#only for cutter to be like ah daniel! just the man I was hoping to see

[clonerightsagenda]

Realized the 'shoot the gas line' bit of the Alien Minkowski AU is just me revisiting my perennial theme of why are there guns in space. It always comes back to that.

[madameinsomnia]

Why Jordan Peele is One of the Most Important Directors of our Generation

Intro:

Before the horror-comedy sensation Get Out was released in 2017, I’d never heard the name Jordan Peele before. Now, after seeing his most recent success, Us, I can’t see myself not perking up at reading his name in the credits.

Peele didn’t just appear magically out of thin air as a gift from the filmmaking gods, even though it seems like so. His career actually kickstarted in 2003 when he joined the cast of Mad TV in its ninth season. I’m not here to give you an entire biography of Jordan Peele’s life, but this does give some insight to just how long he’s been working in the industry. 

Get Out was Peele’s first job as a solo director, but with the amount of professionalism and mastery put into it, you’d never know it was his debut. Might I also add he was the sole writer as well?

Thrilling, with a premise as outlandish as The Stepford Wives, but with so many silly and satirical moments, Get Out feels very much like real life because of this perfect mix. As a screenwriter (wannabe), I must gush a bit about how well his characters are written and how natural their behavior feels given the situation. The protagonist of Get Out, Chris (played wonderfully by Daniel Kaluuya) feels like someone you could meet at a bus stop or in line at the coffee shop, point being he’s an everyman. Not every lead character has to overtly stand out to be noticable; we just have to be able to fit in their shoes.

But what really made Get Out work is how Peele wrote it as a horror movie, without the need of all those cliche horror tropes that our generation is so accustomed to. About to go off topic for a bit, but I assure you, it’ll all make sense as to why I made this article about Jordan Peele.

What is Horror and What WAS Horror?

Horror is, perhaps, one of the most enigmatic genres there is because what can be defined as scary or unsettling is entirely subjective. There are very few things that people are universally afraid of. Things that only seem more common today but really have always been around... what makes today different from then is that everyone talks about it.

Imagine it’s the 1960s, you live in a cookie-cutter neighborhood where everyone knows everyone. Everywhere you look is a friendly face. Then suddenly, down the road, there is a break-in. The parents left the baby with a sitter and she was brutally attacked. Well, the only way you’re bound to know is through the newspaper or word-of-mouth, but after a while, is anyone going to talk about it or want to? Not a chance. You’ll always hear: These things just don’t happen around here. Not in our town. When really, they do. They happen everywhere. Then of course this is how urban legends start. The Hook Killer on Lover’s Lane, the Boogeyman that creeps at night.

A documentary that goes more in depth on this idea is Joshua Zeman’s Killer Legends. He explains how the real-life stories that inspire these legends are far more scarier than the films they create... and that’s how it all started.

Let me explain: the ‘Horror’ genre was meant to showcase just what people didn’t want to talk about what was happening down the road or across town. There’s a man that lures people into his hotel to kill them? Our neighbor killed his wife in cold blood and is trying to hide it? My upstairs neighbors might be psycho Satan worshippers?! Nah. Let’s just ignore it and hope it goes away.

A lot of people think if we don’t talk about it, these issues will vanish. But Horror films reminded us that such terrors exist in the real world, and can only be stopped if we acknowledge that they’re there. That’s why such films like Psycho or Rosemary’s Baby were so revolutionary--the idea that the scariest things are not even supernatural (Peele understands this greatly, but I’m getting there).

Horror worked well as a unique genre for the creative minds of Alfred Hitchcock, Wes Craven, and Tobe Hooper. Then this happened:  

The Slasher Era:

HOLD UP. I’m NOT undermining the effect that these films have. Halloween is a classic, and there are plenty of other ‘semi-modern’ thrillers that work like this, but... 

They unintentionally got the ball rolling for marketing genius and filmmaking disaster. Halloween was far more effective in 1978, when it was released, than it probably would be had it been made today (No, we’re not talking about 2018′s Halloween. Now stop distracting me). With horror, timing is everything... as in, ‘what’s going on in the world’ timing. Babysitting late nights was far more common then than it was now, and teenagers didn’t have modern conveniences they do now should anything happen. Back then, they actually had to WATCH the children, ensure their safety as well as their own, not give them an iPad and watch TV for an hour or two.

On top of this, as much as we take it for granted, 911 wasn’t always around. Until 1968, US citizens had no way of getting in immediate contact with the police until they got the operator on the phone to connect you to them. So Halloween recreates that idea of what if the babysitter got into a terrible situation with no way of getting immediate help? But they also decided to make things a little edgier... better said, bloodier. Cue Friday the 13th.

Teenagers go to sleepaway camp all the time (No, we’re not talking about that movie either, so hush), so what would parents be like seeing this film about kids going to a sleepaway camp where there’s a murderer hanging around? A brilliant idea that sold tickets back in 1980 to young adults and grown-ups alike. That’s because these ideas were new and horrifyingly relevant and real. They’re reminded of the threats that are out there.

But here’s the catch that ruined everything: it sold tickets. Sure, it scared some people for a good while, but they didn’t always leave with the idea lingering in their heads. But the producers and writers don’t always care about the latter, once they realized how easily money can be made by movie-goers wanting a good scare and a ‘fun time,’ the Slasher genre skyrocketed, and the brilliance of horror got dumbed down... and down... and down over the years with few exceptions. Let’s not mention, marketing blew up with Slasher films. Did anyone ask for four Halloween sequels or seventeen more Jason films? Nope. Did it make money anyway? Yup. It’s all in the name, not in the art...

Come On In, Get Out!

(See what I did there?)

Repeating myself at the intro, for those who forgot that this is really about Jordan Peele, I’d never heard of him before I saw Get Out. Even then, I only really knew about the movie through everyone talking about its 100% Rotten Tomatoes score. I went into the movie blind, a little confused to what made it considered a ‘horror’ when it looked like perhaps a Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner? type film.

When I saw it for the first time, I was sinking back into my seat whenever I felt Chris’ (the lead’s) discomfort. Again, it’s because we all fit into his situation seamlessly, being somewhere you’re not sure you’re welcome (hence the clever title). The audience was cheering by the end, eager that our in-movie buddy had made it out safe (Spoilers, I guess, but c’mon. If you haven’t seen it yet, get out :D).

But what made Get Out stand out from other modern-day thriller films is that when I went back, I caught things I’d missed my first time through; small hints and cues that clue you into what’s really going on. Did they have to be there to make it more enjoyable, probably not... but Jordan Peele wrote them in anyway, combining it with his perfect set-ups and shots so that the more cerebral movie-goers can have those ‘ah-ha’ moments! It’s a horror film where, for once, you feel like a genius for getting those little hints and figuring out what’s going to happen next (We are all Rod, who pretty much kept a running commentary of the movie-watcher’s thoughts).

Again, all not required, but very necessary if your film is going to be effective. While Peele deservedly won Best Original Screenplay, I say he was next up for Best Director from the perfect pauses in dialogue, to the little awkward looks in the camera by the hypnotized victims.

Why was it so successful among audiences everywhere, of all nationalities and ages?

Intelligent Horror:

Jordan Peele himself stated that Get Out was from ‘an effort to master fear.’ Us, I think, is an extension of that idea. What made these two films so effective wasn’t that they were filled with scary moments now and then and called itself ‘horror.’

They were smart films.

Get Out has very real fears we as people have; being out of place, uncomfortably watched by people, being abducted and never heard from again which horrifyingly happens far too often here in the States.

Us offers similar real-life horrors. A home invasion, being separated from your kids (and in return, kids being separated from their parents, their source of protection since day one). There always seems to be something supernatural or paranormal at play here, but there’s nothing of such going on. In Peele’s writing, it’s all real-life. After all, is the real world not a scary place?

The only difference I noticed in Us is that Peele maintains his effective dialogue with subtle clues of what’s going on, while visually he kept some of his trademarks (the wide shot of a figure walking towards the camera, looking right into it with wide, terrified eyes) but with a lot less visual hints than Get Out (to me, at least, but I’ve only seen Us once and will definitely be watching again).

While Get Out’s message leaned more towards the race issues in the US (and the world by proxy), Us is more muddled in what the audience is meant to take from it... and that’s perfectly fine. Jordan Peele’s horror is that you might not necessarily leave the theater scared to turn your light off at night, but you’re up late thinking about it and what it all means. And those are the kinds of films that stay on Hollywood’s radar for generations to come and not just as Halloween-time fun. Heck, Get Out came out in February, 2017. Us came out in March, 2019. Normally we expect cheesy rom-coms this time of year; so when a movie claiming to be a thriller shows up on the ‘coming soon’ list, you bet people are going to raise their brows and see what’s going on.

Peele understands how to entice people, to make them feel comfortable with his characters and then worry for their safety, while at the same time being far too fascinated by what’s going to happen to even think about taking their eyes off the screen to check their phones while waiting for the next jump scare.

He knows how to bring out the actors’ most unsettling parts of themselves, actors we may be familiar with and are used to seeing them as friendly faces (Lupita Nyong’o managed to creep me out while being an amazing spectacle on camera)! Daniel Kaluuya became an Oscar Nominee from his performance as a man being held captive going into full survival mode.

Don’t we all worry about what we’d do if we were in the situations those people were in? Wouldn’t we hope to have the smarts or guts to fight our way out just as they did? That’s the idea of what horror really is meant to be. Not be that one idiot character that goes into the scary house that’s known to be haunted while your friends tell you no (or film you for snapchat, I dunno).

No, in Peele’s movie, you’re going somewhere that’s supposed to be safe, where something unexpected that you were unprepared for happens... and that’s scarier than any ghost story I’ve seen.

[ston-rampler]

Every Battle Heads Towards Surrender On Both Sides

Whumptober Day 5! 

Prompt: Gunpoint

Daniel Jacobi & Alana Maxwell, 1598 Words, Gun Violence

Read on AO3

Alana Maxwell was the most amazing person that Daniel Jacobi had ever met. She had a passion in her that was unwavering, a drive that seemed endless, and was smarter than literally anyone else he knew. God was lucky she had dedicated her life towards developing AI from a young age, or else his position might be in jeopardy. Well, actually, it still might be.

When he first met her, she had been quiet. She had hair dyed firetruck red, but her posture suggested that the only thing she wanted was to blend in enough that she could do her work in peace. Kepler had introduced them rather hastily, surely wanting them to bridge that gap on their own. Sink or swim had always been his way of life and when the tides rose, Alana swam.

The two of them hardly spoke until their first mission, a rather tame one that sent them to the middle of fuck-ass nowhere, Wyoming. They drove out in a little unmarked black car through a barely-hanging on town and out to a deserted field surrounding a single house. The place was in shambles. It looked more like somewhere the local meth heads might go to shoot up than somewhere that would be of any importance to SI-5, but no matter how many questions Daniel asked, Kepler stayed silent and kept driving.

They pulled to a stop about a hundred yards out from the front porch, dust blowing past them in huge clouds. The house looked even worse from up close, slouching over like it was tired and twitching in the wind like it was one small sneeze away from collapsing in on itself. Weeds sprouted up from the floorboards of the porch and the cracked screen door swung wildly.

”And you’re sure that this is where the guy lives.”

Kepler sighed. “For the last time, Mr. Jacobi. I am positive that this is the right place. Thomas Sacco, fifty-six years old and a certified genius in the field of robotics. Former employee of Goddard Futuristics.” Ah, so it was like that, was it.

”Why in the world is this an SI-5 operation? Any hillbilly teenager with a shotgun could take a guy out in a place like this.”

”Unfortunately, the inside of the house isn’t likely to be as unassuming as the outside. On his way out, Sacco managed to steal an AI unit named ATÉ programmed to be a security program, and his recent financial transactions show that he’s been stocking up on firearms and ammunition, not to mention he’s an incredibly skilled engineer. I don’t doubt that he’d make protecting himself his top priority after leaving Goddard.”

”And I suppose I’m here to deal with the AI?” Alana asked from the backseat, startling Daniel a bit. That was the first full sentence she had said since they left the motel, and he had forgotten she was there. Kepler nodded.

”It certainly wasn’t their most advanced unit, but I have special orders from Miranda Pryce to bring it back intact, so we need it neutralized before it can take any defensive measures against us. From there, all that’s left is to terminate Sacco.” Alana pulled a small tablet out of her bag, opening up a program and starting to type furiously.

”No man smart enough to work for Goddard would be dumb enough to put the AI’s central processors outside of the house he was trying to protect, so I’m going to need to get in there before I can shut her off.” Daniel turned around in his seat to grin at her excitedly.

”Luckily for you, breaking and entering is our specialty.” The three of them made their way up to the house, guns in hand as they eyed the tall weeds suspiciously for any concealed traps. The rickety wooden porch in front of them looked like a disaster waiting to happen, and Kepler eyed it suspiciously before taking a tentative step up onto it. Right on cue, the sound of a whirring mechanism beneath the floorboards could be heard, and in a fraction of a second, the mail slot of the door popped open to reveal the barrel of a gun that shot off ten rounds in quick succession, the three of them only barely being able to avoid getting hit in the kidneys.

”Good lord,” Alana said, trying to catch her breath. “You really weren’t kidding, were you?” From inside the house came the muffled sound of a computerized voice.

”Security protocols engaged.”

”Well,” Daniel said, adjusting his grip on his gun. “Looks like it’s go time.”

Without ceremony, Kepler kicked in the flimsy wooden door, knocking over the gun’s mechanism in the process. Making their way inside, every square inch of the place seemed to be booby trapped, though the pattern became easy to see after a few rounds of narrowly-avoided bullets had been sprayed out at them. It was all on the floor, trip wires or concave floorboards that connected to holes in the wall that were actually pretty conspicuous. It didn’t take them long to dismantle most of them and Alana found the AI’s central processor inside the shell of an old refrigerator. Daniel and Kepler left her to her work, cautiously scaling the house’s suspiciously trap-free rickety stairs in search of Sacco.

”So, sir, what do you think of her?” Jacobi asked once they were sure she was out of earshot.

”She seems very promising, but this is her first mission and we’re not even through the day yet. Take care not to get too attached, Mr. Jacobi.” Jacobi scoffed.

”Me? Attached? Oh, perish the thought.” They cleared the second floor, with no sign of Sacco or any life at all, aside from a considerable number of spiders, when the sound of rapid gunshots came from below them. Kepler looked down the stairs, calculating, while Daniel darted down, unable to think of anything aside from the image of their new teammate lying on the floor in a pool of blood. The scene he was greeted with when he reached the floor wasn’t as gory, but it certainly wasn’t much better.

Alana had been yanked away from the fridge processor by a man with balding grey hair. He was tall and slightly pudgy, and he had one meaty arm around Alana’s skinny neck, the barrel of the handgun pressed to the side of her head.

”SI-5,” Thomas Sacco said, spitting the words out like they made a foul taste in his mouth. “Took you long enough to find me.” Daniel pointed his gun at the man who just tightened his grip on Alana in response.

”Nah, just fashionably late. We just we’d let you have a little fun with your rebellion before we came to crash the party,” he shot back. The man smiled sickeningly.

”I recognize you, little attack dog, though it’s unusual to see you without your handler.”

”Guess he decided you weren’t worth his effort.”

”Mr. Cutter still sent you all the way out here for little old me, though. Really, it’s an honor.”

”Actually, from what I can tell, Cutter doesn’t give two shits about what you’re doing. Said you were a pretty low-level threat.”

”You all must not be Goddard’s best and brightest anymore, then, so I suppose it’d be okay if I killed this one.” He jerked the arm that he had wrapped around Alana and shoved the gun harder against her temple. Her eyes were panicked, but Daniel could tell her brain was running at about a billion calculations per second. He swallowed thickly and hoped the man couldn’t see his uncertainty.

”You know, she’s still in her trial period actually, so if she died it would just mean she wasn’t cut out for the job,” Daniel said, trying his best to sound nonchalant even though his heart was trying its best to break out of his chest. “I’m sure Mr. Cutter would understand.” Daniel saw Alana’s eyes dart to the wall beside them, and then draw in a deep breath.

”Well,” Sacco said. “In that case, I guess I’ll go ahead and-” without warning, Alana ground her feet downwards and pushed Sacco back just a few inches. He grunted, a foot coming back to steady himself and landing itself right on top of a trip wire. Alana threw herself forwards just as a barrage of bullets found their way out of a hole in the wall and into Sacco’s head.

Alana landed on her knees, breathing heavily with her long hair hanging in front of her face. Daniel tucked his gun back into its holster and took a step towards her, offering a hand which she gladly took and hoisted her to her feet. Kepler strode down the stairs leisurely, surveying the scene in front of him and then giving Alana a sharp nod.

”Good work Maxwell. Is the AI ready to go?” She didn’t say anything, just nodded and tried to catch her breath. “Jacobi, pack it up and let’s get out of here.”

”Right.” Kepler strode out of the house and back towards the car, leaving the two of them by themselves. Jacobi approached the brick-TV-sized hunk of machinery that was the AI’s central processor and hoisted it up into his arms with a grunt.

”Well,” he said to Alana. “I guess we know that from now on, if you ever find yourself on the other end of a gun, you can handle yourself.” Alana looked back at him, her eyes still a bit wide.

”Yeah,” she said, with a disbelieving laugh. “I guess so.”

[lilacnestor-blog]

Christmas With the Egos

I’m sorry that I’m posting so late, but I’ve just spent the last two hours writing this and need to post it before I pass out. Thanks to @incorrect-ego-quotes for providing me with the Christmas post that inspired this. I’m sorry it’s a mess and kind of sad at the end? I have to get in a little bit of angst, but it gets happy with like the last sentence, so it’s okay.

---

Ah, Christmas. The one time everybody actually gets along. Ever since the Egoiplier meeting a few weeks ago where they discussed having a Christmas party, and Darkiplier begrudgingly suggested Markiplier Manor as a spot to host it, everyone's been on board trying to get it set up. We take you now to that very house, Christmas Eve, at about seven pm. The Jacksepticegos arrived about an hour ago, and now, the party's in full swing.

Marvin the Magician has just conjured up a blanket of fake snow out in the yard and is building a snowman with Mark Bop, who's babbling in that strange language that only he can understand. I heard they're trying to teach the poor kid sign language, seeing as he either can't or refuses to learn English. Dapper Jack, who seems to have become fast friends with the babbling ego, perhaps over their shared speaking conditions, has noticed the snow and is making snow angels. Dapper Jack signs something to Mark Bop, and Mark Bop babbles for a minute before hesitantly signing something back, making both Marvin and Dapper Jack beam. I guess Marvin knows sign language as well. And now they're hugging. Could this get any closer to a Hallmark movie moment?

We now take you inside the house, where Wilford Warfstache, verifiable psychopath, has a captive audience of both Jims, not that I've ever seen one without the other, and is telling them stories about Krampus, who, according to him, is an old friend from college. Oh, the good old days of demon college? The whole thing makes no sense, especially since Wil isn't even a demon, or at least he wasn't the last time I checked, but he's succeeded in scaring the living daylights out of the naive Jims, who will probably now have nightmares about Krampus for the next week. Good going, Wilford.

Oh, finally, a responsible adult ego. Googleplier is in one of the manor's living rooms and is furiously wrapping presents, while a nervous-looking Silver Shepard brings him mug after mug of hot chocolate, which Google proceeds to chug before going back to wrapping. Though the hot chocolate could easily be coffee, from here it's hard to tell. Or maybe it's just spiked and Google just wants to get really, really drunk. Silver is getting more and more agitated as the mugs start to pile up, it's quite hilarious. Eventually, he just takes about eight used mugs in his arms and carefully carries them out to the kitchen, where he proceeds to wash them out and refill them with hot chocolate, bringing them back out one by one.

Also in the kitchen, Artiplier is baking tray after tray of Christmas cookies, cutting them into various shapes while a confused Rob Zombie watches on. Arty eventually gives Rob a finished, beautifully iced cookie, and the zombie takes a bite as if he's not sure what to expect. His eyes light up, and he mumbles something, to which Arty leads him over to the cookie cutters and guides him through the process. They complete the next batch together, and Rob even helps ice them, although he's not as good as Artiplier, of course, he still manages to get the job done. Arty smiles at him, and they start on the next batch. They're soon a well-oiled team, Rob cutting the cookies and putting them in the oven, and Arty icing them, intricate designs made from sprinkles and buttercream icing of every color of the rainbow decorating the freshly baked cookies.

Meanwhile, on the not-so-pure side of things, Antisepticeye has just spiked the eggnog by pouring an entire bottle of Jack Daniels into it. And yes, I see the pun there. But more on that later, I'm sure this situation will provide for an extraordinarily fun night.

We now momentarily take you outside of Markiplier Manor, to the local Target, where pandemonium has erupted, and, unsurprisingly, it appears to be Yandereplier's fault. Yandere has now threatened three shoppers with their katana, and Ed Edgar, who appears to have been sent to keep an eye on them, is desperately trying to defuse the situation. I never thought I'd see the day where Ed Edgar was the reasonable one in any situation, but here we are. The item that Yandereplier appears to be ready to kill for is... a Furby. Oh, god, it's a Furby. I would question why Yandereplier thinks that's a good last-minute Christmas present, but since when have they made any sense? Ed Edgar appears to now be giving the traumatized shoppers cash, throwing some at the register, and dragging Yandere and the Furby out of the store. Man, I didn't know they still even made Furbies. I thought they all died back in 2012. Ed Edgar now appears to be lecturing Yandere about how many people they just had to pay off and how much "profits" they lost. I don't think I even want to know what these profits are from. I'm just going to hope they're from Mark's YouTube channel. I still wonder who's going to open their present on Christmas day and receive a slightly bloody Furby.

In an office of the manor that seems familiar, but you can't place why, the Host is narrating himself while already planning out the New Years Eve party that will be held here in a few days time. I'm pretty sure he's been in here since before the Jacksepticegos arrived. He hasn't come out to enjoy the party at all, he's just been narrating various party supplies that write themselves down into a neat list on the desk, and making notes about possible bartenders and musicians to book, mumbling something about classical music being the only thing they play or so help him god. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door of the office, which startles the Host out of his rambling and he narrates the door to open, only to find Bim Trimmer standing there holding two mugs of what appears to be the spiked eggnog, although Bim certainly doesn't know that. What follows is a disgustingly adorable display of affection between the two of them as they socialize while drinking eggnog, and Bim tells the Host not to overwork himself and to come out and enjoy the party. Now I'm not sure if a ship between two egos of the same person is like incest or not, but I can definitely tell you, it looks like Bim has already had a few mugs of eggnog, and is slightly tipsy. You get the gist. Disgustingly adorable, like I said.

Back out in the living room, Bingiplier has apparently challenged Dr. Iplier to a drinking contest, having noticed the eggnog is spiked, and Dr. Iplier has declined because of alcohol intolerance, which is strange because shouldn't that also mean Bing can't drink? I'm not entirely sure how that works, but I can tell you that Bing is chugging eggnog like his life depends on it. And now Bing is running to the bathroom, about to puke, and Dr. Iplier is reluctantly following him, saying something about how he knew this would happen. Bing is now throwing up spiked eggnog and Dr. Iplier is offering mostly unhelpful advice. See, I knew this would turn out hilarious.

The other doctor, Dr. Schneeplestein, is in the living room where Bing just chugged eggnog, and after being slightly amused at that situation, has gone back to reading some large, medical-looking book. He appears to be sulking and every so often mumbles something about this whole thing being stupid, Christmas being useless, or him being dragged to this party. Jackieboyman now appears to be approaching him. Let's get a look at this juicy dialogue. "Henrik, why are you pouting?"

"I'm not pouting, Jackie, I'm sulking. There's a difference."

"It's Christmas, Henrik, the least you can do is have a little fun."

"I can't have fun, I'm allergic to it."

"Cut the sarcasm, Henrik, what's wrong? I haven't seen you this down since you played that surgeon simulator game on the computer and you lost your patient."

"Jackie, don't remind me of that. It's just, I don't understand the point of Christmas. I mean, none of us are very religious, so why celebrate it? It's just an excuse to tell people to buy you stuff that you could've just bought yourself."

"Henrik, you don't understand. It's not about the gifts. It's not even about the religious part of it, or at least it isn't for us. It's about all of us being together, telling Christmas stories we've all heard ten thousand times and having fun. Christmas is about family. It's about having fun with people you care about."

"That's nice and all, Jackie, but it's not like that for me. There's no Christmas magic. There's no believing in Santa Claus, and there never was. There were no Christmas stories, I don't even know if I can name more than five Christmas songs. This is just such a new thing for me. I know most of the other septic egos understand Christmas, maybe not Robbie, but we can't blame him for that, but I just don't have that. I've never really celebrated it, not in the life fabricated for me when I became an ego. The Schneeplestein family, though they don't exist, never celebrated Christmas, so I don't have any memories, even fictional ones, of it."

"Henrik, why didn't you just tell me? Are you Jewish, should we find a menorah?"

"No, no, I'm not Jewish, it's just I never celebrated it, so I don't understand it."

"Well, I'm going to help you to understand. I'm going to tell you all of the Christmas stories I know, and we can learn all of the Christmas songs, and by the time it's midnight, you will have understood the true meaning of Christmas. But only if you want to, of course."

"Sure, Jackie. I'll learn what Christmas means. It sure beats reading this, anyway."

Aww, look at them, cute and pure and all hung-up on Christmas. I'm pretty sure I've already said this, but it's like something out of a Hallmark movie. Jackieboyman is going to teach Dr. Schneeplestein the true meaning of Christmas, and I'm sure they'll fucking kiss under the mistletoe at midnight, too, because all of this is just too perfect. Look, let's just... find someone else to focus on.

Ahh, there's King of the Squirrels, sitting by the fireplace. He's in a room all to himself, but the fireplace is lit. Perhaps one of the egos magically lit every fireplace in the house when they first got here. King appears to be writing something on a piece of paper, his handwriting messy, like a child's. Chase Brody enters the room and flops onto an armchair, lightly dusted with snow, to which I realize that yes, it has been snowing for a while. Not sure if it's somebody's magic, seeing as a good half of them are reality benders, and there is one genuine magician, or mother nature just adding to the show. When King notices Chase in the room, he keeps writing for a minute, before getting up and bringing his paper over to Chase.

"Is this... good? Did I get everyone? I know not all of them wrote letters, so I included them in mine."

King hands his paper to Chase, who reads it aloud.

"Dear Santa, This year, what I want is for everyone to be happy. I want my squirrel subjects to get all of the food they need. I want Mark Bop to learn how to sign. I want the Jims to take a big case. I want Arty to make a really good painting that he likes. I want Ed Edgar to not have to worry about his profits. I want Dr. Iplier to be able to say people are going to make it instead of telling everyone they're dying. I want Silver Shepard to save the world, and get all of the recognition he deserves. I want Bim to be happy instead of anxious all the time from working for Wil. I want Wilford to produce a sequel to Markiplier TV and have tons of fun working on it. I want the Host to be able to see but still retain his powers because they're awesome. I want Google to be able to feel emotions better because he's not good at that. I want Yandere to finally be happy with their senpai. I want Dark to be able to take over the channel and express emotions that aren't anger. And I want all of the other egos that are visiting to be happy, too, even if I don't know what they want. And for me, all I want is a tree house in that big tree in the courtyard of the Egoplier building, so I can sleep there more comfortably. I hope you get this, KING"

"So is it good?"

"It's beautiful, King. You know, you remind me of my kids. You just want everybody to get along. I think you should definitely send this, I'll even help you mail it."

And now they're hugging. It's stupid that everything has to end up so happy. They're all perfectly fine without me being here, I'm not even sure why I showed up. I'm just the narrator of a fluffy Christmas story, after all. Just here to provide witty commentary. Just here to sit on the roof, in the snow, and look down, sensing everyone below me, having fun. Thank god my powers come in handy, somehow, right?

But, strangely, I sense someone coming up the stairs to the roof. Who else would want to remove themselves from the party when all the fun is down there? It's probably a Septic Ego, coming to tell me that I need to "believe in the spirit of Christmas" because all of the septic egos are all so nice and pure. Even their demon doesn't do anything more than cause a little mayhem now and again. But the door opens, and it's the one person I haven't heard from all night.

"Hello there, Dark," I say to the suit-clad figure standing on the roof.

"Nice to see you, it's been a while. I guess you're not much of a party-goer too, huh?"

"Not exactly. It's not like any of them noticed I showed up. Half of them probably aren't even aware of my existence. They're all caught up in their own worlds, writing letters to Santa, baking cookies, and figuring out the true meaning of Christmas. There's even some stupid fucking romantic action down there, it's like a Hallmark Christmas movie."

"Spying on the egos, now are we? And don't tell me Bim and the Host already hooked up and I missed it, I've been waiting for that all night. I knew it was going to happen as soon as Anti spiked the punch. Bim's such a lightweight, I knew it wouldn't be long before he was spilling his feelings."

"You knew about that? And it wasn't weird? It's not weird that two egos from the same person are hooking up? That's not like incest or anything?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I'm sure you heard Dr. Schneeplestein's whole conversation about fictionalized past lives. Well, we all technically have families. They just don't exist. They only exist in our minds, and only started existing there when we came into existence. None of us are related, except the Jim twins, so it's completely fine."

"Okay, that makes more sense. You know that I just don't understand those things."

"It's completely normal for us, but I do understand how it could be weird for you. You really should rejoin the party. You say people don't acknowledge your presence, but that's because you don't let them. Come down, have some fun."

"You know what, I think I will. You can go back down, I'll be there in a minute."

"Alright, see you in a few, BlankGamePlays."

"I've told you so many times, just call me Blank."

"Fine, fine, but you better get down here before Wil and Anti have a drinking contest. It's going to happen in a few minutes and it's going to be great."

"Okay, I'm coming."

And with that, I stopped being the narrator in other people's lives and started being one of my own. I rejoined the party. I had fun. I laughed when Anti puked on the carpet. I didn't even cringe when I saw Dr. Schneeplestein and Jackieboyman share a small kiss under the mistletoe at midnight. I actually gave them a thumbs up. I had a good Christmas.