Iplier One-Shots

- Unwanted Glass -

Hello there! This is a little something that plopped up in my mind. I hope you're fine with this... Let me know if you don't like or would like to read more of this mess.

Without further ado and best wishes,
-The Author

The Host wandered through the house, hands clasped behind his back and gaze trained forward.

He had no real destination to go to. He would just wander through the house and enjoy the, for once, quiet building. Most of the Ipliers were outside in the backyard or in town. The only two egos who were still inside were Host and Darkiplier.

"The Host reaches the staircase and walks down to the living room. He sits down on one of the reading chairs near a book shelf and pulls out a nondescript book with a polar white cover, the title written in black New Times Roman, the name of the author nowhere to be seen. He opens it and scrolls through the pages til he was on the newest written one."

After he narrated his actions, he pulled out a black ink pen and began tapping it against the page, waiting for the next few lines to appear. . .

Host waited patiently for the right moment to intervene, only to find out that the fucking author started to type fast as heck so the Host won't be able to reveal the hurtful tru-

"The Host interrupted the author's process to run away by narrating over their actions and quickly scratched the end of the sentence away, his trained hands writing in an amazingly fast pace than one might assumed him to do, since Host was 'blind'."

"The Host has now total control over the happenings and sits on the long lever, being the only one who can narrate the story from here on. He writes down how the sudden sound of glass shattering to the ground rang through the house followed by a thud with a surprised yelp from upstairs." He smiled and walked his smug butt up the stairs, book and pen in hand.

"After only a few minutes, Host arrives at Darkiplier's room and tends to knock firstly. When no answer came, Host gripped the door handle and pushed it down, opening the door only a gap wide to slip inside, locking it behind him."

"Oh, fuck off.", a voice mumbled quietly before everything turned silent again.

"Host walks further into the room and puts the slim book into his inner trench pocket. He walks towards the poorly shut closet door with the pieces of the fourth wall laying on the ground. He opens it in one swift motion to find... damn it-"

"Got chu, Host!"

"The kid said and lunged for the door only to realize that it had a key lock. Host smirks and feels the key in his back pocket of his pants."

"Ya sneaky lil bastard.", they murmured and sighed, back leaning against the door, arms crossed over their chest.

"The Host steps forward and stops a few feet away from them, a small smirk curled around his lips as he looked them up and down."

They wore a black sweater with a white button up underneath, the ends of the sleeves peeking out just as its collar with a red tie around it that was stuffed under the sweater. They had a pair of black sweatpants on and deep blue sneakers with rainbow laces. Their black shoulder long hair was pinned up with a few strands of white and grey in it, one strand of black framing the face on each side. A pair of roundish-rectangular glasses sat on their lightly brown tanned face; dark oak brown eyes trained on Host.

"You had to expose me like that and break the fourth wall, didn't ya?", they sighed again and pushed themself off the door to stroll up to the ego.

"The Host only lightly smiles and stretches out a hand to welcome the young author to the Iplier Manor."

They look uncertainly at the hand but take it, giving it a light shake before they threw a timid simile at the narrator.