#hostieoriginal

Tw: gun, blood

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The Host sat on the chair, tied to it. He was certainly not happy about having his arms tied behind his back and his feet tied to the legs of the chair. Nor was he happy about the sock being used as a gag in his mouth.

It tasted disgusting and he would have spit it out, had it not been taped to his mouth. What kind of self respecting kidnapper would use their own sock, pulled straight from their horrible and tacky shoe.

If he could, he'd glare at the scoundrel that had done this to him, who had just walked into the small dressing room he had placed the Host in.

Wilford walked in looking satisfied with the situation at hand and the Host hated that he was so in the dark right now without his narrations.

“I don't take shit from nobody and that includes you too Hostie.” Wilford said waving his gun around and eventually it settled against the Host's forehead.

The Host flinched at the feeling of the cold barrel resting against his forehead. He tried to speak, but the disgusting gag in his mouth muffled his words.

Wilford didn't seem interested in what he had to say, so he keep prattling on in the Host's opinion.

“I'd let you talk, Hostie, but I know exactly what you'd pull.” Wilford said, cocking the gun.

It was a revolver, but Host didn't know that he had that particular gun drawn. He just knew that one wrong move and Wilford would blow his brains out.

The click of the gun being cocked caused the Host to panic and he moved as far from the gun as he could manage.

“You get to test your luck Host. Let's see if you get out of this with your brains intact.” Wilford giggled as he squeezed the trigger.

There was another click, but nothing happened and the Host breathed  sigh of relief.

Wilford frowned, almost disappointed with the result.

“You stay alive for now, but I'll be back once I attend to some things.” Wilford said storming off in a flurry of pink and yellow that was his aura.

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Day One:

Warning: Death

It was a hard day for Dr. Iplier. He hadn’t had any sleep for a long time and he hadn’t eaten anything in awhile. He felt wilted and tired from his long days in the ER.

He sighed as he walked out of the Hospital getting ready to go home to his lover who was likely waiting for him to get home. He was so tired and ready to just lie in bed with his lover and kiss them and hold them.

He got in the car and started the engine. He put on his seatbelt and slowly started his car and breathed a sigh of relief that he was finally off of work. He smiled and pulled out of the parking lot.

As he drove, he slowly got sleepier and sleepier. Until he fell asleep as he drove. Then suddenly all around him was a bright light.

The Host was at home at ego inc when it happened. He felt it. Like an arrow through his heart. He gasped and fell to his knees as he grabbed at his heart.

Wilford, who was nearby, ran to him and helped him into a chair.

“What’s wrong my friend?” He asked holding him up and not letting him slide out of the chair.

Fat bloody tears fell from his face and he sobbed. He was crushed and he didn’t understand why.

Wilford was shocked and he didn’t know exactly what to do. He held Host as he tried to figure out what was wrong with his good old buddy.

The Host softly narrated to himself and gasped, suddenly getting up and running out the door.

Wilford stood there unsure of whether to follow, but he did anyways. He saw it was raining terribly hard and he was soaked in a matter of seconds.

The Host was running forward towards the highway nearby.

Wilford saw him going towards the cars and he sprinted forward and caught him by his coat before he could run straight into traffic and get hit.

He held the struggling Host close and pulled him away from the traffic. The Host fought tooth and nail, but was unsuccessful against the stronger man.

Wilford managed to pull him away and he turned him around. The Host immediately collapsed into his arms and sobbed once again. He cried and made unintelligible sounds mixed in with his terrible sobbing. After a while of simply holding him, Wilford finally managed to calm him down and get him to stop crying.

“He’s dead.” Was all the Host said.

Wilford was slightly shocked by that statement, but not entirely as he knew it was something bad if it reduced the Host to such a mess.

Wilford was confused however as to who was dead.

“Who, my friend?” He asked.

“Edward.” He said. The Host was numb to it all and simply felt the name tumble off his tongue.

Tw: blood mention, unconsciousness

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It had taken a while to get the Host stable from the blood loss and hit to the head he had sustained. Now the Host lay on the bed completely knocked out while Wilford stood by his side.

He had managed to construct some story about finding the Host in a dressing room passed out and he just hoped the Host wouldn't make a scene when he woke up.

Dr. Iplier had told Wilford that the Host would be fine after some rest and some string medication and a blood transfusion. The transfusion was done successfully thanks to Bim who donated some blood.

Wilford sat in silence unsure of what to do. He was really only staying there out of duty and guilt.

He stayed there, simply twiddling his thumbs and had nothing to do until Dark walked in.

Then he knew he was screwed.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Dark growled already knowing that Wilford had something to do with it.

Wilford chuckled and gave his answer. “Hostie here couldn’t take a bit of rough and tumble, and not in the sexy way.”

Dark looked absolutely livid and he grabbed Wilford slamming him against a wall.

Wilford suddenly looked nervous at how Dark was reacting.

“Whoa Dark we're in public. At least buy me dinner first.” Wilford said with a faked grin.

Dark growled and moved him to slam him into the wall again. This time Wilford hit his head against the wall, earning an ‘ow’ from him.

“I know you're crazy, but this is fucked up even for you Wil.” Dark said angrily. “I read the medical report and he nearly died.”

Wilford kinda just shrugged. “He would have got back up.”

With that sentence, Dark let him go and his shoulders dropped.

Dark paced around the room, looking at the Host's sleeping form every now and again.

“Why did you do it?” Dark asked pinching the bride of his nose.

That question caught Wilford off guard and he stuttered the answer out.

“For you. For us.” He said blushing. Normally he would have been cool about it, but the entire situation had him frazzled.

Dark looked a bit touched, but also kinda horrified. “Why would you do something like that for me?”

“Because I adore you and he was going to get in the way of that.” Wilford explained.

Dark was at odds with himself. He did have a thing for the Host, but he also had the same feelings for Wilford.

When Wilford only got silence from Dark, he sighed. He opened his mouth to speak again when a groan interrupted the silence that had settled around the room.

Wilford looked to see the Host stirring awake.

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@geekymushroom

Tw: blood

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The Host had no idea how long he had been there. Without his narrations, he was helpless and the longer they built up, the bigger a headache he got.

The entire reason he wa there only added to his headache with how stupid and unfair it was.

He was gonna die because he developed feelings for a certain Darkiplier. He hated that Wilford had been the one he confided that information in.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

How had he not seen that Wilford also liked Dark? How had he not seen this coming?

He felt like a true idiot for not being able to see any of this coming and for trusting others. If he got out of here, trusting others would be the last thing he'd ever do again.

Speaking of getting out of there, the Host had no idea about whether he was going to get out of there or not.

He hoped Wilford would simply rough him up and let him go, but that was seeming less and less likely the longer he was forced to stay there.

He could also feel blood drip drip dripping down from his eyes. He felt dizzy from the blood loss, but he was gonna ignore it until he escaped and got to the doctor.

The Host's breathing was shallow and his cheeks were stained red from the blood leaking from his empty sockets and he noticed that he not only was growing more and more dizzy, but he could hear a ringing noise.

At first he had thought it was Dark coming to save him, but instead he figured out that no, it was simply his ears and he figured something was very wrong.

Where was Wilford? Maybe he could try to reason with him. Maybe he could convince him to let him go.

Everything was growing fuzzier and the Host knew he desperately needed help.

He rocked the chair to see if he could break his restraints, but instead the chair fell over, bringing the Host down with it.

His head thunked against the tile of the ground and he tried lifting it up to stop himself from falling into a coma or something. He couldn't think straight and it was getting harder to stay awake.

The Host's head lolled and it felt heavy as can be. He just knew he needed help as soon as he could get it.

And that was his last thought as he passed out from blood loss and narration build up.

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