Title: Wake Up
“Please wake up Author you need to wake up now Author wake up-”
The cabin door flew inward and smacked against the wall when Edward shoved it open, allowing him to drag in the Author along with a gust of frigid wind and a thick, swirling pile of snow.
But he didn’t have time to worry about that now. He had to get the Author inside. Out of the snow and the cold he’d found him in.
“Author, please.” Edward gritted his teeth, managed to heave his boyfriend up onto the threadbare couch.
The Author didn’t reply. His head merely lolled against the arm of the couch. His lips were blue and his skin was deathly pale and freezing cold. A thin line of blood trickled lazily from his nose and more blood caked the half-frozen wound on the back of his head.
“Author-” Edward tore off his mittens, fumbled for a pulse, but tears blurred his vision and his hands shook too violently for him to be able to detect it, if it was even there anymore. “Author, please be alive.”
He’d found him mostly buried in a snowbank on his way in to the cabin, unresponsive and slowly dying due to extreme cold.
Edward had somehow, despite the Author’s greater weight and the blizzard that raged around him, managed to get him back to the cabin.
But what if it was all futile? What if the Author was dead?
Suddenly he felt a tremor run through the Author’s body, heard him give a small groan and saw his eyelids flutter.
“Oh my god.” Edward leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, choked back a sob of relief. “Author.”
He was alive. Half-frozen and wounded, but alive.
But he wouldn’t stay that way for long if Edward didn’t do something.
So, instead of burying his head in the Author’s frosty, sodden shirt and crying like he desperately wanted to, he got to work.
Tag: / aaaaaahhhh!!!!
Better Life
Summary: Dark asks the Host to create a better life for Wilford. One where there is no madness, so suffering. Just joy. A place where his creativity can flourish. No matter the consequences. Enjoy~
“You know, you’ll never see him again.” The Host’s words were pointed, sharp daggers into Dark’s fragile composure. “He will be out of reach.”
“That’s fine. He deserves it, the ability to get away from this all.” He told the Host in return. “He’s… not had the best life.”
“You say that as if this is all somehow your fault. When it was Mark’s. He created your story. You shouldn’t punish yourself for the actions of the man.”
Dark’s jaw locked and his aura flickered wildly at the mention of Mark. “I am not. Do as I asked, Host. Please.”
“If you insist… where do you want me to put him?”
“Somewhere he can be himself. Somewhere creative. Somewhere- Wil? Wilford how long have you been standing there? No, listen. Trust me, this is for the best. Host, start narrating. Now. Calm down Wilford, this is good for you. This is good-”
Willard J Walsh woke up a gasp. His forehead was coated with a thin layer of sweat, and he frowned. It was a dream so clear, it was almost like a memory. Fuck dreams.
emptynarration 