#Dr. Iplierst

[doctordiscord123]

Whumptober 2024: Stitches

Dr. Iplier meets a man, and things get...hazy, after that.

For @whumptober, @whumptober-archive

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

+++++

Dr. Iplier hummed softly as he worked, eyes glazed over, a dull, red sheen to otherwise warm, tired brown eyes. He didn’t mind the twitching of his patient, just made sure to grip his chin harder, holding him steady as he worked oh so slowly. Nearby, he could hear his next patient’s muffled whimpers, and he glanced over, a smile easy on his face, sterile gloves slick with spots of blood. “Now now, it’ll be your turn soon. Don’t make me rush now~”

The patient in his grasp jerked, and Dr. Iplier looked back to him, needle still held between two fingers. Yancy. That was his name. Dr. Iplier had vague memories about him…holding him…kissing him…he shook his head, and smiled, raising the needle and pressing it to his bottom lip. “I’m almost done. Just hold still, and this will all be over soon.”

“Fuck you!” The words were partially slurred, only half his mouth available to speak. He jerked again in Dr. Iplier’s grasp, fighting the duct tape that bound him to the chair. “Doc – I don’ understand –”

“Shh…” Dr. Iplier patted his face, and pushed the needle through. Yancy flinched and whimpered as Dr. Iplier pulled the thick, black thread through the wound and up through another puncture through his top lip. Already, about half of Yancy’s mouth was sewn shut, his lips bulging against the tight thread. And Dr. Iplier worked steadily, evenly, slowly but assuredly sewing the rest of his mouth shut.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[lostcybertronian]

Egotober - Day 4

Prompts by @tracobuttons

Prompt: Fluffy

---

The Host was dead asleep when Dr. Iplier finally emerged from his office.

The doctor started, did a double take, and checked his watch twice to make sure he had the time correct. Four twenty-six AM was not what he had expected to see. The Host must have been waiting for some time.

He approached slowly, careful to keep his steps quiet; the Host was a notoriously light sleeper, and chronically sleep deprived. Dr. Iplier wasn’t about to interrupt what precious sleep he was able to get.

The Host was propped in a chair, his hands flopped loosely in his lap and his head lolling forward on his chest. He had clearly showered recently; his skin was still flushed and there was no gel left in his hair. It fluffed in thick curls, the gold stripe filamentous instead of uniform. 

Dr. Iplier fought down the urge to bury his fingers in it. Instead he smiled, and leaned down to kiss the Host’s perpetually feverish forehead. Then, he retrieved a thick blanket from one of the hospital beds lining the walls of the clinic and draped it over him.

[aceforwhatevenisthis]

they’re married your honor

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Oooohhhh imagine Host had been awake in his library for days, never coming out the socialize or eat, least of all sleep. Dr. Iplier decides that enough is enough, and slips something into his hot chocolate....

Ohhhhh yesssssss >:D

He gets into one of those Moods where he’s holed up in library, reading, writing, muttering to himself, barely eating and hardly sleeping. Doc tries to talk him into going to bed or at least pausing for twenty minutes to get his bandages changed but Host won’t budge.

“At least let me get you something to drink, there’s no way you aren’t dehydrated. I’ll be back with some hot chocolate.”

Host at least agrees to that, and Doc comes back later with a cup. Host pretty much drinks the whole thing in one minute, and Doc sticks around for a while, talking to him. Almost like he’s waiting for something.

A few minutes after drinking the hot chocolate, Host’s eyelids start wanting to close, his limbs feel heavy, his narrations start slurring. And Doc...doesn’t look worried. Or surprised, for that matter.

“You...th’ hot ch...chocolate...” is all Host can say.

“I had to,” Doc admits, “You’d work yourself to death otherwise.” He gets up to help Host walk. “I’m taking you to bed, and while you’re out I’m making you dinner. You better eat when you wake up.”

“Mmmmom,” Host half-scoffs, half-mumbles.

“That’s Dr. Mom to you,” Dr. Iplier replies with a grin.

He gets Host into bed and tells him not to go anywhere, and Host is asleep before he can give a snarky response XD

[inkribbon796]

Brother Where Art Thou?

Summary: Patton and Nate set out to ERROR! <Story voided>

A/N: I’m sorry, it’s not

Patton was grabbing his equipment as Nate Ỳ̶͙͕͍̰̖̗̋̃̂Ǒ̷̺̖U̷̫̟̬͒̄͛̕͜’̴̣̲̯̝̲͖̈́͊͑͠Ŗ̶͍͈̹̱̑́̋͘͝E̴̬̠̽ ̵̪̹̔͊̽N̵̥̄̆̒͛̀͝O̷͇̬͆̈̂T̸̜͈̹̞̝̯͊̏̀̅̅ ̴͎̠̦̦͗̿̅S̶̯̻̤̫̿̓͛͂͘Ü̸͕̃͑P̴̡̤̬̳͇̏̑̍́P̵̫̾̏Ō̷͈͈̪̲͗̐͗Ś̸̛̪̥̩͔̱̫̽͌̈́̆̕Ẻ̸̯͆̇̐͋̚͠Ḓ̷̳̱͓̣̀͆̑̅̀̈͝ ̴̠̝̦̑̉̉̌T̴͚͉̳̥̋͑̽͌͜Ǫ̸̼͚̪̰͖͐̈́͆ ̴̧̦̬̟̤͕̔̐̃̕B̵̨̢̛̎̾̆͝͝E̴̢͔͔͖͉̩̙̐̓̾̆̈́͠ ̴̣͔̣͆͘͘͘Ḩ̷͎̳̞̠̪͗̿́͛̑͒Ȩ̴̯͔͍̣͘R̵͌̿̂͜E̵̫͓̲̤͉̎ ̸̡̨͔̠̦̬̈́͠Ẇ̷̧̠̬̟̥̤͗̋̈́͝E̵͕̯̒ ̷͎̥͚̋̀��͜R̸̞̓̃̌̿̑͝͝È̵͗̋��̰̳̩M̸͇̭̭̈́̕̚Ō̷̠̄V̶̨̩̥̉̌̄̽Ḛ̷̹͓̈̿D̸̞̝̝̺̜͐̌́̐ ̵̡̲͕̮̥̈́̀̈́̕̚͝Y̶̢̠̤͉̙̝͖͋̀͛̚Ò̷̞̥̮̘̑͑̿̽͘Ű̷̧̟̫̮̱̦͕̃̃̎̀ ̶̢̼͔̠̜̤͌̎̈́̓͜F̷̛͔͍̣̘̯̯̽̌̔R̵͓͒̾̌̑͒O̶͕͈̮͕̍̆̓M̶̙̘̍̆͂͝ ̵̩̟̒̑̄͌͘̚͘Ť̵̻̞̦͜͝Ḧ̶̳̩͕͍̝̣͇́̓́E̵̡̨͚̼͇̍́ ̵̨͉͎͇̲͛Ċ̵̜͙̜͖̊̈́͛̀͐I̷̡͈̰͂Ṭ̷̛͓͔̂́̐̈́͊̆Ÿ̴̜̹́͗̈́́!̴̘̱͇̻́̉̋̄ walked into the storage room.

“Ready?” Nate smiled.

Patton took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be I guess.”

He stood up and the two heroes walked out of the base, to where Marvin was waiting for them.

Marvin gave an encouraging smile to Patton, “̸D̴o̷n̶’̷t̷ ̸w̸o̵r̴r̶y̵,̵ ̷h̴e̷ ̷w̸o̸n̵’̸t̵ ̷k̵n̷o̵w̸ ̵w̴h̶a̴t̸ ̵h̵i̶t̷ ̴h̷i̴m̵.̵”̵ ̶ ̷ ̷ ̷P̴a̷t̴t̵o̴n̸ ̵g̵a̸v̴e̴ ̶a̸n̴ ̶u̸n̷e̸a̴s̸y̸ ̶s̵m̸i̶l̴e̴ ̸b̴a̶c̴k̸.̵ ̷H̷i̷s̷ ̴s̴t̶o̶m̶a̶c̷h̶ ̴c̶h̸u̸r̴n̵i̴n̶g̴,̶ ̸a̴ ̶l̷u̶m̶p̵ ̶i̷n̴ ̸h̷i̵s̸ ̵t̷h̴r̷o̸a̶t̷.̶ “̴̝̇̾Y̶͙̙͈̋ͅe̵̦̾̽̆ȧ̷͍̼̦̀h̴̬̼͓̋͆͒.̶̱̘͕͐̀”̷̺̻̉ ̸̡̯̮͕̑̂̀̄ ̷̤̘̺̄̓̊ ̵̗͈̹̟̂ ̵̢͈̳̈́̈́ͅA̴̦̘̓͘n̴̩̈́̓d̵̹̯͑͋̓͂ ̸̛̖͗̅t̴̹̲̆ȟ̸̢̥̼͈̈́̾͑e̸̝̹͓͔̓͊n̸̳̣̔̚ ̶̨̲̉̑t̷̯̅̃ḫ̶̘̤̉̀̄ë̷̤̥̼̤́̏ ̴̼̘̇͌̑̓ṫ̷͔͋͐h̴̹̰̣̲̓̃r̷̝̾ë̸̡̨̨̜̽e̷̺̮̲̜̿̓͒ ̷̜̗͒̂͊̔͜ơ̶̝͖̮̱͆͂̏f̶̗̱̏̚ ̵̢̦͓͋̈́͝t̸̤̪͐́͗ĥ̴̛͓̜̏́ė̷̤̪̓͗m̸̞̟̪̑̈́ ̸̻͌͌s̶͕̥̕ệ̶̢̀t̴̛͙͐̾̂ ̸̙̓̌́͐͜o̷͙͋ͅf̸̼̂̓f̸̝͇͕̽̒͜ ̵̺̻͋͑̇f̴͔̾̌͒͝o̴̧̭̓ȑ̴̨̞͐̇ ̷͉̔͂͆ͅt̵̘̟͖̄̓̎h̵̼̜̅̎̿e̷̠̾͆ ̷̢̛̻͇̫̔M̷̭͓̤̯͒̂̔̎a̴̳͍͋ͅn̶̢̹̠̉̃̒̚o̶̡̪̞̠̎r̵̛̃͜

The Host rips the script in half and with that the story ends. Leaving only the tattered opening left.

“The Host asks for the readers’ indulgence but this story thread can no longer exist in the current arc and must be removed,” the Host stared at the reader through the gulf that separates them. “This story will continue in a new trajectory. We hope that you enjoy it.”

This week’s fic is in another castle. We kindly request you go there =>

[vociferous-chaos]

Dr. Iplier: …Why are you on the ceiling?

The Host: How does Dr. Iplier know this isn’t the floor? Maybe he is the one walking on the ceiling.

Dr. Iplier: I-...You know what? Fuck it, I don’t want to know. I’m taking a nap.

@doctordiscord123

[haazeycoffee-archive]

[starryvioletnight]

Crosshairs

Summary: The Host happens to be looking out for his lovely doctor when he "sees" his most cherished boyfriend in danger. Enjoy~

"The Host sits in his study, awaiting Dr. Iplier to return from his day at work. It's been a mostly slow day for the doctor, very few patients worthy of his time and merit. A few measely check ups, and two broken bones. How boring." He let out a long, drawn out sigh.

"However, the end of his day is approaching, which means he will get to return home and spend time with his doting boyfriend, who will gleefully kiss and hug all the dreary, boring memories away." The Host couldn't help but grin. "It will be splendid."

"Dr. Edward Iplier leaves his office, humming a song he heard on the radio while standing in the waiting room. He sips his paper cup of coffee as he approaches his car."

The Host started to bounce in his chair, and his grin consumed his face. He loved his boyfriend so damn much.

"Edward grips the handle of his car when... when he hears an altercation. Oh no... Edward..." He doesn't like this. "Edward follows the sound of the scuffle. He... he comes across a man trying to mug a woman, and he... Oh God Edward!"

He stood up and grabbed his coat. The Host hurried out the door, and mumbled as he ran. "The man holding the gun turns it on Edward, saying, 'Move along. This don't concern you.' Edward tells him it certainly- Edward just back off!"

The Host rounded a corner, close to Edward's office. He panted hard as he ran, his heart raced in his chest as he tried to get to him.

"Please, just walk away." A woman's voice trailed down the sidewalk and the Host followed it.

"I can't stand to see anyone in danger. I took an oath, as a doctor." Edward replied.

"Suit yourself." The mugger pulled the trigger.

"The shot rings out through the air, and the bullet goes flying. It clinks against the the metal pole standing behind Edward. The gun in the mugger's hand seems to now be malfunctioning." The Host, once in range, used his powers of story manipulation to take control of the situation.

Edward looked back at the Host, surprised but really he shouldn't have been.

"The mugger and woman in peril leave the Host and Dr. Iplier be." He continued, tense.

The two complied, and the Host turned to be facing his boyfriend.

Edward looked between the retreating mugger and woman before he looked at the Host. "What the hell was that?"

"You're asking me that question!? Edward you almost got shot!" The Host shouted. "And voluntarily!"

"There was a woman in danger, Anthony. What was I supposed to do, let her face it alone?" He scoffed.

"Yes! What if you'd been hurt? You could have been shot! Killed... then... then what..." His shoulders fell and he turned away.

Edward hesitated. He walked over and hugged his boyfriend tight. "I'm sorry."

The Host clung to his boyfriend and shook.

"How about we go home, have some hot chocolate and watch some TV?" Edward was smiling a little as he asked, and he hoped that it would turn the Host's mood.

The Host hesitated and nodded. "Yeah... Yeah I'd like that."

"Okay. Let's go." Edward pulled away, and lead his wonderful talented boyfriend to the car, where they would go home and snuggle all their problems away.

[jailbirdsonic]

Inspired by that beautiful fanfic that is “The In-Between” by the amazing @doctordiscord123, I’ve made a Dr. Iplierst moodboard based off Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up”, in this case the Bonus Track Version. Hope you all like it! <3

[tealquacks]

The start of the next chapter

Docthor day seven!! Free day!!!!

@lostcybertronian @bing-iplier @snarkyfinch

Burning the journal was the start of everything, the spark of a forest fire, the Big Bang of his universe. Edward laid in a bed of flowers, pretending to be asleep as it burned above his head. He wondered what he was thinking, if he was surprised, or if he could see it coming from a mile away. It burned slowly, each bit of it folding in on itself before completely collapsing, turning to ash in his hands. Smoke burned his eyes, a strangely familiar feeling. Something something flexing its muscles eyes burn eyes burn eyes burn burn burn-

He stares at the ash in his hands. His sleeves were rolled up- he could see the story carved into his skin, the only remaining bit of his history of creation that he had left. The rest was only ash. He smudged it in his hands. Ran it over his arms, watching it turn the skin black except for the ridges of scars. He smudged it in his face, running his hands over his eyes and through his hair. Silently, he stared at the remaining ash all over his hands. Still not clean. Never clean. Gods didn’t have clean hands, anyway. How many did they kill in the floods?

Exhausted, he laid down next to Edward, pretending to believe the man was asleep. Slowly, he wrapped around him, burying his head in the warmth of Edwards chest, hands firmly on his back. Stained his coat with ash. He shut his eyes and dreamt of foxes hunting in nights where the sky was nothing but a cloud of quilts.

—

Edward got him flowers the day of the awards ceremony, where one of his books were being praised. It was a new one, one Edward wanted him to write. A happy ending. No deaths. People loved it.

Author loathed it.

He stared himself down in the hotel room mirror, still wearing his suit while Edward was down in the ballroom, chatting to the guests. Why should the characters be happy if he wasn’t? And since when was he so content to be ‘benevolent’?

It’s good to change, to be good, Edward had said. He said it when Author couldn’t disagree, said it right before he kissed him and slowly lowered himself to his knees, teeth finding metal. Edwards tongue was good for more than manipulation. He could undo a button with it. Oh, and much more.

He could undo years of work, of persistent pushing, pulling parts and plans and plots to pieces. They’d been together for three years. Edward got him to swallow benevolence like a shot, and was now trying to convince him he was human.

There was a little part of him that thought it was true. That he was human. The rest new better.

He took off his tie, the red silk sliding over his hands roughly, unlike when Edward put it on him that afternoon. He was always so gentle. No matter what. As if trapped in molasses, he opened the buttons on his shirt, took off his pants, and flopped into bed. He shut his eyes. Almost automatically, he thought the same thing he had been thinking since the morning he woke up with Edward. The fox something flexes its muscles before something eyes hurt eyes hurt eyes hurt.

He could see the ballroom, clear as day, behind his eyes. He kept them closed, feeling his throat work without his permission to fill in the blanks with his voice. Knees giving out, he fell down onto the bed, blankets jumping as he fell. Looking around, he could see Edward drinking and talking to some woman, tie a little undone and face flushed a little red. Author bit the inside of his lip. For a second, he could see a fox. A rabbit.

“Edward smiles at the woman and-“

Every muscle in his body locked up. His eyes were on fire, burning, but he kept them closed, kept on talking. Frantic. Voice cracking.

“Edward smiles at the woman and excuse himself and comes to the Author.”

The burning reached a fever, and he was half certain his eyes were boiling in his sockets, spasming and shaking, jaw bobbing open and closed like a grounded fish, head shaking in a desperate, instinctual way for him to escape the fire. In his eyes he saw Edward smile, all white teeth and charm. He says something, and turns and goes.

Author opened his eyes, shooting up with a gasp.

Moments later, there was a knock at the door.

Author flexed his muscles before standing and opening it, practically falling into Edwards arms.

—

Their room was empty. Well, he shouldn’t call it their room anymore. Author drank. What a pathetic thing for a god to be doing.

You’re going to hurt yourself, Edward said. I’m really worried.

“I’m a god, sweetcheeks,” had not been the best response.

He’d been practicing with the new ability, reaching out with his eyes closed and changing. He didn’t seize up anymore, but no matter what, his eyes would always hurt. Like they were in the way…

Maybe Edward was right.

Author squeezed the bottle in his hand, and drank down the rest of it. It burnt his throat, making him cough. To be a god. Truly, to be a god. All powerful. All seeing. What was he willing to sacrifice for that?

It was answered by the sound of broken glass and screaming.

—

Years later, Host muttered to himself as they walked together, hand in hand. He didn’t need eyes to know that Edward was wearing the big floppy sun hat he wore while gardening, and he didn’t need narration to see the smile on his face. He could feel it like a fire in his hands.

Edward kicked a tiny little pebble, laughing when Host described it as “a barbaric thing to do something so harsh to something as innocent as a pebble. The Host’s dear doctor is a dark, twisted bastard.”

“I wasn’t as bad as you were,” Edward said. He could hear the smirk on his face.

“The Host was not as bad as Edward was, either. Irrational, emotional, a stain glass window that shines color even in the dark spots of everything. You kept me from driving a knife into my chest every morning, every night. He was alone, and he owes you everything.”

Edward huffs. Host narrated his blush smugly.

“You grew out of being a megalomaniac, at least. I’m still human.”

“I grew out of believing that I was nothing but a mortal. I grew out of believing that I was the most important thing. That I was somehow more deserving. I was crushed under my mortality. Lonliness. Yes, Edward is still human. But do you want to know something?”

He took a second to gather his thoughts, describing the world to himself. Bugs flew in the summer heat, trees still and proud in the windless, humid air. The sun was just on the edge of setting, teasing little streaks of pink along the horizon. He saw it all, and knew it was not his to control, not his story to finish. He was happy now, and they could be, too.

“The Host is human. He’s always been human. And he’s always loved you. More than anything. Edward-“

Well, there’s some things he could change. Make a small lump of coal and wire in his pocket into a ring, for example. He kneeled, grimacing at the ache it brought.

“Will you marry me?”

[doctordiscord123]

Could I request a small follow up to “Who’s who again”? Like adjusting back to their own bodies, or lingering effects of the spell?

In reference to this work here.

The Host sat in his library, silent, and staring at nothing. He'd come down here to work, but...he couldn't really focus on that. All he could do was play the images of Dr. Iplier's face over and over in his mind, committing them to permanent memory, knowing he'd never have a chance like that again.

He knew it'd been Hell for Dr. Iplier. No one, and he meant no one should have to experience the Host's visions besides himself. They were a burden, he knew that, violent and bloody and often left him powerless despite knowing. The Host had had over a decade to get used to them, to learn how to deal and cope with the power that had sprung from his blindness. Dr. Iplier...had none of that, combined with the sudden loss of sight -- the man was still adjusting to the light a dew days later, even after only a week in darkness.

...But for the Host...he'd gotten to see. He'd gotten to see his family, his love -- his only lament was that he could never truly see the natural expressions of Dr. Iplier, the way he smiled or laughed, the way he pouted or how grumpy he looked in the mornings. Those things had been mirrored onto the Host's face, and he could imagine, sure...but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same, and the feeling left a cold pit in his stomach that wouldn't go away.

Somewhere above, he heard the telltale squeak of the library door opening, and not long after, footsteps were moving into his sanctuary, and a chin rested on his shoulder. "Hey." Dr. Iplier kissed his temple, then took one of his hands, pressing a warm mug into it. "Brought you some hot chocolate. Wilford made it, so you know it's good."

The Host smiled. "Thanks. What brings the good doctor down here?"

There was a brief pause, and a mumbled narration told him Dr. Iplier was raising an eyebrow. Such a pity, he had to go through the extra step... "Are you kidding? I can practically hear you thinking all the way upstairs. What's wrong?" Another pause. "Still thinking about the body swap?"

The Host sighed, and set the mug on his desk. Dr. Iplier promptly sat himself in his lap. "Just -- thinking. It --" He gestured to his own face. "The blindness, it feels -- darker, somehow, now. Just taking some getting used to."

"...Yeah. Now that I know what that feels like, it sucks! It's so --" Dr. Iplier waved a hand in the air, trying to find the word.

"Isolating?"

"A bit. Even with you there, knowing you were there, it's easy to feel alone when you can't actually see other people in the room. But you know all that already. Don't need my ass explaining it to you." This. This was a time the Host wished he knew what Dr. Iplier's pout really looked like.

In any case, he just shrugged, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Dr. Iplier's chest. "All the same...it's nice they have this as a shared experience now." He picked up Dr. Iplier's hand, running a finger over his wedding band, before kissing the back of that. "Just one more thing they've been through together, hm?"

Dr. Iplier sighed, and leaned against the Host more. "Just one more thing."

[lostcybertronian]

Egotober - Day 6

Prompt: Pillow

Prompts by @tracobuttons

---

“What’re you doing?”

Bim jumped back from the doorway. “Sh!” He hissed, and behind his sunglasses, Bing’s eyebrows rose. “Quiet.”

“What’re you doing?” Bing repeated, quieter now. He nudged past Bim to peer into the living room. The only source of light was the television, playing some ancient horror movie that spilled from the screen to the couch on the far side of the room.

Sitting on the couch, back ramrod straight, face bathed in pale light, was the Host. Lying with his head using the Host’s lap as a pillow was Dr. Iplier, still dressed in blue scrubs and dead asleep. One of the Host’s hands was buried in the doctor’s hair, while the other clung tightly to his hand. 

Bing backed away. “That’s fucking creepy, bro.”

“Right? Why is he watching if he can’t even see?”

Bing made a face. Then, he crept forward and peered in again.

The Host was looking directly at them.

“Holy fuck!” He jumped a mile high, nearly colliding with Bim. “He knows we’re here, dude.”

“Yes I do.” This time it was Bim who crept forward, saw that even with the Host’s face once more turned toward the TV he could see the single drop of blood trailing down one gaunt cheek. “And if you bother us again, I will dismember you and organize your parts by alphabetical order.”

Bim opened his mouth to say something, but Bing grabbed his arm. “He means it, bro. Let’s bounce.”

He dragged Bim away, leaving the Host to absentmindedly pet Dr. Iplier’s hair, murmuring quietly to him about things to come.

[aceforwhatevenisthis]

FOR THE SHIP GAME IDK WHICH ONES TO ASK so I'm just gonna say rank three ships you really like / want to talk about 👀

fjsadjasdjk ty for the creative liberty boog now you get to listen to my thoughts

(in no particular order)

DrIplierst (Doc x Host)

they're both fucked up, they're both trying their best to be good, they get into all kinds of situations, i want to make them suffer (in a writer kind of way because the angst potential for them, my god)

Raeda (Raine x Eda)

they are everything to me, they deserve to be happy, they are rare older queers who make it through, they have always loved each other even when they were still figuring out their own selves and dealing with their own problems, hold on im gonna cry

Obi-Wan x Satine (i dunno their ship name)

"Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order" WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS LEVEL OF ROMANCE DOING IN MY STAR WARS CARTOON AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (crying even more now actually)

[punknerdmusings]

Flu Season

It had been a long, tiring day for Dr. Iplier, and as such, he checked the clock. Doing so led to a string of curses as he realized it was only noon, and he was on shift for another five hours. It was too long, and too much, he just needed to relax for once...

Although seeing the clock helped him realize he hadn't seen Host yet today. In fact, the past three days, he hasn't seen him, which was worrisome in and of itself. The blind man needed to come in for daily checkups and cleaning for his eyes, otherwise a nasty infection could set in and do even more damage. And so, Dr. Iplier stood with a minor groan from sitting too long and scribbled a note saying that unless someone was dying, the clinic was closed. He then headed out to the library, which is where Host had made his room.

Once Dr. Iplier had arrived, he instantly knew something was off. The library wasn't in its normal immaculate state, which Host had to maintain to be able to easily and safely find things and navigate. Dr. Iplier then headed to Host's room, quietly opening the door.

Inside, Host was sprawled on his bed, face creased in discomfort, his chest's even and deep rhythm indicating that he was asleep. There was a pungent smell of vomit and dried blood, and an undercurrent of urine. Host was clearly extremely sick, and rendered 100% unable to take care of himself. And so, Dr. Iplier came over, gently pressing a hand to Host's burning, sweaty forehead.

Unfortunately, that woke Host, who came to with a hoarse groan. He then coughed violently, which led to dry heaving. He tried to curl up as best he could, but was too weak to move much. Dr. Iplier brushed some sweat soaked locks of hair away from Host's bandages sympathetically. He was a bit shocked, however when Host pulled away with a whine.

"Host... Hon, I need to get you to the clinic. You need some meds."

Host shook his head, coughing before speaking. His voice was a whispery rasp. "No... I... I'll be fine..."

Dr. Iplier shook his head. "No, you won't. You haven't been to the clinic in three days, there's the smell of stale urine and vomit, and you are absolutely burning up. You're coming with me. No argument, no debate." Dr. Iplier then gently scooped Host up, cradling him close to his chest. "I've got you, alright?"

Host shook his head again, somehow finding just enough strength to push himself out of Dr. Iplier's arms. "No... I'm gonna get you sick..."

Dr. Iplier sighed. "Hon, thos is my job." He went to scoop Host up again, but when his hands started to work under Host's body, he was violently pushed away, and Host raised his voice to the point where parts were only discernable through context. "Edward, no! I'm not going to the clinic, I can take care of myself! I'll be fine, just leave me the fuck alone!"

Dr. Iplier took a step back in surprise, and a small bit of fear and sadness. "I... H-Host..." He then sank to the ground, sobbing. The whole shitty day hit him like a truck, and he blubbered out an apology through his tears.

Dr. Iplier then heard a thud, and felt a warm, slightly stick hug. "Hon... I'm sorry, Edward, I didn't mean to, people have never really taken care of me when I'm sick so I thought you'd be the same way and god I've made you cry and feel like you need to apologize to me, I'm sorry, please, forgive me..."

Dr. Iplier, at first, cried even harder, freaking Host out more, but soon, the tears dried up and the doctor scooped Host up. "I'll never leave you to deal with this on your own, hon." He carried Host out, and down to the clinic, relieved when he saw that the place hadn't been overrun. He laid Host out on a bed, starting an IV line for hydration and fever suppressants, adding in some antivirals. He then went to work cleaning Host's eye sockets, being as careful as he could despite the three day buildup of dried blood. He then dabbed some antibiotics on a few problem areas before pulling up a chair and watching over his most precious patient.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

I’m about to go to bed but...I’ve been thinkin abt a story idea where somehow the Author is recreated (maybe because the fans still love him so much? idk) and ends up at Ego Inc. Most of the younger egos don’t even know who he is, the older egos are Big Awkward, and Doc and Host are c o n c e r n e d

Especially when Author starts flirting with Doc, and brings up all these old feelings and memories that Doc thought he’d gotten past. And Author is charismatic to the point of being manipulative, and starts making an effort to seduce Doc back to him, so they can be together again.

And Doc doesn’t want to. He loves Host, he moved on from Author, he doesn’t want to go back to that tumultuous relationship, doesn’t want to betray or lose Host. But it’s hard to deny the nostalgia, hard to push down those old familiar feelings. Host offers stability, maturity, unconditional adoration. But Author, even after so much time has passed, can make Doc’s heart race like nothing else.

Maybe Doc still can’t resist him.

Or maybe Author is secretly using his writing to control Doc and make him love him because he remembers how he died and isn’t about to let Doc go again no matter what he has to do but shhhhhh

[inkribbon796]

Egotober Day 27: A Father’s Blessing

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Prompt: Ghost

Summary: For Dr. Iplier’s birthday. Dark and Iplier have that long overdue chat, and the Host is expectedly not very happy.

A/N: I cheated with this one, in that the Host is almost like a ghost in terms of the Author, in that he is what remains.

Warnings: none

Dr. Iplier was busy trying to patch the Jim’s up. They had been tailing a news story. It wasn’t the first time Iplier, Henrik, or some other unfortunate doctor had done their darkest to patch one of the Jims up. In typical Jim fashion they were almost impossible to keep still, you couldn’t separate a Jim pair or trio up lest things get worse if one Jim was left bored and unsupervised, and the Jim or Jims being treated always claimed this was their first visit to the hospital.

Iplier was pretty sure the latter was impossible, that he had to have treated this particular Jim before, but he’d given up trying to reason with a living force of nature.

“Alright,” Iplier stepped back from the Jim he was treating, who had broken his leg in some accident. The doctor offered up some crunches. “Now I know it’s hard for you but try not to do anything too drastic. You need six to eight weeks to heal.”

“Oh I can just get Jim to cover my shift,” R.J, one of the only Jims that Iplier seemed to be able to identify, smiled and was kicking back and forth his good leg.

C.J, a camera Jim, smiled, “Ooh, he is a good Jim for the task.”

“Just make sure you stay off the leg,” Iplier told him with a promise that he knew probably wouldn’t be honored and he’d have to fix whatever new injury had cropped up.

And after dealing with the Jim’s, Iplier noticed he was done for a day. It was an early day for him. He was excited to spend the rest of his evening with the Host and his friends.

But as he walked out to head to his car, he saw the Host sitting right outside the entrance, and when the door opened Iplier noticed that he looked a bit worried.

“You okay, did something happen?” Iplier asked, glancing around but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“No, the Host and the others are unharmed,” the Host answered, but he stopped looking in the doctor’s direction, he seemed nervous.

“Host, whatever happened, it’s okay,” Iplier walked over to kneel next to him.

“The Entity wishes to meet with the Host’s doctor, and he has been incredibly insistent about the matter,” the Host told him. “The Host’s first instinct is to deny the Entity. The Host and Iplier’s relationship is none of the Entity’s concern.”

“So you don’t want to go?” Iplier asked in concern.

“The Host,” Host made a disgruntled, frustrated noise. “The Host does not want the Entity to . . . disapprove. The Host’s doctor is perfect but the Entity has high standards.”

“Oh,” Iplier commented, instantly regretting not saying more immediately. “Well if you don’t want to go then we don’t have it.”

“The Entity will only keep insisting, the only reason that the Entity has not approached Eric is because of Illinois luck,” the Host reported. “The Host does not have that power.”

“Can I hold your hands?” Iplier asked.

“Dr. Iplier can always hold the Host’s hands,” the Host smiled.

“I know, but I don’t want to startle you by grabbing you,” Iplier promised, gently taking his hands. “If you don’t want to go, we’ll go back to the base and stay there.”

The Host paused to think about it, clutching Iplier’s hands. “The Host wants to get this over with.”

“I love you,” Dr. Iplier told him. “And just because your old man happens to be an asshole of a mob boss, won’t make me stop loving you.”

Smiling, the Host leaned in a bit closer, “The Host loves Dr. Iplier as well. He only wishes that he could tell his doctor that directly.”

“You tell me in lots of ways,” Iplier reminded. “It’s okay, do you still want to go?”

“The outing won’t be entirely unpleasant,” the Host evaded.

“But do you want to go?” Iplier insisted.

“No, but this discussion needs to happen,” the Host decided and stood up as a tinted black car drove up. Host didn’t let go of Iplier’s hand. The driver’s side window rolled down. The man looked a bit nervous.

It was at that moment that Iplier focused his attention away from Host’s face and onto what the Host was wearing. Instead of some random shirt he had found, he was in a nicer dress shirt and a pair of dress slacks.

“Author?” The driver asked, clearly almost as uncomfortable as he was fearful.

“The Host,” the Host corrected.

“Right, right,” the driver corrected nervously. “The boss told me to pick you up.”

The Host used his voice and his sight to open the door. “Dr. Iplier should get in first.”

Iplier got in and the Host followed him in. The car drove off and the Host pulled a divider up to isolate the two of them. The drive wasn’t too long but the drive brought him to Dark’s favorite restaurant. The Host walked them in and Iplier noticed that most of the restaurant staff gave Host a wide berth. As if they were afraid of being hit or attacked by him. The Host just led Dr. Iplier past the hostess without even pausing to talk to her or letting Iplier slow down.

Upstairs there was a table that was lower to the floor and there were just cushions on the floor. Dark was sitting there, and he looked over at them. He didn’t say anything, and Iplier knew he was hard to ready but he did not look happy.

Host led Iplier over to sit down on the other side of the table, the Host sat on Iplier’s right, in-between the two men. There were already menus in front of them.

“Doctor,” Dark greeted through clenched teeth. Then he turned to the Host and in a much less confrontational tone asked, “What do you want? Going to try to order a burger here, or do you have more sense than Arthur?”

“That’s nonsense,” the Host scoffed. “This restaurant doesn’t sell burgers. The Host will have the ginseng chicken soup, and a Diet Coke.”

“Really?” Dark sounded surprised. “You really do have a different pallet. Good, Arthur always worried me about his diet.”

“I can’t read a word of this,” Iplier warned, the menu was purely in Korean.

“Dr. Iplier actually would like the bulgogi, and an iced tea,” the Host answered for Iplier.

“Ohhh, there are drink labels on here,” Iplier realized.

Dark collected their menus, and slipped a note in Korean through a small portal. Then, as if Iplier wasn’t even there, Dark asked, “Why their doctor?”

“Why is the Entity sleeping with a madman?” Host asked in return.

“He’s a bit old for you,” Dark reminded.

“Hmm,” the Host’s face bunched up a little, “and how much older is the Entity than the Madman?”

“Hhnn,” Dark hummed, leaning his chin on his palm and resting it on the table. “Touché. You have me there.”

“I’m right here,” Iplier told them, a little frustrated.

“Hush, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Dark dismissed.

“It’s not like the Host is trailing dangerous men and needs to be watched like Yan,” Host defended. “Maybe the Entity should stop his daughter before she dates someone who should actually hurt her.”

One of the waiters came in with their drinks, his eyes bouncing between the three of them and Dark silently dismissed her to the young lady’s obvious relief.

After a little bit of a standoff where Iplier and his relationship with the Host were the only topics, Dark finally turned to Iplier. His finger tracing along the rim of his tea cup.

“You realize that none of this is exceptionally personal towards you,” Dark told him. “You only keep people alive who range from a mild inconvenience to exceptionally insulting. But should you ever harm the Host I will skin you alive, inch by inch, and feed your soul to hellhounds.”

Iplier’s eyes widened, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good,” Dark took a sip of his tea. “The Host has more than suffered enough, and I will not stand by and allow anyone to harm him.”

“Something we can both agree to,” Iplier promised.

“I expect Host’s medical records, immediately,” Dark told him as their food came in.

“He’s not a minor, so no,” Iplier told him, and the waiter looked terrified at the exchange.

Dark hummed, “I hate being told no, but I like you protecting Host so I’ll allow it.”

Iplier had to admit he did like the food, he wound up eating some of Host’s soup and Host snuck off some of Iplier’s beef. The rest of the evening was free of threats for the most part. Dark was less hostile than he was initially.

Host led him out, a stride or two ahead of Iplier and was talking to the driver that had initially brought them to the restaurant.

Iplier didn’t catch the conversation but when Iplier reached them the Host turned to him. “The driver will return the Host’s doctor, the Host will stay with the Entity for a while and will join the doctor in a half-hour.”

“Alright,” Iplier glanced around. “Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course the Host will,” the Host promised.

With a goodbye kiss, Iplier finally got into the car and it slowly drove off with the doctor as the only passenger.

The drive was quiet for a bit and Iplier felt so awkward that he was actually checking his phone because there was literally nothing to do. The driver kept occasionally glancing at him nervously.

“You look like you’ve swallowed a frog,” Iplier met his eyes in the rear view mirror briefly before the driver looked away.

“Can I ask a question?” the driver asked, sounded a bit uneasy.

“Sure,” Iplier allowed.

“So how did you meet him? You work with the heroes too?” The driver asked.

“Yes, I’m not at liberty to talk about my patients, but I met the Host on an operating table,” Iplier admitted. “We’ve been close ever since.”

“Huh,” the driver responded, but didn’t offer a secondary comment.

“Host told me word was getting out about our relationship,” Iplier tried to change the topic just a bit. “I wasn’t aware he could still part a crowd.”

“Well, and you don’t have to answer it, but word gets out,” the guy began, “and you’re dating the Auth— I mean the Host, and he’s terrifying. So everyone just assumes you are too.”

That gave Iplier pause. He’d never thought that the reason he hadn’t been attacked by someone from the criminal underworld was because they were scared of him.

“Oh,” Iplier commented, unsure if he should admit that he wasn’t dangerous or not. Eventually he decided to say, “Well I don’t have any reason to hurt you.”

The driver seemed to relax, “Thank you, Sir.”

The car stopped in front of the heroes’ base. “My car was still at the hospital.”

“I was instructed to take you back to the base,” the driver sounded nervous.

“Well then one of those two can portal my car back here, because I need to go to work tomorrow,” Iplier shrugged and the driver sounded like he was choking on his own tongue.

“You okay?” Dr. Iplier’s hand froze on the door handle, he turned to look at him.

“Were you referring to the Demon Dark or the Host?” The driver asked hesitantly.

“Probably Dark since he doesn’t bleed from the eyes when he uses the Void,” Iplier answered.

His driver chuckles a bit, “You’ve got balls of steel, Sir.”

Unsure how to answer that he shrugged. To be fair with everything he’d seen by this point, he either did have balls of steel, or outrageous professional apathy. So the comment was warranted. “Guess I do.”

Then he thanked the man and got out, walking into the base. His car was already there and he could enjoy the rest of the evening with the Host and his friends.