AU WHERE THE GOOFY EGOS ARE HUMANS AND THE SERIOUS EGOS ARE THEIR GUARDIAN ANGELS!!!!
:00000!!!!!!
Dark is Wilford’s long suffering Angel who basically is the only reason Wilford hasn’t gotten caught or severely hurt.
Bim trained under Dark and has just been assigned as Silver’s Angel and sees a lot of similarities between his tutor and his guardee……and may be a little bit smitten with him
Jims are not assigned to anyone but they are mostly means of communiication between Angels
King is assigned to Chase and masquerades as a human to watch over him….and also play with the squirrels
Bing. Right. Bing, is such a klutz that he’s watched over by four Angels. Oliver usually watches him, Red has an eye out, as does Green, but Google is more of a delegater.
MARE IS MAD’S ANGEL AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. he’s more like the little devil saying “Do it.”
those are all I can think of right now
*inhale* this iS AMAZING HOLY F U C K
Some people don’t have an Angel. They have a devil. They’re like a Guardian Devil but they’re more likely to break the rules to protect them. And maybe a little less hung up on ‘being nice’
Dr Iplier’s devil is the Host
Marvin’s devil is Anti
Colonel William’s devil is JJ
Phantom’s devil is the shadow man
I LOVE THIS
Mark had one. Nobody knows if she was an Angel or a Devil. They just know she lost her life.
They smol
(I didn’t know how else to show them to you)
Sharing this over here because more people need to see this wonderful, brilliant, fantastic fanart that Squishy did based!!!
The sterile, chemical smell of the clinic was far too familiar now. And if he had eyes to open, the Host wouldn’t doubt that he would open them to see white ceiling, white walls, medical equipment, rows of beds. Beds that weren’t empty.
Heartbeats hammered in his ears: some were weak and fluttery, others steady. He could hear his doctor’s heartbeat, stable and strong despite his frazzled, exhausted mind, could hear his voice as he spoke softly to his patients.
He could hear everything: heartbeats and voices and the machines that monitored them.
And, of course, he could hear the deafening silence of the only ego who didn’t need one.
The Host tensed, tiny shoots of pain spreading along his jaw as he clenched it, but no words curled into his mind, threatening to steal away his autonomy or his life. No blackness festered at the edges of his mind.
So he forced himself to relax, forced his fists to unclench, forced his fingers to spread out, smoothing over the cool, clean blankets instead of gripping them.
Seemed the dark had been tamed for now.
“There is only one ego who can be laid near Dark and still be considered safe.” The words slipped out of him, jagged and laced with pain and the drugs he’d been given to suppress that pain, just as he registered the solid, heavy presence in the bed immediately next to Dark’s.
“Wilford Warfstache cannot breathe on his own. He is hooked up to many machines.” His narrations were a relief. A relief that he- that Dr. Iplier, that Wilford, that the others, that even Dark- was still alive. Alive, despite the dull ache of his chest as he breathed and his jaw as he spoke. “His hand dangles off the bed, inches away from Dark’s-”
“Host.” Dr. Iplier sounded relieved, then alarmed as he came over, reaching to prod at the Host’s jaw with gentle, worried fingers. “Don’t speak. It’ll only aggravate your injuries.”
After a moment his hands retreated, only to take one of the Host’s own and squeeze it tightly. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it.”
The Host is okay, he wanted to say, the Host would never leave his doctor alone.
But he remained silent, like Dr. Iplier had asked, and chose instead to focus on the doctor’s touch, to focus on the fact that there was now light in his mind in place of the red-blue dark.
the host never exactly /wore/ these types of things to the office. especially since it was dark who was kept like this. ready to be used and taken in any way as any of the other egos pleased. groaning as the plug was pushed in deeper as he tried to type on his braille typewriter. grinding in his seat.
god, did he wish he could be in dark’s place sometime. on his back as the other stuffed him full of their cocks. his mouth being fucked mercilessly as he cried for air. one ego pulling his hair as they spat insults to his face, making him harder and harder.
“you’re a sorry ask excuse of an ego,” the voice snarls, “only good for sucking cock and begging to be fucked like some bitch in heat. you’re a dirty fucking whore – you know what? you’re not even allowed to cum on us.”
host’s fantasy growing dirtier as he’s slapped around. clawed at, having another cock forced into his hole like dark has had.
whimpering as he gets caught up. not hearing his office door open and not hearing google sneak up behind him.
the robot wasnt dumb. he knew exactly what the host was doing. the tented front of his coat painfully obvious as he swiveled host around.
“wh…what?! who’s there–”
“mr. host. you are awfully disgusting doing /this/” he grabs at host’s hard on, “at work.”
“mmmph–” he moans – he…he can’t help himself, so needy. needing a rougher touch. the usual egos he fucked were too gentle. too sweet.
he needed pain.
“fuck me–” is all host can get out as google grabs him and pushed all his desk items off to make room. crashing host’s body against the desk, whimpering as google rips his clothes away, leaving him in only his coat. crying out as google only bites and scratches at his tender skin. biting his lip as google only lubes up his own dick – too far gone. too pained. too turned on.
he bucks as google stretches him open, crying out more as google thrusts in deep. hard. downright screaming. google grabbing his chin, making host kiss him, host moaning and yelling even more.
“stay still, whore. you’re gonna take what i fuckin’ give you.”
host is bloodied and bitten and bruised. pained and so utterly blissed out.
“Dark?” Host murmurs into the darkness, hands folded on his stomach. His head pounds, his narrations flowing through his head so loud he can hardly hear himself think. “Yes, Host?” Dark’s voice comes from somewhere nearby, soft and lulling. “I’m tired.” Host whispers, voice sounding feeble and pathetic even to his own ears.
There’s the sound of a sigh followed by the soft creaking that always accompanies Dark when he makes a proper entrance. Host listens as the man approaches his bedside, relaxing when a cool hand gently smooths the hair back from his forehead. “Then sleep, Cecil.” “They’re too loud.” Host says, and Dark hums. The bed dips as Dark sits down, another cold hand finds Host’s arm.
“I will quiet them for you, then. Are you ready?” “I am.” Host whispers, tensing as Dark’s aura gently eases into his mind. He relaxes as the harsh chill warms to something more akin to a gentle breeze in his head. His narrations quiet, powers being pushed back until Host’s mind is nothing but his own thoughts. Quiet.
“Thank you.” “Of course, Cecil.” “Will you stay?” Host asks, reaching out to grab Dark’s hand. Silence follows his question, but eventually Dark stands.
“For a little while.” Dark promises, and Host nods his head sleepily. Dark doesn’t leave until Host is fast asleep.
/ Fairy Host!! 😀
/ If I think about it, it could just as well be normal Host too :’)
/ But this is my idea of how fairy Host looks like, without wings, they too big for the pages anyways
emptynarration 