“Author I just- Are you sure about this?” Edward asks, gripping to the sleeve of his flannel. Author heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes as he turns to face Edward.
“You’re being dramatic, I’m not going to die.”
“Please don’t go.” Edward begs, and Author shakes his head while pulling his arm free.
“I’m leaving, Edward. You can’t stop me, but you can wait for me. I’ll come back, okay? I’ll come home.” Author steps closer for a moment to press a kiss onto Edward’s forehead before pulling away. “Stay safe while I’m gone.”He walks away, leaving Edward behind without a second thought.
Author returns to his boyfriend looking half dead, sleep deprived and worn down after what Author knows is too many long hours at the hospital. Edward practically collapses into his arms, nuzzling his face into Author’s chest as the taller man tucks him close.
“Carry me.” Edward mumbles after a few minutes of silent holding, and Author obliges with a soft chuckle. “I missed you.” Edward says next.Author doesn’t return the sentiment, but Edward didn’t expect him to.
Tag: dr iplier
“You’re being dramatic.” (okay but iplier to author? ) ( also all these prompts are so great for just. author being more seriously hurt and having to go to iplier (“Not this time!” “You’re lying!” “Get your hands off of me!” “I don’t need you.”))
“Writey Jim is very hurt!” Cries one of the Jims upon crashing unceremoniously into Dr. Iplier’s office. The man shrieks (in a mostly dignified manner) in terrified surprise, jumping out of his chair to face them. The two Jims stand just inside his room, one still in the doorway with the other properly crouched down inside. The doctor observes the both of them before shaking his head to make way for clear thinking and responding.
“Who?”
“Writey Jim!” One Jim wails, the other nodding mutely but emphatically behind him. Doc’s brain stutters as it tries to recall who the fuck they’re talking about, whether it’s really just another Jim or one of the other-
“Author?” He asks disbelievingly, and the two immediately point at him and nod.“Yes! Author Jim!” Shouts the crouching one before he bites his lip. “He is very hurt! Doctor Jim needs to help him!” Doc nods his head a bit, furrowing his brow.
“Of course, of course just- I need- shit- fuck- I need supplies.” The two Jims make various odd whining sounds as though the idea of him taking longer is that concerning, and with a chill Doctor Iplier realizes it could be that concerning.
“What condition is he in, Jims? How bad?” The doctor asks as he brushes past them and into the clinic to begin gathering things together.
“We think it was a shooty! We need to investimigate more but Author Jim was hurt so bad we knew we had to act fast to save his life!” Jim states firmly, and Doc Iplier nods his head.
“Right, okay. Fuck- alright. Lead the way.”
28 and 31 for Driplierst~?
“I care about you.”
“You haven’t lost me.”—
Host was tired. The day had worn out it’s welcome, and it wasn’t even six o’ clock. Memories, unwelcome ones, were grabbing at him. The wrongs he had done, the nights spent playing god, the mornings where he left Edward all alone in the bed they now shared every single night. Even then, he missed his sight. The respect. He missed being the bat wielding god of stories some days, back before he knew he was simply a host to his guest, to the magic in his soul.
And he was stronger than ever. Losing wasn’t a defeat- it was eye opening. It strengthened him. The loss of his eyes and his bat weren’t welcome losses, but god knows what he would’ve been if he had kept them. The losses were heavy things to carry, though. Each open ended future, each what if, made his hands and voice shake as he narrated the open book in his lap to himself, remembering a time when he could simply look at the book and read in peaceful silence.
He’d told Edward about the days where he felt like he had lost it all, the last time that everything was too much, too heavy.
Edward kissed his hand and said, simply,
‘You haven’t lost me.’Which made him think about the times he had left him in bed, or kissed without a second glance, all the awful things he had done to him. The Author had thought he was so fucking glorious, so magnificent. A past he was happy to bury, despite the high cost.
His eyes. His respect. His writing. God knows what else he’d lost. All that for more magic. More power that he kept chained up only because he knew what it did to him. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and Host knew what that type of magic could do to him.
There was a knock at the library door, and it was with a quivering voice that he said to come in. It was Edward, he knew it because of the narration, and a part of him wished he could still be surprised by things. When the world was an open book, it was hard not to read it.
“Pumpkin? I have the rest of the day off. I’m going to bed, do you want to join me?”
The Author would’ve shooed him away, gone back to reading without a care in the world, seated like a king even in the armchair of the library.
The Host, however, nodded, and stood.
He stumbled his way over to Edward and practically fell into the man’s arms, knowing that Edward knew exactly what he was thinking, because he payed attention. The world was an open book to Host, and Host was an open book for Edward. The one thing he hadn’t lost, his prince, his Edward.Soon enough, they were in the safety of their room together with the soft bed and warm blankets. Host took off his coat, laying it on the pile of blankets as he always did, and let Edward unbutton the buttons of his shirt before sliding it off, then his pants, and soon enough the Host was pulling back the blankets, Edward following fast behind.
Host tucked himself close to Edward, burying his face into his chest, but he couldn’t shake the guilt from the Author.
“Prince? The Host wants to ask you something. Why did you never leave?”
Edward ran a hand through his hair, and Host couldn’t help but sigh at the touch.
“Because, I care about you. Always have, and I always will.”
Host smiled, and felt the guilt shrivel away. He clung to Edward, and soon enough he was asleep. Safe, warm, and dreaming peacefully next to the one thing that he could still call his.
88- I’m better, now that you’re here, 89- I could never forget you, 94- I won’t lose you, too with Author and Doc?
“I’m better now that you’re here.”
“I could never forget you.”
“I won’t lose you too.”—
The Author was a god. A magnificent, all mighty god. The world was his in his hands, it bowed to his will, leaned to the sway of his voice, and let itself be moved by him. He was the strong hand of god upon the earth, he had the ability. The power. Perched inside his library like a king, he was all mighty.
He shouldn’t be heartbroken over Edward- no, Dr. Iplier. First names were too personal, that’s why he never told the doctor his true name. It was always Author, as it always will be. But this was a personal thing. Heartbreak. A heartbroken god. Who would’ve thought?
The Doctor had pushed him away, told him to give him space. Author was left outside of his room with his bat in his hand, journal in his pocket feeling red hot as it called to be written in. Regret- he actually was feeling regret. Laughable
What else did he have to lose besides Dr. Iplier? His magic felt like it was slipping through his fingers; things once effortless were now impossible, like milking stones. And now, the doctor was pushing him out too. He couldn’t lose him. No, not his soft little prince. When he gained back his powers, he’d make the world truly his. He’d be a god, Dr. Iplier by his side.
“I can’t lose you too,” he whispered to himself. He’d gone from Edwards room to the library, and seated himself in one of the chairs, journal in his lap. The journal…
Could he-?
No. He would never do that to Dr. Iplier.
But he was a god! The doctor was but a human. There are more important things to be done.
Author tapped his fingers on the journal. It was better to regret than be open chested, heartbroken for him. He reached to his desk, picked up a pen, and began to write.
—
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the library door, and Author shut the journal before casually tossing it across the room. He stood, sauntering over to the door and opening it to see Dr. Iplier, red eyed and hands shaking. The man relaxed as the door opened. He gave himself a second to admire the way words on paper turned to imagery, before falling into character.
“Come in, sit down.”
The doctor did just that, nodding and rubbing his eyes.
“Are you alright, Dr. Iplier?”
The doctor smiled, and Author thanked himself for writing that detail in.
“I’m better now that you’re here. I… didn’t want to be alone, I guess. You’re always good company, Author.”
A stabbing of longing rang though Author as he imagined how much sweeter that would’ve been if it was actually Dr. Iplier, not Authors hand guiding him. Maybe the words were just him speaking to himself through the poor doctor. The only good company was himself. He’d gone too far, and now he was just a lonely, heartbroken god-
Dr. Iplier was in his lap, kissing him with those soft, perfect lips.
“I almost thought you forgot about me,” Edward whispered between desperate, heated kisses.
“I could never forget about you,” Author cooed. That was true. Then, the doctor kissed him again, hands sliding under his shirt, and any thought that he went too far disappeared.
“Don’t underestimate me. I may be small, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak.” (how about a short story with Host saying this to someone?)
( I would’ve never imagined someone would request me for something written just like that, you made me ver ver hap. I hope this is gud )
Host had lived in these walls for as long as he could think. He had originated here, been practically born here. He was something akin to a house-spirit, the house was his home and his domain. He kept it safe from bad spirits, though even he got overwhelmed sometimes.
He was at a disadvantage to them, as he was blind. He didn’t know why, or how, though he had always been like that. He had found ways to get around his lack of sight, using his hearing and a bit of magic to help him.
He couldn’t help it when someone began living here. He watched them, as much as he could “watch”. Listening to the man go about his life. He wasn’t here a lot, seemed very stressed, and as far as he could tell, he was a doctor. He didn’t know the human’s name, though he referred to him as doctor if he thought about him.
The doctor wasn’t home, and it was night. Host was used to fixing little things around the house, making sure the doctor would have small surprises. Making sure there was just enough water in the coffee pot to brew coffee, finding the last teabag when the man thought there were none left. Sharpening pencils, making sure papers were sorted and tidy.
There were fruits rotting, Host could smell it. So he wanted to make sure they were going to be okay enough to eat for another day or two for the doctor, for him to hopefully throw them away or eat. He found the reason for them rotting hadn’t been time, though.
He stood in front of the bowl, and got cold chills. He could hear the quietest of whispers around him, the cold stared in his back. All around him. He backed into the bowl, knowing he couldn’t take care of multiple spirits. When one came close to him, he used a magic spark of light to shoo it away for a moment, though he knew that just agitated it.
He was afraid as he felt the spirits coming closer, when suddenly the light was turned on and the spirits dispersed in the bright light. He sighed in relief, before quickly hopping off the counter. He didn’t want to get caught by the human after all. He was afraid something would happen to him if he was found.
It was again the middle of the night, and Host was up and walking around. The doctor was home, but in bed. He had seemed very tired and exhausted, so Host wasn’t afraid of being found. Right now though, he sat on top of the kitchen table, eating some breadcrumbs he had found. He usually ate what he found laying around, nothing anyone would miss.
“Huh..?”. Host was startled when he heard the voice of the doctor. The man had apparently woken up and walked around with the lights off. No wonder Host hadn’t noticed him. But now it was too late to hide, or at least, not have been seen. It didn’t stop him from hurrying to jump off the table and go hide, even when the doctor made startled and confused noises.
The next time Host had been found by the doctor, was while Host was napping. He was laying behind books in the booshelves, somewhere the man usually never looked. But it just so happened that the doctor wanted a certain book, and behind it, he could see Host. Eyes wide, the man was afraid of making noises in case he woke the small little being up.
He left for a few minutes, before returning. Carefully laying down a little piece of paper and a buttered piece of bread. He left to read his book then, leaving the tiny person in peace.
When Host woke up, he more than less stumbled over the piece of paper. He was startled, knowing there hadn’t been anything there before. He did find the piece of bread too, which he took, tilting his head. Had.. the human found him? And not done anything? Well, he had given him a gift. He smiled, sitting behind some other books to eat.
“Don’t underestimate me. I may be small, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak.”. Host glared up at Edward, not very happy about the human’s words. Just because he was small, didn’t mean he could take care of himself! A lot of spirits were just dangerous for him.
“I didn’t mean you’re weak! It’s just that… you know?”, Edward tried to explain, though didn’t even find the words to explain at all. Host rolled his eyes, arms crossed.
“Compared to me you are?..”, Edward tried again, and he saw and heard Host sigh. He couldn’t really deny that fact. Host was just a few inches tall, of course he was weaker than Edward.
“Alright alright. Then you won’t mind me being carried by you either.”, Host huffed, jumping and climbing up onto Edward’s head. The man chuckled, rolling his eyes.
“I might, your majesty.”, Edward said and chuckled.
U wanna write more about swap Hosty boy? Because I love my boy. Maybe he gets injured or sick and his friends are all worried mother mode :’D
Dr. Iplier is painstakingly gentle as he wraps Host’s wrist, glancing up at him from time to time to make sure he’s still doing alright. Host is much more relaxed than when he first entered, limping and in tears. Now he’s calmed him breathing, cleaned his face, and is waiting on Google and Dark to pick him up from the clinic.
“Thank you,” he rasps as the doctor finishes bandaging him up. His ankle still hurts, but he knows the pain medication should kick in soon. The doctor nods minutely, setting things away or to the side to be put away later. “Your help means a lot to me, Edward.”The doctor pauses at the use of his first name, but then continues with his movements. Again, he only nods, but Host knows the affect the gratitude has on the recluse of a doctor. Host wishes the doctor wasn’t so firmly closed off from the world, he knows he’s capable of being a good, kind man. Still, the Host will not push him to be more open. If it takes time, then so be it. The Host will give him all the time in the world.
“You’re a very good friend,” it comes out as barely more than a whisper, but the doctor hears it.
“I try.” The first words the doctor has spoken since Host arrived, and Host has to smile.
“You succeed.”The clinic doors fly open, causing both egos within to flinch. Dark dashes in, Google hot on his trail as they make a b-line for Host.
“Hosty! Oh Host! What happened?” Dark demands, coming to a miraculous stop right in front of Host. He hardly sways when Google’s stop is less elegant and the android ends up crashing into his back.
“The Host would rather not discuss it now, if that’s alright?” Host requests softly, smiling shyly when Dark nods enthusiastically.
“Of course! You don’t have to! Are you alright, though?” Host nods at that, still smiling as Dark gently helps him off of the examining table.
“The Host is going to be fine, Dark. He thanks you for the concern.”Dark places an affectionate kiss on his cheek that makes Host warble out a laugh, allowing the other ego to pull him into a gentle hold.
“Let’s get you home and settled into bed. I’ll make some soup while you and Google watch a movie. Does that sound good, Hosty?”
“Dark, that sounds perfect.”As the trio heads out, the doctor watches them go in silence. For the first time in a while, he allows himself a smile.
Host is well cared for.
Two hearts and one core
Host is tired.
His wings and his back ache, his eyes bleed, his narrations force themselves forward rapidly and harshly. He’s tired and he wants to sleep. The day has been long, his latest project proving to be more difficult than he had originally intended. Numerous times he has requested Dark, Bim, and Wilford read over the script he is creating for it.
Though they insist he’s doing well, the Host’s craving for this project to turn out perfectly nags him into redoing and starting over more than he needs to.Now his brain hurts, his eyes ache, and he wants his bed.
He makes his way carefully to his room, avoiding any of the egos still up and about as though they’re some kind of plague. His wings stay drawn close to his sides despite the fact they just want to stretch.
When he finally approaches the door to his room, his safe haven, he wants to scream when he hears voices. It takes him much to long to realize just who those voices belong to, and the moment he does he relaxes with a soft sigh.
Owly Hosty is a small bab. A smol. his boyfriends smother him in love. they carry him around. hosty flusters his feathers to feel bigger if he’s in a pouty mood. he loves being tall and being on high things. loves to be on shoulders. smol owl bab
No one is sure how Host ended up as a child. It baffles everyone, but they decide to just make do until a solution presents itself.
The small boy with fluffy, downy wings, is undeniably adorable, Edward decides as he picks Host up to carry him down to the kitchen for lunch.Host coos and chirps at him, wings flapping in excitement as Edward mentions chicken nuggets for lunch. Edward laughs softly, shutting one eye as one wing flaps upward and smacks the side of his face.
“Host, try and control those wings of yours for me?” He requests, smiling as the child blushes and tucks his wings back to his sides.
“Sorry Eddie.” The child huffs, and Edward places a gentle kiss on his head.“It’s alright, Host. You didn’t mean to.” Host bounces back, then, feathers smoothing from where they had puffed up while the child pouted. He grins blindly up at Edward, begin to wriggle excitedly again when they reach the kitchen and he can smell the nuggets.
Bim giggles at the sight of the small owl boy in Doc’s arms, watching the doctor settle Host down at the table.“Who’s ready for some chicken nuggies?” Bim coos, carrying the plate over and dramatically placing it down in front of Host. Host lets out a thrilled screech which is less cute but definitely in tune with the bird of which his wings originate.
The child settles in to eat, and Edward heads off to continue his work covering how to get Host back to normal.
I LOVE MY BIRD BOY. IMAGINE GOOGLE AND HOST CHIRPING AT EACH OTHER THE CUTIES MMGHHH AND IPLIER FINDING IT SO CUTE HIS BOYS ARE SUCH CHIRPY BOYS.
Weeks after their relationships began, the three find themselves spending even more time together than before. The doctor and Google may not be romantically involved with one another, but they had still ended up becoming close friends. Host enjoys the time he spends with them, showing off his wings and flight skills for them.
One day they decide a picnic sounds fun, so all three head out together. Doctor Iplier is quieter than usual due to a late night spent at the clinic, but he’s still happy to be out with them. Google and Host do most of the talking for him, letting him occasionally butt into the conversation if he so wishes to. Otherwise, he’s content just to listen.
Especially because listening gives him time to enjoy the small, dorky things the two have picked up.As well as having wings, Host has the ability to mimic sounds made by Barn owls and other species of birds almost perfectly. Over time, he had begun to respond to Google’s chirping laughter.
Host or Google would say something amusing, and Google would let out a series of amused chirps. Host would then respond in kind with his own, deeper, chirps. The doctor couldn’t help but flush and laugh at how adorable it all was.He didn’t know if he loved Google, but even if he didn’t he found the android to be surprisingly dorky and cute at times. He did love the Host, and he had always known there was more to the odd man with wings than what showed on the surface.
The doctor was happy with his chirpy boys, especially when they didn’t wake him up once he fell asleep on their picnic blanket.Things were good, maybe even perfect, and that’s all they could ask for.
also if you wanna, I’d be very happy with more owl host. ip and googs crushing on him and both confessing to host at different times, and host likes them both and he wants to be with both if he can
He’s just come in after a flight to clear his mind when he finds the doctor in his library. The man is tired, the Host can tell even without his narrations, but he gives the Host a smile.
“I promised to bring you a care kit that would make cleaning your feathers easier.” The doctor explains, pressing a small box into the Host’s hands. Host smiles softly, heart warmed by the fact the doctor had stayed up even longer to make sure the box made its way directly to Host.“Thank you, Edward.” The Host murmurs, stilling in surprise as a gently hand brings a handkerchief up to his face to wipe away some of the blood that perpetually rests on his cheeks.
“Anything for you.” Edward says, and while Host thinks he means to say it almost teasingly it comes across much too serious. And, if Host really turns the words over in his head, the doctor seems sad.The Host gently takes the doctor’s hand, grip tight but gentle. “Is something on your mind, doctor?” Host asks, narrating softly as the doctor’s heart speeds up.
“I- nothing- nothing serious.” The doctor says, and Host knows he’s lying.
“Doctor, you can tell the Host anything. We are friends.”
“Yes. Yes we- we are I just- I don’t want to- you are- that is to say-” The doctor ducks his head and tries to pull his hand away, the Host knows it’s so he can bring it up to his chest and fidget with the collar of his shirt. He always fidgets with the collar of his shirt with both hands when he’s nervous.
emptynarration 