#sam21 writes

[jimsandfruit]

Au inspired by Razzle Dazzle from Chicago 👀👀. Basically Dark has recruited most of the other egos against Actor, but Actor got to Yancy before Dark could. He convinces Yancy that Dark is the bad guy. And not only can he protect him from Dark, but he can give Yancy fame, luxury and anything else he ever wanted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51526066

[jimsandfruit]

Sharp

Distortion!Jon oneshot

Spoilers up to episode 47

Summary: Jon decides to go in and save Helen himself. Turns out saving two people out of the spiral is even harder than saving one.

TW: depersonalization

--

Jon wasn’t going to just sit there after watching an innocent woman walk straight into the belly of the beast! He had just heard her panic. He had just listened to her give her whole story and what she endured. How could he just… leave her there. Alone. Doomed to feed those halls. Trapped with that thing. ‘Micheal’.

The thing was standing in front of him right now. His hands were so long and pointed that his fingertips would probably be dragging against the ground if he didn’t talk with his hands so much. Jon couldn’t help but imagine how easy it would be to poke someone's eyes out with those things. The thing's long blond hair curled and shifted in ways nothing that actually exists was capable of. His smile brought the image of a shark to Jon's mind

He would not let this thing consume Helen. He would not just sit here, learn about all these horrors and not try to stop them.

Before ‘Micheal’ could process what Jon was doing, before Jon could question his own decision, he got up and ran to the door the thing had emerged from. The door that wasn’t supposed to be there.

He flung it open, and disregarded the things laughter “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Archivist”

“Well, you’re not me,” Jon snapped, before running into the hall. It was exactly what Helen had described barely twenty minutes ago. If he ran, maybe he could catch up to Helen before she wandered down any branching paths. So that’s exactly what he did. He ran dead sprint forwards. Not that it was hard, given the fact he had no doubt Micheal was following.

The mental image of that toothy-grinned distorted freak hot on his heels made it surprisingly easy to run faster and longer than he ever had. Occasionally the creature's laughter would fill the corridors. That unnerving chuckle echoed and felt like it ricochet around Jons head, multiplying and becoming more unbearable with every passing second.

It wasn’t too long before he started to hear another sound though. Or, he didn’t think it was too long. Helen hadn’t exaggerated how hard it was to estimate time here. Not that it mattered right now. The sound he heard was Helens' sobs. The true distress of someone who thought they were free from hell, only to tumble back in. Jon wouldn’t allow it.

He followed the sounds of the woman's sobs, eventually finding her “Miss Richardson!” He said, relieved that he had been able to find her. “We need to go, I think it's following,” Jon said, quickly grabbing her hand.

Helen looked at Jon, obviously shocked that he followed her in. She quickly wiped her tears with her free hand and started to run alongside Jon, understanding the importance of not wasting a second. Not with that thing's laughter indicating it was far too close for comfort.

“You said… it was a… a mirror… that got you out… last time.. Right?” Jon asked between gasps for air. He couldn’t help but feel like he should start taking up running as a hobby if things like this and Jane Prentiss were going to be so common.

“Y-yes. A mirror w…. Without him in it” Helen responded, seeming a bit out of breath as well.

“Keep your eyes… peeled… jump in without hesitation… when you find it… don’t wait for me. I’ll follow” Jon responded, starting to grow exhausted, and feeling that stabbing pain in the side that happens when someone who never runs tries to run too long and too hard. But stopping wasn’t an option.

Jon wasn’t sure if they were running for hours or minutes. It was honestly jarring to realize just how relative time was. How easy it was to become lost in it and for those numbers people tracked their life to become so abstract. Eventually, though, They spotted a mirror that didn’t hold some nerve-wracking reflection of the figure following them.

True to plan, Helen didn’t hesitate. Unlike Jon had planned though, once the woman had thrown herself at the empty mirror and had fallen through it, presumably into the real world, the mirror disappeared. Turns out they were only a one-use-only thing.

Jon felt his stomach drop. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could run. How long before the adrenaline couldn’t force his legs to carry him anymore? How far away would the next clear mirror be? How far back was the creature?

“I told you, Archivist… this wasn’t a very good idea” The creature's voice bounced through the walls, and Jon had a sneaking suspicion that the creature could have caught up to them all along. He felt his legs wobble and had a feeling his body may give out any second. But he started running again.

Was Micheal just trying to exhaust him? Trying to bide his time while Jon found it harder and harder to move?

“Oh, Archivist… I knew you were supposed to be nosy, but I believe you’ve gone too far. What a shame. We were going to have so much fun. Oh well…”

Jon tried to ignore the things words. Tried to not focus on understanding them for now. He had to run. He had to just focus on runni-

The Archivist's legs gave out, causing him to tumble to the ground. No matter his terror or desperation to get up, he couldn’t force his body to move and run.

The creature came over, walking at a meandering pace that pissed Jon off. The smugness rolling off the creature made Jon wish he could just strangle it.

“Oh the memories… I.. he was like you, you know…”

“Who is ‘he’” Jon demanded

The distorted figure laughed. A laugh softer than the others. “Micheal Shelly, of course. Gertrudes assistant.”

“W… what does Gertrude have to do with any of this!?!”

“Oh Archivist, you’re so… new” ‘Micheal said, amusement and smugness dripping from his voice. “It’s alright.” The creature said, squatting down. “You’ll understand. Perhaps not the way they intended for you, now that you’re here… but you’ll understand”

“Just explain it to me! Stop spitting these riddles! Just kill me or let me out. Whatever you're doing, just get it over with!”

“I’m doing nothing, Archivist. This is all you” The oddly angled creature said, its laughter growing louder and more intense again. It caused Jons head to throb. And maybe he was just imagining things, but he felt the oddest stabbing pain in his fingertips…

It was too much. Too loud. Were the colors swirling now? Where was Micheal? The laughter wouldn’t stop.

Jons head felt like it was about to explode in pain. A burst of color filled his vision before he collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

—

Jon (was he? For some reason the name sounded wrong in his head. Like trying to put on a jacket you had back in middle school) Woke up, who knows how long after.

He felt like he should care about how long it had been. He knew he should probably find another empty mirror. He should be keeping an eye out for Micheal. He should be trying to make it back home.

But… he didn’t want to. No, why would he? What was at the Archives? A staff that he was struggling to get work done with, and who might even want him dead? Endless horror stories that seemed so traumatizing and yet so pointless? A boss who wouldn’t listen? A house, empty and cold?

What was so bad about these halls anyways? Micheal was no longer anywhere to be seen. No laughter. No sign he was ever even there. Jon got to his feet and made his way over to a mirror, wondering if the creature was still reflected in them.

Some deep part of him knew what he saw should horrify him. It was his own reflection, but to say it was Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute in the mirror would be a blatant lie.

He was smiling, which is something you would be hard-pressed to see Jon doing. His teeth were jagged. Sharp. Shark like. His hair twisted and moved on its own, almost as if it was floating underwater. He brought his hand up to his face, only to find they were much longer than he remembered. Sharper. He could probably poke someone's eyes out with them.

Jon felt a chuckle tumble out of his throat. Micheal was right. Jon did understand, now.

[jimsandfruit]

It hurt.

That was the first thing Aktal really registered.

Of course it hurt. Aktal was used to taking up more space than this stupid miniscule planet's whole solar system. He was used to not being constricted by a solid form and instead existing as a pure energy, free to move, expand and contract to his own comfort.

But now all of himself was jammed and condensed painfully into a tiny, tangible form. Four limbs, one head, one torso. All a fixed size, shape, dimension. It wasn’t right. It felt as though he was being squeezed and suffocated, with every now tangible atom of himself on fire.

And everything touching his skin, the awful barrier between him and the overwhelming sensations already driving him mad. The uncomfortable fabric clinging to his skin, the feeling of grass brushing against his already burning body. His hair getting in the way, making his eyes itch and his nose uncomfortable.

He hadn’t even moved yet. He had been in this form for less than a minute and it was already far too much. Time was so much slower here… He had to do this though. For Apollo. If Aktal couldn’t stand a few seconds like this, he coudln’t imagine the torture Apollo must have been living through for the past 200,000 years.

It took him a moment to gather the will and strength to sit up.

Moving his limbs was a whole different set of problems. As he tried to push himself up, he found he could easily shift the limbs to bend and push himself up, but coordination and balance wasn’t as simple, making it extremely difficult to lift himself from the ground.

He quickly grew frustrated after dropping himself to the ground for the third time, and let his wings out in a desperate attempt to give himself more stability.

Of course these simple creatures, humans, didn’t have wings, but Aktal didn’t necessarily choose his form. He understood this… the retractable feature was abnormal. Though he had never taken a solid form before, the other gods had experienced similar phenomenons when visiting other planets, their own form having some sort of variations from the species they were imitating.

Aktal found the pain lessened, as soon as his wings were let out. Not enough to take it away, but enough to make it manageable. It made him less… compact.

While the wings did not help with stability the way he had hoped (and in fact made balance more difficult) the pain relief allowed him to concentrate and finally sit up properly.

At this rate a couple days on this planet would pass before he could even find Apollo.

Apollo had waited for 200,000 years. He would have to hang on a couple days more.

[jimsandfruit]

I think this is the first time I've actually been spooked by something I drew lmao

Actor as an avatar of the Web. I thought it was beyond fitting for him due to the puppet master motif.

I wrote a one shot for this if anyone is interested

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[jimsandfruit]

Welcome Back

Summary: It’s 1980, before any egos other than Wilford or Dark get caught up in anything. Actor makes a rare visits to the manor, only to realize just how run down it really is, and that the entity within it could die soon.  Word count: 1016

He almost never came here anymore. Every person in his life had lost something in these walls, and yes, that was… mostly his fault. But he lost a lot in these walls too… This manor had taken from Actor long before Wilford lost his sanity. Long before Darks creation. 

Coming back was like meeting up with a friend you left on… shaky terms to say the least. Tense. Quiet, but in the way that leaves you waiting for disaster to strike. And yet somehow you still can’t fully leave it. You spent too much time.

He ran his hand along some of the cracks in the walls, showing through the faded wallpaper that was once vibrant. Parts of the ceiling sagged and had crumpled years ago. The pool out back had been emptied long ago but had since gathered rainwater in the bottom which had mixed with years worth of fallen leaves and dirt, making it into an ugly swamp-like mess. Every flower had died in the garden, long ago. Even the trees were being choked out by invasive vines and weeds.

 He could still remember the calming yellow tones that once pulled the house together, resembling gold. Strung together with the neutral browns of perfectly polished wood and beautiful stones placed together with the best craftsmanship he had ever seen. Once this house had been his pride and joy. It had once been his friend. Even now he knew it was still alive. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be here. Its siren song would have left him long ago. And yet it was still there, stronger than ever. Even after how astray it led him. Even after everything he had lost by following its whispers. Everything it had taken. As much as he wanted to leave this place in the past… it still promised him so much. And what else could he do? He was in too deep now. The manor was all he had now… He took a breath as he traced a faded floral pattern on the wall with his finger. “You haven't aged a day, old friend,” he said. A bit of the wall behind him crumpled with the aggression of someone throwing something and he jumped a bit, “Well there's no need to throw a tantrum” he huffed out, turning around to look at the new damage. “Maybe that's why everything in here is so damaged. You’re only breaking yourself” He said, before his eyes landed on a mirror. In the mirror was himself, of course, but not… his current self. Right now he was wearing a dress shirt, maroon dress pants, and a red tie to better blend in with the more… modern world. But in the mirror, he was wearing that red robe. And he could see all the wounds. All the ones that Actor had done to himself in attempts to better understand the manor. It almost startled him. He had forgotten just how… unnatural they had looked. “Alright touche,” he said, quickly looking away from the mirror “but that was your fault. You got me to break myself. You promised so much and delivered so little.” He said, wandering into the old kitchen. He told himself it was just for the sake of wandering but he knew full well he just didn’t want to risk seeing in the mirror again.

The marble countertops were dusty, cracked, and chipped. He sighed softly, running his hand along them, “You’re… really not doing too well…” he said, his voice a little more sympathetic. “Can you even… will you die…?” He asked, wiping away a bit of the dust. It left a thin layer of gray dust on his hand, but to his surprise, the cracks underneath where he had wiped his hand faded… It could die. He wasn’t sure what the defining point would be. Just how broken it could get before it left forever… but he could also save it. Part of him just wished it would die already. Maybe if it died everything could go back to how it once was, a long long time. Maybe he could fix it all. He sighed and turned around to leave the kitchen before seeing a photograph on the counter that wasn’t there before. He carefully picked it up, already knowing exactly which one it was. He remembered smashing the glass repetitively with one of Celine's heals in a fit of rage. It was shortly after he had… found out about her and William. He had been fragile, to put it nicely. She had been staying with Damien, but everything was so fresh that all her things were still there. One night he couldn’t sleep. He was surrounded by the things they used to share, but alone. He had ripped a photo he had of him and William off the wall and smashed it. Over. and over. And over. That was the first night the house talked to him… well, ‘talked’ is a strong term for what the house did. It worked through… feelings. It put ideas in your head. It set things in front of you and let you put the pieces together. That night, the house told him he could fix it all, get everything back and more…

Actors' hands tightened around the picture, feeling a surge of rage. This time not towards the house. This time it was at who really started this all. It wasn’t the house that took everything, he remembered. After all, the manor was the only one still here with him. The only one who even tried to be in his corner.  It was all of them. It was always them. It was still them. And it wasn’t Actors fault. He was just trying to fix what they had broken. He threw the photo to the ground, before looking at the spot on the counter where he had wiped the dust. It looked good as new. Vibrant like it used to be. “I’ll fix you. I’m sorry for neglecting you for so long, old friend. I’m coming back. Together we’ll finish what we started”

[jimsandfruit]

Rose-Darkstache

TW: None. Just fluff

Word count: 1045

Summery: Wilford recalls Damien loved roses, and decides to fix up the garden for Dark.

‘Damien loved roses’

Wilford smiled at the thought as he sat in the manor’s garden, that hadn’t been touched in a long time. Vines and weeds had strangled any healthy bush and had successfully killed any flowers there were before. The grass was overgrown, and littered with dandelions.

The egos had been living in the manor for… well, Wilford didn’t actually know how long. Time made no sense to him, but he knew it had been a while. No one had bothered to try to fix the garden, since it was almost a jungle. No one saw its worth. Wilford almost couldn’t, until he got whispers of memories. Faint dream-like memories of poppies, lilies, daffodils, chrysanthemums, buttercups… Most of all, he remembered the roses. He remembered standing next to Damien, in front of the roses. He remembered Damien speaking.

“ I’ve always adored roses. So beautiful and strong… for such delicate beauty, they’re extremely durable. They live longer than most flowers, you know. I strive to be like the rose… strength, with grace”

Wilford looked at where the roses once were, before gasping softly.  He would fix the garden! He would plant all of the prettiest flowers for Dark, pick all the weeds, mow the grass, trim the bushes and-

And roses! He would plant a huge bed of roses for Dark. He could stand by Dark as he did with Damien, and look over the beautiful flowers. It had to be a surprise, he decided. He would wait till night and would get Bing to order the supplies he needed. He ran inside to find Bing.

—- Dark was growing worried about Wilford. For weeks now, the normally bubbly, energetic man was sleeping almost all day. He knocked on his door one day, a plate of waffles in hand. He hoped to lure him out, to ask what was wrong. Of course, Wilford had gone through low spots before, but it wasn't usually like this. Usually, if he was in a painful place mentally, it showed. He would sulk, and become a bit more aggressive. He would have more moments of detachment. Now whenever Wilford was awake, (no matter how little that was) he acted energetically as ever. Excited.

Was he sick? Dark knew Wilford didn’t follow logic, but he didn’t think him being sick would be like this. After a moment, lost in thought, he noticed Wilford wasn’t answering. He opened the door to see Wilford out cold, wrapped in his pink, fluffy blanket. Dark set the plate down and felt Wilford’s forehead, but there was no fever. There was no sign of distress on Wilford, or in the room. He seemed perfectly peaceful, with his face purely relaxed, and his body relaxed in the cocoon of fluffy pink. His room was only as messy as it usually was. Candy wrappers on the dresser, a few suspenders lying around, miscellaneous weapons on the bookshelf, desk, and some on the floor. Nothing new or concerning. For Wilford, at least. Dark shook his head softly and sighed. He’d try to figure out later when Wilford was awake.

___

Wilford was shocked that he was able to keep it a secret. Bing had informed him it had taken him three months. Dark didn’t come outside often, but it still surprised both Bing and Wilford that he had been oblivious to the change, right outside his window. That was great, though, because then Wilford could get the joy of seeing his raw reaction. The sun was rising as Wilford checked for any flaws in the newly fixed garden. There was none. He felt pride swell up in his chest as he watched the orange light fill the area. He watched the light filter through the lush, perfectly trimmed grass. The way that the orange shone through the beautifully trimmed bushes took his breath away. Flowers filled the garden. Beautiful flowers along the path, but most importantly, in the center of the garden there were roses. A huge bed of every color he could get his hands on. White, yellow, pink, purple, orange, red, and blue. He had learned naturally blue roses were extremely rare, but he did everything he could to get his hands on them. Damien loved blue. After one last look, he ran in to grab Dark. He knocked on Darks bedroom door enthusiastically, “Dark, can you come look at something?” he called He heard some tired shuffling “I’ll be right there, Wil” Darks echoing voice called, a bit of morning gravel to it. “Okay!” Wilford sang back. After a moment, Dark came out, not bothering with his suit coat. “ Is everything alrig-” Before he could finish, Wilford was dragging him out back by his wrist. “Everything is great! I finally finished your present!” “ Present…? What for…?” He asked, sounding almost a little skeptical. Wilford pushed open the back door “For everything” The low sun cast beautiful pink, yellows, and oranges across the garden, now full of life, color, and beauty. Darks breath caught as he saw it, “Wilford…” He said softly, but Wilford was back to pulling him. The Demon followed him, in awe of the garden. He couldn’t say it was restored. It was nothing like it once was. Actor always kept everything so uniform. Everything had always been so perfect, it looked fake. Under Wilford’s care, the garden was wildly beautiful. The flowers and colors meshed together in a stunning display of chaos. The bushes were perfectly trimmed into nonsensical shapes. Archways held fairy lights of different colors and shapes. Wilford’s influence could be seen in every single piece of the garden. It was real. It was beautiful. Wilford stopped in front of a large, circular bed of flowers. Dark looked at it and realized.He felt tears prick at his black eyes. “ Roses…” Wilford grinned proudly,“ Do you like it?” Wilford was caught off guard when he was pulled into a hug. He couldn’t remember the last time Dark hugged him. It wasn’t that Dark didn’t care, or neglected him. He had just never been a physically affectionate being. Wilford quickly hugged him back, not minding how Darks tears wet his yellow button up. “ Thank you, Wilford…” Dark finally said softly, before smiling to himself, his face hidden against Wilford’s shoulder. “ It's beautiful…”

[jimsandfruit]

Ring (Darkstache)

Summary: Darkiplier has held onto this little pink ring for long enough. It's time for him to finally take the next step, no matter how daunting it feels.

Word count: 900+

Tw: None, I think. Just tooth-rotting fluff

Five small pink crystals of rose quarts arranged in a circular pattern around a small diamond, resembling a flower. A golden band, circling the flower of crystals, resembling slightly overgrown vines.

A ring, that had resided under Dark's hardly used bed most of the time for months now. He had gained the bravery needed to purchase but lacked the bravery for the next step.

They were an entity that was created out of nothing but anger and the need for revenge. The idea of Darkiplier in love felt like the perfect example of an oxymoron to him. Yet here he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, cradling the small pink box in his hand for the third time this week, trying to figure out how to ask.

He took a breath and stuffed it in his pocket. This was getting ridiculous, and had drawn out far longer than necessary already.

But as the other egos started entering his life, he found a capacity for love. He found himself losing the need to destroy Actor. He found a need to protect the others. It softened him, and Dark honestly couldn’t be more thankful. He was no longer just a broken entity with one consuming goal. They felt real emotions now. Not just rage.

He was finally alive, but that didn’t mean he was used to it. The joy didn’t make the ring any less scary.

Some of the more astute egos had been pestering him for a while now. Little playful taunts here and there, about how he should just ask the question already. Wilford would surely say yes, so why was he so terrified?

–

He and Wilford have been together for years now. Everyone knew it was coming. They were all just waiting on him. Years ago he wouldn’t have ever entertained the thought of love. Years ago he was still focused solely on taking care of Actor.

Yet now he was focusing more on Wilford's weight gently leaning on him. The texture of his fur coat pressed up against Dark. The smell of bubblegum and cotton candy, with a hint of gunpowder. The way Wilford waved his free hand as he spoke.

Wilford looked over “Yeah?” He asked lightly.

“Would you mind accompanying me on a walk through the garden? It’s nice out, today”

Wils eyes lit up “Of course, gumdrop! One sec, let me grab my jacket!” he said, dropping his cards and running off to his room.

Bing noticed Dark straightening out his tie or suit more than usual. His almost nervous body language. His occasional deep breaths.

“Ooooh are you finally gonna do it?” Bing asked with a sly grin.

Dark glanced at the group of egos, who now all had their eyes on him, all with varying levels of excitement and anticipation.

“I swear if you all try to spy, I will ground every last one of you till next year” Dark scolded

The Jims looked very disappointed, showing they had had every intention to do so.

“Fine, fine. Everyone knows it’s gonna go well anyways. Go sweep your man off his feet” Bing said. Despite being somewhat teasing, there was a decent amount of sincerity and support in his tone. Yancy, Bim, and Illinois chirped in their own genuine agreement and support, causing Dark to feel deep gratitude for all of them.

Even if they had been a little intrusive throughout this whole process, he couldn’t help but feel happy that he was supported in this big scary step.

“Thank you” He said with a brief nod, still unsure about how to respond to such overwhelming positivity, and headed to the back door to wait for Wilford.

Soon, he saw his boyfriend barrel down the stairs, pulling on his pink fur coat. Wilford hooked his arm around Dark's arm and grinned “Let's go” He said happily.

Dark chuckled softly at Wilford's ever-constant enthusiasm, and headed out into the garden. “How’s your day been, my love?” Dark asked as they walked.

“I finally found out where my candy stash has been disappearing to! Turns out Dr. Iplier has a MAJOR sweet tooth.”

“Is that so?” Dark asked, a little amused.

Wilford nodded, leaning into Dark a bit as they walked. “Yeah. Which is so hypocritical considering that he insists candy kills you. Granted he says EVERYTHING kills you so I guess that’s not saying much...”

Dark could hardly focus on Wilfords words. Not that he didn’t enjoy Wilford's ramblings. He always loved hearing Wilford's excited explanations of typically mundane things.

“What a coincidence,” Wilford said with a grin, “I have something to ask you too”

“Wilford?” Dark asked, walking into the living room, where Wil was currently playing Uno with the Jim Twins, Bim, Bing, Illinois and Yancy.

Soon they reached a point of the garden that was as far from the Manor as they could get. He felt Wilford let go of his arm, presumably to pick a flower or mess with a butterfly he found. He took the free second to take a breath and reached into his pocket.

He pulled out the box and opened it, taking a shaky breath, “Wilford, I have to ask you someth-”

Dark froze when he finally looked at Wilford. He was on one knee, holding a small black box, with a dark crystal holding soft tints of blue and red, encircled by a black metal band. 

Wilford kept speaking about his day, full of energy. The energy that completed Dark.

[jimsandfruit]

Pink Frosting

Google fic Description: Wilford is struggling and Dark isn’t home to help. Bing suggests a solution that Google finds stupid, but he has no better ones. Word count: 1,800+

Dark wasn't at the manor

Of all the days he could be busy, it was today.

Granted, Wilford’s issues were never predictable. Nothing about him ever was. Though, Google couldn't help but be frustrated that Wilford just had to have a meltdown while Dark was gone.

Google and Bing had shooed everyone to their rooms after Wilford shot a vase. They could all die. Google and Bing could be fully repaired as long as their personality chips were intact. 

Bing came in from making sure everyone was safe in their rooms.

The less formal Android was annoying, but Google had to admit that Bing knew when things were serious and he needed to focus. He was better at the 'emotion' thing, and therefore better at providing the humans comfort.

"Everyone is safe. Eric is panicking, but Yance and Illinois are keeping him company. Other than that, everyone is fine"

 Bing paused for a moment before adding, “and besides Wilford”

The pink-mustached man was in the living room, crying. Crying about a falling person. Crying about how he didn't mean to. 

Google could tell Bing wanted to comfort the distressed ego, but they both knew it was foolish. Even though they were more durable, things could happen. Repairs could be difficult.

Google was about to tell Bing they should stand watch of Wilford, just in case, when Bing gasped.

It was a little over the top, in Google's opinion, since gasping was extreme inhalation of air and the two didn't breathe, meaning Bing gasped for show. He was always portraying human habits that showed no purpose.

“What?” Google asked flatly.

“Cupcakes!” Bing said.

Google mentally revoked his statement about Bing's ability to be serious as needed.

“Excuse me?”

“ We should make Wilford cupcakes!”

“Bing, I don't think cupcakes will solve Wilford’s trauma response” “For such a ‘logic’ dude, you’re pretty dumb,” Bing said, looking up some recipes. Google narrowed his electric blue eyes. Bing just smiled, “It's simple human stuff. Wilford may be different, but at his core, he's human. Humans who hurt can hurt others. So we make him not hurt by giving him something he likes. Cupcakes, plus Wilford, equals happy Wilford and everyone being okay” Irritation swelled in Google, “So we’re rewar-” “ We aren't rewarding anything. We’re comforting a human who hurts. A human who, whether you want to admit or not, you care about. A human whose part of this family, that we have become a part of. We both know I know more about humans than you. “ Bing’s face went almost solemn, pleading, “Trust me, Googs. It's not gonna ‘solve’ his deep-rooting stuff, but I’m sure it will calm him down for now. At least until Dark is back”

 Google wanted to be stubborn… but this wasn't the time. Bing was right. He hated it, but he cared about the Ipliers. Wilford was just crying at the moment, but he could become dangerous in just a moment, with no prompt. They had to ensure he went back to a stable state. “Fine,” Google said, pulling up the first recipe under ‘Cupcakes’ “ Google, you gotta be thoughtful with this. It's not about sweets. It’s about letting him know we care and are here for him. Try strawberry cupcakes” The irritated bot wanted to argue, but he could see the truth in Bings words, and him being right wasn’t the most important thing at the moment. Bing got a notification, “You're gonna have to make the cupcakes on your own, bro. I know you hate making humans food, but Yancy and ‘Nois are struggling to calm down Eric.” Google rolled his eyes, “Fine, whatever. I’ll do it” Bing punched his arm lightly. A human greeting or term of endearment, Google never understood. Why did humans show affection through violence? He chose not to scold Bing for adopting pointless human customs this time. “ You’re the best Googs. Message me if you need me, bro” Bing said, before rushing up the stairs

The house was fairly quiet. If you ignored Wilford’s sobs. Google headed into the kitchen, looking for strawberry cupcake recipes on a holographic screen. Bing said he had to be thoughtful. Was just strawberry enough? Was there more he should look for?

He didn’t know. He didn’t understand, still, how a stupid combination of flour, sugar, and other nonsense could fix this, no matter the flavor. The Android found one that looked highly rated that could be done with what was currently in the manor.

    1. Prepare for Baking: Preheat the oven to 350°F and prepare a cupcake pan with cupcake liners.

Since he didn’t eat, he often didn’t come into the kitchen. Now that he was standing in the door of the pantry, he saw a desperate need for reorganization. He put that on his Google Tasks app, for later

Bread, cereal, food dye, cans of soups and vegetables, chips…

He finally found the cupcake liners. As he preheated the oven, he also turned up his audio sensors. Although he didn’t like hearing Wilford cry, he was now the only one near. He would have to be aware if anything happened.

    2. Combine Dry Ingredients: Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium-sized bowl and set aside.

He hated cooking. He hated doing human tasks. Why should he have to assist if he didn’t need human things?

    3. Combine Butter, Sugar and Vanilla: In a large bowl, whisk the melted butter, sugar and vanilla extract together until well combined.

Dark had always respected this logic, so he never gave Google the human tasks. Instead, Google was asked to protect the ipliers. Everyone in the manor had their own jobs to make the household move smoothly, so it annoyed Google that the usual system was knocked out of place, and now to protect, he had to bake. 

    4. Add Eggs, Sour Cream and Milk: Add the eggs, sour cream and milk one at a time, mixing well after adding each. Adding them one at a time ensures they all incorporate nicely, without giving you a lumpy batter.

The fact that his wants were respected though, did odd things to his thought process. He had always hated living beings and that was that. When he was given as much respect as the others in the house, he started realizing he wasn't only protecting because he was told to.

   5. Add Dry Ingredients: Add the dry ingredients and whisk together until combined, but do not over-mix. 

It was because he wanted to. It was because he cared. He cared about every being in this house. Even Bing. He’d never admit it out loud, of course. He would never tell them how much he would do for even the stupidest, most illogical people in the house, like the Jims.

   6. Stir in Strawberries: Fold in the chopped strawberries gently. You don’t want to beat up your strawberries or over-mix the batter.

Or Wilford. His disregard for facts or logic annoyed Google greatly. When he first met Wilford he made the mistake of trying to understand him. All it did was made him glitch frantically, and lag in between. Wilford was loud, and often annoying.

7. Bake: Fill the cupcake liners a little more than half full and bake for 18-20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

He put the tin in the oven. Wilford was quite a bit to be around, but he treated Google the same as he treated the humans in the house. Google was an Iplier, and that sense of community and belonging made all the difference to him. He wasn’t a hunk of metal to them. Google said he hated humanity and a part of him did… but a part of him longed for it. A part of him loved that the ipliers showed it to him.

He started making buttercream icing for the cupcakes, and his mind went back to why he was doing it. Bing said it was the thought. It wasn’t the treat itself. Google was starting to understand. Of course, he never sobbed as Wilford was at the moment, but he had a faint sense of despair before. He had sat, wondering if there was more than endless tasks. He had felt there was nothing for him.

Dark worked with him. Dark found a way for him to contribute, but in a way Google was okay with. That meant so much to Google. The thought that Google was worth working with. He looked down at the icing, noticing he had been on autopilot for most of the process, caught up in his thoughts. The icing looked perfect. A glance in the oven showed that the cupcakes did as well. 

Perfect, but not thoughtful. His eyebrows furrowed. He needed something personal. A touch of Wilford. He wandered the kitchen, poking about. He stopped at the dreadfully unorganized pantry and stared at the box of food dye. He hesitated before grabbing it. There were a few small containers of heavy dye inside, all half-empty from multiple projects. Google never understood artificial colors.

He fished out the tiny bottle of red and put up the box. He headed over to the white frosting and dripped a few tiny drops into the bowl. The red was dark and ugly against the gentle off-white icing. He took a spoon and stirred the icing, till it started to go from ugly blood-like splotches to a cotton candy pink. Wilford liked pink. So the touch was thoughtful, right? He took out the cupcakes and iced them. He knew that he was supposed to let it set, but Wilford’s sobs could turn to violence at any moment.

He created swirls of pink on every cupcake, before putting a few on a plate. Now for the moment of truth. After a moment of hesitation, he walked into the living room, where Wilford sat in the middle of the floor, staring at the wall in wide-eyed grief and horror of scenes no one else could see.

Google spoke “Wilford?” The older ego looked over at Google quickly, and Google was unsure if Wilford was going to turn to violence again. It looked like Wilford was unsure too. Google set the cupcakes on the coffee table, “I just came to give these to you.” He said evenly. He knew showing anything could throw Wilford into a flight or fight response. His monotone nature served him well. Wilford’s eyes flicked to the cupcakes, and he seemed to grow more aware of what was around him. He got up, and rubbed his eyes, like a toddler who just woke up from a nap. “Did you make these, Google…?” He slurred out. Google nodded. “ I di-” Before he could finish, the mustached ego pulled him into a tight hug.

“That’s super thoughtful… thank you.”

Thoughtful. Who knew? A bit of pink dye, a stupid combination of flour, sugar, and other nonsense. 

After a moment of consideration, Google hugged him back. “You are welcome, Wilford.”