#foreverinvideos

Eric and The Host and Dr. Iplier and Dark? Oh my.

Tags: @authorsathenaeum @tiny-yan-an @darkstache-iplier @redraspberrycats @cookieface678 @bing-iplier @storm337 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @pixelenchanter @itsjustkyss @darkiplurrr @demon-dark-666 @moonysmayhem @xpouii @projectwkm @sororia04s @purple-anxiety-blog @rabbitsartcorner

Prompt: “Look away.”

    “Why is it so dark in here?” Eric’s voice trembled slightly as he glanced from wall to wall, each shrouded in shadow and warped, distorted gray. Somewhere, off in the not-so-distant distance, thunder rumbled, seeming to shake the facility’s foundations even as it stayed in the not-so-distant distance.

    Dr. Iplier gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. “It’s just- well, it’s just Dark. Seems he’s in a bad mood today.” 

    Eric shuddered. “A really bad one.”

    The doctor shrugged. “Some days are worse than others.”

    “Wh-why is he in a bad mood now?”

    Another shrug. “Who knows?” Then, he snorted. “I can almost guarantee that the Host will have something to do with it, though. We can ask when we reach the library.”

    But as they approached the library the facility only grew darker, until shadows festered in the corners of their eyes, until puffs of cloud fogged the air with every breath and the library doors loomed over them like a dark tower

    “A really bad mood.” Eric heard the doctor mutter, just before their eyes met. “Maybe you should stay out here, Eric. I think Dark is still here.”

    Then, without waiting for an answer, Dr. Iplier pushed open the door and slipped inside.

    Not knowing what to do-- and more than a little unwilling to wait out there in that dark, spooky hallway-- Eric followed.

    The library was no less dark, nor any less spooky. The walls seemed to vibrate. Chills crept down Eric’s spine as he followed Dr. Iplier through the towering shelves, and he barely suppressed a gasp as dark, low words-- so low as to be barely audible, but unmistakable in identity and intention-- demanded, “What use are you if you can’t perform a simple task?”

    Dr. Iplier, however, did not muffle that tiny noise of fear and fright; he stopped dead at a gap in the stacks, his skin paling to a ghost-white in the gloom. He didn’t even react as Eric bumped into him, so focused was he on the three figures.

    One slumped, tied up and gagged, in the Host’s desk chair. Blood dribbled from a gash in their forehead. They looked unconscious. Eric couldn’t tell for sure.

    The other two were locked in a rigid embrace; Dark’s fingers wrapped, steel-like, around the Host’s throat, his arm clutched by the Host’s frantic, blood-covered hands. Their faces were inches apart. Dark’s expression was a snarl, the Host’s a grimace.

    “I told you to kill him.” Dark said, his voice echoed and distorted, curling in and over itself like a snake eating its own tail. “Do as I say, or suffer.”

    What little of the Host’s voice came out as a gasp. “Dark would not benefit from-”

    He cut off as Dark’s grip tightened. “I do not care if I benefit. I am telling you to kill him because I can. So do. As. I. Say.”

    He jerked his arm, throwing the Host aside like he weighed nothing, sending the ego tumbling to the floor at the feet of the prisoner. He struggled to get up, choking and coughing and gulping in air, but his arms shook so badly he soon collapsed once more.

    It was then that Dr. Iplier rushed forward, putting himself between the Host and Dark as the entity turned. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “You know you need him.”

    “Oh?” Dark asked, but it wasn’t an “oh?” of curiosity, of ceding one’s point, but rather one of cold indifference. One of “you have two seconds before I rip you apart.”

    “If you want it done I’ll do it.” Dark’s eyebrows rose at that, and a wry smile pulled at his lips as he stepped back, gesturing to the tied-up man with an elegant flourish. “By all means, doctor.”

    “No!” The word burst from Eric’s mouth before he could stop it. He stumbled from behind the shelf. “Please don’t kill him, doctor.”

    Dr. Iplier didn’t turn. He merely knelt before the Host, helping him into a sitting position, touching his bruised face. “You’re going to want to look away from this, Eric,” was all he said as he stood. Moved toward the prisoner. Wrapped him in a headlock and gave a sharp twist of his arms.

as someone who was a weird mix of Perceived Scary Sports Person and Emotionally Incapable Nerd i feel this from both sides. 

“CONGRATS, DUDE!”

i read his story tab in ovenbreak, found out he’s been caramel cookie the whole time, and lost my mind