisely,” Bim says for Wilford with a laugh.

Ed props the giant mirror against the wall and smirks as Dark beats against the glass. “What are we going to do with the power couple?”

Dr. Iplier makes a face. “I suppose we can put them downstairs in Dark’s cell… just in case.”

Silver nods. “That sounds like a good idea to me.”

Google crosses his arms over his chest and watches the two dark figments argue behind the glass. “It feels good to be a free android again,” he says more to himself than to anyone else, but Ed claps him on the shoulder.

Mark gives Amy another kiss. “So, now that you’re the boss, what will we do next?”

Amy glances around at Mark and the Egos all smiling and watching her, happy and finally free, and she thinks that she couldn’t ask for a more perfect family in all the whole world. “Let’s go eat breakfast already!”

The End?

Hey hosty, so I know the Author is a sensitive subject, but I drew this for you. :) I have some more drawings if you want to see them, but for now, here. Have a good day!

“‘Hello, dear,’ the Host says. ‘The Author could be considered a sensitive subject for me, I suppose. I mean… I hate how I used to be when I was him, but he was an interesting character on his own. And drawings will always be appreciated here! Thank you very much for this. It looks very nice, I especially love how you’ve drawn his face and hair. And I would love to see your other drawings! Thank you so much for this one, I love it. You have a good day as well!’“

The Ipliers during a total blackout
  • Everyone: *basically screaming and complaining*
  • Bim Trimmer: I can't see!
  • The Host: Me neither!
  • Bim: ...
  • The Host: ...
  • Dr. Iplier: I see what you did there
  • Bim: ...
  • The Host: ...
  • Wilford: But how can you see, everything's dark!
  • Dark: *only overhears his name* Are you saying it's my fault?!

pantheasblessing  asked:

Describe how every ego would cook eggs.

(You’re incorrigible…)

Doc–makes awesome omelettes

Host–anyway you can think of and possibly two more he made up himself


Ed–sunny side up



Google–hard boiled

Dark–All I can see is Wilford breaking one over his head, and it cooks on him because he’s so angry, like in old cartoons…

The Ipliers as kids
  • Darkiplier: acts innocent to manipulate adults, when manipulation doesn't work just starts screaming in fury
  • Dr. Iplier: wants to be a doctor, at 9 already doesn't understand math
  • Warfstache: plays with water guns, as soon as he understands they're not deathly beats up the kids he water-shooted
  • The host: impopular and bullied, suddenly everyone listens to him when it's storytime
  • King of the Squirrels: thinks he has power over adults like Dark, is horribly wrong
  • Googleplier: prefers online games to real kids
  • Ed Edgar: always comes back home full of dirt, gets his ass beaten for it
  • Bim Trimmer: makes fake TVs out of boxes and puts them on his head while presenting whatever bullshit program he wants to present
  • Silver Shepherd: talks about superheroes 24/7, nobody stands him
  • Septiplier: always playing together, because... well fuck they are physically fused
  • Markiplier: like always but shorter