#i'm feeling okay just a lot of headache and general body aching.

[sickficideas]

Ooooh since you're doing dandadan now, can I request general headcanons for sick okarun and momo? Like who'd get sick more often, how badly would it affect them, symptoms, caretaking etc? Whether or not it's related to your current wip :)))

YES!!! absolutely anon i am happy to start talking about them...!!!!! You gave me a lot to work with and I tried to include everything you mentioned but if you ever want anything more specific from these feel free to come back !!!! 👽👽💖💖

PS I'm fighting demons on whether to call him Okarun or Ken but he's Okarun for this post since that's what you've called him lol

- Okarun is definitely sick more often but only as a result of his body not being able to handle his Yokai form. Like random high fevers, awful body aches, nausea, tinnitus, nosebleeds (i think even worse things like coughing up blood or absent seizures from over using it)...he's kind of a baby about it, he has a very low pain tolerance and fevers are so overwhelming for him with all of his senses being muddled 😭😭

- Momo isn't necessarily sick often but her similarly her newfound powers give her the gift of frequent headaches and migraines 👍 they don't hold her back most of the time, she just pops a ton of pain killers and moves on (after complaining), but bad with migraines she's huddled up in her dark room and just praying it goes away 😭😭😭

- Momo's fevers don't get as high and aren't as frequent as Okarun's, but the fever really messes with her abilities. She can't use it properly with Any higher temperature, but she gets really weird visual and auditory hallucinations too and she has a hard time distinguishing them from reality. This Deeply concerns Okarun any time he notices and he'll usually pick up on her hallucinations before he realizes she has a fever 😭 she hears him ask her something when he didn't even speak and he's on high alert all of a sudden like, miss Ayase I didn't say anything are you okay what's wrong?????

- Okarun does a good job taking care of Momo if she's sick but he's a tiny bit overbearing (to the point where she might snap and accidently scare him off...she Wants to be taken care of she's just very easily embarrassed) and also Horribly worried. Especially if she's acting weird or quiet he Might cry and she has to comfort him and he feels guilty about it. Vicious cycle lol

- Momo is similarly the overthinker of all time, she's watching all of his movements and focusing on everything he says and does when he's sick because he won't verbalize how he's feeling to avoid worrying her. Dummy. So she tries to figure it all out herself. She takes good care of him though and tries to make sure he's not too overwhelmed 🥺🥺

[moe-broey]

Drugs dot com sounds like a fake ass shitpost site name BUT IT'S REAL...... life is so beautiful... anywasy it's not recommended to take vitamin C w Vyvanse. This has been a PSA

[hungerpunch]

okay actually. i am maybe going to cry lol. here is a non-exhaustive list of the medical professionals i have seen since i was in seventh grade:

too many internists (as primary care/general practice) to actually count. well over a dozen.

two neurologists

one spine specialist

seven physical therapists

two chiropractors

four massage therapists

three dentists

one oral surgeon

i have had many MRIs and x-rays. i have had a lot of blood taken. i have taken rounds of steroids and muscle relaxers for pain/symptom management. there have been times i could not turn my head to one side for months at a time. i have scoliosis, which wasn't figured out until the fifth or so physical therapist, even though previous chiropractors had taken x-rays of my spine.

here is a non-exhaustive list of reasons why i sought such intensive care:

debilitating migraines

severe back pain

severe neck pain

bad pain flares in my back teeth during times of stress

ear aches

here is a non-exhaustive list of things i have been told about myself by these professionals:

the enamel on my teeth was worn off and had to be artificially reapplied "because" i "brushed my teeth too aggressively."

that the reason my ears hurt was "because" i "cleaned them too aggressively" and there was no protective ear wax left.

that the lowest three discs in my spine were degenerating.

that i was grinding my teeth in my sleep.

that i was hyper-tensing in my sleep and that i should "take xanax daily & nightly to make it stop."

that i had scoliosis. (this one is 100% confirmed)

that i needed therapy to become less stressed so my muscles would relax.

that i needed massage therapy and other various treatments to address how tight all my fascia was in certain parts of my body.

that i should try mouth guards because the teeth grinding had started to do real damage.

that i should enter a sleep study for how intense and chronic my insomnia was.

that the pain in my hands/tingling in my fingers was because my wrists were too weak.

that there was "something evil stored" in my neck

and then. an anon yesterday asked if i had tmj. and i said probably not. and then @chronodyne slid me a message that said "re: tmj, mine is myofascial and i also don’t have the clicking/trouble opening my mouth."

so i did some reading.

starting with myofascial tmj got me here (cedars-sinai.org)

i paused to look up bruxism, which turns out to be the medical term for grinding/clenching your fucking teeth:

highlights are things i have experienced and sought or had medical attention for (dull headaches are not highlighted because i have only ever sought medical attention for migraines, though i certainly have dull headaches all the time).

okay. so i know i clench my jaw/grind my teeth in the daytime. and a dentist has told me before that it's evident i do it in my sleep, too. just the other day i woke up with a ravaged inside right cheek from chewing it in my sleep. so i can safely self-diagnose bruxism.

back to tmd.

highlights are symptoms i have experienced. i did not highlight teeth sensitivity because i would classify it as pain instead. but you don't understand the howl i let out internally when i read the ringing in the ears and numbness/tingling feeling in your fingers bullet points. i have been operating under the assumption that i have tinnitus and probably a very scary autoimmune disorder that i just am better off ignoring (this is not medical advice, it's avoidance). i'm not saying i don't have those things, but i also never knew there were other possibilities.

over the course of my life i have had many injuries to my neck and actually i have also had a pretty severe concussion before, which i would classify as a head injury. i have many of the symptoms listed for tmd. i have even undergone, incongruously, many of the treatments for it. so many doctors have noted and attempted to address issues with my fascia, with my muscles, with my tension.

it raising its ugly head when i'm stressed makes sense i literally said in my post yesterday DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ANYONE WHEN THEIR BLOOD PRESSURE RAISES LOL SOB

i cannot conclusively diagnose myself with tmd or, for that matter, with mps (myofasical pain syndrome, which i had also never heard of!). but i am so, so frustrated because i have never even heard these words. i have never been screened for these things. no medical professional has ever discussed these possibilities with me, even when they're treating me for several of the symptoms!

i'm crying for all the tests i've undergone that led to nothing. always, infuriatingly, labeled a medical mystery. for the rounds of steroids and muscle relaxers i've been prescribed. for the painful manual manipulations i've been subjected to. for every single person who ever touched my body commenting on how tight/tense my neck is. for the addiction that stemmed from that first xanax prescription when i was 15 that caused so much fucking grief in my life. for the chronic pain that has swallowed whole decades of my life and sapped my energy since i was a child.

none of these symptoms were ever NOT disclosed to a medical professional. at each one, i did the immense labor of dragging out my entire, perplexing medical history, including injuries and past issues and treatments. but nobody ever thought to consider this? nobody, with all those degrees, with those long careers, with all those patients, ever thought to consider this? while i was in all those paper gowns, on all those cold tables, getting poked and prodded, crying, paying for tests i could not afford, so sleep deprived i thought i'd die at 25, nobody considered this?

anyway @chronodyne suggested seeing an oral surgeon to discuss this so. i guess that's what i'm looking up next.

[galactic-magick]

Hi!!! I absolutely love your work. You're truly talented!! Also, I have a request.

// vomit/emetophobia

I'm not sure if this is something you feel comfortable writing about, but I have a severe phobia of vomit. Is there any way you could write hurt/comfort fluff with 001? Like, him comforting the reader through nausea and being sick?

If not, I totally understand!! Maybe you could just write reader having a fever if you're not comfortable with it :]

Anyways, I look forward to what you write in the future!!

Hey! You're in luck anon cuz I've been on some new antibiotics from my dermatologist for my severe acne and they make me nauseous a lot 🤪 so it is not hard at all for me to imagine needing comfort from feeling sick rn haha.

I decided to make this about being sick in general though and not just nausea, hope that's alright and hope you enjoy!

Peter can almost immediately sense something is wrong

you've been acting off since you woke up, the life sucked from your face and your movements more sluggish

thankfully neither of you had anywhere to be today, but still, you're not usually like this even on days off

he notices you haven't eaten your breakfast, and you usually always do when he makes things for you

"What's wrong, darling?" he asks.

"I just feel really...weird today," you mumble. "Like everything hurts. And I'm super nauseous, and I'm afraid to eat because I might throw up,"

"Oh, hun," he takes your chin between his fingers. "Don't worry, you won't on my watch. I'll take care of you,"

he gets you something to eat that's a little more bland so it won't upset your stomach, and a cup of your favorite tea

he then pulls you to the couch and holds you, covered in the softest blanket you own

"I hate feeling like shit," you groan, a single tear falling down your cheek from what feels like your entire body failing you.

"Where's your pain besides the nausea?"

"I have an awful headache too, and just general aches all over," you reply.

"I could fix that,"

"Peter, no-" you shake your head. You hate when he uses his powers for silly little things like this. Sure, he's powerful and can handle it, but you still try not to ask him for anything.

"Darling, please, let me take away at least some of your pain,"

"Okay," you sigh.

he rests his hand on your forehead, and you feel the tension and pain start to release. you're not really sure exactly what he's doing to make the pain go away, but you don't question it

maybe he's using his psychokinesis to literally block your pain receptors or something, who knows, but you're happy you didn't stop him

"Better?"

your head clears and now all that's left is a bit of the nausea and your body feeling a little weak, but you'll take that over also having a throbbing headache

"Yeah," you smile. "Better,"

he continues taking care of you all day, assuring you it's okay to just relax and let yourself heal

you feel like you have to be doing something, even just house chores or running some errands but he insists he will take care of anything you need

gradually the nausea starts to subside and you're able to eat more, giving you some more energy

he gives you even more cuddles than usual and he doesn't care that being so close to you might make him sick too

if any of your aches come back he doesn't hesitate to take them away, he can't stand seeing you in more pain than you have to be in

if you're still feeling unwell the next day too he'd definitely stay with you again, doesn't matter if he has other things going on, he'll take the day off

[hyperfixationtimego]

I'm interested in the killing game au of all three games you mentioned! Tell me more! I c r a v e this kind of content, there's simply not enough of it and it's a crime!

AGREE AGREE AGREE AGREE AGREE!!!!!

okay okay okay okay okay so

Like I said, it involves every character from the main three games. So obviously it’s a lot of people. Not for long but shhh

None of the anime is canon because I don’t have enough patience to watch it nor do I care

Technically the kids from sdr2 still got to be considered alive after their game, but like I said the anime isn’t canon so basically what happened was the survivors escaped the simulation and began waiting for everybody else to wake up. And then boom now they’re here. Everybody who died just….suddenly wakes up here and it sucks <3

Anyway

The survivors are clearly,,,,,,not enthused to be back in this bullshit. Some are taking it better than others. (Makoto & Toko are both hit with a huge wave of depression and it manifests in different ways for both of them, Hajime is simultaneously PISSED OFF but also relieved to see Chiaki alive and well. They have a very tender reunion when they see each other again for the first time items very sweet there’s lots of hugging and crying and brushing each other on the cheek to make sure the other is real and OUGH I just love them so much. Kyoko is the “this is fine” meme personified, Togami is also pissed but doesn’t let it show, Hiro is predictably scared out of his fucking mind, yadda yadda yadda. Also scared is Kazuichi, but he and Sonia, who is disheartened to have to go through all this again but confident that everybody can make it through, are finally reunited with Gundham so that’s something!!! Akane is abt as carefree as she was during the neo world program, but seeing all her friends again, ESPECIALLY coach Nekomaru, makes her so fucking excited that she just. Punches a wall and screams /pos HDBWMDB FUYUHIKO AND PEKO REUNION REAL!!!!! UGHHRHEJ GOD I LOVE THEM??? Maki is silently stewing in her own rage, Himiko is both bawling her eyes out while simultaneously Feeling Nothing (which, honestly, that’s a vibe), and Shuichi is in emotionally unstable wonderland because OH THANK GOD KAEDE AND KAITO ARE BACK AND REAL AND HE GETS TO HUG THEM AND HOLD THEM but also there IS the looming threat of possible death again so. Yeah. Fun.)

As for everybody who’s died, they’re all experiencing a lot of phantom pain in relation to however they died. (For example, Sayaka frequently feels a sharp pain in her abdomen, and her wrist aches if she moves it too quickly or suddenly. Leon’s entire body consistently hurts all over, and he sometimes feels as though he’s choking or being restrained. Chihiro gets headaches every so often. Etc. etc. etc.)

They’re also adorned with some nifty new scars, too, which a lot of them are pretty pissed about because it serves as a constant reminder of the traumas they suffered but w/e (suicidal thoughts tw - Nagito in particular has some trouble with this one. Literally every single scar is a reminder of the horrible things he did, both in the simulation and out of it - a reminder that he was so close to not having to be alive anymore, a reminder that he is dangerous and that he is tired and everything is fucking bad) (he’s getting impromptu therapy from Hajime “done with this motherfucker’s shit” Hinata so they’re. working on it HSNSBDDN dw dw)

Haha memories are also an important thing, too, actually!!! It’s used as a motive (whoever kills someone will receive the memories of their forgotten school life or, in the case of the ndrv3 kids, their forgotten identities)

BUT obviously that puts Mikan in a weird position - she REMEMBERS having the remembrance disease, and she REMEMBERS what she learned, but the memories are distant and hazy. As if they aren’t really hers. (Monokuma is able to fuck with people’s emotions the same as memories - this was mostly done to actually give Mikan a fighting chance at Not Being Found Out As a Murderer Within the First Three Seconds HDNWMEHDN anyway Mikan recovery rights ❤️) ✨it’s the trauma✨

The building they’re in is HUGE + also includes things like Ultimate labs & an outside area like in ndrv3. The Thh kids are like “still hate it here but thank GOD at least there’s sunlight. no I don’t give a shit if it’s fake or artificial or whatever”

And how was Monokuma able to bring people back from the dead???? Why is the cast of ndrv3 here???? Well to answer the first question, it’s because he’s spicy like that. And to answer the second question idk I think he just likes ‘em. He thinks they’re neat ❤️

Tsumugi and Mukuro are both here and they’re treated like normal participants! They have no special ties to the mastermind of this new and improved killing game, but that does not make their peers any less suspicious of them! (Is junko alive??? Where is she???? Is she masterminding this shit??????? 👀)

And nobody is safe from death. Not even protagonist squad, there i said it. Every single protag goes Through Some Shit and whether or not each individual one ends up surviving is 👀 *wiggles eyebrows*

I. THINK that’s it for the general gist of the circumstances, but I absolutely can and will get more specific about things if u would like me to. There are character dynamics + plot points + motives + unresolved pining + resolved pining that is very quickly immediately destroyed + psychological horror and MORE baby we haven’t even scratched the SURFACE yet

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 5

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

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

“How is he? Has he yet stabilized?” He recognizes the deep voice almost instantly. Lexeaus. Ah. So I lived.

He can’t open his eyes, can’t, in fact, move at all. But the moment he’s conscious pain invades, his innards feeling vaguely liquified.

A second voice, hoarse, almost inaudible--”No. Not yet.”

“You needn’t speak, Ienzo. I know it’s still painful.”

Ienzo?

“I’m fine,” the second voice mumbles. He doesn’t sound fine; he sounds very ill, or worse. “You should--” A cough, one not full of phlegm but inflammation.

“You’ve been taking good care of me. I’m back on my feet. You, on the other hand, need to rest. And to avoid talking for a little while.”

“Okay.”

A warm hand grasps his wrist, taking his pulse. A pen scribbles numbers. He must've been given painkillers; he sleeps.

This time he's able to open his eyes.

He recognizes the space instantly; it's his old med bay, in Radiant Garden. Why on earth is he here, not in his sterile, pristine facilities at the castle?

Lexeaus had called Zexion Ienzo.

Oh dear.

Was it possible? Had they--regained hearts somehow? Had they found the answers in Kingdom Hearts? And how was he still so injured if it's been that long?

He hears the door creak and slits open his eyes.

He sees the boy--the young man--rummaging in his cabinets. He looks much the same as he ever did, though, he notes, the boy (Ienzo?) Is dressed in white, apprentice garb. The boy turns and Vexen quickly shuts his eyes again.

The boy clears his throat. "I'm not sure if you can hear me," he says, haltingly. His voice is much clearer, and certainly the same timbre as Zexion's, but it carries something soft and alive in it Vexen's never heard. "Even… it's me, Ienzo. I'm sure the old names are a shock to hear."

Old?

"We're human again. We found out… once a person’s Heartless and Nobody have been vanquished, they reform in the place they were split, whole. But with our Nobody's injuries. Which is why you're so hurt. I… I've no idea what truly happened to you, but you're rather unstable. You and Dilan both. But I'm tending to you."

Human?

"If you could speak… open your eyes… twitch your fingers… the EEG machines are broken and I've no magic. I'm not even sure you're in there."

Human and powerless.

"I--" He exhales thickly, and Even (the name fits again like a glove) realizes he's upset. Twelve years of emotion battering him, he presumes, child to adult in one instant. The concern wells up in him, consumes him; the pain sears him, and he's no idea whether or not it's physical.

---

Again, Even wakes. He can feel motion returning to him bit by bit, and he can close his fingers into weak fists. The physical pain is less potent now, but instead one thing floods him, sickly and constant.

Guilt. Rivers of shame, streams of remorse. Guilt for the way he stopped caring about Ienzo, guilt for all he did to the people of their experiments, agony about Ansem. Darkness can only excuse so much.

"Hi, Even."

Ienzo's back. Even can't bear to speak to him, though he's sure he can. He feigns unconsciousness, slitting his eyes open for glances of the young man.

Ienzo looks pale, thin, the boyishness gone from his face, but the change makes him look unhealthy. His hands, when they feel Even's pulse, are clammy, oddly warm without gloves. Even can't remember the last time he's actually seen them. He's aching to look the boy in the eyes. He chances it, once, while Ienzo fusses with the bandages on his chest; gone are Zexion's steely, empty blue eyes. The humanity is back, soft, opening.

He can tell from a glance that Ienzo is in agony.

More horrifying yet, he can just see below Ienzo's collar when he leans over--thick bruises surround his windpipe, along with an angry red scar.

He'd had difficulty speaking.

Who dared do this to him?

Unconsciously, the boy pulls his collar up. Even forces his eyes shut. "I'm afraid there's a lot to catch you up on," Ienzo says in that same frighteningly gentle tone. He explains about Xehanort, about the time travel, about the vessels, the hearts the Nobodies are regrowing, the Organization's real goal, the Keyblade War from the old times. "I… I could really use your help, Even. I know I was so dreadfully cold to you. I… I am sorry. You were always kind to me when I was small. You were there when Master Ansem was not--" His voice catches. "Excuse me, I am feeling unwell."

Even hears him sit and chances another look. Ienzo sits with his head in his hands, rocking slowly, trying not to cry.

No, boy, cry. It's alright.

"I��� forgot how much this hurts," he says, with a dark laugh. "I am… so unsure of who I am… you'd doubtless find it fascinating. Can you imagine the psychological journals, Even? What happens when you try to give a twenty-year-old man an eight-year-old's heart?" A sob. "I'm so sorry. I… am trying to pull myself together. They need me. But I could never let them see me like this."

Cry it out, little one.

For a time, Ienzo does just that, a sound that makes Even's heart (heart) ache, triggering another vein of remorse.

I should have protected you.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Even shuts his eyes again. He feels Ienzo take his hand. "This is most unbecoming, isn't it? I bet you'd say I'm making a disgrace of myself. I have to… check on some things. Get some rest."

For a long while Even lies reeling. His physical pain lessens  into a throb, while his heart seems to grow heavier and heavier with regret, the I should'ves and that's my faults. Ienzo and Ansem take center stage, his abuse and dishonesty towards them pounding in time with his heart.

Ienzo comes and goes every few hours. Even is too much of a coward to talk to him.

"It's… bizarre," the boy says. "Your body… is healed. Why aren't you awake?" Even hears a click, sees bright light; he wills himself to flinch as little as possible as the boy forces his eyes open. "Even, if you're pretending, it's alright. We can work through this."

Don't move. Don't move.

"If only we had a replica for you… or one in general…"

Why do they need one?

"I miss my old friend. Come back soon."

He's gone again, and Even aches for him. The loneliness is nearly as potent as the guilt.

He can't lie like this forever. He needs to make a decision, needs to talk to the boy, needs to begin to figure out where to go from here--

"You're so full of shit."

It's the voice that startles him. Braig. Of course the man is back too. He opens his eyes. Unlike Ienzo, he's in the Organization coat still.

The true vessels.

The fool.

Even stares at him. "Is there a reason you're here?" His voice is hoarse from disuse, but clearer than he thought. "Perhaps to put an old man out of his misery?"

Braig smirks. "You wish," he says. "I've been watching these tender scenes play out between the two of you. Who thought Ienzo would be such a softie? To think, he was wanted."

"By Xehanort, I presume?" He spits.

"Who else?" Xigbar shrugs. “He's good. So quickly. A heart and instantly everything changes. But there's no point getting rid of him. Xemnas is sentimental. Who would’ve thought?"

So callous. Even scowls.

"How's humanity feel?" he asks, with a smirk. "You look like death. Bet you feel like it too."

"Is there a reason you're here?" he repeats.

"Let's just say I have a proposition for you." He scowls a little. "We could use you. He could use you."

A spark, an idea. "Why should I? What do you have to offer me?"

"We're closer than ever to Kingdom Hearts. If that doesn't intrigue you, I don't know what will." Xigbar comes closer, his footsteps almost silent. "Would you rather stay here? Crappy place, overworked and underappreciated… reminders of the past everywhere. Doesn't it just hurt. "

He has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

"If you can barely look at Ienzo…" He clucks his tongue. "Why don't you think about it? I got the impression you never liked humanity anyway."

"Nor you," Even says softly. "This life just doesn't suit creatures like us."

Xigbar smirks and disappears into a dark corridor.

---

An idea comes to him slowly, fettered by guilt and headaches, and Ienzo's surprisingly loose tongue. Zexion was verbose but careful; Ienzo talks almost constantly, with little ability to stop himself.

"I'm… almost at my wit's end," the boy admits. "I'm inundated by what we did… I knew it, factually, but Zexion made my memories so cold. To feel it…" He rumples the curtain at the window. Even's glad he doesn't look at him; it means he can watch him. "How could we? I… I don't understand how we made the leap. Was it all the influence of Xehanort, or darkness? Why did they let me--do this?"

The weight of it might just choke him. They'd started this darkness, made it spread faster than it would've naturally; they upended a balance just to see what would happen, with little care who or what was lost.

I took an oath.

Even's a bloody hypocrite.

"I've been trying to help them," Ienzo says. "Sora, the restoration committee. They've been so terribly gracious about it. It truly is the least I can do. I've given them everything that I had, but you classified and encrypted so much. They have a right to know what really happened. Maybe if they know… their outside perspective can help us put a stop to it. I… wish you were here, Even. There's so much you never told me, things that could be of use. We… need a light. I don't understand a whit of your research, the small bits I've managed to decrypt. I wonder if this reformation process has given me some form of brain damage." A wry laugh. "These emotions do make me feel… much clumsier. Doesn't help I've been using you as a captive audience. But the others… truly cannot understand what it is I'm going through. I wish I were able to find it fascinating. Mostly it is hampering my ability to be of use."

He's silent a long time. When he speaks again, it's much more quietly, to himself. But Even's always had good hearing.

"If I can break the code… find Roxas… it could change everything. But the bodies… I need to know what Even knew."

He hears Ienzo leave. Slowly, Even sits up. He feels weak from being so still for so long, but otherwise functional.

It all makes sense. Everything.

Yes. This would be how he can atone.

---

Xigbar returns soon after. Even's already sitting waiting for him. "I'll go," he says tiredly. "Seems to be the only way to further my research. I've no need for such... paltry emotions."

Xigbar's grin is killer.

---

The transformative process is just as painful the second time. Again the emptiness. He feels his mind wander, tempted again by darkness, by the ability to set bonds aside, but he reigns himself in each time. Thinking of Ienzo, his devastation, of his betrayal of Ansem's trust. He doesn't feel quite hurt anymore, but it weighs heavily on his conscience. No matter.

He can fix this. He will fix this. No matter the cost.

He acquiesces to the New Organization’s demands, because they, too, need replicas. All the more excuse to perfect what he knows, to leave the most flawless in stock for Roxas and for Xion--though he can barely remember the latter. All he has of it-- her --are his own reports. But if she were with Roxas long enough, she’ll be important. More convenient yet, Xemnas wants her, her easy mimicry of power.

There are too many familiar faces in this New Organization--Organization Rehash, Larxene calls it, and Vexen can’t help but agree. Xigbar, Saïx, Xemnas, the four neophytes.

Saïx is initially welcoming to him, and visits him again.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Vexen says evenly.

“I wonder if you feel it too,” the man says.

“Feel what, nostalgia? That’s all this Organization is.”

“You gave up your new life. That says a lot about you. Was this truly about research?”

Vexen turns, sorting the lies he could tell.

Saïx knots his hands. “I gave mine up too.”

Vexen rolls his eyes, turning back to the new replicas, still forming in their chambers. “Yes. And?”

“I wish to… put an end to this nonsense. I sense you may feel the same.”

Vexen looks at him, his gold eyes (so like Vexen’s own, now--he tries not to think about it more than necessary) somewhat unreadable. Is this a trick? Are they trying to lure him out?

Saïx leans in a little, drops his voice. “Let me help you,” he says softly. “Together, we can put an end to this Organization.”

Vexen feels the gut punch; caught. Yet, he reads earnestness in Saïx’s tone.

“You were once my teacher,” he continues. “I know what you’re capable of, and vice versa. I think--if we’re careful and clever--we can give the other side what they need.”

“How am I to know you won’t merely turn me in to Xehanort?”

“It matters not to him whether you fill out the ranks so long as he gets his bodies. Not since you and Demyx have been… ah… retired. He’s spread himself too thin, shattering his heart so. He wouldn’t notice a thing.”

Vexen inhales.

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want this to be my legacy. I’m sure you feel the same. We must end this suffering.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

Saïx smiles. “Simple,” he says. “We do what he asks--and have a third party ferry a replica over to Radiant Garden. One whose movements are hardly ever noticed--because that’s the way he likes it.”

Vexen has an idea where this is going. “...Do I even want to know who you have in mind?”

The smile becomes even larger.

---

Demyx agrees to meet him in Radiant Garden. To be so close to Ienzo but unable to contact him is a sensation that sits oddly in his breast. Vexen explains it as simply as possible, but Demyx’s reaction is relatively theatrical.

“What? ” He’s making much too much noise--Vexen clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Quiet, you dunce,” he hisses.

Demyx swats his hand away. “But dude, why would you pick me?”

“I cannot let the chosen catch wind of this, understand?”

Immediately he gets defensive. “Oh, I see, it’s because I got benched.”

This is more frustrating than he could have hoped. His tone is much shorter, and louder, than he intended. “I got “benched” too.”

“What! Hey, quiet.” Now it’s Demyx’s turn to try to silence him.

They both look around and see nothing, though admittedly this is meaningless. Vexen turns away, trying to think.

“Okay, man, look. Real talk? Backstabbing those guys would be stupid.”

Vexen rolls his eyes. As if this life is truly worth anything.

“If they find out, we’re yesterday’s toast. I mean, what’s in it for me?”

Vexen wonders if this angle is the right one. “Forgiveness.”

He seems genuinely surprised. “Huh? For what?”

“Men like us--in the pursuit of science, we sometimes make terrible mistakes. Lose sight of our mission to help people. But now I can help someone with my research. Now, I can atone.”

The boy’s been listening with interest, a calculating gleam in his eyes. But what he says next is only further disappointment. “I’m not a scientist.” He turns to leave, with a dismissive wave.

Something very like panic overtakes him--if the chosen heard of this--”Wait, wait, wait!” He grabs Demyx’s shoulder. The younger man shrugs him off with ease.

“C’mon, dude. I’m useless, I’m chicken, we’re not friends. I can count the amount of times we’ve hung out on one hand--less than one hand. I didn’t even know you in the old life!”

Enough of this. For a moment, Vexen wishes he had more patience with Demyx in the past, if only to make this encounter easier. “Fine, fine. But listen.” He pulls the boy close. “This is Saïx’s doing.”

Demyx’s eyes widen almost comically. “Huh? No way.”

Good. He has his interest. “It’s true. The whole thing was his idea.”

“Huh… no fucking way…”

“He wants to atone too. But, he is one of the chosen, so his hands are tied. Hence my actions on his behalf, hence my need for you to act on my behalf should all go awry.” He’s listening intently, Vexen notes. He could use Xehanort’s callousness towards Demyx to his advantage. “As you said, we are far from friends. No one would ever suspect you.”

“So I’m not doing any fighting?”

“Correct. And more importantly, no benchwarming.”

He smiles, and Vexen knows he’s won. “Yeah baby! Sign me up! Yes! Demyx time.”

Vexen sighs heavily. This certainly would be interesting.

---

He’s more than a little alarmed when he catches wind that the “chosen” are seeking Ansem. Apparently, the man’s been spotted in Twilight Town. Xehanort’s Heartless intends on intercepting him. The man is too dangerous.

Vexen doesn’t hesitate. He’s abandoned Ansem once; never again.

He’s been mostly ambivalent to his status as a Nobody, but it does grant him a certain strength he didn’t have before. He’s able to stop Xehanort’s Heartless, to let Ansem escape. It comes to him, in a flash--the chosen hardly ever watch him, now that they’ve gotten their bodies--perhaps he could let Ansem know, to get the word back to Ienzo and the others. Perhaps he and Demyx could rendezvous, with the replica. Ienzo would need his help. Doubtless the reunion would be… dramatic, but he knows the boy is capable of completing the task at hand.

It’s time to shore up. Time to stop being a coward. Time to apologize.

But he is glad that, as a Nobody, he cannot feel much.

Ansem looks as though he’s aged much, much more than twelve years, despite the fact that he could not age in the realm of darkness; it seems as though there are many more years between them than merely five. He’s with some teenagers, those friends of Roxas, those assisting, albeit in a very tertiary manner.

Even struggles to find the words, to assuage them all he means no ill will. “My dear Master,” he says slowly. “You are safe.” It’s a lame, tone-deaf beginning. Because they are anything but.

“Who’s there?” one of the teenagers yells.

In a shockingly even-keeled voice, Ansem asks, “Even, is that you?” A beat. His expression barely changes, all coldness and indifference--not that Vexen anticipated anything more. “So, those Nobodies were your doing.”

Vexen lets the Dusks appear. Then, very deliberately, he bows. “I have been waiting for this,” he admits. “Gave up a normal life in order to plant myself in the Organization. And when I heard Xehanort had gone looking for you, I realized it was my chance to find you as well.” And keep you safe. “For you see, I, too, wish to atone.”

Ansem’s expression is closely guarded, but he very nearly smiles. “Is that so?” he asks slowly.

“How could I not? To be human for those days again… made it all so real.”

The teenager who’d yelled gave him a once over. “You’re one of them, aren’t you,” he spits. “Sora told us about you.”

Vexen ignores him. “I wish to help. I… realize you have no reason to trust me.” He chances taking a few steps forward. “I also realize any apology I offer could never possibly be enough.”

Ansem is silent for several moments. “Am I not at fault, as well?” he asks.

“You…” He wants nothing more for these teenagers to disappear. “You still didn’t deserve the fate you received.”

His eyes are empty--so empty. He turns to the children. “Thank you for all your help, but this man will not harm me. Come, Even. Apparently we have much to discuss.”

Vexen wills the Dusks to disappear. They walk for a long time in silence, the two of them, in this perpetual sort of twilight.

“We cannot return to the mansion. It’s being watched for now,” Ansem says. “Keep your voice low.”

“We seek to take down the new Organization,” he says. It’s beyond odd to be this close to him.

“We?”

“Myself. The man you knew as Isa.”

Ansem smirks. “And how do you propose to do this?”

“In these intervening years… I did perfect the replica program. More or less.” He doesn’t feel pride any longer. “We have a… third party willing to deliver one directly to Radiant Garden, for Roxas’s heart. To Ienzo.”

Ansem’s calm exterior slips, for just a moment. “How… is my boy?”

“I did not see him for very long,” Vexen says. “He is… well. Whole again.”

“You hesitate.”

“Of course I do.” He takes a breath. “He’s received his humanity after years of numbness. The adjustment… I fear it’s not been easy. But I have faith. His brilliance has only grown with him.” He sighs. “With this replica, and our ally, I wish that you, Master, will go to him.” Ansem says nothing; his face is stony. “I realize the feelings you have are complicated. But he needs someone to help him, and I must keep my cover.”

“...Yes. Quite.” He nods. “However could I face that poor boy?”

“With the warmth and grace you’ve always had,” Vexen says softly. “Once this is all over… humbly, I would like to return as well.” If he survives the process. “That is, if you’ll have me. I wish to do nothing more than to ease the pain I’ve caused. I should like to regain your trust.”

Ansem nods once. “This is a good start.”

---

It pains him, to not be present for all this, but his own feelings and notions are irrelevant. He dresses the replica in a coat to protect it, wraps it up further in a blue blanket--almost like an infant.

Demyx arrives--on time, for the first instance that Vexen’s ever witnessed. “So, here we go, right?” He’s smiling.

“...Quite.” He touches Demyx’s shoulder. “I must… thank you for doing this.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about it. It’s not right for Xehanort to use us for his own stuff, you know? It kinda bites.”

Vexen chuckles. “Indeed. I’m afraid I must ask one more thing of you.”

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is affable when he says. “For pete’s sake, what now?”

“You and I must lie low, once this is through. We must wait and hope for Xehanort’s defeat.”

Demyx glances down at the replica, in its swaddling. “...And then what?”

“Whatever you like, I suppose.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah… that might be nice.” He hefts the replica over one shoulder. “This thing is hollow, huh?”

“Not for long. You know where to go?”

“Yeah, get the old man. I hear you.”

Vexen sighs. “Good luck, Demyx.”

For just a moment, before he disappears into darkness, Demyx smiles, and it’s the most genuine expression Vexen’s ever seen him wear. “You, too.”

---

He can’t be certain that Ienzo receives the replica, can’t chance checking. He goes to an anonymous world, hides in the wilderness. He waits, and to a degree he prays. Weeks pass. He wonders if he should chance contact, should see how things have gone--between Ienzo and Ansem, and along with Dilan and Aeleus, there shouldn’t be any issues with the procedure.

Then he feels an ache in his heart--the heart he doesn’t quite have. The piece of Xehanort. Without hesitating, he returns to Radiant Garden, knowing that he will not have the ability to travel for long.

Because it’s withering, and dying; he can feel the sickly pain, the feverishness, inexplicable agony in his whole body. It must’ve worked. They must’ve beat Xehanort.

It’s all over. At last.

[violetflowerfairy-blog]

Untitled Story I'm working on

Sometimes being dead is not so bad, other times it makes you want to throw things, well that’s my opinion anyway. I guess I should tell you about me and what the hell this is all about. Well my name’s Kendra, Ken to everyone, and well this is my life, or death I guess.      I guess you could say I was different then other people my age, at 16 I had what my parents called ‘an unhealthy obsession for death and demons’ but that’s just modern day parents for you. They don’t understand half the shit their kids do and they don’t really care, at least mine didn’t. Kendra Ann-Marie, that’s my name, but calling me Kendra will get you slapped faster then you can blink, I wasn’t a bad kid per say I just didn’t fit into the mold that society made for me. I prefered ripped jeans and cropped leather jackets to the sun dresses the more feminine counterparts in my school wore. Okay I guess that’s enough narration for now, maybe it’s time to actually tell the story    Typical day or so I thought BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP I groaned and slammed my hand down onto what I thought was the snooze button, instead alls I did was knock the screaming alarm to the floor where it bounced and skid underneath my bed, I slowly sat up and attempted to find the cord where it plugged into the wall, once I had a hold of it I yanked the plug from the wall and watched the glow of the red light from the clock fade as it’s power was sapped. I stretched and kicked my red plaid blanket off my legs and twisted until my feet touched the cold wood floor, I attempted to run my fingers through my caramel colored hair and instead succeeded in pulling on my hair. I groaned and got up, flipping on my laptop in my normal morning routine of listening to Creepypasta stories while I got ready for school. Generally getting ready took no time at all and I wasn’t surprised when I came downstairs to find the kitchen dark and unused, my long ponytail swept across my back as I made a pack of s'mores pop tarts and filled my water bottle with iced coffee. I grabbed my backpack and slipped into my favorite cropped leather jacket before heading out into the misty morning of Stonecreek. Stonecreek was a tiny town in the middle of buckshot nowhere Oregon, in the middle of the woods, so fog and rain were nothing out of the ordinary for this stupid town. I walked through the slight drizzle I flipped back to where my red ribbon marked the page in Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, a book about demons. I normally left early to stop by my best friends house in the city part of town, walking while reading was nothing new to me and when I passed by an alleyway in the city I didn’t notice that I suddenly wasn’t alone on this Wednesday anymore. I don’t recall all that happened but I know that before long I was standing in an alleyway looking cross eyed at the muzzle of a shotgun. The holder of said gun had a slightly shaky hand and unsteady eyes, I rolled my hazel eyes and sighed. “Let me guess, typical give you my money or you’ll shoot me between the eyes?” I asked, my typical smirk coming out. “Well I get the feeling you won’t actually shoot me, you look frightened, afraid of death or at least having someone's blood on your hands.” The man pressed the barrel closer to my head. “Your money, girly. Or I swear you won’t make it out of this alley.” He knocked my copy of Pseudomonarchia Daemonum onto the ground. “Hey! What the hell?!” I snapped. “Do your worst, fucker, you don’t scare me.” I said. Word of advice don’t tell someone with a gun to your head to do their worst because what happened was his worst, he pulled the trigger and I felt a slight searing pain and then nothing. Yay death. Why can’t anyone see me? Oh right I’m dead When I sat up the first thing I noticed was the deep ache in my forehead, and in the back of my head, I figured it was just a headache and shook it off, I looked around and grabbed my black neon paint splattered backpack and checked my watch, the face was cracked and it wasn’t working the time said 7:30, must’ve been when I fell, thinking nothing of it I got up and headed in the direction of Stonecreek High School figuring I was late. ---- Walking into school the first thing I did was head to class, lucky for me my homeroom teacher had a constant hangover and didn’t call attendance until at least an hour into class, so when I headed to my desk in the back I was kinda surprised when no one looked up at me as I passed by. My desk was by my best friend, Travis, in the back row by the window, I set my bag down and sighed. “You won’t believe the morning I’ve had, T.” I said, sighing loudly. I frowned when Travis didn’t say anything in return and fully turned my body to look at him. “Travis? Are you listening? Hello?” I waved my hand in front of his face and snapped my fingers in his eyes. “Travis?” I said, my worried voice almost echoing. “Anyone? Guys!” “They can’t hear you, hun. Or see you for that matter.” A man said, sitting on the counter by the window. He was tall and kind lanky, but was dressed nice in a black suit with a tombstone grey tie and matching loafers. “What do you mean they can’t see me? I’m standing right here!” He chuckled, his shaggy fiery red hair was pulled up into a ponytail. “Well I mean exactly what I said. They can’t see or hear you, you are no longer part of the human world. Let’s take this to my office.” He said and suddenly I was being pulled into a whirlpool like thing that made my vision go black. When the spots cleared from my vision I was sitting in an office, on the other side of a large wood desk, in the distance there was faint screams and laughter but not jolly laughter more maniacal and insane. “Where are we? What happened to the classroom?” I asked. The ponytail guy smiled. “Welcome to Hell, Kenny. We’ve been expecting you for some time. I am Liam, I guess you could say I’m the devil's advocate.” Liam said. “I take all the new demon inputs and give them their jobs and such, make sure all the souls end up in their proper punishments, and you Kendra Ann-Marie are dead.” “So you’re a secretary.” I said simply. “And I’m dead? Well that explains a lot actually.” I said leaning back in the chair. “So what am I? Demon, tortured soul, what?” I asked. Liam smiled widely. “Well you haven’t done anything to warrant punishment and lucky for you we have a job opening, we need a new haunting demon.” He said.”Basically it’s like this you get a human and you haunt them to the brink of insanity, either until they kill themselves or start killing other people. It’s easy.” He said. I leaned forward. “Haunting people? Sounds like something I’d enjoy.” I said and caught my reflection in a mirror on the wall, my caramel colored hair hung down, the bangs matted with blood and brain matter, my forehead was taken up by a huge ragged hole that dripped blood down my nose and cheeks. I blinked and walked over, turning to the side to see the back of my head, my skull was exposed in ragged edges and what remained of my brain could be seen stuck to the inside of my head. “Whoa… I look….” “Ghastly?” Liam suggested, folding his hands. “Wicked.” I smirked, and turned back to Liam. “So when can I start this job?” I asked, and frowned when I felt a tight pulling on my skull, turning back to the mirror I noticed my injury was gone. “In time, there’s things that need to happen first, so enjoy some time on earth, be a poltergeist for a while.” Liam snapped and everything spun, before long I was standing in my living room, the afternoon sunlight coming in from the sliding doors to the patio. I turned, hearing the familiar jangle of keys as my mother unlocked the front door. I stayed still and waited until my mother walked in. She looked in the direction of the stairs and called my name. “Kendra! I need your help with the groceries.” When I didn’t reply she called again. “Kendra!” she started up the stairs and decided it wasn’t worth it before bringing in the rest of the groceries, I sat on the counter and watched as my mother muttered about teenagers, I smiled and looked at the open refrigerator door and kicked it closed. My mother jumped and sighed. “Damn that draft.” She cursed, not realizing that draft was her only child.