Darkiplier opened the door and leaned in the doorway.
The Host was leaned down near a microphone on the desk, with headphones on. "And Craig was never heard from again. Serves Craig right for resisting so much." He growled into the microphone. "Now, our time together has come to an end. Tune in tomorrow for another spoken story with your host." He leaned over, pressing a button and then slipped the headphones off. "Darkiplier entered the room, interrupting the end of the Host's show, to ask him if he would like to accompany him for groceries."
Darkiplier sighed softy. "We need to install a light for when you are on the air. So, would you want to come for groceries then?"
"The Host agreed that he would like to get out of the house, and would not mind accompanying Dark to fetch the groceries." The Host babbled.
"Good." Dark cracked his neck. "Are you ready to go then?"
"The Host thought it over a moment and decided that he was ready." He placed his hands on the desk and stood himself up. He easily crossed the room and his drew near the door, Dark placed a hand on his shoulder to stop the man from colliding with him. "The Host thanked Dark for his guidance."
"Of course." Dark nodded, gently placing the Host's hand in the crook of his arm and lead him down the hallway and out to the car. The Host followed along beside him, used to following Darkiplier's lead. Dark was one of the few in the house who he would trust to lead him, otherwise he preferred to find his own way around, feeling with his hands.
As the Host settled himself in the front seat, Wilford opened the front door, hanging out of the house. "Cookies! Oh, and cake mix!" He called as he tilted his head. "And chocolate!"
"You do not need all of that." Darkiplier pointed out, opening the driver's door and placed his hand on the roof, staring over it at Wilford.
"I do!" Wilford wiggled his mustache.
"I will consider it." Dark sighed.
"Warfstache Tonight helps pay for those groceries!" Wilford called, before disappearing into the house again.
Darkiplier sighed, sliding into the front seat. "The Host is curious about how the house finances are. The ad space on the radio show is not bringing in very much."
"Do not worry about it, Host. We are doing just fine. There are enough members of the house contributing, and every now and then, we funnel some of Mark's funds without him even realizing. If you slap a charity name on it, he assumes he forgot he made the donation." Dark explained as he headed to their usual grocery store. At least enough of the staff had gotten used to them popping in, and assumed they were all part of some show or eccentric live role play group. Sometimes the other customers would still cause a scene about Host's bloody eye cloth, or Dark's shell cracking, or about some of the other egos when they were in the store. These customers were easy enough to brush off with the help of the staff, luckily. Dark lead Host inside and grabbed a cart. He let Host grab onto the hand bar and walked to the front of the cart, gently grabbing the front edge and pulled it forward, leading where the Host pushed. As he got to places he needed to grab things, Dark would give small vocal cues, like "Here." or, "Just a moment." to let the Host know they were stopping.
The entire time, the Host babbled away under his breath, describing walking around the store, things Darkiplier was getting and the other people around them. He would turn his head, tilting it this way and that whenever they stopped, listening to the sounds in the store and other conversations.
"I think we are almost done here." Dark assured him, as he picked out some cake mixes for Wilford.
"The Host was disappointed that the trip was nearly over." The Host muttered.
Dark glanced over, watching him. "We need to take the groceries home. I will see what the others are up to, perhaps someone else could use your assistance."
"The Host knew he was not assisting Dark, but he appreciated the protection of his dignity." The Host sighed, nodding.
Dark simply tugged the cart forward again and the Host pushed it along, following his lead. They got the last few items on the list and took the groceries back to the house. Dark carried them in and the Host made his way into the living room to sit on the couch. Dark set the bags on the counter and Yanderiplier came running. "I'll help put those away!"
"What did you do?" Dark asked, as he began putting things into the fridge.
Yanderiplier began to help him, avoiding eye contact. "Why would I have done something?" He muttered.
Dark groaned, a soft ringing filling the air. "You are only helpful when trying to get out of something."
"I may have killed someone at school..." Yandereiplier sighed. "She got VERY close to Senpai."
"Who is your Senpai?" Dark asked.
"You don't need to know!" Yanderiplier shouted, then collected himself, and started putting away groceries again. "It's a secret. It's just someone from school anyway..."
"Mm..." Dark considered this and cracked his neck. "Does your school know it was you?"
"No! I covered it up! Very well! Just the way Uncle Wilford taught me." Yanderiplier smiled proudly.
"Wilford is not your uncle, and I would prefer you not take his advice. I would prefer you not kill anyone. It draws a lot of attention." Dark groaned, his aura flashing around him. "If the body is hidden, I will help you deal with it later today." Yanderiplier nodded, putting away the last of the groceries and then raced off to his room. Dark made his way through the house, finding Google in a room by himself. "Google? I was wondering if you would take the Host-"
"I am... c-c-complet-ing... up-up-updates." Google jittered, his body twitching.
Dark groaned, nodding. "Sorry to have disturbed you." He walked the rest of the house, finding most of the others busy or out of the house already.
"Did you get me cookies and cake mix, and chocolate?" Wilford grinned, catching him in the hall and grabbed his shoulder.
"Yes." Dark sighed. "Now, I am busy. I am trying to find someone to take the Host out, while I help Yanderiplier with an issue."
"I can take him out." Wilford shrugged.
"The Host does not trust you." Dark reminded.
"Well I'm all he's got, huh?" Wilford chuckled, heading downstairs and Dark groaned. "Hostie!" Wilford called then leaned down beside the couch, placing his hands on his knees. "What'd ya say we go out for a little walk, huh?" He grinned, twisting his jaw to the side awkwardly.
"Wilford Warfstache seemed very excited as he asked the Host to go out, however the Host did not want to be left alone in a park and declined the offer." The Host narrated.
Wilford shook his head. "One time! I left you in a park, once!" He stood to his full height, flailing his arms around as he spoke. "It's not like I did it on purpose! I flirted with a woman, her husband was at work... I forgot you were with me. You found your way home!"
"As Wilford Warfstache explained his need to nut being greater than making sure a friend was safe, the Host decided that staying home wasn't so bad after all." The Host muttered, getting to his feet.
"Aw, come Hostie." Wilford pouted, grabbing his arm, which Host quickly pulled out of his grasp. Wiggling his mustache, Wilford stepped in front of the man. "We could go out for ice cream. Come on..."
"The Host wondered why Wilford was trying so hard." The Host muttered.
Wilford smiled. "Let me make it up to ya, Host." He grinned, tapping his fingers against his chin, then stroked his mustache.
The Host groaned, nodding his head slightly. "Reluctantly, the Host agreed to take a walk and get ice cream with Wilford."
"Dark, he agreed!" Wilford cried out. "We'll be back later!" He gently hooked his arm with the Host's and pulled him out of the house. The Host stumbled a little, and hesitantly walked with Wilford, pulling back so he was always a half step behind, cautious about where he was being lead. "You're being awfully quiet."
"The Host was unable to narrate as he was unsure of what was about to happen to him. Wilford was too unpredictable." The Host muttered.
"Oh come now... life needs a bit of madness, old boy!" Wilford grinned. "Besides, once Dark sees that I can get you home safely, he'll stop questioning my sugar needs." He grumbled.
"The Host then realized why Wilford had wanted to take him out, and quickly regretted agreeing." The Host sighed.
"You're in capable hands, Host. Don't pretend you've never done anything, just to get your own way." Wilford rolled his eyes.
"Wilford had never spent much time with the Host, and he was uncomfortable being left with the man... especially after the stories he had heard." The Host pointed out.
Wilford shook his head. "You lead people to their deaths by radio story. All I do is stab people a little, and only when they get in my way."
"The Host knew Wilford was also familiar with guns, but understood his point." The Host babbled. "He would give Wilford a chance."
"Good. Cause I ain't taking shit from you, I don't care if you are blind." Wilford smirked and the Host continued to reluctantly follow him. Letting go of his arm, Wilford ran to the ice cream cart that was set up in the park and the Host stopped, turned his head and listening to the sounds of the park.
"Wilford left the Host standing on his own and..." The Host let out a soft whimper, realizing that Wilford might not come back for him unless he reminded him of his presence. "W-Wilford? The Host called. Wilford!"
Wilford sighed dramatically. "Don't skimp on the sprinkles, I'll be right back." He walked back to the Host who was turning his head back and forth in a panic. "Host, you're fine." He sighed, taking his arm again. "You're not this needy at the house." He groaned, leading him over to the stand.
"The... the..." The Host babbled a little, and Wilford stopped walking, watching him. "The Host... The Host..."
"Are you stuck?" Wilford tilted his head, tapping his chin curiously.
"I know the house!" The Host blurted out. "I don't know where I am, and you left me!"
Wilford's eyes widened and he nodded a little, patting the Host's arm. "Okay... I didn't realize."
The Host took a deep breath. "The Host regained his composure and accepted Wilford's apology."
"Well, I didn't really-"
"Accepted Wilford's apology." The Host repeated.
"Right." Wilford rolled his eyes. "I'm ever so sorry I stepped five feet away from you in the park!" He muttered.
"The Host stepped up to the ice cream cart..." He leaned forward, swinging gently at the air a few times before his fingers tapped against the edge of the cart, and he gripped it. "And he ordered a small cone of rocky road." Wilford gave a nod to the ice cream vendor who seemed confused by the Host's ordering style. The man handed Wilford the cone he had just made him, and made up a small rocky road cone, handing it to the Host. "The Host thanked the vendor." Wilford nodded and paid the man, taking the Host's arm to lead him.
"Hey! You're short a dollar!" The vendor muttered.
Wilford turned, pulling the gun out of the back of his pants and pointed it at the man. "Did I? Are we settled now?"
"What the fuck?! Uh yeah! Yeah!" The man half screamed, ducking down behind his stand.
"Wilford then pulled a gun and threatened the man instead of paying him." The Host rambled.
Wilford shrugged, taking the Host's arm and lead him to a park bench. "I didn't bring any more." He shrugged, tucking the gun into the back of his pants. "Oh, there's a bench Host, sit down."
The Host let his free hand drop down and felt around till he got the edge of the bench. He turned himself around and sat down. "The Host sat down on the park bench which was a little too hard, and waited for Wilford to join him... hoping that he would not leave him this time."
With a groan, Wilford sat down beside him, sliding over until his leg touched against the Host's, so the man knew he was there. "So... how is it?" Wilford glanced at him. "Being blind?"
"The Host considered ignoring Wilford's strange question, but eventually decided to explain that it is living in a dark world. You remember the light but you can no longer find it. You know home, but the rest of the world is a mystery." He tiled his head, turning it towards Wilford to feign making eye contact.
Wilford nodded a little, before realizing the Host couldn't see him. "I never really though about it before." He shrugged. "I uh... I'll try to keep from leaving you on your own when we're out. I do get distracted at times though..."
"The Host wonders who Wilford is trying to fool with this... at times... nonsense." The Host uttered.
"What are you saying?" Wilford rose an eyebrow, opening his jaw awkwardly. The Host only shook his head, and Wilford calmed, eating his ice cream. Things went silent for a little while, with the Host occasionally rambling around the surroundings, but Wilford managed to ignore it and let him do his own thing. When they finished their ice cream, Wilford stretched. "So, ready to head back, old boy?"
"The Host agreed that it would be acceptable to return to the house now." The Host babbled, then placed his hands on the edge of the bench and pushed himself up. "He stood and waited for Wilford Warfstache to help him home."
Wilford hooked his arm around the Host's and began guiding him back through the park. He slowed his pace, being a bit more attentive this time. The Host remained quiet, still a little thrown off by Wilford, but resisted less, starting to trust the man more. As they walked through the front door, the Host gently pulled his arm away from Wilford's. "The Host thanked Wilford for taking him out. It was a nice time." He nodded slightly and easily made his way up to his bedroom on his own.
Wandering to Dark's office, Wilford leaned in the doorway. "The Host spoke a little in first person."
"He does know how to do that." Dark muttered.
"It's weird though. He doesn't really do that." Wilford shrugged. "Anyway, I got him back. He's alive an everything." He chuckled, then sighed. "Maybe you should check on him later though." He turned and headed off. Dark tensed, considering if Wilford might have still injured the Host, but decided he would have heard screaming by now if that were the case, and returned to his work.
The Host knocked gently on Dr. Iplier's door.
"Office of Dr. Iplier!" Came the strained, somewhat feminine voice inside. "Do you have an appointment?"
The Host decided to ignore that the receptionist was clearly Dr. Iplier, pretending to be a receptionist. "The Host at once declared that he did in fact have an appointment."
"Yes." Dr. Iplier used his normal voice this time. "Come in Host, I'll see you now."
"The Host opened the door and sat down in the chair in front of the doctor's desk." The Host ran his hands along the chair, stabilizing himself with the arms before sitting down. "The Host has been having problems with headaches lately and would like the doctor's help."
"Oh, so you're saying cutting your eyes out didn't stop the headaches? Strange. Almost as if that was pointless to do..." Dr. Iplier muttered.
"I did not come here to be patronized." The Host growled.
"Darkiplier takes the blame for your lost eyes, you know that, don't you?" Dr. Iplier asked.
The Host tilted his head. "We have spoke on the subject. He does not mind the fear it gains him." He straightened up a little in the chair. "The Host once again asked for the doctor's help."
Dr. Iplier leaned back in his chair. "You're dying."
"The Host urged the doctor to be serious." The man pleaded, shifting forward in his chair.
"I don't know, Host. I would need brain scans and readings from machines I don't have. You'd probably need a specialist." Dr. Iplier sighed. "Maybe the headaches come from the same place as the power that let's you control people, as if they're story characters."
"The Host... had not considered this." He sighed.
Dr. Iplier nodded. "Now will you take off that blindfold and let me check on what exactly you have under there?"
"The doctor admitted he could not help, and the Host left his office." The Host muttered, pushing himself to his feet.
"The author would have let me look." Dr. Iplier sighed.
"The author is dead." The Host muttered. "The author could see..."
"You should have come to me before you-"
"The Host has not had his eyes for a long time now. The doctor need let it go." The Host growled, gripping the chair tightly as he hovered beside it.
"Maybe there was something I could have done!" Dr. Iplier grunted.
"If there is nothing you can do now, what could you have done then?" The Host turned his head towards the doctor.
Dr. Iplier sighed. "I could have told you it wouldn't have helped. I could have restrained you until the feeling passed. I could have stopped you..."
The Host turned and left the room. He began muttering to himself again once he was in the hall. "The Host walked slowly down the hallway, the doctor's words weighing heavily on him..." He turned into his room, starting to get ready for the night.
That night, before heading to his own room, Darkiplier stopped at the Host's bedroom door, and knocked gently, before opening it. "Host?" He leaned in. "Wilford was worried, he had said you were acting strange earlier, and Dr. Iplier said your appointment did not go well."
"The Host was laying in bed, ready to try to sleep for the night. He explained to the worried Darkiplier that he was quite fine. He was impressed to learn that Wilford Warfstache cared, and he was interested to continue to build a relationship with the crazy man. The Host and Dr. Iplier had words, and memories were brought up. The doctor can not or perhaps will not help the Host, and so now, he must sleep." The Host rattled off.
Darkiplier listened intently, the swirl of his aura lighting up the room in flashes. "Good night then. Take care Host, I will check on you in the morning. If the doctor cannot help... we will find someone who can." He promised, then turned closed the door before heading to his own room.
The Host adjusted his mask, sighing softly and fell quiet, drifting off to sleep. He had, had a very eventful day, compared to most.