#why did they insist on this noisy picture box advertisement

[end3rni11]

We definitely should talk more about this pose

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Two

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Two: Commercial Problems

Summary: While Charlie goes to speak to Heaven, the hotel tries to put together a proper TV advertisement (with many interruptions)

            (Y/N) had decided they didn’t like the extermination. The screams, the explosions, the angels—it was frustrating. Luckily, in the Hotel, they were removed from the killing and could just sit and wait for things to finish. However, Alastor had gathered everyone together to “show them something” (which, as everyone had learned already, meant everyone was about to be made fun of).

            Alastor switched on the old-timey TV he had permitted in the hotel, and it turned on to reveal an…ad?

            “Well, hello there you wayward sinner!” said Alastor’s voice as it displayed him pointing at two fighting demons. “Do you like bloody, violence, and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course you do, that’s why you’re in Hell!” The camera zoomed out to reveal a destroyed quarter of Hell. “But what would you say if there was a place to stay that had none of that?” The camera switched to the hotel. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter!”

            The camera faced Charlie, and she waved hesitantly. “Charlotte Morningstar! Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you! Here, we offer fun things! Such as a somewhat functional staff, and twenty-four-hour pest control! Custom rooms, and just look at this tacky parlor! Enjoy riveting conversations with our only two guests!” The camera faced Angel and (Y/N). Angel gave the middle finger, and (Y/N) narrowed their eyes, knowing something was up. “Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel! Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!”

            The video ended, and everyone stared while Alastor perked up, proud of himself.

            “So, what’d ya think?” he said.

            “I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?” said Vaggie angrily.

            “Uh, yeah, one note…” said Charlie awkwardly. “Alastor, I mean—First off, thank you so much for making this, it’s seriously amazing—but, um, maybe the tone is a bit off?” Alastor’s grin just darkened. “We want people to want to come here. This makes it look, um…”

            “Fucking depressing,” suggested (Y/N).

            “Funny. I was going for hilarious!” said Alastor.

            Vaggie narrowed her eyes. “It didn’t explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point.”

            “Vaggie is right, Alastor,” said Charlie. “The commercial was to let Sinners know we are trying to help them!”

            “Well, my dear, I haven’t been active in Hell for some time, and everyone remembers me from my radio show!” Alastor’s grin widened. “The proper medium to express oneself. But you insist on this: a noisy picture box advertisement. So I had a little fun with it.”

            “Oh, fun. You had a little fun with it?” said Vaggie. She crossed her arms. “Well, this is not what we want to represent us. When you showed up here a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you’re mocking us! Nobody’s going to want to come to a place that a powerful Overlord like you thinks is a waste of time.”

            Angel raised his hand.

            “What?” said Vaggie.

            “If ya filmin’ a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?” said Angel, posing.

            “Ew,” said (Y/N), and Angel stuck out his tongue at them. Neither took it to heart. (Y/N) liked being able to speak their mind in Hell, and Angel would just give an equally witty retort when they did, so they both thrived in conversation.

            “Angel, you’re a porn star,” said Vaggie.

            “A famous porn star,” said Angel. “I’ll have the horniest sinners knockin’ these walls down to get in.”

            “I would really prefer not to have perverts in the hotel,” said (Y/N), making a face.

            “Yeah, no!” said Vaggie. “Not only do we have a kid here, but filming porn as the commercial is completely out of the question!”

            “Sex sells,” said Angel. “I swear, if you film me goin’ at it with Mr. Fancy-Talk-Creepy-Voice here, you’d be rollin’ in participants willin’ to stay at the tacky hotel.”

            Alastor looked unimpressed. “Haha! Never going to happen. Besides, like Vagatha said, we couldn’t create such an environment for an impressionable child. What would Charlie think?”

            “Yeah, it sounds like a bad idea…” said Charlie, looking at (Y/N).

            “Is everyone choosing to ignore the fact I killed people?” said (Y/N).

            “Angel, I appreciate you wanting to use your special skills to, um, attract folks to the hotel, but I really don’t want to exploit you in that way,” said Charlie, smiling.

            “Oh, please, baby. This body was made to be exploited,” said Angel. “I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity, I got the legs, the gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff everyone thinks are tits—”

            “Should I just say ‘ew’ after everything you say to get you to stop?” said (Y/N).

            “Won’t stop me!” declared Angel.

            Charlie’s phone went off, and she hurriedly picked it up. “Uh, hold that thought. I’ll be right back!” She walked off to answer.

            “Hey, I have a question,” said Angel. He looked at Alastor. “If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?”

            Alastor laughed. “Oh, trust me. I can.”

            “Why do you think I’m here?” said Husk. “You actually think I’d be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn’t forcin’ me?”

            “What, you don’t love being here with me, Whiskers?” teased Angel.

            “Call me ‘Whiskers’ again, and I’ll jam that bottle down your throat,” threatened Husk.

            “Kinky! Come on, keep talkin’ dirty!” said Angel.

            “Until you let me have a drink, I’m not happy you’re here,” muttered (Y/N), glaring at Husk.

            “Princess over there says no, so no,” said Husk.

            “What the fuck is the point of being in Hell if I don’t get to do anything fun?” grumbled (Y/N).

            “I agree! Why not let the child have a good time? That’s what the hotel is for,” said Alastor.

            “See? He agrees,” said (Y/N), gesturing to Alastor.

            “That is a terrible argument,” said Vaggie. “He just wants you to get into trouble!”

            “I’m in Hell. What more could I do without making a deal with someone, which I’m not doing?” said (Y/N).

            “Indeed,” said Alastor, nodding. “Why not enjoy some entertainment and enjoy oneself?”

            “Stop it,” hissed Vaggie. “This is supposed to be about rehabilitation and redemption, people choosing to stay here.”

            “I’m choosing to stay here, and I think it’s all stupid,” said Angel. “We’re in Hell, toots. That’s kind of the end of the road, ain’t it?”

            “Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be,” said Vaggie. “Just because nobody has made it out before doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

            “Hey, whatever means I can keep crashin’ here rent-free,” said Angel. “Crack is expensive.”

            “Haha! Yes!” cheered Charlie, bounding back into the room. “Vaggie! Holy shit!”

            “What?” asked Vaggie.

            Charlie gestured for her to come over, and Vaggie smiled fondly at her girlfriend before walking over. (Y/N) and Angel exchanged inquisitive looks. A moment later, Charlie slipped into song, which meant she was super excited.

(Charlie) “I can do this, Somehow, I know it, I’ll get Heaven behind my plan!”

            So she’s meeting with Heaven? thought (Y/N).

            “Charlie, hold on,” said Vaggie nervously.

(Charlie) “There’s just no way I could blow it! Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

            “It’s just a meeting,” said Vaggie.

(Charlie) “To change their minds, And touch their hearts, Or whatever angels have.”

            “This could be bad,” said Vaggie.

(Charlie) “Cheer up, Vaggie! This could be swell! Something tells me that today will be a happy day, In Hell!”

            “Okay, but just…don’t sing to them,” advised Vaggie.

            “She’s gone,” said (Y/N).

            “That bitch is halfway down the street,” laughed Angel as everyone looked out the door to watch Charlie go.

            “Is she—”

            “She’s dancing, yeah,” confirmed (Y/N).

            Vaggie groaned. “Ugh, no.”

            “Is this going to go badly?” asked (Y/N).

            “It might go alright,” said Vaggie optimistically.

            “It’s going to be an absolute travesty,” said Alastor brightly.

            “In an entertaining way or in the way that we’re going to end up in trouble?” said (Y/N).

            “Both, hopefully!” said Alastor, looking forward for his own amusement.

            Vaggie groaned and put her head in her hands.

            “Well, I’m gonna go out and find something actually fun to do!” chirped Angel.

            “No, nope, nobody’s going anywhere!” said Vaggie. “We’re all sitting down and making a proper commercial that actually helps the hotel!”

            “Uh-oh, does that mean you expect me to be involved?” said (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Vaggie.

            “I hate being told what to do,” said (Y/N).

            “Tough shit,” said Vaggie.

l

            “Okay, so Charlie is dealing with something very important,” said Vaggie once she had cornered everyone in one room. “So while she’s gone, we are making a new commercial. One that represents her vision and what we’re doing here. So, we need a camera. Alastor?”

            He snapped his finger, and an old-fashioned photographic camera appeared.

            Vaggie deadpanned. “A video camera.”

            “Hm.” Alastor was unimpressed with the idea, but he snapped his fingers nonetheless and let a video camera appear.

            “Alright, let’s do this!” said Vaggie.

            First up was a scene with Husk and Angel.

            “And…action!” said Vaggie, pointing the camera at them.

            “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” said Husk, reading from the script. “Can I help you with anything?”

            “I’ve been a bad boy,” said Angel. “And I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place! On the path to redemption!”

            “Well, you’ve come—”

            “Oh, yes!” Angel cut off Husk.

            “To the right place,” finished Husk, rolling his eyes.

            “Cut,” said Vaggie, sighing. “Okay, Angel, I need you to be less horny, if possible. And Husk, can you maybe not have a script in front of your face?”

            “I ain’t no actor!” said Husk. “I can’t memorize this shit!”

            “Well, we could always improv this shit, Baby cakes,” purred Angel.

            Husk shoved him off the counter.

            Vaggie sighed and looked back at (Y/N) and Alastor.

            “This is going great,” said (Y/N) with a grin.

            “Oh, yes, splendidly!” said Alastor.

            Vaggie growled and was tempted to grab her spear as she was faced with shit-eating grins.

l

            Next was Niffty’s scene, but she was more interested in stabbing insects than she was the camera.

            “Stab, stab, stab!” said Niffty.

            “Alright, Niffty! Niffty!” said Vaggie, catching her attention. “Your line is ‘We have the cleanest rooms.’ Okay?”

            “Got it! I’m ready!” said Niffty.

            “Action.” Vaggie turned on the camera.

            Niffty’s smile fell, and she stared, wide-eyed, at the camera.

            “Uh…cut,” said Vaggie, slightly unnerved.

            “How was that?” said Niffty, smiling.

            “Well, Niffty, you actually have to say the line. Let’s roll again,” said Vaggie.

            “Okay!” said Niffty.

            “Action,” said Vaggie.

            Niffty once again just stared, empty-eyed.

            “You’re doing great, Vagina,” whispered Angel.

            “Cut!” shouted Vaggie. “Alright, um, maybe we can try to fix it in post.”

            “Do you even know what that means?” teased Angel.

            “I’ll figure it out!” snapped Vaggie. “(Y/N), Alastor, you’re up.”

            “No, I don’t get on camera,” said Alastor, dismissing the word “camera” distastefully.

            “I don’t want any attention,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms. They really weren’t a fan of having people stare at them, and a commercial would do that, especially for something as crazy as this.

            Vaggie glared. “This is for Charlie.”

            Alastor and (Y/N) remained unmoved and crossed their arms.

            Vaggie cursed under her breath.

l

            (Y/N) knocked on the door of the room Vaggie was using to rewatch the footage she’d managed to get.

            “What?” snapped Vaggie.

            “Listen, I don’t want to be on camera,” said (Y/N), holding up their hands. “I really don’t. But if I can help in some other way, I’ll do it.”

            Vaggie groaned and put her head on her hands. “I don’t know how you can help. It all sucks.”

            “Yes, seems like you’re having a bit of trouble there, hm?” said Alastor, popping out of the shadows.

            “Why are you even here?” snapped Vaggie.

            “For the entertainment!” said Alastor, shrugging. “I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and fail spectacularly!” He beamed at Vaggie. “Like you are doing now! Good job!”

            Vaggie narrowed her eyes and pointed the video camera at Alastor. “And here’s Alastor, the egocentric piece of shit that—” the camera buzzed with electricity, and Vaggie was forced to drop it as it sparked.

            “I wouldn’t try that, my dear,” said Alastor. “This face was made for radio.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they were struck with Alastor’s intimidating presence once again. Holy hell, they wanted strength like that.

            “I don’t care who or what you are!” said Vaggie ferociously. “If you are staying here, you are going to make this work! Because it won’t be so ‘entertaining’ to watch over an empty hotel, will it, shitass?!”

            “Fair enough! I’ll tell you what,” said Alastor. “Let’s make a deal.”

            Vaggie scoffed. “Do you think I’m that stupid? Making a deal with a demon like you.”

            “Not for your soul,” scoffed Alastor. “Just a simple deal. I do this for you, and you never ask me to engage with this frivolous television technology ever again.”

            “You really hate tv,” said (Y/N).

            “It’s the worst medium for expressing oneself,” said Alastor distastefully. “So petty and uninspired.”

            “That’s all you want?” said Vaggie, furrowing her brow.

            “That, or Charlie can come back to absolutely nothing,” said Alastor brightly. “Your choice.”

            Vaggie sighed. “Fine.” She put the broken camera in Alastor’s hand, and it disappeared.

            Green light surrounded him, and he snapped his fingers. “Now, then!”

            Everyone appeared in the room and got 1920s themed outfits, and a camera crew of shadows appeared ready to serve.

            Vaggie smiled. “Alright, everyone! Let’s make a fucking commercial!”

            (Y/N) took a careful step back while Vaggie grabbed the others to film.

            “Still not interested?” said Alastor, amused.

            “I don’t want to be on camera,” said (Y/N), making a face and shaking their head.

            “What do you think of radio?” said Alastor.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “Better than podcasts.”

            Alastor’s grin widened, and he nodded in satisfaction. That was the correct answer.

l

            “Charlie!” Vaggie hugged her girlfriend as she finally returned to the hotel. “How’d it go? Did they listen?”

            “Oh, uh, they sure did hear it! But, uh…” Charlie trailed off nervously.

            “Oh, come here! We have something exciting to show you!” said Vaggie. “Alastor pulled some strings, and it’s about to air!”

            “I pulled a few limbs, too!” laughed Alastor. (Y/N) snickered.

            “Wait? The commercial?” said Charlie, eyes widening. “You all made a new one?”

            “Yeah, one of my better performances, if I do say so myself,” said Angel proudly.

            “That’s…that’s amazing!” Charlie’s eyes shone with emotion.

            “Shush, it’s starting!” said Angel.

            The TV showed them in their outfits. ((Y/N) had contributed by filming). “Welcome to the Hazbin Ho—”

            Vaggie’s lines were cut off as the TV switched to a “Breaking News” sign, and the residents and staff of Hazbin Hotel grumbled.

            “Breaking news in Hell today!” said Katie Killjoy as she came onscreen. “We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next extermination is happening sooner than ever before. Do you know what that means, Tom?”

            “No, what does it mean, Katie?” asked Tom Trench.

            “It means we are all royally fucked,” cursed Katie.

            The camera switched to the countdown clock as it cut in half to 176 days.

            “Wait…what?! Why?!” cried Angel.

            “Holy shit,” said (Y/N), eyes widening. Their situation had just gotten worse. They were in more danger.

            And they still had no way to defend themself.

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[anotherdarkiboi]

A Surprise(?) Birthday Party

Happy Early/Late Birthday Host!  I know I’m late, but I just found this lying around and the Host is one of my favs. 

     The Host sits at his desk, surrounded by multiple computer monitors that supplied the only light in the room, dimly illuminating his face. The room is dark and cluttered yet meticulously organized, smelling of old books with the faint metallic scent of blood, due to the overflowing trash bin of crumbled papers and old bandages. The interior decorating is dark, full of crisp monochromatic shades. Color didn't really matter to the Host, knowing that he can't really see it.

    The Host runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it neatly back. He sighs. How long has it been since he ate? A day or so at least. The Host tended to forget to take care of himself when he was in a working mood. He knew Dr. Iplier would scold him for that later. The Host decides to take a break and eat something light, groaning as he pulls himself out of his chair. Standing up on unsteady legs, he tightens the bandage around his eyes as he mentally prepares himself to encounter the other egos, leaving the room.

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

    The Host comes back to his room a short while later. He is surprised that the other egos weren't out and about as they usually were. The chances of not seeing or hearing any of them were slim, especially considering how many of them there actually were. He never really enjoyed having so many noisy people here, so he was happily surprised by their disappearance.

    At least that's what he told himself.

    He would never say it, but he enjoyed the presence of the other egos, even if it was just him listening to them vent. He even considered it more satisfying than just controlling people like fictional characters of his creation- it was harder to get an intelligent conversation that way. Sure, they might not ask much about him, but that didn't really matter. The only person who he considered himself close to was Dr. Iplier, since he was a regular patient, and Darkiplier, since he was used as a valuable informant. He felt appreciated when they would ask for him, even if it was just for a check-up or for some insight. But most of the time, it would just be him, by himself, in his room. The Host liked the quiet, but he didn't like being alone.

    He thinks about using his clairvoyant abilities to find their locations but then decides against it. The other egos don't seem to notice him much anyways, and they probably enjoy their privacy. They might not take kindly to him snooping in on their private life, especially since they aren't close.

    He sinks back down into his chair, letting out a deep exhale. He then notices something on his desk. The Host takes it tentatively, feeling and turning it around in his hands. It is a thick, plastic coated paper, the size of a small poster. The edges were crisp and sharp, smelling strongly of plastic and packaging. He inspects it further, beginning to narrate in a low monotone voice:

    "The camera zooms into the small poster in the Host's hands. In it, there is a Stockphoto picture of a typical looking man, peering through a pair of large black binoculars. Words at the top spell out a message in bright, capital, block letters: 'SEEING IS BELIEVING'. "

    The Host groans, interrupting his narration and sinking lower into his chair. "They do know I'm fucking blind, right?" he mutters. This was probably some practical joke from one of the other egos. He then continues:

    "The poster was dropped off while the Host was not in his room, the deliverer of the poster in question being Dr. Iplier." The Host was surprised. He never thought that the doctor would stoop that low. Clearing his throat, he continues again:

    "Dr. Iplier wanted to check up on the Host as well as give him the poster as a group birthday present from all the egos."  The Host stops. He turns to look at the paper calendar (Markiplier's Tasteful Nudes Calendar) on his wall, lines in red marker crossing off the days. It was February 6th. It was the Host's birthday. It was his birthday, and he completely forgot about it. Heh, that's interesting. He resumes:

    "Dr. Iplier looked around, the camera panning around the Host's dingy room. He was surprised that the Host wasn't there. He thought about how the Host spent too much time here instead of socializing with everyone. In his medical opinion, Dr. Iplier believed that the Host's living style wasn't very healthy.  But then again, the same could be said for him with all his late nights and caffeine addiction. Dr. Iplier placed the poster on the Host's desk for him to find. He noticed the overflowing wastebasket that contained many bloody bandages. He sighed, seeing that they were all used and washed multiple times, the once white fabric now a stained and faded pink. He wondered why the Host didn't just ask him for fresh ones as he walked out the room."

    The Host stops narrating. He feels the fabric he has over his eyes, wiping his fingers across it. It was already soaked through with blood, excess dripping down his cheeks. He made a mental note to see Dr. Iplier for a new bandage later.

    The Host switches gears and continues describing the poster itself. "There is a message written on the back," he says, flipping the poster over. "The handwriting is in a distinctive scrawl of Dr. Iplier in blue pen ink. It reads: 'Dear Host, I hope the poster wasn't too insensitive. Wilford was the one who got it, so you know how that is. Anyways, we just wanted to say that though you can't physically see, your unique insight is important to us, so thank you. Hope you have a happy birthday! From your friends,'  -the message stops there. Below it, there are various names and short messages to the Host, most of them wishing him a happy birthday, the colorful words filling the entire space on the bottom."

    The Host smiles. He rips off a piece of masking tape from the dispenser on his desk. He stands up with the poster in hand in front of the empty wall space near his desk. He turns the poster over to the Stockphoto binocular-man and the "SEEING IS BELIEVING" side, about to tape it to the wall. He pauses. The Host then flips it back over to the side with the birthday messages, taping that onto the wall. He smooths the paper down before stepping back away to make sure of its placement. "Perfect," he whispers. Using his abilities, he begins to locate the egos (especially Dr. Iplier) to thank them. He begins to narrate…

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

    All of the egos were (both figuratively and literally) piled up in various hiding places in Dr. Iplier's office and hospital room. Dr. Iplier sat behind his desk with his head in his hands.

    "Why does everyone have to hide here?"  he grumbled, complaining about the damage and the increasingly large number of people crowded around him. There were loud shouts as well as the occasional screams and crashes, as he expected. He figured that it was better for the mess to be contained in a single space instead of having the whole house look like a disaster zone. Yet why, out of all the rooms, did it have to be his?

    "I would guess that it's because this surprise party was your idea in the first place," replied a low echoey voice. Dr. Iplier turned to glance up at the figure standing beside him. It was Dark with an amused smirk on his face at the doctor's predicament. Dr. Iplier sighed, seeing the truth in Dark's words, looking out onto the sea of toddlers before him.

    Ed Edgar crouched behind a patient bed with Bim Trimmer, making a business deal (Ed wanted to advertise his baby selling business on Bim's show. Bim said yes, of course.). An infinite number of Jims fell out of the top cabinets and closets, scurrying around to find a story worthy of Jim News. The Silver Shepard hid behind a bundle of colorful birthday balloons in an attempt to blend in but failing due to the fact that there were only two balloons there. Bingiplier stood in the middle of the room with his eyes covered by his hands, naïvely believing (upon Googlplier's insistence) that if you can't see the person, then the person can't see you. The King of the Squirrels stood snickering behind the closed door of the office, not realizing that once the door opened he would be hit in the face. Amid all the chaos, no one bothered to warn him.

    Dr. Iplier groaned, slumping over his desk. The Host was probably coming soon. He sighed, slowly standing up while straightening the lapels of his lab coat. He attempted to get everyone's attention, but no one was listening. Dr. Iplier turned to Dark as a silent plea for help. Dark smirked mischievously and cleared his throat, standing up straighter with his hands held loosely behind his back.

    "SILENCE," he barked, his voice booming. Dark's red and blue aura flickered menacingly behind him. All was silent. "Everyone has to hide quietly until the Host comes because if I find you, you be punished by me… personally," he growled. No one moved. "NOW," Dark bellowed, the egos silently scrambling around to hide. Dark smiled, savoring the intimidation and fear they felt.

    Even Dr. Iplier jumped a little at Dark's outbursts, shivering from the intensity of his commands. It didn't help that he stood right next to Dark- the volume itself made it hard for him not to cower in fear. But Dark would never actually punish another one of the egos, right? He didn't feel like asking.

    All of the egos were able to hide in record time, the room becoming silent once again. "Thanks for that," Dr. Iplier whispered to Dark.

    "Anytime," Dark replied, still unable to wipe the content smirk off his face.

    "Aren't you going to hide?" the doctor asked, seeing that Dark was the only besides himself that wasn't hidden from view.

    "Yes, as soon as- wait," Dark said, pausing to look around the room mid-sentence, "where the fuck is Wilford?"

    As if on cue, everyone's favorite li'l shit,  Wilford Warfstache strolled into the room with a tower of boxes precariously held in his hands, kicking the door open with his foot. The door promptly slammed into the King of the Squirrels's face.

    "Where do I put all the presents?" Wilford declared excitedly, a large smile beaming on his face, completely unaware of the King of the Squirrels's presence. Dark gave Wilford a death glare, moving in to help get the presents and to scold Wilford for coming so late. Wilford then saw the King of the Squirrels squished behind the door. He moved out of the way.

    "Oh, sorry about that, my good sir," Wilford exclaimed, chuckling at his own oblivious attitude. The King of the Squirrels walked past him, rubbing his peanut butter covered face and muttering about how he was the king of the squirrels. Dr. Iplier advanced toward him to try to access his injuries. The king waved him away grumpily and walked off.  "But you're dying!" Dr. Iplier called after him as a futile attempt to bring him back.  

    Dark and Wilford finished arranging the presents on an empty patient bed, the packages of various sizes and colors covering the entire surface. Dr. Iplier marveled at the sight of all of the presents. It was nice for everyone to contribute something for the Host, even though he doubted the Host would actually use all of them. But it was the thought that counts, right?

    "Where's the cake?" Wilford asked. Dark smirked, snapping his fingers to reveal a large birthday cake covering Dr. Iplier's desk. It was much larger than most store-bought birthday cakes, the size having to be enough for all the egos to share. The words "Happy Birthday Host" was written in neat cursive and the candles were already lit.

     "Show off," Wilford muttered just loud enough for Dark to hear.

    "Where did you get the cake?" Dr. Iplier interrupted, wondering about its atypical size.

    "I made it," Dark said nonchalantly, then teleporting away. Dr. Iplier decided not to press for questions, plopping back down into his seat. He peered down to see Wilford crouched underneath his desk, giving him a small wave.

    The doctor sighed. Now to wait.

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    The Host finishes his narration. He pulls himself out of the chair, patting his pants down and straightening the lapels of his trenchcoat. "When will they ever realize that they can't surprise me?" he ponders aloud in a quiet voice. He leaves his room, mentally preparing himself for his "surprise".

    He walks the familiar route to Dr. Iplier's office, not needing to use his abilities to see because he already memorized where to go. The Host stops in front of the door, his hand on the cold metal doorknob.

    "Huh, 'friends,' " he wonders aloud in a whisper. He smiles, opening the door.