#crossing your arms and stubbornly claiming “this is how i am” is just an immature response to ppl calling you out and

[jellycreamjammedart]

Lmao u have no right to be mad after spatting and sneering at people the immature excuse of "this is how i am and theres no changing that, so take it or leave it" and people actually choose to leave it

[nobodyfamousposts]

Felix July - Villain Felix (Demon Felix AU)

@felixmonth​

I was planning this for Halloween. The fact that the trailer for the latest Felix episode came out the day before is mere coincidence.

Though it does make me wonder which of these two Felix’s will be legitimately worse...

Shall we take a vote?

_____________________

Felix had a couple of encounters with the Kwamis and Miraculous in the past. Usually those encounters involved him butting heads with the godlings as the sort of person who would summon him would also be the sort to require a Miraculous or two to deal with. But only once had he ever met the one known as Tikki, and that was more than enough to sear the meeting into his memory.

Honestly, he had expected the Creation Kwami to remember him. He would have been surprised if she hadn’t. Joan was a favorite of hers, after all, and he had been involved in her rather unfortunate fate when one of his Contractors happened to use his position to ill effect. It was no surprise that the little thing would blame him, though.

As it was, he was more surprised at the chittering noise she made at his appearance, full of rage and as if she were about to attack at the very sight of him. 

How rude. He hadn’t even done anything this time.

Yet.

“YOU!”

“Hello to you, too.” He said with an all too pleasant smile. “It’s nice to see you again. How have you been?”

Tikki let out an infuriated shriek that forced her mortal chosen to cover her ears but did very little to Felix himself. He merely looked down at her in distaste.

“Now that language is rather uncalled for.”

“What are you even doing here?” Tikki demanded.

The girl—Marinette Dupain-Cheng lowered her hands and looked back and forth between the two of them, all the more confused.

“So…I take it that you two know each other?”

“Obviously.” He replied with dry amusement. “But that hardly matters now.”

“I think it does.” She countered—smart girl. He could already tell this would be a fun one. “Who are you?”

Ignoring the kwami’s glare and attempt to get in his way, he merely brushed past the little being until he was standing face to face with his new contractor.

She was cute, he supposed. For human terms at least. She wore her hair in pigtails—a sign of immaturity. She seemed to draw back from him—clearly fear and uncertainty. She was in a constant state of anxiety and her aura was as limited as her self-confidence.

She was perfect.

He bowed with a flourish, appearing every part the picture of servitude and obedience.

“I am merely your humble servant, dear Mistress.”

“Eh?” Marinette flushed at that.

“NO! No, no, no!” The annoying kwami shouted, forcing her way between them. “You are not doing this! Not her!”

He smiled with false kindness. “Oh, but it’s already done. She and I have a contract to complete. I am merely here to fulfill my role.”

“No, it isn’t!” Tikki insisted. “She never summoned you or agreed to any deals! You have no claim on her!”

“Tikki, what’s going on? What is he talking about?” Marinette asked, increasingly worried at the state of her kwami.

“Don’t trust him, Marinette!” She exclaimed. “He’s here to try and make a claim on your soul!”

Marinette stiffened at that, her gaze jumping to Felix. “Is that true?”

He continued to smile. “Mostly. The only wrong point is that there is no ‘try’. Your soul has already been offered to me. I am simply upholding my end of the bargain.”

Both girl and kwami gasped in horror.

“But how?!” Tikki rounded on Marinette, not in anger but in worry as she looked the girl over for any sign of a contract. “Marinette, did you contract with him?”

She shook her head fervently in response. “No! I didn’t even know that was a thing!”

The kwami continued to mutter fearfully as she checked her chosen. Marinette was too stunned to move or try to stop her, her gaze not straying from Felix.

“What…what are you?”

He smirked.

“I’m a demon.”

Her eyes narrowed. At first he thought it was out of anger, but as she began to speak, he realized it was contemplation.

“I never made a deal with you. Or any demon.” She looked down to her clearly upset friend who had been just investigating her body. He could see her mind in motion, putting the pieces together and drawing conclusions.

“You didn’t, no. That original summoner would be a girl by the name of Lila Rossi.”

A pause.

“I take it you’ve heard of her.” He stated.

It went without saying, really. The way both girl and kwami tensed and the sheer anger they both displayed were indicative enough of that, even if he didn’t already know of their conflict with his former “Mistress” from his own observations of her or her final wish specifically targeting this girl.

But still…better to lead her in the direction he wants her to start looking. All the easier to build on that resentment and have her act on it.

“Lila! I should have known!” Marinette hissed, fists clenched and looking to the side. But then she immediately paused, considering. “Wait…”

Tikki floated up to her face, concerned. “Marinette?”

“Lila summoned you. Lila contracted with you. That means…Lila had to have made a wish from you.” Marinette reasoned.

Interesting. She was rather quick to put the clues together.

He nodded. “Three, in fact. Standard contract. Three wishes. No misfortune countertransference or ‘Monkey’s Paw’ drawbacks.”

Marinette nodded at that as she thought it out in her head.

“Is it possible…did Lila use her wishes to make everyone just trust her so easily?”

Felix didn’t dare grin. He merely nodded again, maintaining the picture of subservience. “Good fortune. Charm and charisma. Beguiling of the mind. The trust and adoration of those who meet her. Invoking immediate belief in her words. The inability of her listeners to question her unless she makes a claim they know with absolute certainty cannot be true.”

He let that slip out. It was all the better to confirm his new Contractor’s suspicions. Both to build her hatred of his former “Mistress” and to give her all the more justification to act in the belief she would be protecting others from Rossi’s continued manipulations if it’s clear they will be unable to realize it on their own.

“And as her last wish, she bequeathed her contract onto you so that your soul would be taken in place of her own.”

THAT got their attention.

“WHAT?!”

Ah, sweet music. Indignation, fear, righteous fury, injustice. A rather potent combination.

And he barely even had to do more than pluck a few strings to get it going.

But those few strings were perfectly times and expertly played as he divulged in full detail the tragic news of Marinette’s fate thanks to the schemes of a liar. He told them how Lila had gone well out of her way to learn about him and to summon him—the materials to conduct a demon summoning are hardly simple, after all. He spoke of the wretched girl’s history, of all the pain she had caused even before gaining any wishes from him and how much worse she became after. And he delightfully told them of how Lila, in an attempt to save her own life after having ruined so many others had seen fit to continue rather than repent—and went so far as to target the one person seemingly unaffected by her Charm. If allowed to continue, surely she would never stop. And she would certainly not make the same mistake as to allow anyone else to find the loophole Marinette had unwittingly stumbled into.

Through it all, Tikki merely glared at him, but Marinette…she was observing him just as much as he had been observing her. Considering. Contemplating.

It was all too perfect.

He already knew how this would end.

She was a thinker, this girl. Logic may not have been her strong suit, but she could certainly plan and reason.

He had dealt with people like her in the past. People who tried to rationalize their way out of bad situations while failing to see the traps. He had seen it before. This was nothing new.

She had a little understanding of how his power worked. Limited knowledge of the tools at her disposal. She was an outsider thrown into a game she did not know how to play. But she was smart—oh yes, she was certainly smart enough to come to the obvious conclusion.

It was clear how this would end. She would realize it soon enough.

The easy answer was to get vengeance against the one who sought to sacrifice her.

The logical answer was to make a wish to try and rebound the contract back on Lila.

The simple answer was that if Lila could wish her payment on another, then certainly it could be wished back on her.

The obvious solution was for the would-be victim to wish it.

“No.”

He startled.

“What?”

Yet it was the one thing she refused to do.

“No?” He asked in genuine surprise. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Exactly that. No. I’m not going to wish anything to happen to Lila.” She insisted stubbornly. “In fact, I’m not going to wish for anything! I refuse!”

Tikki beamed with pride.

This was…not what he was expecting.

“You can’t refuse. No one has ever refused!“

If Felix was inclined to care about appearances, he probably looked more harried than he ever allowed himself to seem before. At this moment, however, he was more concerned with this sudden deviation from his plans.

Uncaring of any such plans, the girl merely crossed her arms with a huff. “Yeah, but they all summoned you specifically to get things in the first place. I’m not like them! I never asked for your help.“

“No, you didn’t.” He mused. “But you never ask for anything, do you?”

He walked around her in a circle. She turned with him, and never once allowed him out of her sight.

Smart girl.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if for once someone tried to help you without you having to ask? Without you having to jump through hoops and break your back to somehow ‘earn’ their loyalty first? Loyalty they long since should have afforded you as a friend if not all the good you’ve already done for them?”

“Don’t act like you’re trying to help me.” She snapped at him. “You’re certainly not doing this for free.”

“No.” He admitted. “But I’m not requiring anything of you either.”

“Just my soul.”

“Your soul is already mine.” He explained, logically. “You have Rossi to thank for that. This is merely you taking payback. Or at least making the exchange worth it.”

She glared at him fiercely. Something in her eyes sent a thrill down his spine even as his hands ached to take that fire and snuff it.

She huffed angrily. “Why would I go and do a thing like that?”

That was obvious.

“Because it’s in your nature.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t kid yourself. Of course it is! It’s why your city is currently under siege. It’s why your friends are letting themselves be played for fools. It’s why I’ve been sent to you in the first place. Because everyone wants something. Even the majority of your most reviled sins are centered around the general concept.”

She frowned in confusion. “What?”

“Those cardinal vices—the seven deadly sins. Well, seven after the Catholic Church got ahold of the list, at any rate.”

Marinette looked rather unimpressed.

Felix was disinclined to care, and chose to continue.

“Greed. Lust. Gluttony. Each in some way is about the idea of wanting more than one has or should have. Whether it’s food, riches, or bodily pleasure. Even envy is about wanting what others have. Pride is in a sense feeling you are more deserving than others of the things you want. As for wrath…well, how often do people turn to destruction when they can’t get what they want? And in turn, the cardinal virtues that oppose the sins are all about restraint and holding oneself back from that which they want…and is it really no wonder why people keep giving in to the temptation if the demand that people should deny themselves the best they have to offer. Honestly, I barely have to try and convince anyone before they jump right into Faustian bargains.”

“You sound so sure of yourself!” Tikki hissed.

“Because I am.” Felix replied with a smirk. “I’ve yet to have a contract I never collected on. This will be no different.”

Marinette glared at him. “And what makes you so sure I’ll give in?”

“Because you’re human.” He replied simply. “If there is one thing humans excel at, it’s wanting. It’s the constant desire. The yearning for things they cannot or should not have, even to their own detriment. So many people every day waste their lives away wishing…dreaming…wanting.”

He caught her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“And you, my dear, are particularly brim with desires.”

“What would you know of my desires?”

He smirked. “How could I not know? You wear your desires so openly that it would be impossible to ignore them.”

Her eyes widened—likely fear and maybe embarrassment as he started to list them.

“The heart of a boy with no reason to even look at you.”

“To become renown for your designs and artistry.”

“A family life. A loving husband and…” He grinned. “Children.”

She gasped and drew back.

He barely held back the laugh, limiting it to a mere chuckle at the inanity of it all.

“Two boys. And a girl.” He leaned forward, whispering their names like a prayer. “Hugo. Louis. Ema.”

She gasped. Like it was a surprise. As though those names weren’t etched into her very heart, big and bright and so easily for anyone to read.

The girl was an open book.

“Such a loss…wouldn’t it be a shame?”

“You don’t touch them!” She snapped at him.

He didn’t even bother to hide the laugh this time.

“Touch them? Princess, they don’t exist! Those ‘children’ are mere illusions conjured by your imagination! They are figments of your desire. Nothing more than a dream. And the way you’re going, that’s all they’ll ever be.”

She practically wilted at that. He watched her spirit falter and fall like a dying flame.

It was over.

Tikki’s hissing didn’t even seem to penetrate the girl’s mind as she stared at him, looking oh so perfectly lost.

“You help others to no end and with nothing to show for it. You lose time and again to liars and bullies who abuse their power and authority to harm you and those you care about. You give of yourself until there is nothing left for the sake of a boy who would have every reason to love you if he weren’t so blind. And for all your attempts, it only leads to demands for more. From yourself. From your friends. From the world.”

He reached out a hand to touch her cheek in a gentle caress.

“You could have anything—simply ask for anything to at least make things a little better. Not even just for yourself, but for everyone. You could wish Hawk Moth to die and his Miraculous in your hands. You could wish Adrien to finally see how much you love him. And you know your friends are little more than tools to Rossi at this point. If you really want to save them from her, you could just ask and that little problem will simply go away. No blood. No mess. No guilt on your shoulders. You could erase her from existence entirely so you never even remember her.”

She looked up at him, almost shyly as she listened despite Tikki’s warnings. He knew he as good as had her.

“So many things. So many ways to make your life better in the here and now.”

He smiled gently now. Play the part of the rescuer. Calming her and reassuring her that it was okay.

“All you have to do is ask, Princ—.”

He was cut off by the sensation of something very cold and very wet hitting his face.

Sputtering, he wiped his eyes and found Marinette giving him an altogether unimpressed stare with what appeared to be a mister in hand.

He was…pretty sure he hadn’t seen her holding that just a minute ago.

“Did…did you just squirt me?” He asked, completely bewildered. He’d been stabbed, burned, hung, and even cut in half on one occasion. But no one just…SPRAYED him with water before like he was an unruly housecat.

Tikki laughed, joyously as Marinette looked down on him figuratively and literally.

“Yes. And there’s more of that, mister.” Marinette threatened, shaking the bottle and making it evident from the sloshing within that there was still plenty of water left.

“You can’t just do that!” He exclaimed, incredulous. It was silly, of course, because she clearly just had. But it was the principle of the matter!

“And you can’t just buy my soul from someone else! Especially not someone who has no claim to it!” Marinette countered.

“It was her wish.” He insisted.

“And it’s your contract. Surely there would have to be some stipulations about either party requesting or promising something they can’t deliver.”

…

She took his silence as an answer and smirked.

“Now let me make this perfectly clear.” She told him in a ‘no nonsense’ tone. “I don’t want you here. I never agreed to any contract or to any of the terms of your contract with Lila. I don’t want your power or any ‘help’ from you. I’m not going to make ANY wishes to you. In fact,” She straightened, growing…alarmingly more confident than he expected from the anxious girl with poor self confidence she initially presented herself to be. “I’m going to find some way to save myself AND Lila from you.”

Wait—what?

“You can’t do that!”

She couldn’t do that, right?

Marinette merely glared with all the fury of a very frustrated and unhappy teenager who happened to moonlight as a superhero with all the powers of creation at her disposal.

It…turned out to be more intimidating than expected…

“Watch me.”

And with that, she turned away and stomped to her desk where she promptly began working and doing her utmost to pretend he wasn’t there.

He frowned at her back.

“You are already doomed. Why not enjoy what you can?”

She would not be cowed.

“I couldn’t expect you to understand.”

Ah. A “human” thing. How droll. And as pathetic a comeback as any could be.

But she said nothing further, and took to ignoring him from then out. Tikki smirked at him from her side as she kept watch over them both—her to protect and him to be protected from.

He glowered at the two from the corner, considering his next move.

It seemed Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not be so easily played.

That was fine. Really. It was a minor setback, nothing more.

After all, she was only human. As was Rossi. As was every Contractor before.

She would falter in this newfound determination sooner or later.

He could be patient.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 9

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Chapter summary:  The revelation of Ienzo's relationship with Demyx throws Even badly, forcing him to confront his humanity and the past.

Read it on FF.net/ on AO3

---

Uselessly, Even sits, trying to come to terms with… all that. He’s feeling dizzy himself, and he honestly cannot tell if it’s his actual physical condition or not.

The boy’s health matters above all. Ansem must be given a stern talking-to, though doubtless he’s so used to overworking himself that he wouldn’t have noticed anything undue in Ienzo.

Ienzo. Oh, child, what are you getting yourself into? Of course, now that he’s no longer a Nobody, odds were he would have come to these feelings sooner or later--it’s only natural--but he’s so emotionally immature that something like this would only end poorly. And is Demyx even capable of giving the boy what he needs--an understanding of his mind and how it works? Intellectual stimulation?

Have they actually been working on a project, or have they instead--

Do not dwell on that.

Ienzo can’t handle heartbreak. Likely at the moment, neither of them can see the consequences facing them.

Even feels sick. It must’ve taken him hours to figure out why--time where he gives said troublemaker more fluids, more glucose, Demyx stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes all the while--but eventually… he does.

Ienzo is not a child. He’s grown now, and will surely have adult wants and needs (as much as it reviles him to think about). But so like a child, he’s not yet capable of understanding those needs. He’s probably never had to feel anything like this, doubling the trauma if things go south.

Even’s own son never got to grow up. He would be perpetually five, a ghost whispering in the background, fading more day by day.

This is uncharted territory. He does not know how to be of use.

Ansem needs to know--if anyone can convince that boy of anything, it’s him.

It feels odd, after all these years, to approach him first. Worse still, to find him at the computer at the hearth of their old lab. Knowing the genesis of all this is so close only makes him feel sicker. “Master. A word.”

His head snaps up, likely at Even’s odd tone. “Is something the matter?” Then, immediately. “Where’s Ienzo?”

“I have to talk to you about that.”

Ansem stands; and stumbles. Without thinking, Even grasps him to keep him upright.

“You need rest,” he says.

“I… am aware. And I shall. But first you must tell me what’s going on. I’m not fond of this new flair for the dramatic you have, Even.”

“I’m only as dramatic as the lot of you,” he spits. “Come. I’ll take you back to your quarters.”

He knows he’s been here recently, but only with the others; seeing it on his own gives him a new perspective. He’s spent so many hours here, over the years--arguing, brainstorming, simply conversing with someone at his level. He feels something like… nostalgia? Bittersweetness? He plies Ansem with water, sinks onto one of the chintz chairs. To Ansem’s tired eyes he explains, “Ienzo’s very unwell.”

“I know you’re concerned about his mental state, as am I--”

He scowls. “I mean the boy collapsed, Ansem.”

Perhaps it’s the use of his first name, but Ansem just blinks. “Is he--”

Even stands and begins pacing. “Where to even begin? Dehydrated as a desert--blood pressure of the dead. Had such a bad nosebleed it looked like something out of a tawdry horror novel. His heart was starting to palpitate--likely if this continued for any longer, he might’ve--” He stops cold, his anger cooling. “It’s lucky he was not alone when it happened.”

“But is he--”

“Stable. Asleep. I gave him a very mild tranquilizer to calm him down, and his body will take care of the rest.” He crosses his arms tightly. “This has to stop. I know you desperately want to be close with him again, but simply indulging the boy won’t do any good. It’s going to take--more work.”

Ansem has turned very pale. He holds his glass of water tightly.

He takes a deep breath. “There’s something else you have to know.”

“...Which is?”

“Demyx and Ienzo’s liaison--”

“ You’re going to fault them for finding friends in one another?”

“--it’s more than just that. They’re…” He can’t bring himself to say the word.

Ansem gets it. “...Oh. Well.”

“There’s no way this can end well. The boy’s gone through so much--both of them, actually--can he really take much more?”

“I’m afraid you know them both better than I do.” He sighs heavily, swills the water around in his glass. “I know you want to protect him, Even.”

He feels weak, tired now.

“I am not happy about it either. But he also… has to be given the space to make his own decisions.”

“They both have trauma they haven’t come to terms with--Ienzo doesn’t--he’s never had to feel such things. I’m afraid--”

“I know, Even. And it’s touching you care so much--for a moment I almost saw the old you.”

He can’t stop himself from admitting, “I feel as if I never have enough time--and yet I’m also doing nothing more useful than waffling. Which I suppose… is all I ever did.” The realization saps the strength from him. “Hiding behind my research… foolish, prideful, passive. I… All I’ve ever done is hurt people--especially those I considered the most dear.”

Slowly Ansem says, “I wonder why it is you feel this now.”

He rests his face against his palm for a moment. He feels overwhelmed, on the verge of dissolving. Remorse closes a fist around his heart, making it almost impossible to breathe. He stands, feeling the ground pitch a little--a sear of pain cuts through his chest. Before he loses consciousness he realizes this is exactly how the boy felt.

---

It hurts to breathe. “Easy. Steady, now.” He’s eased carefully into a sitting position. He wonders if he hit his head on the way down; a splitting ache makes the light hurt. He gasps a little, pressing a hand against his brow. “Are you alright?” Ansem asks.

“Clearly not,” he spits. “All along I thought…”

“What?”

“That the boy was being dramatic…”

“Ienzo?”

“Demyx.” He takes his weight back from Ansem. He’s on the study floor. “It is exquisitely painful.”

“What is?”

One pinch of pain and all of a sudden he’s revealing things he shouldn’t. “You know very well our hearts are not yet whole,” he says. “All these fainting spells on his part… I guess I’m not an outlier.”

“So you were feeling.”

“As if one can make it stop.” He takes his own pulse. Surely enough, it’s racing. “Damnit…”

“You’re not well either, are you?” Ansem asks gently. Even can’t read his expression either. “I thought you were self-aware enough to understand hypocrisy.”

The surge of anger he feels brings the pain back, but he stays conscious. “The only thing that is certain is that I truly understand nothing. ” He tries to stand, stumbles.

“...You should not go anywhere in this state.”

“I’ll be fine.” He sounds breathy, and can’t fight Ansem when the man sits him gently on the loveseat.

Even can feel it coming; he shivers. And the last thing he needs is Ansem to witness him like this.

“Are you cold?”

If anything, he’s sweating. But he admits in a pathetic voice, “Yes.”

Ansem drapes a blanket around his shoulders, one that smells vaguely musty. Even keeps his eyes on the floor, fighting the rising tide inside of him. It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not. “You struggle,” Ansem says quietly.

Even can feel the cutting retort on his tongue, but it’s like flash paper, gone in an instant. “Don’t you?” Then the words are spilling out of him like he truly is some kind of puppet. “How do you do it? Just--go back to the way things were? How can you bear to look at me? At us ? Why are you letting us stay here? Aren’t you angry?”

His expression is curiously neutral, diplomatic. He may be king no longer, but he’s dusted off the mask. “The situation is rather complicated. I’m horrified at what you’ve done. But Even, you’ve been my friend for thirty-five years. As though I can forget that at all. Nor does it make it easier to see you like this.”

“Some friend I was, to let this happen.”

“You cannot ignore the truth of Xehanort’s manipulation. Of the darkness.”

“...The darkness merely brought out the truest parts of myself.”

Ansem flinches. “It… does.”

They hold eye contact for a long, long time. Ansem breaks the silence first.

“I believed Heartless… Nobodies… all of your discoveries were abominations. That they needed elimination. Even those with sentience were just… tools I used in my vain attempt at revenge.” His hands are both outstretched. “Much like you… I gave myself a new name… covered myself in a new garb… and hid behind my so-called work, claiming good intentions.” He looks back at Even. “We’re not different, Even. Had I been in your shoes, on the ground with Xehanort… who knows what I have done? And were you in mine… would you have been able to stop me?”

The tide threatens to choke him now.

“Maybe we can’t find forgiveness in each other. Maybe we’re not meant to. But to… forsake one another is not much better.”

He gasps out one sob, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“If you don’t allow yourself to feel, Even, you can never hope to be any better.”

How truly odd a mental breakdown is, he thinks. He feels almost as if he is watching himself, a shaking, weeping wreck. Simultaneously numb and in agony at the same time. This must be how Ienzo felt, while Even was recovering from his wounds; overwhelmed, uncontrollable, utterly weak.

“Don’t fight it,” Ansem says. “Just let it be.”

More painful yet, to be consoled by him. “I betrayed you--and all you stood for. I betrayed… Ienzo . He said he wouldn’t touch the boy. Why did I ever--”

Ansem frowns. “Xehanort?”

He’s said too  much. Even feels how tightly he’s curled up, face parallel with the ground. “Who else? But he… he felt no… anxiety, no overstimulation. Now I’m afraid--” Afraid of what?

Perhaps, simply, afraid.

He sits up. Ansem offers him a clean handkerchief, a glass of water. “I should like to go see Ienzo myself,” he says softly. “You stay here as long as you need.”

Of course Even leaves as soon as Ansem’s out of earshot. He’s beyond humiliated.The fever, brief as it was, has left an unpleasant film along his skin, and so he bathes, winching as he brushes scars, the strange numbness and hypersensitivity.

The towel he’s draped over the mirror has fallen; he sees himself. His skin is a patchwork. From his collarbones all the way to his feet, brittle scars cover him.

It’s no less than what you deserve.

He dresses and falls into a restless sleep.

---

For a while he feels numb. Even sleeps a lot; it seems like his strings have snapped, and he can’t move. He can’t tell if he’s merely just exhausted, or if this is his depression worsening. He considers pharmaceuticals; but when he checks his stock, he finds everything expired. Figures.

He decides he must go to the marketplace, to get some supplies. See what he can find.

“Where have you been?” Dilan asks. “Feel like I haven’t seen your mug in some time.”

“I’m afraid I was feeling rather ill,” Even tells him. It’s the truth, at least partially. “I fear I wasn’t taking adequate care of myself, and needed rest. Ienzo’s collapse was something of a wakeup call.” Despite his sweater, and coat, he’s shivering, and he isn’t even outside. Is this because his BMI is too low? Or is he merely unused to feeling the cold anymore, after being Vexen?

“Yes.” Dilan sneers. “I’ve heard about that.”

“Oh?”

“Impossible not to. They’ve been practically joined at the hip since last week.”

“...Have they.” He feels that swell of anger, of concern.

“It’s not all that surprising. This is just a flash in the pan; nothing more. Warm bodies, you know? That’s all I care to think on the matter.”

He feels another swell of disgust. “...I feel similarly.”

“Where are you going?”

“My supply of medication is expired. I need to seek out more--considering it seems I’m the one for such things now.”

“That woman Aerith is a healer. Perhaps you might get what you need from her.”

Even chuckles. “I’ll feel better with what’s proven.”

Dilan shrugs. “Would you mind particularly if I joined you?”

Why? Even nearly asks. “...If you must.”

It’s colder outside; more jarring. Even winces, adjusting the scarf at his throat. “I forgot about these winters,” Dilan says. “Say what you want about that godforsaken castle--at least it was well-insulated.”

“Those coats were rather warm, weren’t they,” Even mutters. But the thought of putting one on repulses him.

He chuckles. “No, I do not wish to be young,” he adds, shaking his head. “These things are… difficult enough as it is. I don’t know how either of them are sane.”

“Clearly, they aren’t.” I don’t feel much better off. “But if Ienzo wants to get hurt… well, I’m to let him make his own decisions, aren’t I?”

“He is twenty,” Dilan points out. “It was bound to happen sometime.”

“I’m not sure if you agree, but I… feel so very odd, being here.”

His expression darkens. “Yes,” he says. “But where else would we go? And--what else would we do?”

"I can't tell you. I feel as though…" He trails off.

"You've no idea where to begin?" Dilan offers.

"...Indeed."

"I can… tell. Even, my old friend. Please do not take offense. But whenever I've seen you recently… you seem so besides yourself."

"I… am not offended." He smiles wryly. "I'm merely realizing the all-too-human costs of what we did."

Town is approaching. For their own protection, soon they will have to lower their voices.

"I've been rereading our Organization reports," Dilan says. "I didn't realize you had so many."

"I'm afraid with my… unseemly departure, close to a year is missing--arguably the most cataclysmic year."

"Isa left a relatively detailed record. You needn't worry too much." The frozen ground crunches a little under his feet. "All those Heartless that were made--that I made--the people who were killed because of it--"

Even touches his arm. "Peace," he says softly. "You and I… are much in the same boat." Streets begin blooming around them. "You have to forgive me, Dilan."

He raises his brows. "Oh?"

"That day in the cemetery… I've known you over twenty years, and yet I could not recall who you lost."

The memory softens his face. "I'm afraid I'm--frightfully sentimental," he murmurs. "I had a twin, once. I used to… visit her on our birthdays. She was quite young. The thought of having missed so many… put things into a sort of perspective. A human pain."

Even furrows his brows. "Oddly… it was my worry for another that helped me decide to atone. The bonds." He shakes his head.

"Ienzo." Not a question. "You always had a soft spot for the boy."

"I wonder often if he's the by-product of some parental instinct of mine."

"...A replacement for your son?" He thinks, fussing with his jacket cuffs.

"Perhaps."

"A heart has room to love more than one." He shrugs. "Though--essentially the boy is your son . "

"I'm sure if he heard that he'd disagree." Even stops cold.

Dilan frowns. "Even?"

"We've… betrayed him, the three of us. We…"

Dilan puts his hands on Even's shoulders. "I… know."

He swallows. "Let's finish this errand."

---

"Errant" is the right word for it.

Even sits at the desk in his quarters, a frightful numbness overtaking him in waves. He had no luck finding antidepressants; not that it could've cured him anyway. He's never felt quite this woeful. But every time he thinks he's understood it, he realizes more ugly truth.

I am irredeemable.

A gentle knock at his door. "Enter," he says tiredly.

It's Aeleus--Even breaths a small sigh of relief. "We've been invited to dinner," he says. "Up with Ansem. Ienzo's cooking."

His heart aches. "Oh… I… see."

"I can tell them if you're in the middle of something."

"I'll go. Better than subsisting off of toast."

Aeleus nods, but remains there. Even turns towards him in the chair.

"You've more to say."

"Why do you think the three of us grew apart?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Who? Myself, you, Dilan?"

"You, me… and the boy." He drops his eyes. "I was… reflecting on my time in Castle Oblivion. The three of us… all we basically did was argue with one another.”

“Until we all started dropping like flies, you mean?” Even asks. He sighs.

“I’m afraid to say I did not feel much for either of you.” He drops his eyes.

Even nods slowly. “I experienced much the same,” he admits. “The moment I became Vexen--the first time--I could feel that I had been ostracized from all I ever cared for. And in the moment, it was… liberating.”

“To not have to care?”

“...Yes.”

“It was,” he says softly. “Wasn’t it? But then again… to have those feelings back… it seems only right. Natural.”

Even can’t help but agree, despite the pain it’s causing him; his concern for the others is the only thing keeping him here. (In the castle? Or--)

Do not dwell on that.

“Shall we walk together, Even?” Aeleus asks.

“Of course. I admit.” He sneers a little. “I am curious to witness this trainwreck in motion.”

They set off. After a moment, Aeleus says, “I know you are worried for Ienzo’s heart,” Aeleus says. “I am too. But at the same time… if something makes him happy, however brief, are we justified in trying to take that from him?”

“He’s already so mentally fragile, I fear--”

“Aren’t you? Aren’t we all? Aren’t bonds supposed to help with all that?”

Even scowls, irritation rising in him. “Who knows,” he mutters. “I surely don’t, apparently.”

Aeleus, either stung or out of tact, lapses into silence.

It’s odd. The table has been set, neatly; he can see Ienzo conscious for the first time  since he’s collapsed, in civilian clothing, his skin a normal color again, bustling around the kitchen. Demyx hands him a serving platter. Even observes them warily, notes that Ansem and Dilan are doing the same; but neither boy seems to notice. Ienzo laughs at something Demyx says, a sound Even hasn’t heard in a long time (if ever?). Demyx looks at the boy with… something, something that isn’t quite lust, it’s much too soft.

Oh dear. It’s worse than he could’ve thought.

They settle in for dinner; Demyx sits in the spot that normally Even gravitates towards, unaware of the decorum. Nobody mentions this. Nobody talks about much of anything, actually, and for a while the only sounds come from the gentle scrapes of spoons against bowls. Demyx and Ienzo both keep their eyes on their plates.

Even can’t help himself. “I see you’re feeling well, Ienzo. What is it you’ve both done to keep yourselves busy?” He tries to keep his tone affable, but he sees the dangerous look in Ienzo’s eye and Demyx’s blush, only further confirming-- you’ll just torture yourself.

“Not much you’d find of interest, I’m afraid,” the boy explains. “Resting, mostly. We both were lacking winter things, so we’ve spent some time in town. That’s about all.”

“I am sure we’re all glad to see you back in good health,” Even says to him. “I just hope that this new development does not cloud your judgement going forward. To be young and… caught up in such matters, can no doubt impede your critical thinking. However natural it is.”

Ienzo sets down his teacup. He’s blushing, but the frustration in his voice is undeniable. “Clearly you have thought on the subject, and I appreciate your concern. But I feel as though I am just as able to take on my research as I ever were. Not that I have asked for your advice. Should you have more to say on the matter, please let us discuss it in private.” After a moment, “You needn’t worry about me anymore,” Ienzo says, a bit more gently. “I… I’m not the little boy I was.”

He shakes his head. “I will always worry about you,” he says. “After all, I’ve so much time to make up for.” It’s the most personal thing he’s said to him in some time.

He softens a little, but says no more. After a rather awkward silence, Demyx speaks. “Anyone want seconds?”

The boys remain around long enough to be polite; they do the dishes and take their leave ( do not think about what it is they’re going to do). Revulsion makes his stomach sour.

But Even finds it’s actually more awkward with them gone; without the drama of the relationship as a buffer, it’s the four of them together alone in a room for the first time since…

No, can’t be. Is it?

Since the last time they were all together in the basement.

Even considers excusing himself as well, but Ansem breaks the silence. “I believe we all are… concerned in our own ways,” he says slowly. He poured himself a glass of wine at the beginning of the dinner, one that is still untouched. “But it’s only right to allow the boys to be human. You’ve been rather defensive, Even.”

Dilan smirks. Even isn’t sure how much wine he’s had, if he’s drunk. “What was it you said? “I’ve so much time to make up for?” Rather softhearted now, aren’t you?”

“It’s what I have to hold onto,” Even admits, startled by his own candor. “Almost all else is lost.”

“We can’t pretend things didn’t happen,” Aeleus says. “Master, I…” He bows his head. “No apology I offer can ever be enough.”

What little humor Dilan’s found fades; he drops his eyes, twisting the ends of one of his braids. “Some code we were supposed to uphold,” he mutters.

“You’ve all separately come to me, in your own way. But truly… I am not an innocent victim, as you may suspect.” He chuckles. “You remember the man who called himself DiZ?”

“That thorn in our side?” Dilan asks, incredulous. “That was you ?”

Even knows this was what Ansem was alluding to, but still feels somewhat surprised. Despite himself, he laughs, too. “Never pictured you as a vigilante.”

“Anger was all I had keeping me going. This shouldn’t be a surprise--we’ve all spent too much time with darkness.”

“Was it revenge you desired?” Aeleus asks.

“Revenge… death… who knows?” He shrugs.

“We needed to be taken down,” Even says, to the floor. “Though sadly for you--all of us save Dilan were already gone before you put your plan in action.”

“I was after Xehanort-- Xemnas .” He sneers. “The fool. I sure felt something about him when I found him. I thought it was something good. I should’ve known what was going on the moment he arrived with darkness.”

“What’s the saying--“hindsight’s 20/20”?” Dilan shifts his weight a little.

“And I’m king no longer. I have no authority, no title… I’m merely a foolish old man, weighed down by memories of the past. Are we not all wretches?”

He’s right, but Even can still feel something like fury. “So what, are we to not even try?” he spits. “Are we just to--waste away here in this castle, sealing ourselves up and getting nothing done? Avoiding one another like the plague--and ourselves more?”

“What do you propose we do, then, Even, since you know so much more?” Dilan hisses. “Try to assist the townsfolk we’ve terrorized? How will that be of any use?”

“Retraumatizing,” Aeleus whispers, his eyes on his knees.

“You both have a valid point,” Ansem says. He seems unnervingly calm, but Even can see the tension in his jaw; the mask is back on. “To merely sit on our hands and do nothing would in and of itself be another atrocity. Yet… the landscape of this city has already been so scarred by what we’ve put in motion.”

“We?” Even asks, incredulous.

Ansem meets his eyes. Behind the cool diplomacy, Even can see something like fire. “You think I did not realize what could happen?” he asks. “Once you began studying the darkness, I’d heard by then it could change you, morph you into something… less. But I’ve known you all for years, handpicked you for your various specializations… I figured… no, they’re friends of mine, they should simply be better. I could’ve stopped it--instead I chose to sit behind my title, my supposed… power, over you. In every single aspect, I’ve failed.” He hasn’t raised his voice, in fact was quite soft spoken. But when he stops speaking, the silence is especially notable. “In a way we suit one another, do we not?” He’s addressing them all, but it’s Even’s gaze he holds. “Four grown men--intelligent, educated--and all we can wreak is havoc.”

He’s had enough. “I refuse to believe this is all we’re capable of.”

“How can you help anyone if you can’t even help yourself?” Ansem levels, and for the first time, despite the very calm cadence of his voice, can Even feel the depths of the anger the man has for him.

Very well.

Without another word, Even gets up and leaves.

Let them suffer together. They deserve it.

[araneagreatlyapproves]

OC Interview -- Tag Game

I appreciate the tag @stephicness xux I haven't been able/motivated to do much with my OC's lately so this should be fun. (I hope you don't mind me using that painting you gave me on my birthday in here since there's no way I could make my characters look as good as you make them look. Zero character art skillz.  >u> )

RULES

1. PICK ONE OF YOUR CHARACTERS

(Cuz I can’t draw characters, and my picture taking skills are awful as well xux)

2. FILL IN THE QUESTIONS/STATEMENTS AS IF YOU ARE BEING INTERVIEWED FOR AN ARTICLE AND YOU WERE THE MUSE.

3. TAG PEOPLE TO DO THIS MEME. @garrus-the-spectre, @etherealautumn90, @irlscrooge, – Wanna give it a try?!

—–

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME? “Bastille Novum. Nice to meet you.”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? “What do you mean?” He raised a seemingly perfect eyebrow in confusion. “That is my real name. I suppose it might seem strange to you.” The Guardian relaxed into the soft back of his seat and smiled softly. “If it's easier for you, just call me Bast.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT? “A name is a name. It allows others to distinguish me from a group, that is all. Seems pointless to question why when I've been dead for over a century.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? The neon citron of his eyes seemed to intensify along with the slight blush that brightened his cheeks. “I'm currently in a relationship. Why do you ask---wait, where did you get that photo?!” He stammers while attempting to regain his composure with deep breaths.

(Art by @stephicness​ .u. )

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS? “Well, I'm a Warlock.” He quickly answered, glad to be on a different topic. “I recently acquired the abilities of a Stormcaller. In simpler terms, my body acts as a conduit for the electricity I wield as a weapon, summoned forth from the Storm.”

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE. “What's a 'Mary Sue'? I already told you what my name was.”

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR? “My eyes? Orangish-yellow? I'm told they resemble a flame, but I don't spend much time in front of a mirror to confirm those claims.”

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR? “You have eyes, don't you?” He muttered irritably, glancing up to spot a stray piece of hair that had fallen over his brow. “Navy Blue. Also, no. I didn't dye it.”

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? He sighs, leaning back into his chair once again with his hands folded neatly in his lap. “If I did, they're long dead. I don't remember much about my life before I became a Guardian, so I couldn't share their names with you even if I once knew them.”

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS? “Unless Ghosts qualify as pets, no.”

11. NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. “That...is a broad question. Superficial things that I don't particularly like include ugly shaders, most Warlock armor, individuals with high-pitched voices, and overly sweet food, to name a few.” He mutters, averting his gaze from the interviewer. “The short list of significant things that I dislike would depress you, so I'd prefer not to share.”

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING? “I never really thought about it.” He mused honestly, closing his eyes momentarily to think while one hand wandered up to rest inquisitively on his chin. He opened his eyes and an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. “Well, I enjoy reading. All genres including academic texts, but what I really love is traveling. I would lose my mind if I had to spend all of my time on Earth. I can literally fly anywhere and it's extremely freeing.” He pauses a moment, a forlorn expression taking over his features.. “I used to love cave-diving and participating in archeological digs...but I had an incident a few years back and I can't bring myself to do it anymore, let alone enjoy it.”

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? "Yes, I have.”

14. EVER…KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? He frowns “More than I care to count.”

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? “...I am not particularly sure how to answer that question.”

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. “I tend to be a control freak, and that causes a lot of problems for me; with my team, my boyfriend, and even my own abilities.” He admits, crossing his hands over his lap again and tapping his boot against the floor. “I also have a tendency to over-think things that would better be left alone. Other than that though, I guess I'm also a picky eater.” He grinned slightly as he paused to think again. “I'm sure Isaiah could think of more if you feel like interviewing him next.”

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL? “These questions are getting pretty personal.” He judgmentally appraised with a suspicious look in his eye “Someone I look up to…? I suppose that would be my clan leader, Senen-12. She's strong, independent, skilled and holds our team together. I don't know what my clan and I would do without her, if you must know.”

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? "It seems to me like you already know the answer to that question.” He bashfully gestures to the photo of him and Isaiah.

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “Not conventional school, no. As a Guardian it's my job to self-educate, but I don't typically learn about mundane topics like English and math. Mostly it's lore, mysticism, and the weaknesses of my enemies. Much more interesting, right?”

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY? Instead of getting angry or flustered, like what would have been his normal reaction, he appeared taken aback and he sunk into his seat in thought. One hand shifted to support his forehead, as if he had a migraine. “I, uh...” he stammered, swallowing loudly. “Having children isn't really an option for Guardians like me, I wouldn't really want any even if it were an option. I'm not really the 'fatherly' type. And marriage?” His free hand wandered to his robe pocket and reached inside to fiddle with something there. “I've debated with myself, especially recently, if binding myself to someone is worth it. It seems like it would just hurt much, much more to lose that person after being bound like that. No matter how much you love them.” He glanced up finally, his eyes sparkling despite the melancholy in his voice. “Then again, I've always been a bit of a masochist...~”

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS? He shook his head abruptly, in part as an answer to the question, and also to recompose himself after the previous question. “No, no, no. I'm not nearly that popular. Though, Isaiah gushes over me. I don't think he qualifies, however. He's biased.”

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? His eyes darken and he has to avert his gaze for a moment. “If I have to be absolutely honest, I would have to say that my greatest fear is watching those I hold dear being hurt and not being able to do anything about it...”

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “I usually just wear basic Warlock armor. We're permitted to customize and spice up our look with shaders, but it's all pretty basic. Arms, legs, a robe, helmet, and then a Warlock bond; all of which is our choice, of course. I'm just glad I don't have to  wear a cape like a Hunter. I can't imagine how badly those things get in the way.”

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? A warm smile curls his soft lips and he chuckles bashfully. “Of course I do, haven't you been listening?”

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF? "You think I would be cowardly enough to do something like that?”

26. WELL, IT’S NOT OVER YET! "Really? I was under the impression that this was going to be a quick interview. Keep any further personal questions to a minimum, okay?”

27. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS) "I don't think things like 'class' define anyone left on Earth.”

28. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “I have a small circle of friends, that I don't care to count, which really only consist of two Fireteams; Fireteam Regis, Isaiah's fireteam, and Fireteam Autem, which is mine.”

29. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? "Most pies are too sweet for my tastes.”

30. FAVORITE DRINK? “Water?”

31. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? “That's the beauty of having the ability to travel space in seconds; I don't need to choose.”

32. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE… “...I refuse to repeat myself. Take a look at your notes from previous questions and figure out the answer yourself.”

33. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY? “I—I don’t think that's ANY concern of yours…!” He stammers, quickly crossing his legs as if to hide.

34. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? He shrugs his shoulders with his palms up. “A lake, probably, if I had the choice. Though...it's probably not a good idea for me to be in any body of water, especially with others, for the time being. I don't quite have a handle on my Stormcaller abilities yet, and I would hate to electrocute someone by mistake.”

35. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? A smile brightens his face again and his gaze seems far off, as if he's picturing someone in particular. His fingertips dance across his curled lips as he thinks. “Strong, but gentle and compassionate. Maybe even a little immature. Someone who's confident and straightforward enough to show and tell me what they want.” For a moment he pauses, his mind wandering and his free hand returning to his pocket. “Someone who makes me laugh, and even embarrasses me at times because they love so deeply.” He laughs softly under his breath, recalling a moment from his past. After a moment, he shifts in his seat, still smiling. “I also prefer them to have lavender skin, purple hair, and beautiful blue eyes. If that isn't specific enough for you.”

36. ANY FETISHES? “THAT is definitely not any of your business.”

37. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE? “What is your obsession with my sex life?” He growls, clearly irritated. He stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, resigning to surrendering himself to that particular kind of question. “Fine. I prefer a more...submissive role, but I'm not opposed to other roles either. It's a spur of the moment kind of thing...” he continually grumbles as he explains and eventually makes eye contact again.

38. CAMPING OR INDOORS? “Indoors. I prefer the comfort of my own home. Camping usually involves being shot at or ambushed.”

39. ARE YOU WANTING THIS QUIZ TO END? “Yes. I've been waiting for this 'quiz' to end since you asked me if I was single or taken. May I leave now?”