#antiipliers
((I thought of this while [re]watching SAVE DAT RUMP!! | Mr. President so blame Mark for this rofl You can also read it on AO3 if you’d prefer =D Either way, please enjoy this A+I AU fluff!))
Dark runs a bodyguard firm called Iplier Protection with his husband, Wilford.
They utilize a variety of methods ranging from swordsmanship (headed by Yani) to gun-slinging (headed by, of course, Wilford, himself) to even cybernetics (headed jointly by Google and Bing) and legality (headed by Dark, himself).
Next to their headquarters is a little antique store called Ancient Eye.
It’s Yani’s favorite place to get her tool of trade; and it’s run by Anti.
~
The Ipliers hadn’t paid much attention to it, at first.
It was just a little store they passed on their way into work every morning; nothing special about it. It might have had a few cool furniture items here and some particularly nice looking decorations there; but it was just a stuff old place full of stuffy old things and they assumed it was run by a stuff old person.
And they were just too high end for that kind of thing.
Then, Yani got locked out in the rain one day.
~
Her job had run too long that day and she missed the carpool back home.
Normally, when this happens, it’s fine because she usually has a key; but, ridiculously, she lost her key down a manhole while fighting for her client.
Dark didn’t let her hear the end of it when she called for a ride home.
Coincidently, he didn’t let Anti hear the end of it, either.
~
The antique dealer had been stepping out for a peaceful moment in the rain.
It’s his favorite kind of weather and relaxes him greatly no matter the problem.
So, he’d been surprised to step outside and find his serene moment impossible because what appeared to be a young girl was standing out in the pouring rain getting her ear yelled off by what appeared to be her father(?) on the phone.
After an awkward moment, he offered to let her wait for Dark inside.
~
Yani hadn’t really expected much from the old store.
Her interests (outside of swords) tend to lean towards more… modern things. Like video games and computers. The oldest thing she likes is probably music.
She’s not even that into paintings or books or statues.
But that’s not all Anti has.
~
Her jaw almost dropped when she saw it: his collection of all things SHARP.
Spears, daggers, knives, even her beloved swords were all there.
Hanging on walls, sitting in cases, encased in resin…
Dark ended up adding Anti to their protection list.
(Free of charge, no less, per Yani’s insistance.)
((Set in my PastelPunksAU [retroactively named lmao] aka the Pretty in Pastel Punk Pink AU; because while the Septics got to kin with pastelpunk!Anti, the Ipliers didn’t really which is wrong as Wilford is 100% also a rose punk like Anti ended up being and as @ashiiplier helped me see: I REALLY need more Anti+Ipliers Found Family in my life so I’m gonna bloody MAKE it >=3))
Pink is Wilford’s color.
It’s his jam. His bread and butter.
But, he soon comes to learn that it’s Anti’s, also.
He has a friend, it seems, in his pretty little spectrum; and he plans to enjoy it~
~
It began with Its chromatic aberration: lime green and hot pink.
Wilford hadn’t paid much attention to the latter, at first, and saw the former more because Anti constantly and consistently drew more attention to it when It could (Later, Wilford will know that this was due to Its desperation to be included—SEEN—as a Septic BY the Septics instead of some ill-fitting/unwanted outcast.); to the point that It actually IDENTIFIED as a literal LIME, once, to Dark.
The stoic daemon had made a joke about this in passing; but Wilford…
He was intrigued.
~
So, he did the only logical thing that he could think of.
He approached the Honorary Iplier with a basket. Of fruits.
Anti had looked at him oddly, clearly perturbed and questioning Wilford’s sanity (HA! Jokes on It, though! Wilford never had any to begin with! That’s William.), but, surprisingly, waited patiently for the gunman’s explanation.
And, boy, did he have one…
~
“Sooo, this is you~”
Wilford set the lime on the bit of roof between them, balancing it like themselves with his loose jaw cocked to one side. Anti watches him in mild concern but mostly curiosity; especially as he picks up a plum, next.
“This is Darki~” he squishes the lime and plum together.
(Are they meant to be cuddling because Dark doesn—)
He then adds a dragon fruit, “An’ this is me~!”
~
He’d proceeded to try and pair up each Iplier with a fruit on hand.
Anti had tried to help him by glitching in fruits that Wilford didn’t have with him but would fit the Iplier in question; it was difficult for It, however, and It struggled a lot because the apple meant for Dr. Iplier only made It think of Jackieboy-Man, the Septic Hero that hates him but no one else, and Henrik, the Septic’s doctor, whom would risk his life to save any Septic but Anti (understandable but still).
It was around the time they realized Anti’s was the only green that it happened.
“… Ah don’ fit in anyhwere…”
~
Wilford had looked at It for the first time.
Really TRULY looked at It: at IT; not the lime green rings around Its orange irises or the forest green sclera and hair around that or even the mint green of Its skin, but at IT and Its breaking/bleeding/breathing body that glitches HOT PINK.
And he smiled, eyes soft and SANE and sweet.
“You fit in here, my friend; always.”
((Titled after House Flipper because this idea came to me while watching Seán’s old vids of it.))
When Dark’s cousin returns to Iplier Manor, he brings back more than luggage: he brings BAGGAGE.
Completely unprepared for an influx of children—especially FIVEOF THEM—Dark quickly finds that he’s not only running out of room for his extended family but also running out of patience as Yani, Babi, Annus, Heist, and Space (a.k.a.: Dadi’s kids) not only cause a ruckus but actually DESTROY Iplier Manor, too (somehow even one-upping his husband, WILFORD, in terms of devastation).
His home in ruins, Dark does the only thing he can think of:
He calls the handyman ad blasting from Yani’s stereo.
“TOP O’ T’E MORNIN’ TA YA!!!”
Dark physically lurches back from his own phone and almost drops it completely when a painfully loud Irish voice practically belts his ear off in greeting.
It’s not much quieter, though, from an arm’s distance.
“I’m Seán, owner ov Top o’ t’e Mornin’ Flippers;
“‘Ow can I help ya?!”
Dark takes a moment to center himself, both in respect to the yelling Irishman and in regards to the fact that he basically just lost his HOME to underage loons.
“Yes, hello. I…” He glances back at his manor and winces, fearing for it and wondering if it’s even salvageable—perhaps he should just buy a new property?
Or just go back to Marc—NO.
NEVER that.
“Uh… do you do full builds—like, from the ground up?”
“Pre or Post demoliti’n?” The Irishman’s accent makes it hard to understand him but it also makes it very obvious that he’s not alone: there’s some New Yorker groaning in the background about best parts and Dark has to bite back a retort: his HOME being DESTROYED is NOT—
The point; or to their knowledge.
“Post.”
“Ah man…”
Dark refrains from commenting on the Yankee’s complaint—aloud, anyway; internally, he’s ripping the brat a new one. A very BLOODY new one.
And he’d know a thing or two about that.
“Sure, we’ll send Anti ov’r right away!”
“So… t’ey jus’… blew it up???”
Anti, as Seán had called him (that can’t actually be his real name, can it???), has an accent somehow WORSE than his employer—but he’s more sympathetic than him or the Yank, too, which Dark honestly appreciates (and, speaking of, Dark really shouldn’t be talking about real names, all things considered—actually, maybe this Anti person is trans, too, and also named himself?).
“Yes,” Dadi chimes in when Dark is too distracted (by Anti or the memories, nobody knows) to talk, looking apologetically at his older cousin, “Again: sorry.”
Dark just sighs, “We needed to get up to code, anyway.”
Anti is, apparently, the architect or designer of Seán’s crew.
He doesn’t build anything (apparently that’s more Jackie’s and Chase’s job) but, instead, maps out and designs the layout and levels of whatever project.
This means that he came to their not-house with a ruler and a PDA.
And nothing else.
But compassion.
“That’s so cool!!!”
Bing, one of Dark’s [many] younger siblings, honestly shocks none of them when he latches onto Anti almost as soon as he arrives. Being the more artistic one between him and his twin brother, Google, but still just as big a lover of tech, Anti’s PDA is fascinating to him because it not only functions as an art pad, allowing Anti to easily sketch out the design of their new manor with a stylus, but also as a holographic projector so they can easily view and WALK THROUGH their new home before it’s even built to get a feel for it and clarify its design.
Even Google, as stoic as Dark, and Wilford, their original loon, is taken by it.
And Anti seems perfectly comfortable, if not downright enthused, with them.
(Privately, Dark wonders if the rest of Seán’s crew respect his approach—something which might come across to such hands-on people as too detached—as much as they do; and, after Anti blushes and stammers under their praise, he decides that: 1. no, they don’t; and 2. Anti deserves more love than that.)
