It was quiet, almost. If you didn't count the whispers of many voices at once that faded in and out. The screams that got louder then became as quiet as a small breeze. The moans of pain that would always be in the background, never leaving what you could hear. This was the darkness where souls collided. Where they fell apart and were made anew. Where souls of so many people and things were collected for specific uses. None of them wanted to be here.
It was realized soon enough that when you were collected here, you could be taken out. Turned into something else. Each time, the soul was either too weak or the new body couldn't handle the soul, and both would end up destroying the other. Failure after failure. None of the souls, new and old, never really knew what happened beyond the veil that surrounded them all. They all heard the screams, though. It's when the screams were loudest. The pain becoming heart-breaking to hear as another soul is broken and gone. They didn't know how they were going to get out without being forced into...something else. None of the souls didn't know who was doing it, either. There was always a voice outside, gentle and soft. There words they could almost make out, but only could tell the emotion behind them. Excitement, curiosity, then sadness. Always that order each time. Lately, it became more sadness. More failed creations that didn't make it more than a minute.
“It has to work this time, it must…If I don't get this right…” Mutters turned into quiet whispers going around the dark room as the flames from lit candles flickered and hissed at the energy forming in the room. “This time...I’m trying something different...It will work…” Whispers filled the room, most doubtful, some hopefully, some going back and forth.
“Do you think it'll really work this time?”
“It must work if we are to get what we want”
“This is just going to fail like the others! Give it up! Doing something different won't help!”
“SHUT UP!” The voice rang through the room, whispers quieting down. There was a sigh for a moment before the walls trembled, the candles’ flames going out. It was time. The souls trembled.
—
In another world, another dimension and time, there was a boy sitting on his bed. He was running through thoughts in his head, most being dark and unforgiving. He didn't want to deal with the growing pain in his chest and head much longer. The boy could only take so much. The way his parents fought, the way they took their aggression out on him. He couldn't take it. The bruises that covered his body, the cuts, the scars. His friends halfway believed him, but he knew they didn't want to help him. The boy just wanted to feel numb– he didn't want to feel anything anymore. He knew just what to do. The boy reached over to his nightstand, pulling the first drawer open. He didn't care if his parents heard him, they were too busy arguing again. Maybe if he took enough...he would feel better for a while. Something in his mind was urging him to do it, to take as many as he’d like. He wasn't sure why, but part of him hesitated on opening the bottle, but for some wild reason, some inner force made his hands open the small bottle he had. Someone, something was screaming in the back of his head.
“Don't do it, Moof! Think of what you'll lose!”
Right, his nickname. Moof. His friends gave it to him when things were better, but now it's a harsh sound in his head. He tilted the bottle back, maybe downed at least half of the white dots that were inside before he stopped, realizing what he was doing. He wanted to stop. He didn't want this anymore.
“You have to do this, there's nothing here for you”, a voice whispered. He became terrified, wanting to make his hand with the bottle move away from his mouth but it wouldn't work, or listen. He was screaming, begging, but the sound of him choking covered it all. Tears were streaming down his face, he felt so sick. He wanted to stop but something wouldn't let him. He couldn't stop. The boy accepted it, his vision sinking into empty darkness as his short life fell apart in front of him.
It was cold. Much too cold. Was this what death felt like? There was nothing there. Nothing to hear. Nothing to feel except cold. Nothing. And it absolutely terrified him. As he gazed around, or believed he was gazing around, steps echoed throughout the emptiness. It startled him so much after not hearing anything for what felt like eternity that he crawled back away from the noise.
“I am here to save you. To bring you into a new world where you will be loved. Where you can help those who have been through something similar that you went through”, a voice said. The boy trembled, strangely finding comfort in the other-worldly voice. A cracking noise resonated through the darkness as a hand seemed to slowly appear in front of him, gesturing for him to take it. The hand was wrapped up in what seemed to be old bandages, some falling off in the emptiness. He hesitated. He was confused. He didn't know where he was, how he got there. He was just in his room, wasn't he? Why did..Why did he want to take that hand? The question left his mind as soon as it entered, his hand reaching up and taking the strange hand in front of him. At first, it was pulling him up to feet, then he was being harshly pulled through the darkness. It was excruciating pain that ripped across his body. His screams filled the darkness and emptiness as his body changed, his skin ripping and falling off, his bones shattering and coming together differently. He was coughing up blood, so much of it. His whole body was being changed and reformed, broken and put back together again differently. His mind was changing, too. Memories appeared for fleeting moments then were gone in an instant. He was forgetting things everyone should know. He was forgetting who he was. His friends. Family. Precious memories of happy moments he had. The bad memories. The beatings. The abuse. The loneliness. He won't be alone anymore, will he? One final scream ripped from his throat, fading away as he felt himself crash to a cold, hard floor. The hand that held his wasn't there anymore. His whole body ached, spasms of pain happening here and there. Everything felt...different. There were voices everywhere.
“Did it work? Is it working?”
“He looks different from the others...He isn't like the others, we need to be careful!”
“Maybe he won't die, he’ll be able to do what we need...”
The voices quieted down as he tried to get himself up, struggling with his newfound limbs. His arms felt longer and...stronger. Different. He slowly opened his eyes. Then four more. Six eyes? He glanced around slowly, slowly pushing himself up on his arms. There were small black hairs all over him, deep black in color. With having more eyes, it seemed like he was seeing multiple things at once through each eye. It was making him dizzy.
“Don't worry, it'll take time to get use to having more eyes than normal”, a gentle voice echoed around the room. He felt he had heard it somewhere before, but stood still in fear as someone stepped forward. Whoever they were, had obviously stayed in this room for a long time. They were covered in ragged, ripped clothing, most of it various colors. Most of it on their torso and back were tied together in a way to create a cloak of sorts that covered most of their body other than the ripped clothing. Some of the cloth was bunched together around their neck, forming a hood to where he couldn't make out their face very well. Their feet were bare, having bandages around the middle. A strange feeling came from them, making him feel uneasy. He managed to get himself to his feet after a few minutes of getting use to his strange feet and long legs, the person waiting patiently for him. He was much taller than him and looking down caused some of his hair to get in his face. He had hair other than the abundance on his body? His hand reached up to feel the hair on top of his head, surprised at how soft it was, but flinched as one of his clawed fingers scratched across his scalp. He dragged a hand down the side of his face, realizing that his ears were weirdly shaped as well, with being pointed at the tip and long, but soft.
“Use to your appearance yet? Can you tell me your name?”, they asked, with him once again being startled at how their voice bounced around the room. He took a moment. A name? Did he have one? Why did it matter? Wait, that sounds good…
“....Moof….”
“Moof is your name? Very well. I welcome you to existence, Moof. You are the very first of my creations to succeed with going through the emptiness and surviving the transformation. I am...The Creator”, they took a step forward towards him, a smile appearing on their lips. Moof wasn't sure how to feel about this. Their name was strange, but he felt the need to trust them. The Creator helped him come out of somewhere scary and dark, he must trust them. They looked up at him, studying him for a few moments in hushed silence. There were whispers and screams now and then, from what Moof saw as a strange glass orb from across the room that shined different colors each moment that passed. The Creator stepped back from him, seeming pleased.
“I see no real errors about you, despite the shyness you have. You will grow. You will become more than this right now. You will do for what I have planned. I believe you have one thought in your mind that won't leave you alone, correct?”
“...Help...O-Others...Who...are suffering…”
“That is right. At least, that is what you shall say when asked what your purpose is. Do you know what your real reason is for being created, Moof?”, they asked, tilting their head to one side, a horrifying crack coming from their neck that caused the whispers to become louder for a few moments.
“Will he go through with it?”
“He can't say no, he’ll be killed and remade again…”
“Shut it! Let him say it!”
Moof stood there for a moment, words racing around his mind. Swirling, changing, shaping into something. He wasn't sure. He felt—, no, knew that he was made to help. What did this person want instead of that? He couldn't figure it out, so he shook his head.
“He doesn't know? How doesn't he know? Did he forget it?”
“He’ll have to be remade again...How stupid this was…”
“What an idiot and failure! Why are we keeping him?!”
The Creator stepped forward again. “Lean your head down a little, I will show your purpose. You will fulfill it, no matter what”, they said as they reached one of their hands up to him. The same bandaged hand, yet now it wasn't so bandaged. Moof noticed the hand was littered in scars and cuts, most still oozing blood, whispers coming from them. He made himself look away and he closed each of his eyes and leaned his head down, his forehead touching the palm of their hand gently. The hand was cold, unnaturally against his forehead, especially since it was over one of his eyes. All he saw was dark again, until images flashed in his mind, one by one. Quickly at first, but soon slowed down enough for him to grab each detail in each image. It felt like he was staring at them for hours…
—
The hand soon pulled away from him, the cold feeling leaving him. He was...unsure of what to feel about his “main purpose” now. It was horrifying. He felt the need to do it, nonetheless.
“Now that you know your true purpose and what to say so no one knows, I shall transport you somewhere. You will find a friend who shall stay with you. You will then be found some years later by a wanderer who will take you both in. They will protect you and love you and your companion. Do not forget your purpose, understand? You are my first successful creation, I cannot afford to have to dismantle you and start over again”, The Creator looked up at him, and this was the moment Moof got a full look of their face. It was terrifying to try and describe, something from a deep dark nightmare no one could survive and wake up from, but he couldn't look away from their gaze. He nodded slowly, full of fear.
“Very well. Goodbye, Moof. We will meet again...Survive and excel, complete your purpose and you shall be free again...Free from what is holding you…”, they seemed to mutter the last part, along with other voices joining in. Moof was about to speak, but the room became dull and dark. It all became a blur as he blinked, his eyes opening again to find himself in a forest. The leaves fell slowly, showing vibrant colors of orange, red, yellow. It was beautiful to him, but for how long?
I wrote something for the fan made ego called Moofiplier. Tell me how it is and if I did a good Moof...
He was created by a single misspelling of a single, silly word. He was created by a small group of fans on a silly website from a silly idea but now he exists- he is. He is because of the silly little misspelling in a silly little word from a small group on a silly website.
He had been confused upon opening his three sets of eyes for the first time. He at first had no idea who or what he was, only able to look down at his dimly glowing hands and blink all six eyes, feeling at his face and neck and entire body(it felt kind of furry). He had no idea what to think, what to do. He just… was kind of there, not knowing what to do.
This was when he was first created with no real backstory- he was just a foundation of a character.
But then, he was given a story, a personality. He became someone.
They named him Moof and he is a demon. A kind demon, but still a demon. He was an ego of a Youtuber called Markiplier and he was the direct opposite of another of his egos named Dark.
Speaking of Dark, this was the first person to find him in the hole he had formed in, red and black ink like liquid still clinging to his sides from the hole, dripping down his face. Dark’s eyes has widened at the sight as Moof stood, blinking at the sight of another.
At first, neither had spoken. Until Moof broke the silence. “You are Dark?” He asked matter of factly because he’s pretty sure that he’s correct. He knows that he’s correct.
Dark’s eyes had narrowed suspiciously but he seemed to realize this was another ego due to the familiar shape of face and body- even if his skin is all but covered in a darkish red fur. “Yes,” he states and Moof hums, looking up with wide eyes as butterfly passes over head. Though, the brightly colored butterfly falls from the air as it drifts into Dark’s aura, falling to the ground nearby. Moof’s eyes widen and he hurries over, ignoring the gaze Dark follows him with as he gently grabs the withering butterfly.
“It’s hurt,” Moof states, laying the yellow colored butterfly in the palm of his hand. The insect squirms, wings flapping as a grey spreads from the tips and downwards. He frowns deeply, not knowing what to do.
“Indeed,” Dark said in agreement, continuing to watch the new ego. He then steps closer, glaring down at the butterfly. “Kill it.”
Moof’s six eyes widen and he quickly moves his hand away from Dark’s view, hiding the butterfly from the manifestation. “What? No!” He exclaimed, hugging the hand holding the insect close to his chest.
“If you want to help it, you can’t,” Dark points out. “It’s going to die either way. You might as well put it out of its misery.”
Pursing his lips Moof looks back down at the butterfly, unsure of what to do. Dark does have a point. But what if there is a way to save the butterfly? What if killing it is what Dark wants but isn’t the ultimate answer? He swallows heavily and smooths one of the wings out, gasping as the grey only spreads further and quicker. He looks back up to Dark but the same look is in his eyes so Moof looks away, biting down on his lip.
“End it’s suffering,” Dark said once more, eyes narrowing further as Moof continues to hesitate. “There is no way to help it.”
Moof looks away as he presses his fingertip to the butterfly’s small body, flinching at the small crunch. He peeks an eye open to look down at the smeared body, gasping at the sight of it. He quickly yet carefully placed the now dead body of the butterfly on a nearby flower, guilt already spreading through his entire system.
“Good,” Dark said with satisfaction. “Now come. I will introduce you to the others.”
Moof reluctantly follows Dark, unknowing of the butterfly slowly healing and being cleared of all the grey, a red a light putting it back together before it flutters away.
_____
@damien-iplier @the-host-will-answer @i-am-a-fan y’all love this boy right??? And I know one of y’all remember the original creator(I don’t cause I’m tired) so could y’all tag em?
yeeeeee just a quick drawing of one (1) swirly boi. I really like him and I want to give him a hug @snowelfxx’s character and son, Moofiplier :::> ( @damien-iplier aaaaaaa u totally introduced me to him, so I’m tagging you is that okay)
