#ticciworkfanfiction
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Keeping the Cold Away
It was a cold winter day and I wasn’t wearing socks or shoes or gloves or a jacket. I didn’t think I would need them inside, but it seemed that I was wrong.
As soon as I removed my cold proof garments, my teeth began to chatter and my body to shiver.
I ran to the bedroom and changed into fuzzy pajamas. It was agony, but I managed. When I was changed, I turned my attention to the bed. It was absolutely covered in blankets, but Toby was hogging it all.
“Move over,” I wormed my way under his arm and wriggled right up against him. “I’m cold as fuck.”
Toby’s eyes opened and widened. “You are, Clocky. I bet you need someone warm to cuddle you.”
‘You know it, Tobes.”
I hadn’t even finished speaking before he pulled me tight against him, holding me in that special place that was just for me, right against his chest with his arms wrapped around me. I yelped, then laughed when his stubble scratched my forehead.
“Mmmm. Mine.” Toby teased, and I could feel him smile as he kissed the crown of my head.
“What do you mean I’m yours? You’re the one who’s mine!” I teased back.
“Let’s compromise and say that you’re mine and I’m yours,” Toby suggested as he rubbed my hand inside of his to increase circulation.
“That sounds nice. It’s a deal, as long as you keep on keeping me warm.”
“Deal.”
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Stitching Up Our Lives chapter three
Natalie’s POV
“Plenty of adults talk to stuffed animals! It’s not like I’m crazy or anything! Right?”
Jaffy said nothing. Thus is life with a plush giraffe.
“I don’t know what I was thinking when I basically asked him out! Or when I gave him my number, or when I talked to him in the first place. What was I thinking? Whatever it was, I have a date now and I have to commit!”
When was the last time I dated? Collage? High school?
“It doesn’t have to be a date, though,” I mused to myself. I couldn’t tell if I was lying to myself.
My therapist says I have trust issues, which is maybe why I haven’t dated in so long. My brother and dad gave me a bit of a bad impression of the male race, I’m afraid. Of course I tried to talk myself out of calling it a date.
I paced until I wore ruts in the floor, until I had to go downstairs and check on my cats. It sounded like No! might have been harassing Norbert, her brother. She’s a jerk, but she’s my jerk and I love her.
Living alone with only two cats and a stuffed giraffe for company has many advantages. For example, no one gripes at me for writing my grocery lists on the wall, or painting on them. I can walk around naked if I want, and swear as much as I want, and do whatever I want without judgement.
Sometimes, though, I guess I do get lonely. A stuffed toy and cats may listen, but they don’t respond. They can’t talk to me. They can’t love me the way that I wish someone did.
My friend, Dina, was raised in isolation and she still scored an awesome guy named Helen. She always tells me how he treats her like royalty, and I know this is cheesy, but paints pictures of her! And he’s an actual painter, so anything he makes is damn good.
She tells me about how he cuddles her and kisses her and tells her all the time how much he loves her. When I see them together, I always get so jealous. It’s not that I’m in love with Helen, it’s just that I wish I had someone like that in my life. Maybe I’ve just always been too scared to look for that person.
Maybe my cat had an adventure, and something inside me said: “Natalie, it wouldn’t kill you to take a risk sometimes.”
Maybe I looked at a man with a gash in his face, who’d obviously been crying and had barely pulled himself together, and thought he was brave of him just to answer his door when it must have been near impossible for him. That was why I liked him.
I knew that he was as broken as I was. People like us recognize each other.
“If he can answer his front door while hurting like this,” I thought, “then I can take a leap of faith and hope that this will be something good in my life.”
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Stitching Up Our Lives (a Ticciwork fan fiction) chapter two
I chewed through my cheek after my sister, Lyra, died in a freak car accident. She was my torch in the darkness. Without her, I couldn’t cope. Thanks to my CIP, I didn’t feel, or even notice what I was doing until it was too late.
It was a nervous habit. actually, my first nervous habit was biting and tearing at the flesh on my fingers. I know it’s gross. I actually still have scars from it.
My mom bandaged my hands so I couldn’t, so I moved onto my cheek. Before long, there was a hole in my face.
I’ve attempted suicide four times to date. The first time was in seventh grade, thanks to bullying. Lyra stopped me. She gave me the Heimlich manuvor until I vomited up the pills.
The second time was after she died, around when I was seventeen. I wanted to see her again. I tried the same way as before, but changed my mind as soon as I swallowed. This time, I made myself throw up. I realized that to die like that would be an enormous dishonor to her memory.
The fourth time was only a year ago. I tried to hang myself, but the tree branch broke.
My sister saved me twice, a dead tree saved me once, and a crush saved again.
She had no idea that she saved my life, but she did. It would be wrong not to call her after that, no matter how bad I was with people.
The next day, after work, I tried to remember how to make a phone call. Talking to humans is difficult for me, to say the least. Even when I’m doped up on anxiety meds, I still wonder if they’re judging me for my stutter.
Some people think texting is antisocial. I am that, but it doesn’t look good. And how do you start a conversation? You say hello, obviously, but then what? You don’t just immeadetley ask someone out. Being that forward sounds weird and creepy.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to call Natalie, because she beat me to it. Thus, saving me a second time.
“Hi, Toby!”
“Hi, Natalie. Thanks for, for calling. How are, are you?”
“I’m good, thanks for asking. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m doing great.” That was a lie. My anti depressant dosage needed to go up.
“That’s great! So, um, listen. Do you want to um, hang out sometime? We could see a movie?”
She ended on a questioning note.
I replied: “I’d love that, Natalie. When are you free?”
“How about Thursday?”
“Thur-Thur-Thursday’s good. What time?”
“Um, I’m off work at five, so, uh, maybe five-thirty.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I hung up. Oh my Lord. I think I actually got a date.
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Stitching Up Our Lives (a Ticciwork fanfiction) Chapter One
AN- This takes place in a normal AU.
A Life Saved
Toby’s POV
I held the blade against my wrist and was about to press down, but the doorbell rang. This was my fourth suicide attempt. Something always went wrong, and I was forced to go on living.
It was probably my mother, wanting to know why I never returned her calls. If I didn’t answer the door, she’d let herself in and be the first to see her son’s bloody corpse. I’d never forgive myself for that, even if I got to see Lyra.
Choking down sobs, I opened the door. It wasn’t my mother.
It was a gorgeous brunette with a grey tabby in her arms. She had pale skin, bright green eyes, a thin frame, and a pencil tucked behind her ear.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m Natalie Oulette. My cat got into your yard and scraped up your car. I came to ask if you wanted to press charges.”
I stared. I stared for a long time at this mystical creature who made me feel a sliver of happiness. “Where do you live?” I blurted out. I then mentally smacked myself in the forehead. “I’m, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean, I didn't mean to-”
“No, no, no, it’s alright!” The cat in her arms perked up. “I get it. You’re probably wondering how far she walked, well, about ten blocks, maybe. NO! sure has a way of getting around.” Natalie giggle nervously and tucked a lock of hair behind her hair.
“Can I have your number?” That one, I blame on my tourettes.
Natalie smiled coyly. “That depends. Can I have yours?”
Estatic, I all but threw my arms around her in joy. When she left, I watched her drive away until her car disappeared.
Something was finally going right for me! I turned around, intending to put away the razor, and caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. I’d forgotten to put a band aid on! Nothing covered the gaping hole in my face. Natalie saw it the whole time she was talking to me.
I collapsed on the floor. Then I put my head in my hands and cried.
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Requests
I noticed there aren’t any ticci work fan fictions here, and I adore them, so I’ve decided to fix that by writing some. Give me requests and I’ll try to write some good fics with them.
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