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juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years ago

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Unravel, Chapter 13/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Anti invades Ego Inc. with a host of puppets to continue his reign of destruction. What little warning the egos receive beforehand may not be enough. Warnings: Major character death, blood, gore, body horror, intense grief

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Enjoy!

The first warning the egos get, the one that they know will be the last before Anti strikes, is an urgent message sent to the control room from another figment. No one but a figment could ever find Ego Inc. in the first place, and no one but a particularly intelligent figment could ever break through Ego Inc.’s firewalls to send a message.

Wilford is so angry to find out about the security breach – not the first one in recent memory, of course – that he nearly shoots Google until Google tells him what the message actually is: A transmission from none other than Professor Beauregard, straight from her laboratory. Wilford and the Googles watch the message before calling a meeting to share it with the others.

So Dr. Iplier finds himself sitting in a room filled with an all-too-familiar dread, surrounded by people who don’t trust him nearly as much as they did before. The Host is sitting beside him as has become typical, but the other egos are giving him as wide a berth as possible. Though there aren’t enough chairs at the table to fit every ego, the chair beside Dr. Iplier that Host isn’t in remains empty as the room fills with people. Yandere in particular is sitting as far away as he can, beside Damien of all people. Dr. Iplier still hasn’t spoken to Yandere after everything, and considering the glare Yandere shoots him, it’s probably a good thing that Dr. Iplier’s left him alone. He seems to be well-healed physically, at least, and Dr. Iplier is glad for it. It’s one of precious few things he has to be glad for right now.

This time there is no intro; the meeting alert had all the pertinent information. Once the room is full of egos, Wilford merely nods to Google, and the room’s TV flickers to life and reveals Professor Beauregrad, up close and clearly fiddling with the camera she’s filming herself with.

“It’s on? It’s on!” she says, “Okay.” She clears her throat and settles into a chair she’s placed a few feet away. She looks right into the camera. “I’ll keep this short. Anti is here in LA, and he’s on his way to Ego Inc. I’ve done the calculations, and though Anti is quite unpredictable, I’m nearly 97% certain that he will go after you all once he’s added the most powerful figments in the area to his…arsenal, I suppose one could call it. I’ve had other egos reach out to me about what’s happening, and it appears Anti is gathering an army of puppets. He already has all the Septics, and he definitely has more. He wants the most powerful players to destroy you with, and he’s gotten them.” Her speech is broken by a sudden loud bang, and she jumps before resuming. “Ugh, of course. Anyway, the rest of us are either too weak or too few to stop him. It’s going to have to be you.” Another series of bangs occurs, and Beauregard gets up and walks off-camera briefly, returning with a futuristic gun nearly as big as she is. She sets it on her lap as she sits, keeping one hand on the trigger. “I’ll do my best here, and I might be able to take down a couple people, but definitely not Anti.” She shakes her head. “How the hell did this happen, anyway? The stories I’ve heard…they seem impossible, but they have to be true. Sometimes science is believing what you can’t see.” A purple haze rises in the air, and Beauregard swears to herself, reaching to her left and grabbing something off a desk. She brings a gas mask into view, pulling it over her head and quickly tightening the straps. After a few cautious breaths, she returns her focus to the camera. “I hope you can still hear me. You can see Anti has Natemare, at least.” The lights flicker, and the sound of several different people laughing discordantly fills the air. “I’m sorry I’m not more helpful. At the very least, I doubt you’ll see me when Anti shows up. Other than my gadgets, I don’t have much he’d want.” Static stripes over the screen, and Beauregard sighs, eyes steely. “Of course, this message won’t even go through unless Anti wants it to. But I think he’ll let it, knowing him. He does love an audience. Just…stop him. Kill him. And, I hate to say it, but don’t be afraid to kill his puppets. Once Anti has all us figments in his hand…I can’t begin to calculate the damage he’d do to humanity. He absolutely cannot get that far, even if some of our own have to die.” Static clouds the screen over once again, so thick Beauregard can hardly be seen, and the audio becomes fuzzy. The egos can only barely see a figure appear behind Beauregard’s chair, only just make out black tendrils beginning to swarm her body. It’s the last frame they get before the footage is only static for several long moments. A voice is heard; a familiar, scratchy tone.

“Twenty-four hours. Be ready, Ipliers.”

A cackling, strangely echoing laugh, then silence.

The egos are silent in their horror. Dr. Iplier looks at Host, sees his downturned brow and tight jaw. Dr. Iplier can’t help but look at Yandere, too, and is alarmed to see Yandere staring intently at the screen. Damien notices too, and taps Yandere’s shoulder, concerned. Yandere shakes his head, as though snapping himself out of something, and looks back at Damien in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring. This all happens to the ignorance of the other egos, who are still processing what they’ve just seen. Wilford is angry but calm, and when he speaks, his tone reflects it.

“That’s our warning. I’m willing to bet Anti’ll be showing up here tomorrow right when he said he will. He likes a challenge too much to sneak up on us. That means we need to figure out how to defeat him, and who will be fighting him, in less than twenty-four hours.” Wilford sits up a little straighter. “I’ll be a part of it, obviously. I might have a shot of pulling Dark’s aura away from Anti, but if Anti’s got an army, I need one, too.” He looks at Host, then Bim. “I expect help from the other two reality-benders in the room, at the very least.”

Host and Bim both nod. Dr. Iplier squeezes Host’s hand under the table. He can’t help but fear what could happen to Host in a fight like this, what Anti might do to him. But Host has no fear, and he squeezes Dr. Iplier’s hand back without looking in his direction. He’s clearly ready for a fight, and Dr. Iplier supposes that’s better than the alternative.

“Google,” Wilford continues, looking towards the android, “What about you? Other than me and Host and Bim, you’re the heaviest hitter we’ve got.”

“That is correct,” Google agrees, but he doesn’t get any further than that before his extensions jump in.

“But Google joining the battle would be unwise,” Plus interjects.

“If Anti is so much stronger than before, he could easily get into Google’s system,” Chrome points out.

“He could get hurt or killed,” Oliver insists, “Or Anti could make him hurt or kill somebody else!”

“Anti will not be the only combatant,” Google says, terse, turning in his seat to address the triplets. “I will focus my attention on someone who cannot possess me, and Anti will be preoccupied by, in all likelihood, Wilford.”

“He knows your command words,” Chrome snaps, “He’d have no problems with taking advantage of them if he had the need, or even the want.”

“I can alter my audio settings to block him out,” Google retorts, “Or mute my audio feed altogether if necessary. I do not need sound to fight.”

“Well, if you’re fighting, then we should too!” Oliver shouts.

Google blinks.

“That does not lower the risk,” Google deadpans. “If anything, it increases it.”

“We’re as strong as you are,” Plus says, standing straighter, “If Anti has an army, we need all the muscle we can get.”

“And like hell you’re doing this without us,” Chrome mutters.

Google stares at his brothers, and they stare back. For several long moments they don’t speak, but Dr. Iplier guesses they’re using their internal communication network to hash out their argument. All four androids are equally stubborn, and in the end, numbers win out, because eventually Google sighs and turns away from his brothers, looking at Wilford again.

“All four of us will be fighting,” Google states, clearly still annoyed. The triplets visibly relax.

“Alright,” Wilford nods, pleased. “I think that should be–”

“Me too!” yells a new voice.

Yandere.

The whole table whips around to gape at him, Dr. Iplier included. He should’ve expected this, he knows he should’ve, but it’s blindsided him all the same. After all the torment, all the sleepless nights and paranoia and isolation and fear and lies, after watching Yandere be tortured and getting him back after a month apart only to break his heart, Dr. Iplier can’t let Yandere get in danger again. He can feel his heart start pounding faster. He can’t let Anti hurt his boy, not again.

“What?” Wilford sputters. “Yanny, I know you’re tough, but–”

“I’m fighting too!” Yandere shouts, eyes blazing with determination and fiery anger. “I’m strong, I’m fully healed, and I know how to fight! You need more fighters, so let me fight, too!”

“Absolutely not!!” Dr. Iplier yells, standing from his seat. The other egos start to murmur, but Dr. Iplier ignores them. “If you think you’re going to fight Anti after he already spent a month torturing you, you are sorely mistaken!”

“You’re not the fucking boss of me!” Yandere screams back, jumping out of his own seat. “I can fight if I want to, and I want to!” Yandere’s eyes flash. “I want to make Guritchi pay for what he did to me, and to Yami!!”

“That’s exactly why you can’t fight,” Dr. Iplier says, voice low and authoritative, “You’re too emotionally invested to fight strategically, and Anti will take advantage of that.”

Before, that tone was enough to make Yandere cower. But now, Yandere only seems to get even more fired up.

“And whose fault is that?” Yandere spits, “Besides, didn’t someone make Guritchi promise not to hurt me in return for Yami’s fucking aura??”

“He promised not to kill you,” Dr. Iplier reminds him, “And that was only for when he had you in his cabin. You really think he’d leave you alone now?”

“Did you think he would when you had him make that promise?” Yandere bites back.

Dr. Iplier has no good answer. He closes his mouth, ashamed.

“Wil,” Yandere begs, turning away from Dr. Iplier to look at Wilford, “Let me join, please. I have to do this.”

Wilford frowns and considers. Dr. Iplier looks at him too, silently begging for him to refuse Yandere. But Wilford has always been overindulgent of Yandere, always spoiled him and given him his way, and Dr. Iplier fears he’ll do that again. Sure enough, Wilford eventually sighs, relenting.

“Fine,” he says, “You can fight, but you better keep your head, got it?”

Yandere nods, and Dr. Iplier sighs shakily. Both sit down, and Yandere refuses to meet Dr. Iplier’s eyes. Dr. Iplier leans against Host, emotionally exhausted.

“Do we need anymore?” Wilford asks no one in particular, “I always say the more the merrier, but…”

“This is a good amount,” Host pipes up, “Any more participants risks the fight becoming too hectic. We must also consider where the egos who cannot fight will stay. If they are out in the open or near the fight, they will surely be killed.” Host represses a shudder; Dr. Iplier can just barely feel it. “The Host has seen it happen.”

“They’ll have to hide somewhere,” Bim murmurs thoughtfully, “But where?”

“…Perhaps in the clinic?” offers Damien. “Celine is already there, and if any of us are hurt, we’ll be right there.”

It’s an effort to speak up again, but Dr. Iplier makes it.

“That won’t work,” he says, unable to put any energy in his voice, “There’s no area or room big enough to hold everyone, and if any of Anti’s puppets follow you in, they could end up destroying medical supplies or breaking equipment. We’ll definitely need those after this fight.”

The egos consider.

“Wilford’s studio,” Oliver suggests, “It’s pretty big, and if all the filming stuff is put away somewhere else, it’ll be pretty empty, too. Celine can be moved in there easily, since it’s on the same floor as the clinic.”

“That works,” Wilford agrees, “But Doc, what was that about…about a puppet following them?”

The egos look at Dr. Iplier, wary but not hostile.

“There’s a chance Anti might send a puppet or two after the others,” Dr. Iplier explains, “If his goal is to take the powerful ones and kill the weaker ones, and he’s gotten so much stronger, then…I don’t see why he’d wait until he’d already done the former to do the latter.”

The other egos switch their gaze to Host, searching for confirmation. Even without sight, Host can perceive their stares.

“That is a possibility,” he confirms. “The Host has seen that happen as well.”

Another pause, a bit longer this time. No one wants to imagine the weaker egos getting slaughtered, least of all those egos.

“Someone’s gonna have to protect them,” Wilford muses.

A third pause. Bing of all people is the one to break the silence.

“Well, if I’m not gonna be fighting, like, actively,” Bing says, “I could be the one to watch out for us, right?”

“You? Please,” Google scoffs.

“I’m as tough as you are!” Bing huffs. “We’re both super-strong androids, aren’t we? If you can fight then I can protect the others!”

“Me too,” Silver Shepherd pipes up, voice quiet but steady. “I’m strong, I know how to fight, and…protecting people is what I do.” He looks at Bing. “The two of us can keep the others safe.”

Wilford seems skeptical.

“Me too, aye?” Captain Magnum suddenly says. Illinois and Yancy, who are standing beside him, give him incredulous looks. “If ye haven’t noticed, I’ve got quite a bit of meat on me bones, and some hardiness from me years on the sea. Oh, and this beauty.” He unholsters a heavy, mean-looking flintlock pistol. The other egos can’t help but stare.

“Hell no!” Wilford shouts, “You’re way too young of an ego, it’s too risky!” Magnum frowns and sadly puts away his pistol as Wilford thinks for a moment and sighs. “Silver and Bing are really all I’ve got, huh? Alright, fine.”

“Wow, thanks for, like, the vote of confidence, bossman,” Bing gripes. Silver doesn’t speak, but looks resigned.

“What happens if someone gets hurt?” Bim brings up. “If Anti or one his puppets badly hurts someone, and it can’t wait until the fight is over? Dr. Iplier would have to help them, but he can’t be in two places at once.”

“Well…” Dr. Iplier begins, thinking out loud, “Wilford is the only one of us who can teleport. So if someone got hurt and I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be able to get there anytime quickly without him. Meaning that it would make the most sense for me to be where he is.”

Yandere scoffs. Wilford also seems doubtful, but Dr. Iplier meets his gaze evenly.

“Couldn’t you just as easily stay with the others?” Wilford asks, “If someone in the fight needs you, we could contact you and I’ll go get you.”

“That’s an extra step during which someone could be bleeding out,” Dr. Iplier replies, “And I’d imagine the most severe injuries would happen in the main fight. If the others needed me, Silver has his communicator, and he could contact me directly.”

Silver seems heartened by someone showing faith in him, and Wilford thinks for a long moment.

“Fair enough,” he says, “That means you’re with us, then. And we know how we’ll keep in contact, so that covers planning for the fight. As for the fight itself…”

“It is possible for us to take back Dark’s aura in this fight,” Host says, “But it will require The Host, Bim, and Wilford working together. Anti will also need to be weakened before we can remove the aura from him, but not killed.”

“Not killed?” Wilford asks, disappointed.

“The reason why is unclear,” Host explains, “But The Host believes that the aura will cling much tighter to Anti if he is killed, the same way it has done to Dark when he has been killed in the past. The Host has seen futures in which we have killed Anti but been unable to retrieve Dark’s aura before he wakes.”

“We have The Cell,” Google points out, “Don’t we put him in there?”

“He always escapes,” Host says quietly, “And the futures resulting from that outcome are the worst of them all.”

Everyone is silent for many moments after that.

“Alright, I think this meeting is over,” Wilford sighs, “Host and Bim, stay here so we can talk more about strategy. Google, you and your brothers clear all the equipment out of my studio for tomorrow. Everyone else, just…get ready.”

For once, the meeting ends in silence. Everyone walks out of the room in a daze, like none of them can believe what’s happening. Dr. Iplier can hardly believe it either. Somehow it’s not the thought of being so close to the action that scares him, but the thought of those he loves being in the thick of it, of being in the most danger. He gets up to leave, and Host stays in his seat as Wilford ordered. Dr. Iplier leans down to kiss Host, and Host whispers a narration to meet his lips. There’s no need for anything else to be said. Dr. Iplier is one of the last to exit the meeting room, and instead of returning to his clinic to check on Celine or prepare a medical kit for tomorrow, he heads a few floors higher.

He knows Yandere won’t be happy to see him tomorrow. He knows better than to try to talk to Yandere right before the fight, to distract him even more than Yandere’s own rage will. But he has to speak to him. He can’t leave things unsaid between them, not before something so huge.

Still, it takes him nearly a minute to work up the courage to knock on Yandere’s door.

“Who is it?” Yandere asks, pleasant but not happy.

“It’s me, Yan,” Dr. Iplier says. He has to stop himself from calling Yandere “kid” or “love” or “son.” “Can you please let me in?”

“No,” Yandere responds immediately, “Go away.”

“Can we at least talk? Tomorrow’s going to be insane, to say the least, and I just–”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care.”

“All I want to say is that…is that I love you. No matter what happens, I love you. And I want you to be careful tomorrow. Please just let the reality-benders take care of Anti.”

A pause from the other side of the door. Dr. Iplier is beginning to wonder if Yandere has decided to ignore him when he finally speaks.

“You know that topaz necklace that Yami gave me for my first birthday?”

“Yes…What does–”

“Did you know I wear it? All the time? Under my shirt, usually, so it doesn’t get scratched or broken, but I always have it on during the day. Or if I’m gonna fight someone, I have a little case I put it in, and I can keep it there so it doesn’t get dirty. It’s got…” Yandere’s voice wobbles. “It’s got blood on it from…from when I was with Guritchi. I don’t know if he ever noticed my necklace, maybe he didn’t care, or he didn’t know what it means to me. He didn’t take it or try to break it. But it’s got blood on the chain now that still won’t come out.”

“Yan…” Dr. Iplier’s heart aches for his boy, for the hurt his little one’s gone through.

“While you were killing Yami, Guritchi was getting blood on the best present Yami ever gave me.” Yandere starts to whimper. “He ruined everything and you helped him. I’m never going to forgive you.”

Again, Dr. Iplier should’ve known. He should’ve expected this. But it still spears his heart right through with despair.

“I still love you,” he whispers, voice shaky, “I’m always going to love you. Please be safe tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Yandere’s tone is cold and angry.

Once again, there’s no need to say anything more. There’s nothing more for Dr. Iplier to say. He walks away from Yandere’s door with a heavy heart, returns to his clinic to check on Celine and make a med kit in a haze.

In the evening, Host comes in needing a bandage change. But Dr. Iplier suspects he would’ve come in regardless of his bandages. After Dr. Iplier does it, Host doesn’t say anything, just puts his arms around Dr. Iplier, holds him close. As much as Dr. Iplier needs it, as much as he melts into Host’s arms, he can tell by the way he’s being held that Host is seeking comfort, too.

“You scared, too?” he asks, quiet and sad.

“Yes,” Host admits, “There are so many ways tomorrow could go. I can’t tire myself searching for the most likely possibility so soon before the fight. For lack of a better phrase, I…I’m going in blind.”

If the situation were less dire and Dr. Iplier less upset, he’d chuckle a little. Instead, he huddles himself closer to Host, holds on tighter.

“I’m worried for you,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, “And I’m worried for Yandere, too. He’s so reckless, and he’s so full of anger right now, I just know he’s going to do something he shouldn’t.”

“What about you?” Host retorts, “You’re going to be right next to this fight. There are futures where you’re hurt.” He squeezes so tight it almost hurts. “There are futures where I lose you. Anti would love to kill the person who takes care of us all.”

“I’ll be careful,” Dr. Iplier replies, “As careful as I can be while still helping those who need it. And you and the others will be keeping Anti busy.”

There’s a long moment of silence that Host breaks.

“Someone will get hurt,” he says darkly, “At least one person will be badly hurt, and one of us may die, whether it’s someone fighting or one of the weaker egos. Even if we defeat Anti, we won’t come out unscathed. That is the only certainty.”

That chilling “if” makes Dr. Iplier’s blood run cold. He can think of nothing to say.

He and Host sleep together in Dr. Iplier’s bed that night, clinging to each other like they’ll never get another chance. Dr. Iplier keeps wanting to look at Host’s time of death, at those numbers over his head showing how long he has to live, but he’s too afraid. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Host’s time is short, if the numbers are red, if his fate is sealed and imminent.

Instead, despite having Host there beside him, Dr. Iplier falls into an uneasy, fitful sleep.

~~~

The next morning, a few hours before Anti’s twenty-four hour time limit is set to end, the weaker egos are ushered into the studio by Silver and Bing. The egos are a sea of scared faces, even the more stoic among them are clearly nervous about what’s to come. The only snag occurs when the Jims hug Bim goodbye and refuse to let him go, resulting in Silver and Bing each having to pry a Jim away and carry him off (and in Oliver having to console a now-distraught Bim). Plus helps Dr. Iplier move Celine onto a stretcher, but Damien insists on helping him transport Celine into the studio. He’s calmer than Dr. Iplier would’ve expected, but he’s still a shade paler than normal and his hands shake slightly. He hugs Wilford goodbye, and Wilford hugs back like he, too, doesn’t want to let go. Before long, Wilford is teleporting the group of fighters to the lobby of the building – a space that’s wide and high-ceilinged and big enough for a fight – to await Anti’s arrival.

Dr. Iplier looks around himself. He’s a bit behind the others, out of the line of fire, but he can see enough of them from where he is to know how everyone feels. The Googles stand together, all silent and stoic, even Oliver. Despite being physically identical, they’ve never looked as similar as they do now. Bim has recovered from his moment with the Jims, and his jaw is set, his hands already glow a soft purple. Yandere’s eyes are already blazing red and his fingers are twitching, ready to grab his katana and swing. Host is practically a statue, not even narrating as he stands, sightless gaze pointed ahead and one hand holding his baseball bat. Wilford is vibrating, just as angry as Yandere but as calm as everyone else, hands clenched in fists, ready to beat Anti into submission. As badly as Yandere wants to get his hands on Anti, Dr. Iplier can’t imagine anyone who wants to destroy Anti right now more than Wilford.

Finally, after forever and not long enough, Anti arrives. He teleports to the front of the lobby not in a glitch, but in a puff of smoke, and Dr. Iplier can immediately see the influence Dark’s aura has had on him.

Last time he saw Anti, the aura was coiling around him, interested but not yet integrated. Now, Anti is surrounded in the dark smoke, his skin greenish-gray, his glitches more measured, more controlled, slower, just like Dark’s were. Figments can feel power, and even being across the room from Anti makes Dr. Iplier want to flinch and hide. He’s as sharp-toothed as ever, though, just as long-clawed, just as arrogant and self-assured. He’s grinning like he’s already won, but he’s alone.

“Anti,” Wilford says, low and tense.

“Glad to see you brought the welcoming committee,” Anti teases, looking over the group. His eyebrows raise when his eyes fall on Yandere. “I’m surprised they let you come along, gaki.”

Yandere’s cheeks turn red, and Dr. Iplier can see him puff up in anger like an angry cat. By some miracle, he refrains from charging at Anti, but trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

“If it’s just you…” Wilford drawls, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh no,” Anti laughs, “I just wanted to see what I’m working with here. You know, teleporting around is so much easier now! I can go wherever I’ve been, and wherever Dark’s been! And I don’t need to go through technology to do it. I don’t know why Dark ever walked anywhere.” He poofs away for a long moment, and when he returns, he has company. “I think this should be good enough.”

Other egos, enough for a true battle. All the Septics are there, even Jackieboy Man, all of them with a slight gray tint to their skin, all of them with deep eye bags, all of them glaring and ready for a fight. Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks to see Henrik among them, scalpel in hand and glaring mercilessly. He looks over and sees Bim visibly disheartened at the sight of Marvin, and Host clenching his jaw tighter to see Jameson back under Anti’s control. But it’s not just the Septics Anti’s showed up with. Peevils is there, smirking almost like Anti is. MadPat’s burnt and scarred face is split in a wide grin, both hands holding his chainsaw – reinforced with a flamethrower attachment – aloft. Phantom and Natemare stand beside each other, Phantom’s scepter glowing with power and Natemare surrounded by his own purple smoke. Anti turns to him with a smile.

“Go find out where the other Ipliers are hiding,” he says, “Give them a little “hello” from me.” Natemare grins and vanishes in a puff of purple.

All the Ipliers are unnerved. If Natemare finds the other egos, his fear smoke will get in their heads, terrify them into submission, and maybe even make them turn on each other in fear. Not only that, but the smoke itself is toxic, and if anyone breathes it in for too long they’re as good as dead. The studio is a large room with high ceilings, but even that might not be enough to disperse the smoke. There’s not much time to ponder it, though, because Anti rolls his neck in an all-too-familiar gesture and beckons the egos forward.

“Who wants some?” he cackles gleefully.

No one wastes any time.

Wilford launches forward, straight for Anti. Anti merely flicks his wrist, a cue to Jackie that sends him barreling into Wilford, intercepting him. Yandere can’t contain himself anymore and charges with a scream. Anti doesn’t flinch, only sends Phantom after him. Yandere brings his katana down on Phantom’s scepter instead of Anti’s head. Bim and Host move forward, Anti sends Marvin and Jameson to meet them. Peevils rushes Google, spiky insect limbs springing from her sides, wings from her back, and mandibles from her mouth. Robbie lumbers for Chrome with a feral roar, MadPat giggles wildly and flings himself at Plus, swinging his chainsaw around. Finally, Chase and Henrik circle Oliver, Chase with his handgun and Henrik with his scalpel. Dr. Iplier runs to the back of the room, both to get out of harm’s way and to observe everyone at once, to keep an eye out for injuries.

Dr. Iplier can’t help but admit that Anti planned this out well. Each combatant is suited to their opponent, organized in just the right way to be the toughest fight. Jackie is the only Septic strong enough to block Wilford’s punches, and his ability to fly even gives him an advantage. Wilford and Jackie constantly pop in and out of reality as Wilford tries to use his void to disorient Jackie, but Jackie continues going after Wilford with single-minded drive to kill. Their fighting is brutal, heavy punches and fierce jabs. Wilford is still stronger but Jackie is quicker, and they tumble through the air, evenly matched.

Bim faces off Marvin with reluctance; the pair are normally friends, and Dr. Iplier has no doubt that Anti knows. They fling magic at each other, Bim’s bright purple against Marvin’s electric green, again and again. Bim doesn’t want to kill Marvin, but Marvin has no such qualms about killing Bim. When blasts do connect with flesh, they send one person tumbling over the floor, and the other rushing to deliver a second blow. But both spring up as fast as they’re knocked down, and their fight continues on.

It’s Host and Jameson’s fight that takes the most of Dr. Iplier’s attention, however. He’s too far away to hear what Host is saying, but he can see his mouth moving a mile a minute with narrations, matching Jameson’s curled fists with his own baseball bat every time. Jameson fights with a grin on his face, eyes glowing silver, pocket watch in hand. Several times Jameson goes to wind his pocket watch and Host cracks his bat down on Jameson’s hand to stop him. Dr. Iplier wonders how many times Jameson has reversed time during the fight, how many seconds he’s taken back for his own advantage. He wonders if Host knows. Both men fight like ghosts, weaving around each other, careful and searching for openings.

The Googles are still near each other as they fight, but each one has their own battle to focus on. Peevils is in her true, terrifying form. She flies above Google on iridescent wings, jabs at him with the long spiny limbs at her waist, grabs and pulls with her black tentacles, even threatens to bite down with her mandibles. Google shows no fear, meeting her tentacles and crushing them in his fists, barely flinching when he’s stabbed with her spines. Both of them are already bleeding, but neither seem to care. Robbie relentlessly bears down on Chrome, dragging his nails down his arms and chest and biting down whenever he gets close enough. Chrome hits back, punches and holds Robbie’s jaws away, but Robbie barely feels the blows. Dr. Iplier watches Chrome pull off Robbie’s arm only for the limb’s hand to claw three lines down Chrome’s cheek, distracting him enough for Robbie to grab his arm back and quickly reattach it before launching himself at Chrome yet again. Plus dodges swings from MadPat’s chainsaw, bends out of the way of each spurt of fire. MadPat tries to get closer, but Plus always edges away, to the back or to the side, careful not to get cornered. Neither seems able to land a single blow, both locked in stalemate until one of them eventually trips up, but Dr. Iplier can’t tell who will break first. He’d have thought that Oliver would have an easy time against Chase and Henrik, the only Septics without any special abilities or strength, but he finds he’s mistaken. Oliver is afraid to hurt them, but the pair of them are ready to kill. He dodges bullets from Chase’s gun and swipes of Henrik’s scalpel, and when he finally gets openings to fight back, they block his blows with surprising strength or jump away with surprising speed. If Oliver goes for one, the other provides distraction. So far, Oliver’s injuries are few and minor, but Chase and Henrik are unscathed.

Yandere and Phantom are a study in contrast as they spar against each other. Yandere has brute force and the downswing of his katana, and Phantom has magic and bursts of energy from his scepter. Though he’s not above using the sceptor to block Yandere’s blows or swing it at Yandere’s head while Yandere’s distracted by a magic blast. But Yandere is relentless and much faster than Phantom, dodging many of Phantom’s blows and landing plenty of his own. Both of them take punishing hits, but neither are ready to give up.

Presiding over it all is Anti. He doesn’t fight, merely watches his puppets do the work for him. He grins as he watches the carnage, the fights happening throughout the lobby. With so many battles, he can always find a puppet with the upper hand, always find a battle his team is winning. He meets eyes with Dr. Iplier from across the room, and Dr. Iplier jolts in terror. But Anti only smiles at him and winks before continuing to look over the scene.

By now, Natemare must’ve found the other egos. The building is large, but it’s not infinite. Dr. Iplier can only hope that Silver and Bing are strong enough to stop him before he causes irreparable damage.

~~~

Silver and Bing stand guard at the front of the studio and wait, tense and ready to fight, as the other egos huddle away and hide throughout the room.

Well, Silver is ready to fight. Bing is nervous, he can tell, but Silver tries to keep enough confidence for them both. He’s taken charge of the others so far, having the other egos spread out to keep them safer, stationing himself and Bing at the only entrance to head off whatever threat Anti sends their way. Silver knows Anti himself wouldn’t bother with them, and he doubts that Anti would send his strongest puppets after them, either. Anti is overconfident, and Silver is quite used to being underestimated.

Still, he has to send somebody. Silver doubts he’d just let them wait until he’s defeated the main fighters. Anti loves to cause suffering and incite chaos, and this is merely another opportunity to do so.

So Silver waits, standing next to Bing, and offers him a smile.

“You doing alright?” he asks.

“Not really, bro,” Bing laughs nervously, “I’m totally freaking out, tbh.”

Silver is a bit thrown off by the spoken acronym, but shrugs it off to respond.

“Hey, we can do this. I’m here with you, and I know you know how to fight.” Silver pauses. “You were right yesterday, you know. You are an android, too, and you are tough.”

“You think so?” Bing noticeably perks up.

“Of course! We’ll get through this.”

Bing is three years younger than Silver, a huge difference for figments. Silver is used to fighting evil, used to putting everything on the line to protect others, and Bing isn’t. Bing has bravery in him, though, he has kindness in him, he has the right attitude to be a hero. But he’s practically a kid. Silver has to wonder if he volunteered out of feeling inadequate, if he saw the other Googles being allowed to fight and felt like he wasn’t good enough. It’s not the best motivation to help others, but Silver can’t help but understand. He certainly knows how it is to feel inadequate. Whatever happens, Silver decides, he’s going to make sure everyone makes it out of this alive, Bing included. No matter what it takes.

Suddenly, Silver’s super-hearing picks up on something different, something strange. Bing’s mechanically-enhanced hearing picks it up, too; Silver can tell by the way he jumps.

“What is that?” Bing asks in a tense whisper.

“Don’t know,” Silver answers, “But I think we’re about to find out.”

The sound is like hissing, not like an animal, but like air escaping a container. The hissing gets closer. From under the door to enter the studio, wisps of purple smoke curl across the floor.

Silver knows instantly who they’re dealing with, and from the look on his face, so does Bing. Of course it’s Natemare. Who else could dispatch such a large group of people as fast as possible?

“How long can you hold your breath?” Silver asks Bing as the smoke touches their feet.

“Not much longer than a normal human, dude,” Bing admits.

Mare appears before them in a poof of smoke, dark-rimmed eyes sizing them up.

“This’ll be easy,” he says, smirking.

“You hope,” Silver mutters, stepping back into a fighting stance and taking a deep breath in. Bing follows suit, and the fight is on.

They don’t have any audience, the other egos are all tucked out of harm’s way at the back of the studio. There isn’t any studio equipment in the way of the fight; it was all moved yesterday. In some ways, it’s easier to fight like this than it is to fight criminals in the street, where pedestrians can gawk and criminals can throw trashcans in Silver’s way or leap over park benches. There’s also plenty of room for Silver to fly, and he doesn’t have to worry about attracting the attention of passersby and drawing them into danger.

But none of these things help much. Silver’s never had to fight without breathing before, and it’s even harder than he would’ve guessed. Mare fully understands what Silver and Bing are trying to do, and fights to get them to draw breath. He throws smoke in their faces, his punches aim for the gut. But Bing and Silver are hitting back. Mare sometimes dodges in a puff of smoke, but Silver quickly figures out what direction he tends to dodge in, and is ready to meet him with a crack across the face every time he becomes tangible again.

Silver finds, though, that he desperately needs to breathe again. Bing seems to be faring better, whether he still has air left or has already snuck a breath under Mare’s nose. Mare can see Silver’s desperation, and hits on him harder. He moves like his smoke does, flowing over the floor and stopping in front of Silver to punch him in the stomach. Silver grunts, more air lost, but keeps his mouth shut. He swings out and manages to connect with the side of Mare’s neck, but it’s not enough to stop Mare from sending a plume of smoke into Silver’s face. The purple clouds his vision and the toxicity makes his eyes water.

All at once, Mare buckles. It takes Silver a moment to realize that Bing has kicked the back of both of his knees, one after the other, and shoved him bodily down by his head.

“Breathe, dude, I got this!” Bing shouts.

Silver backs up, smoke still in his eyes, hands waving away the cloud. He hears Bing grunt in pain, and clears his eyes in time to see Mare buck himself up, headbutting Bing’s neck. Bing gags and draws back without thinking, and Mare poofs himself back to standing. Silver finally, finally breathes, and takes in a long gasp of air as Mare kicks Bing across the face, sending him sprawling.

Silver can see in Bing’s face that he’s now the one about to run out of air, and even if he couldn’t, he can hear Bing’s fans whirring desperately as he overheats. Bing doesn’t need air for his lungs, he needs it to keep himself cool, and if he gets too hot, he could be badly damaged. Silver rushes forward as Mare plants a foot down on Bing’s chest, keeping him on the ground as he struggles. But Mare sees him out of the corner of his eye and meets him with a block of smoke, thick enough to be tangible, that slams into his chest and shoves him back, nearly toppling him over. Mare grins down at Bing, smoke curling around his fingers, ready to force Bing to breathe it in.

Bing glares at him, grabs at Mare’s leg on his chest, shoves up the pant leg, and wraps his hands around the bare skin.

Mare’s expression goes from confusion to shock to pain in a matter of seconds, and he howls, stepping back and trying to kick Bing off. A grin touches Bing’s agonized grimace and he holds fast as his overheated, metallic hands burn into Mare’s skin. While he’s distracted, Bing takes deep breaths, and once Mare seems to be getting used to the pain, Silver rushes him from behind and throws him bodily off of Bing. He catches a glimpse of Mare’s leg, which is badly burnt, at least to the second degree. Mare growls as he gets up from being shoved, and Silver keeps his eyes on him as he offers a hand to Bing to help him up. Mare limps, unable to bear much weight on the leg, but he charges forward, unwilling to give up.

The fight continues, one breath at a time.

Silver wonders how everyone downstairs is doing.

~~~

It takes a minute, but Dr. Iplier eventually figures out why Anti isn’t fighting.

Anti would very much like to join in on the carnage if his hungry gaze is any indication. Yet he continues to preside over the fight, much in the way Dr. Iplier is. But while Dr. Iplier is keeping an eye on the other egos, tracking their injuries and preparing to pull someone away to help them, Anti is doing something else. He’s not just watching the fight, he’s controlling it.

Dark’s aura isn’t behaving the way it did when Dark had it. Dark was never one for possession, not the way Anti is. The aura mimics Anti’s control over his puppets in more ways than the gray tinge to their skin. The aura is actively making them stronger, faster. It’s most obvious with Chase and Henrik: Even against the nicest Google, they shouldn’t have stood a chance. Yet they’re holding their own and evading Oliver’s punches with seeming ease. Dr. Iplier can’t speak much for Chase, but not even during the most dire emergencies has he seen Henrik move so fast, never has he seen him exhibit such physical strength. But Anti isn’t just feeding his puppets power, he’s carefully calculating who’s winning, who’s holding ground, and who’s beginning to slip. Whenever an Iplier is about to land a devastating attack on a puppet, Anti sends Chase or Henrik launching in front of the puppet with a flick of his hand. Each of them function as human shields: Despite the power the aura has given them, they’re still the weakest figments in the room, and even the most determined egos don’t want to kill them.

At one point, Google manages to stun Peevils, and it looks like he might have an opening to kill her. But as he brings his fist forward, Anti sends Henrik jumping into his path. Google’s eyes widen in surprise, and he readjusts, using his momentum to shove Henrik away before closing in on Peevils. But the extra moment is all Peevils needs to recover, and by the time Google’s in front of her she’s ready to block his hit and fight back. Then, Host nearly cracks his bat over Jameson’s head, but Chase gets in the way and breaks Host’s concentration, letting Jameson slip out of the way and resume his fight. When these little confrontations end, they always go right back to Oliver. Between the two of them, Oliver never gets a spare moment.

There’s one fight that Anti doesn’t send Chase and Henrik to interfere in though, and that fight is between Phantom and Yandere. Perhaps Anti knows that Yandere would gladly cut Chase and Henrik down to win the battle and get Dark’s aura back. But in turn, it means that Yandere is steadily but surely gaining the upper hand. Phantom may have magic, but Yandere is quick and relentless. His eyes blaze so bright they almost glow, his hands flex where they grasp his katana’s hilt, his mouth is set in a permanent snarl. There’s cuts and bruises on his skin from Phantom’s scepter and holes burned into his shirt from Phantom’s magic, but none of it seems to faze him. Phantom, meanwhile, is appearing to tire from the various gashes crossing over his skin, not to mention the bruises on his jaw from the moments Yandere got close enough to punch. He can’t keep up with Yandere anymore, and before long Yandere gets an opening.

From across the room, Dr. Iplier watches Yandere thrust his katana forward. By some miracle, he stabs through Phantom’s shoulder instead of his heart. As far away as he is, Dr. Iplier can hear Phantom’s scapula crack and split apart, and he has no doubt that the whole room can hear his howl of agony. Yandere doesn’t even pause to enjoy his victory; he only pulls his katana from Phantom’s shoulder and pushes him aside. As Phantom falls, clutching his shoulder as it bleeds, Yandere runs for Anti.

Before Dr. Iplier can act on the panic that rises in his chest, he hears a bang and a gasping cry from much closer by.

It’s Oliver, staggering backwards with a hand pressed on his chest, just above his core.

From across the room, Anti grins and winks at Dr. Iplier. And Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks, because he can’t stop Yandere and help Oliver at the same time. The frenetic pace of the fight makes Dr. Iplier’s choice for him.

Chase lowers his gun as Henrik comes behind Oliver, ready to slice his throat with his scalpel while he’s distracted. But he doesn’t get the chance; Google is suddenly there, jumping between them, and Oliver’s back hits Google’s with a grunt. Peevils is close behind following Google, but Google grabs Henrik by his lab coat and throws him into Peevils’s path. Henrik collides with her and the pair tumble to the ground in a tangle. Chase raises his gun again and Google pivots, turning to face him and nudging Oliver to follow the turn. The next bullet hits Google’s raised arm instead of Oliver’s head, and Google hardly flinches, instead looking over his shoulder at Dr. Iplier.

“Iplier, get Oliver!” Google shouts, and Dr. Iplier doesn’t have to be told twice. With Henrik out of the way and Oliver turned around, there’s nothing to stop Dr. Iplier from rushing forward to take Oliver’s arm and help him away from the fight. Just in time, too, for Henrik and Peevils are up again and rushing for Google as Dr. Iplier gets Oliver out of the line of fire. He doesn’t see what happens next, he’s busy helping Oliver lay down and evaluating his injury.

Dr. Iplier isn’t a mechanic, but the androids are very similar to humans in most medical respects, and he knows enough for quick patches and emergency fixes. Chase’s bullet luckily didn’t hit Oliver’s core, but it’s too close for comfort. With the way his internal machinery works, the bullet could nick the top of Oliver’s core if Dr. Iplier doesn’t remove it and quickly solder the wound closed. He has the tools to do it, and it won’t take long, but…

He looks up to the front of the room, to Yandere approaching Anti, and Anti meeting him with a grin and a gleeful laugh.

But Oliver coughs from the ground, and Dr. Iplier knows what he has to do. He opens his medical kit and pulls out the tools he needs.

“This is going to hurt,” Dr. Iplier warns Oliver, “Sorry in advance.”

“Please don’t get hurt,” Dr. Iplier internally begs Yandere, “Please don’t get hurt.”

~~~

The longer Silver and Bing fight, the harder it becomes to keep from breathing in Mare’s toxic smoke. Mare seems to realize this, for despite his burned leg slowing him down, he can’t keep a smirk off his face as he battles Silver and Bing.

Bing recovers from his near-overheating quickly, but it keeps happening, over and over. He keeps having to hold his breath for almost too long, and Silver knows that can’t be good for his hardware. Every time he regains his breath, he’s a little bit slower, his movements seem to take a little more effort. Bing is flagging, and if Silver is being honest, so is he. He feels perpetually out of breath, and even the clean gasps he manages to take in aren’t enough. Somehow he has to concentrate on his breathing and his fighting at the same time, and it’s getting harder by the moment. He and Bing are still landing hits, but the hits are weaker, and Mare has the advantage of not having to fear the smoke.

Finally, Mare punches Bing in the gut so hard that he loses all the air in him at once. He falls, winded, and his body breathes in before he can stop himself. He stays on the ground, both gasping and trying not to gasp, as Silver leaps forward to defend him, punching Mare across the face.

“Bing, come on, don’t breathe yet!” Silver cries. Purple smoke clings to the air around Bing, and Silver can see it flowing into Bing’s mouth as he pants.

“Can’t, can’t...” Bing gasps, sinking into the ground, spent. His eyes start to glaze over with fear. “No, please...”

“Oh crap,” Silver hisses. Bing’s already breathed in too much smoke. It’s up to Silver to finish this.

But Mare comes back from Silver’s punch with a vengeance, invigorated by his success in getting Bing.

“You can’t hold your breath forever,” Mare laughs as he and Silver strike and parry, “I can’t promise it’ll be quick or painless, but at least you’ll be able to breathe again!”

“Go to hell,” Silver mutters. Bing has gotten up enough to scramble away from something only he can see.

“C’mon, pease, don’t hurt me,” Bing whimpers, and Silver can’t help but hurt for him and wonder what he’s seeing.

That simple distraction is enough.

Mare punches Silver, not in the face but in the neck, making his cough and gag. He can’t stop himself from automatically trying to breathe, but there’s suddenly so much smoke around him that he can hardly get any oxygen. He falls to his knees, trying to get air before he passes out. He looks up enough to see Mare spread his arms out, sending purple smoke out in a burst. The stuff flows out from him, racing over the ground, billowing past Silver and Bing into the studio, to where the other egos are hiding.

“No,” Silver gasps, but it’s already too late. He can hardly see through the purple haze.

In the next moment, the screams start.

Shouts of alarm sound first as the egos see the smoke, urgent cries from those who know what the smoke is and demand others not to breathe it. But there’s too much of it to avoid, and the noise eventually morphs into the screams of the egos experiencing their worst fears. They meld together in a cacophony of terror, but Silver can still pick out a few.

“Leave us alone!” Damien howls, voice breaking with terror, “Haven’t you taken enough from us??”

“CJ, no, CJ!!” RJ wails. Silver can hear CJ wailing too, keening and wordless in agony.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m sorry, please!” Eric sobs from somewhere in the room. “Don’t hurt me, I didn’t mean it!!”

“Not solitary, please, let me out, I’ll do better!” Yancy hollers from another corner, “I swear I’ll do better, don’t leave me in here!!”

Silver struggles to get up as the screams of his family fill his ears. After releasing all that smoke, Mare must have been weakened. If Silver can find him, he’ll be easier to beat now than before. Silver sluggishly crawls to his feet, fighting the smoke. He feels tired, aching. It’s hard to breathe, his throat feels thick. When Silver manages to stand, he looks around, trying to find Mare. But he finds something else instead, and chokes.

It’s Roxanne, sprawled on the ground, body twisted and unnaturally broken. There’s blood leaking from her ears and nose, and her eyes are wide open, face contorted in terror. She’s ghostly pale, and Silver can tell just from looking at her that she’d be cold to touch.

“Roxy,” he gasps, nearly collapsing again.

Standing over her is Dark, looking down at Silver as he examines the fingernails on one hand. There’s blood caked there.

“Here I thought you were a stickler for the rules,” Dark says, deceptively calm, “Yet you’ve broken one of the most important rules I have for this house. What’s more, you broke it right under my nose, and kept it hidden for who knows how long.”

“D-Dark,” Silver stammers, helpless with fear. Dark is dead, this isn’t real, he knows that, but the smoke smothers that knowledge every moment he spends staring at Roxanne’s body.

“You understand that I had no choice,” Dark continues, stepping over Roxanne to approach Silver. “You put all of us at risk by cavorting with a human. And the fact that she recognized me, that she knew us...you told her far too much.”

“She was only a human,” Silver whispers, tears filling his eyes and beginning to spill. “She couldn’t have hurt us, she didn’t tell anyone else–”

“Humans cannot be trusted!” Dark snaps, aura flashing around him, silencing Silver. “Even knowing how dangerous I was, all I had to do was threaten her and she spilled everything she knew about us. She could not keep our secrets. They were never hers at all.”

“I–”

“And it was you who gave them to her,” Dark growls, grabbing Silver by the throat with the same hand covered in Roxy’s blood. Silver would gag if Dark wasn’t squeezing his throat so tight.

“Dark,” he rasps, “Please...”

Even through the tears, even through the agony and terror, Silver knows two things to be true.

“These are illusions, they are not corporeal,” he reminds himself, “Mare can only be in one place, and if he’s here, he can’t hurt anyone else.”

It’s little comfort. Silver’s mind is betraying him, and having those facts in his mind doesn’t make him fear any less, doesn’t make the hole in his heart from seeing Roxanne dead get any smaller.

“Roxanne is not the only one who needs to be punished,” Dark says, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “You need to be reminded of the rules here, and you need to relearn your place.”

Silver resigns himself to this, closing his eyes in grief.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, not to Dark, and not even to Roxanne.

~~~

After Yandere takes down Phantom, his only goal is Anti. He managed to restrain himself from putting his katana through Phantom’s chest, but he has no plans to do the same with Anti.

Anti is going to pay for what he’s done, no matter what Yandere has to do.

He runs to Anti where he stands lording over the fight, watching his puppets battle for him. Anti laughs to see Yandere, spreading his arms.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, hair shifting into a bright yellow-green and eyes going black. “I’d say it’s been lonely without you, but I’ve managed to find myself some company.” Dark’s aura swirls around Anti as his appearance changes back to normal, but his skin is still tinted gray, the same way Dark’s was. The sight of it makes Yandere shake with rage.

“Are you ready to die, Guritchi??” Yandere tries to growl, but it comes out like a screech, filtered through his anger. Anti laughs again and settles into a fighting stance, claws out, aura wisping around himself.

“Are you?” he asks in return, giggling madly.

Yandere launches at him, katana raised, but Anti evades, poofing away in a burst of smoke and reappearing behind Yandere.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” Anti tells him smugly.

Yandere shrieks in rage and whirls around to slice through Anti’s head. But once again he teleports away, using Dark’s aura like it’s his own. It makes Yandere’s blood boil ever further, makes his vision go red.

Which might be why he doesn’t notice Anti’s aura swirling around him, blocking everything out, until the smoky gray is all he can see. He spins around, looking for Anti.

“Come out, you coward!!!” Yandere howls, out of his mind with rage.

And being surrounded by Dark’s aura is making grief rise up in him too, as raw and powerful as it was when he first found out what happened to Dark. Yandere chokes on it, on the smoke and on his own despair as he searches through the deep gray for Anti. The aura is cold, and Yandere can hear indistinct voices bubbling from all around, but it isn’t scary. It reminds him of before, when Dark’s aura would whisper through Yandere’s hair, or gently wrap around his arm, or ghost over the small of his back and push him into Dark’s arms. It’s too familiar, the cold and the wind and the quiet voices are too soothing. Yandere’s surprised by the sob that escapes his throat.

“Yami,” he gasps, “Why did this happen? Why are you gone?”

Now Anti is wearing his aura, desecrating his memory. That thought catapults Yandere back into hate and anger once again, and he searches for Anti with renewed vigor, darting around as far as he can see, katana slashing, hands trembling with the desire to kill.

“When I find you I’m ripping you apart,” Yandere growls, “I’m going to crack open your chest and stab out your heart with one of your own ribs, so you can feel what you’ve done to me.”

“Didn’t Host say you can’t kill me?” Anti laughs. Yandere tries to pinpoint where his voice came from, but it echoes too strongly. “Not if you want Dark’s aura back, that is.”

“Dirty fucking spy,” Yandere spits, “I’ll beat you within an inch of your life. When Wil and the others have taken Yami’s aura from you I’ll cut out your larynx so you’ll finally shut up. I’ll pull out your claws one at a time. I’ll see what your brain looks like, I’ll split your skull open. You’ll wish you’d let me kill you earlier.”

Anti laughs, loud and cackling, but there’s something under it, something else that Yandere’s ears pick up.

Static.

Yandere freezes.

“What the fuck are you playing at,” Yandere gasps.

“What do you mean?” Anti asks innocently. Yandere still can’t see him through Dark’s aura, still can’t tell where his voice is coming from. Below his voice, static pops and crackles.

“Shut up, shut up!” Yandere screeches, whirling around, trying to get away from the static.

“You asked,” Anti chuckles, “What, don’t you remember this static? Just like old times, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you!!” Yandere screams, “Kutabare! Shine!!!”

“Wasn’t it easier, then?” Anti continues, static getting louder. Yandere feels like it’s flowing into him, through his ears and down his throat. “Wasn’t it easy when you knew I was in charge, when you weren’t thinking about anything but that? When you didn’t have a care in the world?”

“No,” Yandere moans, standing still, trying to shut the static out.

“You remember that feeling, don’t you?” Anti says, voice low and almost gentle, “You remember this too, don’t you, the way this aura feels around you, the sound of it. Doesn’t it feel good? Don’t you miss it?”

“Stop,” Yandere whimpers, tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Anti coos, “Don’t cry, usagi, just listen. Just listen.”

The static is so loud Yandere can hardly think, and with its buzzing comes other messages flowing into Yandere’s mind.

Relax.

Be calm.

You are safe.

Yandere sobs for the second time as a wisp of aura curls around his cheek, wiping away tears. Another tendril ghosts by his ear, adding its murmuring voices to the static. Against his will, Yandere can feel the fear and the rage slipping away. It’s sadness, it’s the agony of lost love that flows in to replace it, and Yandere trembles with grief. It’s despair, and relief, and contentment, and relaxation. It’s right there, comfort and bliss is right there, so close, so far away ever since Yandere lost Dark. He couldn’t miss Dark more if he tried, not even having Damien around is enough. Dark’s aura is winding around Yandere like a blanket, and that horrid static is blanketing him too, rushing through him, soothing Yandere despite himself. It’s so hard to keep fighting. It’s so hard to keep missing Dark.

“I just want this to stop,” Yandere whispers through his tears.

“It will,” Anti murmurs, “It will, sakura. Just let go. Just let me in.”

How can Yandere say no to that?

He closes his eyes, and gives in.

When Yandere opens them again, they’re blanketed over with static. His katana slips out of his hands and hits the floor with a clatter. Anti finally emerges from the smoke and allows it to dissipate. But static continues to ring in Yandere’s ears, and he stays where he is, slumped and loose as Anti walks towards him, claws out, grinning, ready to finish what he started weeks ago.

Then Dr. Iplier is in front of Yandere, arms spread wide, eyes glinting with equal parts fear and stubborn determination.

“I’m not letting you hurt him,” he says, quiet and angry, “Not again.”

Anti blinks, then frowns.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Oliver?” he growls, put out at the interruption.

“I did,” Dr. Iplier answers. “How long did you really think that’d take me?”

Anti flicks his gaze towards the battlefield. Sure enough, Oliver is back on his feet, fighting alongside the others again, no worse for wear aside from a hole in his shirt, revealing the metal plate soldered over his wounds.

“Whatever,” Anti says, “You’re already too late. The conditioning from the static is still in Yan’s mind, and he’s fully sucked in now. All that’s left is for me to put him out of his misery.”

“Are you really such a coward that you’d kill him like this?” Dr. Iplier asks, trying to tamp down his anger. “Do you think he’d beat you in a straight fight? Are you scared you’re outmatched? So now you’re gonna kill him when he’s incapacitated? What are you afraid of?”

Anti snarls, lips curling dangerously.

“Watch yourself, Doc,” Anti growls, “You can’t stop me from killing Yandere, but I might just kill you first.”

“Do it then,” Dr. Iplier says, standing up straighter, “Kill me. Give Yandere a chance to fight back. If you’re so confident you can beat him then do it. Maybe you’ll get a better fight out of killing me first.”

Dr. Iplier stares at Anti, unwavering, even as static buzzes around him, even as Dark’s aura whips against his skin, blows his hair around. Anti glowers, but he’s thoughtful. Dr. Iplier can feel Yandere’s presence behind him, how he’s almost leaning against Dr. Iplier’s back, so boneless from the static in his mind that he can barely stand at all. Dr. Iplier stands up tall and looks Anti in the eye with dignity as he waits for Anti to kill him.

“You know, every once in a while you have a pretty good idea, Doc,” Anti finally admits, grinning. “But you’d really do this? You’d really deprive the others of their medic, just for him?”

Why wouldn’t he? That’s how this whole situation started, because Dr. Iplier couldn’t bear to see Yandere killed. Maybe he hasn’t learned his lesson, maybe he’s still being selfish, maybe it’s a bad idea in the long run to sacrifice himself. But if it gives Yandere a chance to get away from Anti, or the other egos a chance to see what’s happening and stop him, then isn’t it worth it?

Dr. Iplier feels Yandere’s weight off his back, hears him step back.

“Shishi?” he mumbles, groggy and confused but coming back to himself.

And that’s all Dr. Iplier needs to be certain of his choice.

“I would,” he answers Anti, “For Yandere, I will.”

“Suit yourself,” Anti says. He reels his arm back. “Say goodbye.”

Anti punches through Dr. Iplier’s chest, coming out the other side with his heart clutched in his clawed hand.

For a long moment, there is only silence as Anti pulls his arm back out, taking Dr. Iplier’s heart with him. Dr. Iplier’s body sways and falls, back hitting the ground, gaping chest facing the ceiling, blood pooling around him.

Then, Yandere screams.

~~~

Silver coughs, not from the purple smoke surrounding him, but from the kick to his stomach that’s sent him rolling across the floor.

“Please,” Silver wheezes. There’s specks of his own blood on the ground. Dark – no, Mare – but it’s Dark – walks up to him, dress shoes clacking against the floor.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Dark answers, voice deceptively smooth.

Silver sighs, exhausted. He can still hear the terrified cries of the other egos, but it’s supplemented by coughing as their bodies try to expel the smoke. Even with the coughing, the volume is quieter than it was before, as though some egos have gone silent. If this doesn’t end soon, someone is going to die. But Silver is paralyzed. He can hardly think, hardly breathe, hardly move. All he has is fear. His eyes are wide behind his mask, his only desire is to run away, escape, but his body won’t let him.

Dark kicks him in the head, and Silver cries out as stars burst in his mind.

“Roxanne was lucky, all things considered,” Dark muses, circling Silver like a shark as he clutches his forehead. “I could’ve killed her like this, slow and painful. But I let her die quickly. I hope you’re grateful.”

A rush of agony rips through Silver, but running alongside it is a sense of wrongness.

“Y-You’re gonna…gonna kill me?” Silver asks.

“You’ve always been a liability,” Dark – Mare? – growls, “And now you’ve become a hazard.”

“Then, then…” Silver struggles from the ground, managing to get on his hands and knees. “You’d put me in…in your v-void for a week…” He slowly drags himself to his feet. “Or s-stick me in The Cell.” He looks Dark – no, Mare in the eyes. “Dark would never kill one of us, n-no matter what we did.”

Mare, wearing Dark’s appearance like a hologram, blinks in confusion. His eyes widen in shock, then narrow in anger.

“Does it matter?” he spits, grabbing Silver by the throat. “What are you gonna do about it? Look around, Silver, you already lost.” He grins. “My smoke’s going to kill them all, and I’m going to kill you.” He squeezes Silver’s throat, and Silver wheezes, trying to breathe. He kicks out and claws at Mare’s hand, but he’s too weak to break free. Mare’s hand gets tighter, his grin meaner. “Some hero you were.”

Silver can’t breathe. Not even the fear smoke can get into his lungs, and he was already out of breath from his injuries. It only takes moments for his vision to start narrowing, for his chest to start burning from the inside. What little energy he had leaves him, and his arms and legs begin to still. The world around him starts to go dark, a booming crack sounds–

And Silver’s on the ground, Mare’s hand gone from his neck, coughing and gasping for air. His vision is still blurred from tears as he coughs, but when he looks up, he can tell that Mare looks like Mare again, not Dark. The area is much less purple than it was a moment ago, and Mare is using the hand that earlier held Silver by his throat to hold his other arm. His shoulder is bleeding profusely. He’s shocked, staring at something behind Silver. Silver turns to look, and gapes.

It’s Captain Magnum, hand still raised, flintlock pistol still smoking. Silver manages to sit up, and he can see the look on Magnum’s face, darker than a storm. His pupils are dilated and Silver can tell he’s breathing rapidly, but it’s as though his body’s fear response isn’t affecting his conscious mind.

“What the hell,” Mare gasps, “You’re supposed to be seeing your worst fears!”

“I don’t fear a thing but the briney deep,” Magnum snarls, voice low like thunder, “And I respect her more than I could ever fear her. Now, if ye don’t make yerself scarce, I’ll see ye to Davy Jones, and that’s a promise.”

Mare glowers, but there’s not much he can do. His shot shoulder still bleeds heavily, and his arm hangs down limply like he couldn’t move it if he tried. The smoke dissipating from the room is further evidence that he’s been weakened. It would take Magnum too long to reload his pistol to shoot Mare again, but he’s more than capable of beating Mare down with his bare hands. Mare seems to recognize this, so he spits angrily in Magnum’s direction before turning into smoke, floating slowly away and taking the rest of the purple in the air with him.

“Mate, ye alright?” Magnum asks Silver, hurrying over and helping him up.

“As good as I can be,” Silver says, but he already feels better without the fear smoke in his system. “Just…thank you, that was incredible.”

“Arr, t’was nothing,” Magnum mumbles, but he can’t help but give an embarrassed smile.

“Yo, Mags, what’re you doing here?” asks Bing, walking over. There’s confusion written on his face as the smoke clears from his mind. “What the hell happened?”

“Magnum shot Mare in the shoulder,” Silver says, “We’re safe now.”

“Man, sorry I couldn’t help,” Bing says, frowning at himself. “I didn’t–”

He’s cut off by someone – Bop, Silver quickly realizes – crashing into his side and hugging him tight.

“Bing, Bing,” he sobs, burying his face into Bing’s neck.

“Boppy, hey, it’s okay,” Bing murmurs, turning to him and hugging him back, Silver and Magnum forgotten. “It’s alright, we’re all good, baby…”

“I guess that’s my cue to check on the others,” Silver says to Magnum, “Hopefully no one’s hurt; that smoke can be deadly.”

“I best be seein’ about my mates as well,” Magnum muses, subdued, “The pair o’ them so afeard wasn’t a pretty sight.”

Silver nods, and the two part ways into the studio. Before he goes, Silver can’t help but look back at where Roxanne was lying, but she’s gone like Mare’s smoke is. Still, Silver shudders as he turns away and walks off, knowing he’ll be seeing Roxanne’s body in his nightmares for the foreseeable future.

He finds the Jim Twins first, huddled together so tight they look connected, both crying silently and trembling. RJ is the one who answers Silver’s questions about how the pair are feeling and breathing, as CJ refuses to let RJ go to sign. RJ won’t take his arms away from his twin either. CJ seems to have a lingering cough, but neither twin is in immediate danger from smoke inhalation.

“Did either of you lose consciousness?” Silver asks.

“Well, I know I didn’t,” RJ mumbles, “I don’t know about CJ, I didn’t…” He pauses, eyes getting teary again. “I thought he was dead.”

CJ buries his face in RJ’s neck, as though he experienced the same thing. Silver can imagine what the twins saw, and his heart aches for them.

Silver finds the trio of new egos next. Yancy and Illinois are tangled in each other, and the pair of them are nearly swallowed up by Magnum’s arms around them. Neither are crying, though they both have tracks down their cheeks from earlier tears. Yancy is trembling.

“You’re all okay?” Silver asks them, “Any trouble breathing?”

“No,” Yancy and Lio answer at almost the same time. Magnum looks at them both with worry. He must have an idea of what they saw in Mare’s smoke, but the pair aren’t about to mention it.

Silver moves on, and finds King of the Squirrels, Ed Edgar, and Eric all sitting together. King and Ed are sitting together, that is; Eric is sitting in Ed’s lap, arms around his neck, audibly crying. Ed is holding him and stroking his hair, trying to soothe, but he looks like he’s seen a ghost. King is similarly skittish, and he jolts when he hears Silver approaching, though he relaxes once he sees him.

“You okay?” he asks, “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Haven’t we all?” Silver replies, trying to smile. “You guys alright? Can you breathe well?”

King and Ed both nod, and Ed speaks up.

“Eric was sayin’ he couldn’t catch his breath a minute ago,” Ed says, “Can’t tell if it’s breathin’ trouble or if he’s still too upset from all them illusions.”

It’s not an unfounded assumption; Eric is clearly still distraught over whatever he saw. But he’ll definitely need to be first in line when Dr. Iplier is checking everyone over.

There’s still two more people Silver has to check on, and he finds them before long. Damien sits against Celine’s stretcher, trembling, clutching one of her hands in his.

“Damien?” Silver asks softly, trying not to startle him. Damien still jumps at the sound of Silver’s voice.

“Oh, S-Silver,” he gasps, “I’m…I’m alright, I think, and Celine is as well, I believe…”

Silver still walks up to Celine to check her pulse and make sure she looks alright. Damien seems to be right; her pulse is normal and her color hasn’t changed. But Silver has his doubts about Damien. He’s still shaking, and his breathing is a little too fast and a little too shallow.

“Hey, Damien,” Silver says, kneeling down to him, “Celine’s breathing is okay, but you need to breathe, too.”

“I’m, I…” Damien tries, but his voice is quiet and his pupils are still blown wide in terror. Silver gives him a reassuring smile.

“Here, let’s take a few breaths together. There’s no more smoke in the air, so it’s safe to breathe now. We’ll breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale for eight. Four, seven, eight. You understand?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Then let’s start. In…” Silver breathes in, starting a count to four in his mind. Damien does the same, with effort. “Hold…” Silver counts to seven, and so does Damien, though he’s clearly fighting the urge to hyperventilate. “Out.” Silver exhales as he counts to eight, and Damien follows, though he seems to run out of breath to exhale partway through. Still, he’s trying, and that means it’s already working.

Silver isn’t used to seeing Damien like this. He hasn’t had much cause to interact with him before this, but Damien was always so composed in every meeting, even when he was clearly rattled. Damien may have been unnerved and confused in the videos about him, but in real life, he has the decorum and composure one would expect of a city mayor. But now, though, in the face of Mare’s smoke, he’s a terrified wreck. Not that Silver can blame him; that fear had nearly gotten the better of himself, too. Though the breathing exercise is for Damien, Silver has to admit it’s working to dissipate the last of his own anxiety as well.

The pair keep breathing for a little while, and after several repetitions, Damien recovers. He stops trembling, his eyes are no longer so wide, and when he speaks again, his voice is calm.

“Thank you,” he says, “I apologize, that smoke just…” He considers what words to use, but Silver smiles gently again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, “You should’ve seen me earlier.” He sighs. “That was Natemare. He’s another figment, from someone else. That smoke was his power. It’s poisonous and makes people hallucinate their worst fears.”

“I see,” Damien says, thoughtful. He laughs weakly. “That explains what I saw.”

Silver doesn’t ask. He knows it’s not his business. Damien thinks for a moment longer, then sighs.

“I imagine he hasn’t shown his face here, else I would’ve been told about it,” Damien muses, “But then…that means he could still appear. If Dark and Wilford haven’t found him…he must still exist.”

Silver knows who Damien’s talking about, and he nods.

“Well, I suppose it’s just as well,” Damien says, smiling tiredly, “If the fans could love someone like Dark, or love who Wilford has become, then why wouldn’t they love Mark, too?”

It occurs to Silver then that Damien is tremendously lonely. Wilford is so different he’s hardly the same person, and all Damien has his comatose sister. Silver was planning to return to his own friends after checking on Damien, to stay with Ed and King and Eric until he got news from the egos downstairs. But Damien needs company, he needs a person to lean on right now. Of all the egos in the room now, Damien’s the only one who’s alone.

Silver already knows that being a hero means sacrifices. Sometimes big ones, like his earlier fight with Mare. But sometimes small ones, like this, like now.

Damien doesn’t say anything more, and neither does Silver, but the silence is amicable. Silver’s super-hearing can pick up the murmurs of other egos, talking and reassuring each other. He can hear that Damien is breathing normally now, can see that he’s calmer. And Silver feels calmer, too.

The calm is shattered by a shrill, wrenching scream piercing the air.

Silver and Damien both jump a mile, and as the scream fades, it’s replaced by the fearful exclamations and surprised shouting of the other egos.

“What on earth was that??” Damien gasps.

“It…” Silver’s stomach knots up as he realizes. “It came from downstairs.”

Damien’s eyes widen. He clutches Celine’s hand a little tighter.

Silver wonders, and fears, what could possibly be happening.

~~~

Host has been fighting for much longer than everyone else.

The first time Jameson grabbed his pocket watch and turned back the seconds, the Host’s power let him follow without trying, and both men were too surprised to make much use of the knowledge. But Jameson is used to time, he knows the right moments to do over and the right ones to let slip. Host follows along, trying not only to defeat him, but stop his hand from turning time back whenever he tries. But Jameson is quick, nearly as quick as Host’s words, and nearly quicker than his swinging bat. Time reaches back and reaches back, but Host can’t check how many seconds have been lost, can’t narrate how long they’ve been fighting. His narration flows out of his mouth in a rapid stream, tracking Jameson’s movements and letting him now when they’ve gone backwards. He cannot stop even for a moment to think of anything else, he cannot stop the endless torrent of words. If he loses track for even a moment, he’ll lose his momentum and fail to catch up, and Jameson will win. He can’t even tell who’s winning at all. He can only focus moment-to-moment, as Jameson endlessly tries to reach back into the past.

But then a wail splits the room, and both Jameson and Host are given pause.

“The fight ceases,” Host narrates, words nearly too fast to be understood, just as they’ve been this whole fight. “The entire fight ceases, the others are rendered still. They look to the front of the room for the source. It is Yandere, anguished. Beyond him is Anti, triumphant and cackling. Between them is Dr. Iplier, d–”

Host chokes. His words leave him. After so many minutes of relentless speech, of constantly narrating nearly without breath, this is the word that stops him. It does not escape his lips, but he already knows what it is. He already knows what happened. He already knows what he lost.

The word “dead” does not leave his mind and pierce the air, but it is still the word that breaks him.

“Edward,” he gasps as his heart shatters.

Anti is still laughing, Yandere is still sobbing. Host continues to narrate, mechanically and quietly, enough to see the other egos still frozen still, comprehending, enough to see Anti’s puppets also frozen, distracted by Anti’s murderous glee. Yandere falls to his knees, crouching over Dr. Iplier, and Anti advances, ready to take Yandere next.

At that, the spell is broken. The fight resumes. The puppets work to distract the egos, to keep them from reaching Yandere to offer help. Host is pulled back into his own fight, still numb with loss, so he cannot see what happens next.

He cannot see Wilford run to intercept Anti and rescue Yandere, only to be bodily stopped and blocked by Jackie. He cannot see Chrome break away from his fight with MadPat to run across the room, faster than any human could go. He cannot see the other Googles shout to him, try to stop him. Though Host does not see these things, they happen, and they lead to Chrome advancing on Anti with eyes blazing red, and Anti laughing at the sight of him.

“You really think you can stop me, little tin can!?” Anti laughs, nearly howling with joy and madness. Yandere has enough time to look up and see Chrome there, enough time to be shocked through his tears.

There is time for nothing else before Anti launches, slamming into Chrome, into Chrome, sending him stumbling, staggering back. Anti disappears from view and into Chrome’s system in the blink of an eye. By the time Chrome has regained his balance, he isn’t Chrome any longer. His metallic skin has gone gray, inky smoke billows around him, bizarre swathes of glitching criss-cross over him. His expression changes from rage to manic glee, but his eyes stay burning red, so bright it hurts to meet his gaze.

“Oh, that was easy,” Anti exclaims through Chrome’s mouth, laughing through Chrome’s throat. “I’m on a roll, who wants to be next?” He grins down at Yandere. “How about we finally finish this, usagi?”

Yandere is frozen where he kneels over Dr. Iplier, eyes wide with terror. But before Anti can move forward, he’s grabbed at both sides by two sets of inhumanly strong arms.

“Chrome, kick him out!” Plus shouts from the right.

“You can push him out, I know you can!” Oliver cries from the left.

“Bim, get Anti!” yells Google, following a few paces behind his brothers.

“Gimme a second!” Bim yells back, too preoccupied with fending off a magical blast from Marvin to retaliate immediately.

Anti understands this, and grins wickedly. He brings one foot down on Plus’s ankle, metal against metal, crushing it mercilessly. He sends a swathe of inky black into Oliver’s face, pushing the aura into his eyes and mouth. Both Plus and Oliver are distracted by the onslaught, instinctively loosening their grip on Anti’s arms. And that loosened grip is all it takes. Google, still a few steps too far away, knows what’s about to happen but isn’t fast enough to stop it.

Google isn’t fast enough to stop Anti from freeing his arms and sending each one through the chests of Plus and Oliver, each hand coming out the other side with a chunk of glowing core in his claws. Anyone who doesn’t see it happen is alerted to it by Bim’s horrified scream. Plus and Oliver collapse in two heavy thuds, and Anti’s arms, Chrome’s arms, are stained near to the shoulders with oil.

In the next moment, Google has tackled Anti to the ground, pinning his arms awkwardly beneath him, but Anti hardly cares. He cackles wildly, deliriously happy from his victory, as Google keeps him on the ground, eyes glowing bright blue.

“Bim!!” Google roars.

“I’m trying!!” Bim screeches, already crying as he tries to fend off Marvin and free Chrome from Anti at the same time.

At that moment, Host lands a lucky swipe at Jameson with his bat, knocking his head sideways and making him fall. Host has a moment to reevaluate and understand the shouting he heard while he was fighting with Jameson.

“Plus and Oliver are dead, by Anti’s hands in Chrome’s hands,” Host narrates, trepidation knotting in his chest, “Bim cannot pull him out and fight Marvin at the same time. Wilford cannot break away from Jackie to assist, and the puppets that the Googles left are advancing on them now.” A spares a moment to find the future. “If something is not done, Anti will kill Google, and the rest of the egos will likely follow.”

Host has only one idea. He doesn’t know how much time it will garner, but with Jameson half-concussed, it could be enough to stop the carnage and finally end this fight. He has no choice. He breathes in, long and deep, and then he pulls in all of his power and speaks.

“Anti and his puppets are still!” Host bellows, loud over the battlefield.

They all freeze, even Chrome’s body no longer struggles under Google. They are confused, they flex their muscles, they try to move, but they cannot.

“Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still,” Host continues, murmuring low, power shimmering in the air around him, bright and golden like light in stained glass. To keep so many powerful figments frozen in place requires him to repeat the statement as a mantra, to continuously feed it power. Once again, if he stops his narration for even a moment, it will all be over. “Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still–”

Bim finally manages to yank Anti out of Chrome, and as Anti reappears, Chrome sags into the floor, face obscured by his bangs falling into his face. Google releases his arms and moves off of him, but Chrome stays where he is and begins to shake. Anti, despite being unable to move, laughs for the hundredth time, still high on bloodlust.

“I’m three for three here, huh?” Anti giggles, glitching like a light show even under Host’s spell. “Host can’t keep up a narration that powerful for long.”

“I don’t need long,” Google growls, standing up and grabbing Anti by the neck in one swift movement. His thumb digs into the slice across Anti’s neck, making him gag through his laughter, but not making him stop.

“Don’t kill him, Google,” Wilford speaks up, sighing as he approaches, finally able to confront Anti now that Jackie is rendered frozen. He talks like he’s been inconvenienced, but his bright pink eyes and deep-set scowl betray his rage. “We won’t get anywhere that way. Besides, there’s better ways to get Anti out of here.”

“Oh, really?” Anti coughs, splitting blood through his smiling teeth. Google reluctantly releases him, throwing him to the side and returning to Chrome’s side. Anti manages to stay standing, and despite the blood now running down his neck, stays triumphant. “What are you gonna do, if you’re not gonna kill me?” Anti asks Wilford, taunting.

Wilford poofs around the room, once to grab Jackie by the throat, once to do the same to Marvin, and once again to come back before Anti, holding them by their necks in front of him. Host’s spell prevents them from even squirming in Wilford’s grasp.

“I’ll take away a couple puppets,” Wilford says, “Or you can leave now and keep them for a while longer. Choose.”

“You won’t do it,” Anti says, still grinning, “They’re puppets; they aren’t in control. Besides, some of your fellow Ipliers are pretty fond of them. You won’t kill them.”

“You don’t think I would?” Wilford asks, expression darkening even as his mouth quirks into an unhinged smile. “You think I give a shit about Jackie or Marvin? You think I care about making a few people upset?” He squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks a little tighter. “I’d rather they be upset than dead. You’ve already killed Dark, so don’t expect me to shed a tear for your puppets.” His smile widens, splitting his face, eyes still glowing pink. “After everything, what’s a little more death? What’s a couple more bodies? What’s a little more madness?”

With that, he squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks hard, and two loud crunching snaps fill the air. Wilford tosses both bodies at Anti’s feet, and they flop to the ground like ragdolls, heads lolling too far. Bim gasps, but otherwise, all is silent. Anti’s expression changes from glee to rage in an instant.

“You fucker! Those are my strongest puppets!!” Anti screeches. Even in his anger he cannot break Host’s spell.

“Your move, glitch,” Wilford replies, poofing away briefly to grab Jameson and hold him by his neck in front of Anti. “You wanna lose your time traveller next? You wanna test me again?”

At that moment, a clutch of purple smoke wavers into the room. Anti and Wilford turn to look, and see Natemare appear at the end of the room, just outside the doors to the stairs. Host’s spell seizes him as well, and he cannot move, but Anti can see his messy shoulder wound and his too-pale face even at a distance. It reminds him of Phantom, who Yandere stabbed in the shoulder what feels like ages ago. He’s still lying on the floor where he fell, surrounded by blood, probably unconscious, possibly worse. Anti looks back to Wilford, to Jameson in his grasp, to Host still narrating him and his puppets still. With Host busy narrating, the egos can’t take Dark’s aura from Anti, but Anti can’t retaliate and finish the fight. They’ve reached a stalemate, and Anti knows it.

Finally, Anti growls in frustration, glitching harshly, shadows of himself splitting off and raging just like Dark’s glitches used to do.

“Fine,” Anti snarls, “Let us go and we’ll leave. But mark my words, you’ll see us again. And next time will be the last time.”

“It sure as hell will,” Wilford spits.

The Host finally, finally lets his narration stop completely, and Anti and his puppets can move again. Wilford tosses Jameson away, and as soon as his hand leaves his neck, Anti teleports himself and his puppets – Jackie and Marvin included – away with a flash of black smoke.

Host groans and slumps over, spent. Bim manages to get to him fast enough to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Let go,” Host rasps, voice nearly gone. Despite his exhaustion, he pushes Bim away, and Bim is too upset over the last few minutes’ events to protest.

Host stumbles blindy across the room, and Bim follows in a daze, still sobbing. Google is kneeling on the floor with Chrome, holding him tight, expression bleak and haunted. Chrome is keening, emitting a low metallic screech, curled in on himself and unable to look at his brothers’ bodies. Bim falls to his knees beside Oliver and collapses onto his chest, weeping. Host goes further, and narrates Wilford, sitting behind Yandere and stroking his hair, eyes still bright pink and expression still angry. He narrates Yandere, face in his hands, sobbing, Dr. Iplier’s head in his lap. He narrates Dr. Iplier’s body, cold now, blood congealed, eyes still open and glassy.

“My love,” Host whispers, voice hardly audible. He kneels beside his doctor, cups his face in his hands. He knew he’d be cold, but feeling it is far worse than narrating it. He moves one hand to tug Dr. Iplier’s eyelids shut, but it doesn’t make Dr. Iplier look any less dead in his mind’s eye. He’s still pale, there’s still a hole in his chest, there’s still blood on the floor. Host’s mind moves with a hundred thoughts at once, a hundred memories, a hundred moments with his doctor and a hundred times he loved him. Yet he can think of nothing at all. There is nothing in his mind but pain. His body aches from exertion, but it aches from loss, too. Despair builds in Host’s chest until he moans, long and loud, adding a resonant low tone to Yandere and Bim’s high-pitched sobs, to Chrome’s scratchy static wail. That’s the note that allows the symphony of grief to flow up to the third floor, to reach the horrified ears of the other egos.

When the weaker egos leave the studio, they see the group who fought trudging forth, faces drawn and eyes still leaking. Google is stone-faced as he carries Oliver, Chrome stares at the floor as he carries Plus. Host, despite his flagging strength, holds Dr. Iplier tight against his chest, and Bim walks alongside him in case he needs support, still in tears and unable to look away from Oliver. Wilford heads the group with Yandere, who’s still distraught, weeping in his arms. The other egos gasp and cry out as what happened sinks in. Some begin to cry, some are in too much shock. The Jims swarm Bim in tears at the sight of Oliver, and Bim does his best to comfort them. Ed steps in front of Eric, trying to shield him from the carnage, but Eric begins sobbing anyway. King and Silver are horrified to see Dr. Iplier, one of the oldest and most steadfast of them all, dead in Host’s arms. The rest of them react in varying levels of despair, all knowing that Anti has gotten away, and that he’s taken the lives of three of their own with him.

“Good god, what happened?” asks Damien, quietly horrified and barely audible through the screams and sobs of the other egos.

“What do you think?” asks Wilford, no longer enraged, but only exhausted. “We lost.”

#markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #antisepticeye #dr. iplier #fanfic #no way i can tag everyone who plays a role here lmao #kristin says stuff #my writing #unravel #big fs in chat fellas 😔#i know this took forever but i think it's worth the wait ;w;

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baka-monarch · 5 years ago

Note

22 cramped? for the g/t prompt list? Any pairing

Some context beforehand: In this AU Patton is a trans borrower and is 13, while Logan is a human college student and is 22.

Patton sat on the counter eating a cookie that Logan had left out for him. He smiled remembering that'd his friend would be home soon from college and they'd get to have some more fun together! He made quick work of the cookie, seeing as Logan had made it smaller than most cookies for Patton's sake. The borrower stood, preparing to go back into the walls to find something else to do while he waited for Logan, but soon paused. He felt this squeezing sensation on his back. At first, he thought he'd just worn the binder Logan made for him for too long again. So, he lifted his shirt and started the process of removing it. He sat down to wait for his back to stop hurting. Except it wouldn't. It just got worse the longer he sat there. He squirmed trying to stop it stretching his back and curling in on himself to stop the immense pain.

Eventually, the pain mixed with both the feeling of constipation and the urge to puke. Patton forced himself to stand, hating the sensation and began going towards his exit into the walls. He went to his wast area and tried to release what it felt like was being held in. Except nothing came out. He quickly became cold which made this terrible sensation worse, so he grabbed his trousers to put them back on. Not a second later did he throw them back down. His pants were covered in blood. He couldn't stop himself as he began to cry, due to only one explanation coming to mind.

He was dying.

There was no denying it. There was no other explanation. He was dying. He had to make sure Logan knew. He continued to cry as he put on another set of pants and dragged himself back out into the open. As soon as he was sure he was far enough he collapsed, curling in on himself, continuing to cry as he still wasn't sure what was happening.

∆∆∆

Logan walked up to his apartment, tired from his lack of sleep the night before. Last night he'd done nothing but study for a big exam he had today; he'd aced it but that did not make up for his lack of sleep last night. He lazily unlocked the door and entered, completely immersed with the idea of sleeping. Sure Logan had to make sure there was food for Patton but he could still borrow and if there wasn't anything Logan could just order delivery.

"Logan..." Patton mumbled after hearing the door, "Logan...!" He tried a little louder as the footsteps neared passing him.

Logan paused hearing the small voice. Worrying for his friend he followed it to find Patton curled up on the counter without his binder on.

"Patton, are you alright?" Logan inquired.

"I'm dying..." Patton mumbled with another wave of tears.

"Dying, but I do not understand. There was no food poisoning in the cookie, was there?" Logan had thought he'd cooked it the right amount of time but it was still possible his calculations were off and it'd hurt Patton.

"N-no, I... I don't think that was it." Patton curled tighter feeling another wave of pain overcome him. Logan gently lifted the borrower in his hands bringing him to where the first aid kit was located.

"Could you list the symptoms then?" He asked. Patton nodded.

"M-my back hurts, I feel like I need t-to poop o-o-or puke. U-Uhm, the-there was blood o-on my pants..." He stuttered through the list. Logan paused his steps when he heard about the blood. He knew what was happening now.

"Patton... Are you aware of what a period is?" This question caught the borrower off guard.

"N-no... Wha-what is it?" Patton tilted his head in confusion.

"Well, since you..." Logan didn't really know how to exactly phrase this "Were born female, you are subject to a menstrual cycle that affects you about every month called a period. It is, in simple terms, your body flushing out the wast product that was meant to be used to create the womb for a child and since there is no child there yet, that is what's causing this flush to happen. You are merely just experiencing some of the effects this cycle can have called contractions, or cramps as most females prefer to refer to this pain as." Honestly, Logan had completely forgotten that Patton was trans, in fact, he'd forgotten that the borrower had still been young enough to have still not experienced this; and although Logan would never admit it out loud, he silently thanked Roman for forcing him to hear all the conversations him and his theater friends had, which included this information and how to help.

"O-oh..." Patton muttered, taking in all the information, "S-so, this is going to happen again?" Logan nodded as a reply. Patton gulped, he didn't know if he could do this again, he was even still struggling with it now. Logan had turned around long ago, heading back to the kitchen. He set Patton back down on the counter, sadly watching bis small friend curl up again in pain. Quickly he got to work; first, he got out rice and a washcloth, using a rubber band to keep the rice inside, before putting it into the microwave (he had considered a heating pad, but concluded that this would be faster). Next, he retrieved some ibuprofen, crushing it up to get a piece small enough for the borrower. He handed the medicine to Patton with a bottle cal of water.

"Here, it should help," Logan said before Patton nodded, taking it. Patton swallowed and soon the microwave beeped. Logan retrieved the makeshift rice pack and help it out to the borrower. "Hold it on the place that hurts the most, this should help until the ibuprofen takes effect." Patton nodded and did as instructed, feeling relief with the heat that'd been added to his body. The borrower sighed as he fell asleep before Logan's eyes.

Logan sighed, glad that he could be of service. He began gently lifting Patton off the counter and brought him to his room with him. He set the borrower on his pillow and lay next to him at a distance. He gave a small smile at the form next to him. He hated that Patton had to go through feeling cramped but was glad that he had been able to help. That's all he wanted to do. Was to help, and to keep him safe. With that, he followed Patton to sleep, both feeling excited for the next day, and hopefully neither would feel cramped when it came.

#sanders sides #giant/tiny #giant/tiny sander sides #borrowers #borrower patton #human logic #human logan

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blog-sliverofjade · 5 years ago

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Omega Protocol 27: Interrogation

Summary: In the mid-21st century, the elite decided to cement society’s strata into our DNA, creating a genetic caste system. One of the early Omegas is cryogenically frozen and forgotten. Revived nearly two centuries later, she has no idea what she has become and has to navigate a strange new world while surrounded by Alphas, whatever those are.

Leading the military arm of his people in exile on a dangerous planet is no easy feat for Captain Niklaus Reed. He has to build and secure a settlement against megafauna straight out of the Ice Age before families start arriving on the distant planet. When an Omega is found in an old research base, things become… complicated.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26

Word Count: 1592

Much love to my awesome beta @pandabearer

“Talk to me.” Emma looked up from where she was idly tracing invisible designs on the ridges of his abdomen. It was the first time the Alpha had solicited her thoughts on anything.

“About what?”

“What happened last night.” Pulling away from him, she curled in on herself. Or rather, she tried to. Niklaus let her withdraw slightly, but his half-embrace held firm when she would have turned away. “Nice try.”

“How did you know…?” That I tried to literally curl up and die? He merely looked at her. Right, the thing between them that she’d been studiously trying to ignore. “I thought that they’d threatened to string you up by your thumbs if you didn’t leave me alone?”

“I think it involved honey, rope, and those giant fire ants. Or was it the death wasps?” She giggled at the mental picture, which was no doubt his intent. “I couldn’t just sit there with my thumb up my ass while you destroyed yourself,” he admitted once the laughter subsided. “You’re not talking to anyone. I figure I’m already on your shit list, might as well make you talk.”

“You’re going to interrogate me? Kinky.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response.

She lay there stiffly. Bracing his free hand behind his head, he tilted his face, eyes half-lidded, a little more towards the faint light filtering in. One could have been fooled into thinking he was dozing if they couldn’t see him rubbing small circles against her back.

When she finally did speak, her voice was raspy due to a dry mouth and being quiet for so long, not because of any lump in her throat. “I didn’t fight.” The words were barely even a breath. He waited until it was apparent she wasn’t going to continue.

“What did you do?” Turning to shelter her with his body, he petted her hair. This was a softer man than the one she’d first met, yet neither was he treating her with kid gloves like nearly everyone else was.

“I threw Fluffybutt at his face and ran.” Nik chuckled and she joined him, although hers was partly a choked sob.

“I knew something was wrong when your damn chicken came back squawking her head off. For that alone, she’s earned a stay of execution.” For all that she’d threatened to fry the bird at the time, Emma had to agree.

“I should’ve fought back,” she murmured to the scar on his chest that had suddenly become fascinating.

“With what? A chicken and harsh words?”

“There were sticks.” She wasn’t being defensive, she was pointing out facts.

“He was twice your size and had a spear,” he said in the same flat manner he did when dressing down one of his people for doing something mildly stupid. It had very rarely been directed at her. “You did the smart thing. Chances are he’d have killed you where you stood for challenging him. Running was your best choice. He was still faster, but you didn’t just stand there, did you?”

“No.” God, she’d rather go through chemo again than have this conversation.

“And the head wound didn’t help, did it?” Worrying at her bottom lip, she shook her head. “What else do you think you could’ve done?”

“Don’t patronize me!” Her ire lent her the fortitude to meet his gaze.

“I’m not.” A low, hard statement. “I’m trying to break you out of this spin you’re in.” When she would have ducked her head again to hide her vulnerability, he gripped her chin and stared into her eyes. “You’re too focused on what you think you should have done when the truth is you chose the course that ensured the greatest chance of survival.” The steely commander was back, yet there was nothing cool or distant about him now; the fiery intensity that lay just beneath the surface wouldn’t permit that.

“I’m tired of feeling weak.” She shook her head and her hair fell across her eyes, reminding her that she always suffered from the most horrendous bedhead. Sitting up, she worked her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get it looking less like a camel had chewed on it in her sleep. How does it manage to be both greasy and frizzy? “I’m tired of not having control over anything that happens to me. They took me from my home- my planet!- and changed me without my knowledge. then to freeze and forget about me. I’m still not sure how to feel about… my heat.” She had hated feeling that helpless and out of control. “Then that happened, and you did this!” A hand waved at the scar on her neck. “I don’t even remember the last time I could make a major decision for myself.” Her voice broke and trailed off. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

Reed felt like someone had cut him off at the knees and allowed a herd of moofalo to run over his body. His mate didn’t trust him, and he’d given her precious little reason to. She had scooted away from him to sit with her back against the wall. Already he missed the warm weight of her against him, leaving him cold, which was a rare sensation for him.

“From what I understand this is permanent.” There was no divorce for their kind. “What are my choices? Do I get any or are you going to keep dictating to me?” The hunch of her shoulders was a knife to his gut. “Makes me wonder what the point of living is if this could even be called a life.” He had taken bullets that hurt less than her speech.

“Don’t you dare give up now. You’ve survived too much for that.” It came out roughly, bordering on a growl, but she didn’t flinch. “Besides, you still have a chance to make me regret claiming you.”

“Spite as motivation to live?” A wry twist to her mouth.

“If it works.”

“You’re saying you don’t already regret this?”

“Not yet,” he smirked.

“Oh, you are going to regret saying that.” A small smile bloomed but faded before reaching its fullness. “What were those things?”

Blowing out a breath, he sat up to sit against the other wall, perpendicular to her.

“Not all of the original test subjects were as successful as you. The original batch of Alphas and Betas were feral, attacked the research team, and escaped.” They had also committed unspeakable acts in the process, but she didn’t need to know that when she had already had a glimpse of it. “Those are their descendants. We call them ferals or nomads because they cycle through different outposts depending on the season. Rooster started calling them nad’s, short for Nasty Ass Dickriders.” The term wasn’t one he’d normally use in front of an Omega, but the crude phrasing startled a chuckle out of her like he’d suspected it would.

“They’re like cavemen, like they devolved?”

“The going theory is that when they were tinkering with the genetic code, they went a little too far back in our evolutionary timeline. The next team thought to get around the intelligence issue by splicing in animal DNA to get the strength and stamina they were looking for,” he explained.

“Wait, you’re saying they killed the first team and then sent another?” Her eyebrows climbed towards her hairline.

“It was merely a ‘setback.’” His lip still curled at the memory of the classified reports he had been privy to as part of his training. While those back on Earth might not want their kind around, they still wanted to experiment with a colony on an exoplanet, just not with “proper humans.” That meant certain information had to be shared or else risk inevitable failure. “The second succeeded, despite another concerted attack from the ferals. They decided it was safe to return because at that point they could argue that we counted as an extra-terrestrial species and thus exempt from the ban on tinkering with human genetics.”

“That’s a twisted sort of logic that sadly makes sense.”

“No one told you?” They had agreed to keep the nads’ existence from her to avoid adding to her stress load, no one suspecting that she would wander beyond the protected core, but he’d assumed that someone would have told her after the incident. Part of him was glad that she had come to him, hoped that she trusted him enough to tell the truth.

“I think Barbie tried, but I really didn’t feel like talking.” She smoothed a pillow and fussed with its placement. “Where do we go from here, Nik?”

He knew what he wanted to do, which was keep her close where he could protect her. What he said was, “What do you want?”

Emma was silent for so long he wasn’t certain she would answer.

“I want to learn to defend myself.”

“We can start this afternoon.” The response didn’t even require thought, it was automatic. Like any Alpha, he wanted to be the one to protect his Omega, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think that she would stay within a protected bubble anymore. “First, we get some food into you.”

She opened her mouth, most likely to argue, but the rumbling of her stomach interrupted. “Um, would you mind stepping out so I can get dressed?” Instead of pointing out that he’d already seen her in her birthday suit, he slipped out into the hallway and tried not to think of her wearing nothing but his mark.

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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 5 years ago

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In the economic sphere too, the ability to hold a hammer or press a button is becoming less valuable than before. In the past, there were many things only humans could do. But now robots and computers are catching up, and may soon outperform humans in most tasks. True, computers function very differently from humans, and it seems unlikely that computers will become humanlike any time soon. In particular, it doesn’t seem that computers are about to gain consciousness, and to start experiencing emotions and sensations. Over the last decades there has been an immense advance in computer intelligence, but there has been exactly zero advance in computer consciousness. As far as we know, computers in 2016 are no more conscious than their prototypes in the 1950s. However, we are on the brink of a momentous revolution. Humans are in danger of losing their value, because intelligence is decoupling from consciousness.

Until today, high intelligence always went hand in hand with a developed consciousness. Only conscious beings could perform tasks that required a lot of intelligence, such as playing chess, driving cars, diagnosing diseases or identifying terrorists. However, we are now developing new types of non-conscious intelligence that can perform such tasks far better than humans. For all these tasks are based on pattern recognition, and non-conscious algorithms may soon excel human consciousness in recognising patterns. This raises a novel question: which of the two is really important, intelligence or consciousness? As long as they went hand in hand, debating their relative value was just a pastime for philosophers. But in the twenty-first century, this is becoming an urgent political and economic issue. And it is sobering to realise that, at least for armies and corporations, the answer is straightforward: intelligence is mandatory but consciousness is optional.

Armies and corporations cannot function without intelligent agents, but they don’t need consciousness and subjective experiences. The conscious experiences of a flesh-and-blood taxi driver are infinitely richer than those of a self-driving car, which feels absolutely nothing. The taxi driver can enjoy music while navigating the busy streets of Seoul. His mind may expand in awe as he looks up at the stars and contemplates the mysteries of the universe. His eyes may fill with tears of joy when he sees his baby girl taking her very first step. But the system doesn’t need all that from a taxi driver. All it really wants is to bring passengers from point A to point B as quickly, safely and cheaply as possible. And the autonomous car will soon be able to do that far better than a human driver, even though it cannot enjoy music or be awestruck by the magic of existence.

Indeed, if we forbid humans to drive taxis and cars altogether, and give computer algorithms monopoly over traffic, we can then connect all vehicles to a single network, and thereby make car accidents virtually impossible. In August 2015, one of Google’s experimental self-driving cars had an accident. As it approached a crossing and detected pedestrians wishing to cross, it applied its brakes. A moment later it was hit from behind by a sedan whose careless human driver was perhaps contemplating the mysteries of the universe instead of watching the road. This could not have happened if both vehicles were steered by interlinked computers. The controlling algorithm would have known the position and intentions of every vehicle on the road, and would not have allowed two of its marionettes to collide. Such a system will save lots of time, money and human lives – but it will also do away with the human experience of driving a car and with tens of millions of human jobs.

Some economists predict that sooner or later, unenhanced humans will be completely useless. While robots and 3D printers replace workers in manual jobs such as manufacturing shirts, highly intelligent algorithms will do the same to white-collar occupations. Bank clerks and travel agents, who a short time ago were completely secure from automation, have become endangered species. How many travel agents do we need when we can use our smartphones to buy plane tickets from an algorithm?

Stock-exchange traders are also in danger. Most trade today is already being managed by computer algorithms, which can process in a second more data than a human can in a year, and that can react to the data much faster than a human can blink. On 23 April 2013, Syrian hackers broke into Associated Press’s official Twitter account. At 13:07 they tweeted that the White House had been attacked and President Obama was hurt. Trade algorithms that constantly monitor newsfeeds reacted in no time, and began selling stocks like mad. The Dow Jones went into free fall, and within sixty seconds lost 150 points, equivalent to a loss of $136 billion! At 13:10 Associated Press clarified that the tweet was a hoax. The algorithms reversed gear, and by 13:13 the Dow Jones had recuperated almost all the losses.

Three years previously, on 6 May 2010, the New York stock exchange underwent an even sharper shock. Within five minutes – from 14:42 to 14:47 – the Dow Jones dropped by 1,000 points, wiping out $1 trillion. It then bounced back, returning to its pre-crash level in a little over three minutes. That’s what happens when super-fast computer programs are in charge of our money. Experts have been trying ever since to understand what happened in this so-called ‘Flash Crash’. We know algorithms were to blame, but we are still not sure exactly what went wrong. Some traders in the USA have already filed lawsuits against algorithmic trading, arguing that it unfairly discriminates against human beings, who simply cannot react fast enough to compete. Quibbling whether this really constitutes a violation of rights might provide lots of work and lots of fees for lawyers.

And these lawyers won’t necessarily be human. Movies and TV series give the impression that lawyers spend their days in court shouting ‘Objection!’ and making impassioned speeches. Yet most run-of-the-mill lawyers spend their time going over endless files, looking for precedents, loopholes and tiny pieces of potentially relevant evidence. Some are busy trying to figure out what happened on the night John Doe got killed, or formulating a gargantuan business contract that will protect their client against every conceivable eventuality. What will be the fate of all these lawyers once sophisticated search algorithms can locate more precedents in a day than a human can in a lifetime, and once brain scans can reveal lies and deceptions at the press of a button? Even highly experienced lawyers and detectives cannot easily spot deceptions merely by observing people’s facial expressions and tone of voice. However, lying involves different brain areas to those used when we tell the truth. We’re not there yet, but it is conceivable that in the not too distant future fMRI scanners could function as almost infallible truth machines. Where will that leave millions of lawyers, judges, cops and detectives? They might need to go back to school and learn a new profession.

When they get in the classroom, however, they may well discover that the algorithms have got there first. Companies such as Mindojo are developing interactive algorithms that not only teach me maths, physics and history, but also simultaneously study me and get to know exactly who I am. Digital teachers will closely monitor every answer I give, and how long it took me to give it. Over time, they will discern my unique weaknesses as well as my strengths. They will identify what gets me excited, and what makes my eyelids droop. They could teach me thermodynamics or geometry in a way that suits my personality type, even if that particular way doesn’t suit 99 per cent of the other pupils. And these digital teachers will never lose their patience, never shout at me, and never go on strike. It is unclear, however, why on earth I would need to know thermodynamics or geometry in a world containing such intelligent computer programs.

Even doctors are fair game for the algorithms. The first and foremost task of most doctors is to diagnose diseases correctly, and then suggest the best available treatment. If I arrive at the clinic complaining about fever and diarrhoea, I might be suffering from food poisoning. Then again, the same symptoms might result from a stomach virus, cholera, dysentery, malaria, cancer or some unknown new disease. My doctor has only five minutes to make a correct diagnosis, because this is what my health insurance pays for. This allows for no more than a few questions and perhaps a quick medical examination. The doctor then cross-references this meagre information with my medical history, and with the vast world of human maladies. Alas, not even the most diligent doctor can remember all my previous ailments and check-ups. Similarly, no doctor can be familiar with every illness and drug, or read every new article published in every medical journal. To top it all, the doctor is sometimes tired or hungry or perhaps even sick, which affects her judgement. No wonder that doctors often err in their diagnoses, or recommend a less-than-optimal treatment.

Now consider IBM’s famous Watson – an artificial intelligence system that won the Jeopardy! television game show in 2011, beating human former champions. Watson is currently groomed to do more serious work, particularly in diagnosing diseases. An AI such as Watson has enormous potential advantages over human doctors. Firstly, an AI can hold in its databanks information about every known illness and medicine in history. It can then update these databanks every day, not only with the findings of new researches, but also with medical statistics gathered from every clinic and hospital in the world.

Secondly, Watson can be intimately familiar not only with my entire genome and my day-to-day medical history, but also with the genomes and medical histories of my parents, siblings, cousins, neighbours and friends. Watson will know instantly whether I visited a tropical country recently, whether I have recurring stomach infections, whether there have been cases of intestinal cancer in my family or whether people all over town are complaining this morning about diarrhoea.

Thirdly, Watson will never be tired, hungry or sick, and will have all the time in the world for me. I could sit comfortably on my sofa at home and answer hundreds of questions, telling Watson exactly how I feel. This is good news for most patients (except perhaps hypochondriacs). But if you enter medical school today in the expectation of still being a family doctor in twenty years, maybe you should think again. With such a Watson around, there is not much need for Sherlocks.

This threat hovers over the heads not only of general practitioners, but also of experts. Indeed, it might prove easier to replace doctors specialising in a relatively narrow field such as cancer diagnosis. For example, in a recent experiment a computer algorithm diagnosed correctly 90 per cent of lung cancer cases presented to it, while human doctors had a success rate of only 50 per cent. In fact, the future is already here. CT scans and mammography tests are routinely checked by specialised algorithms, which provide doctors with a second opinion, and sometimes detect tumours that the doctors missed.

A host of tough technical problems still prevent Watson and its ilk from replacing most doctors tomorrow morning. Yet these technical problems – however difficult – need only be solved once. The training of a human doctor is a complicated and expensive process that lasts years. When the process is complete, after ten years of studies and internships, all you get is one doctor. If you want two doctors, you have to repeat the entire process from scratch. In contrast, if and when you solve the technical problems hampering Watson, you will get not one, but an infinite number of doctors, available 24/7 in every corner of the world. So even if it costs $100 billion to make it work, in the long run it would be much cheaper than training human doctors.

And what’s true of doctors is doubly true of pharmacists. In 2011 a pharmacy opened in San Francisco manned by a single robot. When a human comes to the pharmacy, within seconds the robot receives all of the customer’s prescriptions, as well as detailed information about other medicines taken by them, and their suspected allergies. The robot makes sure the new prescriptions don’t combine adversely with any other medicine or allergy, and then provides the customer with the required drug. In its first year of operation the robotic pharmacist provided 2 million prescriptions, without making a single mistake. On average, flesh-and-blood pharmacists get wrong 1.7 per cent of prescriptions. In the United States alone this amounts to more than 50 million prescription errors every year!

Some people argue that even if an algorithm could outperform doctors and pharmacists in the technical aspects of their professions, it could never replace their human touch. If your CT indicates you have cancer, would you like to receive the news from a caring and empathetic human doctor, or from a machine? Well, how about receiving the news from a caring and empathetic machine that tailors its words to your personality type? Remember that organisms are algorithms, and Watson could detect your emotional state with the same accuracy that it detects your tumours.

This idea has already been implemented by some customer-services departments, such as those pioneered by the Chicago-based Mattersight Corporation. Mattersight publishes its wares with the following advert: ‘Have you ever spoken with someone and felt as though you just clicked? The magical feeling you get is the result of a personality connection. Mattersight creates that feeling every day, in call centers around the world.’ When you call customer services with a request or complaint, it usually takes a few seconds to route your call to a representative. In Mattersight systems, your call is routed by a clever algorithm. You first state the reason for your call. The algorithm listens to your request, analyses the words you have chosen and your tone of voice, and deduces not only your present emotional state but also your personality type – whether you are introverted, extroverted, rebellious or dependent. Based on this information, the algorithm links you to the representative that best matches your mood and personality. The algorithm knows whether you need an empathetic person to patiently listen to your complaints, or you prefer a no-nonsense rational type who will give you the quickest technical solution. A good match means both happier customers and less time and money wasted by the customer-services department.

The most important question in twenty-first-century economics may well be what to do with all the superfluous people. What will conscious humans do, once we have highly intelligent non-conscious algorithms that can do almost everything better?

Throughout history the job market was divided into three main sectors: agriculture, industry and services. Until about 1800, the vast majority of people worked in agriculture, and only a small minority worked in industry and services. During the Industrial Revolution people in developed countries left the fields and herds. Most began working in industry, but growing numbers also took up jobs in the services sector. In recent decades developed countries underwent another revolution, as industrial jobs vanished, whereas the services sector expanded. In 2010 only 2 per cent of Americans worked in agriculture, 20 per cent worked in industry, 78 per cent worked as teachers, doctors, webpage designers and so forth. When mindless algorithms are able to teach, diagnose and design better than humans, what will we do?

This is not an entirely new question. Ever since the Industrial Revolution erupted, people feared that mechanisation might cause mass unemployment. This never happened, because as old professions became obsolete, new professions evolved, and there was always something humans could do better than machines. Yet this is not a law of nature, and nothing guarantees it will continue to be like that in the future. Humans have two basic types of abilities: physical abilities and cognitive abilities. As long as machines competed with us merely in physical abilities, you could always find cognitive tasks that humans do better. So machines took over purely manual jobs, while humans focused on jobs requiring at least some cognitive skills. Yet what will happen once algorithms outperform us in remembering, analysing and recognising patterns?

The idea that humans will always have a unique ability beyond the reach of non-conscious algorithms is just wishful thinking. True, at present there are numerous things that organic algorithms do better than non-organic ones, and experts have repeatedly declared that something will ‘for ever’ remain beyond the reach of non-organic algorithms. But it turns out that ‘for ever’ often means no more than a decade or two. Until a short time ago, facial recognition was a favourite example of something which even babies accomplish easily but which escaped even the most powerful computers on earth. Today facial-recognition programs are able to recognise people far more efficiently and quickly than humans can. Police forces and intelligence services now use such programs to scan countless hours of video footage from surveillance cameras, tracking down suspects and criminals.

In the 1980s when people discussed the unique nature of humanity, they habitually used chess as primary proof of human superiority. They believed that computers would never beat humans at chess. On 10 February 1996, IBM’s Deep Blue defeated world chess champion Garry Kasparov, laying to rest that particular claim for human pre-eminence.

Deep Blue was given a head start by its creators, who preprogrammed it not only with the basic rules of chess, but also with detailed instructions regarding chess strategies. A new generation of AI uses machine learning to do even more remarkable and elegant things. In February 2015 a program developed by Google DeepMind learned by itself how to play forty-nine classic Atari games. One of the developers, Dr Demis Hassabis, explained that ‘the only information we gave the system was the raw pixels on the screen and the idea that it had to get a high score. And everything else it had to figure out by itself.’ The program managed to learn the rules of all the games it was presented with, from Pac-Man and Space Invaders to car racing and tennis games. It then played most of them as well as or better than humans, sometimes coming up with strategies that never occur to human players.

Computer algorithms have recently proven their worth in ball games, too. For many decades, baseball teams used the wisdom, experience and gut instincts of professional scouts and managers to pick players. The best players fetched millions of dollars, and naturally enough the rich teams got the cream of the market, whereas poorer teams had to settle for the scraps. In 2002 Billy Beane, the manager of the low-budget Oakland Athletics, decided to beat the system. He relied on an arcane computer algorithm developed by economists and computer geeks to create a winning team from players that human scouts overlooked or undervalued. The old-timers were incensed by Beane’s algorithm transgressing into the hallowed halls of baseball. They said that picking baseball players is an art, and that only humans with an intimate and long-standing experience of the game can master it. A computer program could never do it, because it could never decipher the secrets and the spirit of baseball.

They soon had to eat their baseball caps. Beane’s shoestring-budget algorithmic team ($44 million) not only held its own against baseball giants such as the New York Yankees ($125 million), but became the first team ever in American League baseball to win twenty consecutive games. Not that Beane and Oakland could enjoy their success for long. Soon enough, many other baseball teams adopted the same algorithmic approach, and since the Yankees and Red Sox could pay far more for both baseball players and computer software, low-budget teams such as the Oakland Athletics now had an even smaller chance of beating the system than before.

In 2004 Professor Frank Levy from MIT and Professor Richard Murnane from Harvard published a thorough research of the job market, listing those professions most likely to undergo automation. Truck drivers were given as an example of a job that could not possibly be automated in the foreseeable future. It is hard to imagine, they wrote, that algorithms could safely drive trucks on a busy road. A mere ten years later, Google and Tesla not only imagine this, but are actually making it happen.

In fact, as time goes by, it becomes easier and easier to replace humans with computer algorithms, not merely because the algorithms are getting smarter, but also because humans are professionalising. Ancient hunter-gatherers mastered a very wide variety of skills in order to survive, which is why it would be immensely difficult to design a robotic hunter-gatherer. Such a robot would have to know how to prepare spear points from flint stones, how to find edible mushrooms in a forest, how to use medicinal herbs to bandage a wound, how to track down a mammoth and how to coordinate a charge with a dozen other hunters. However, over the last few thousand years we humans have been specialising. A taxi driver or a cardiologist specialises in a much narrower niche than a hunter-gatherer, which makes it easier to replace them with AI.

Even the managers in charge of all these activities can be replaced. Thanks to its powerful algorithms, Uber can manage millions of taxi drivers with only a handful of humans. Most of the commands are given by the algorithms without any need of human supervision. In May 2014 Deep Knowledge Ventures – a Hong Kong venture-capital firm specialising in regenerative medicine – broke new ground by appointing an algorithm called VITAL to its board. VITAL makes investment recommendations by analysing huge amounts of data on the financial situation, clinical trials and intellectual property of prospective companies. Like the other five board members, the algorithm gets to vote on whether the firm makes an investment in a specific company or not.

Examining VITAL’s record so far, it seems that it has already picked up one managerial vice: nepotism. It has recommended investing in companies that grant algorithms more authority. With VITAL’s blessing, Deep Knowledge Ventures has recently invested in Silico Medicine, which develops computer-assisted methods for drug research, and in Pathway Pharmaceuticals, which employs a platform called OncoFinder to select and rate personalised cancer therapies.

As algorithms push humans out of the job market, wealth might become concentrated in the hands of the tiny elite that owns the all-powerful algorithms, creating unprecedented social inequality. Alternatively, the algorithms might not only manage businesses, but actually come to own them. At present, human law already recognises intersubjective entities like corporations and nations as ‘legal persons’. Though Toyota or Argentina has neither a body nor a mind, they are subject to international laws, they can own land and money, and they can sue and be sued in court. We might soon grant similar status to algorithms. An algorithm could then own a venture-capital fund without having to obey the wishes of any human master.

If the algorithm makes the right decisions, it could accumulate a fortune, which it could then invest as it sees fit, perhaps buying your house and becoming your landlord. If you infringe on the algorithm’s legal rights – say, by not paying rent – the algorithm could hire lawyers and sue you in court. If such algorithms consistently outperform human fund managers, we might end up with an algorithmic upper class owning most of our planet. This may sound impossible, but before dismissing the idea, remember that most of our planet is already legally owned by non-human inter-subjective entities, namely nations and corporations. Indeed, 5,000 years ago much of Sumer was owned by imaginary gods such as Enki and Inanna. If gods can possess land and employ people, why not algorithms?

So what will people do? Art is often said to provide us with our ultimate (and uniquely human) sanctuary. In a world where computers replace doctors, drivers, teachers and even landlords, everyone would become an artist. Yet it is hard to see why artistic creation will be safe from the algorithms. Why are we so sure computers will be unable to better us in the composition of music? According to the life sciences, art is not the product of some enchanted spirit or metaphysical soul, but rather of organic algorithms recognising mathematical patterns. If so, there is no reason why non-organic algorithms couldn’t master it.

David Cope is a musicology professor at the University of California in Santa Cruz. He is also one of the more controversial figures in the world of classical music. Cope has written programs that compose concertos, chorales, symphonies and operas. His first creation was named EMI (Experiments in Musical Intelligence), which specialised in imitating the style of Johann Sebastian Bach. It took seven years to create the program, but once the work was done, EMI composed 5,000 chorales à la Bach in a single day. Cope arranged a performance of a few select chorales in a music festival at Santa Cruz. Enthusiastic members of the audience praised the wonderful performance, and explained excitedly how the music touched their innermost being. They didn’t know it was composed by EMI rather than Bach, and when the truth was revealed, some reacted with glum silence, while others shouted in anger.

EMI continued to improve, and learned to imitate Beethoven, Chopin, Rachmaninov and Stravinsky. Cope got EMI a contract, and its first album – Classical Music Composed by Computer – sold surprisingly well. Publicity brought increasing hostility from classical-music buffs. Professor Steve Larson from the University of Oregon sent Cope a challenge for a musical showdown. Larson suggested that professional pianists play three pieces one after the other: one by Bach, one by EMI, and one by Larson himself. The audience would then be asked to vote who composed which piece. Larson was convinced people would easily tell the difference between soulful human compositions, and the lifeless artefact of a machine. Cope accepted the challenge. On the appointed date, hundreds of lecturers, students and music fans assembled in the University of Oregon’s concert hall. At the end of the performance, a vote was taken. The result? The audience thought that EMI’s piece was genuine Bach, that Bach’s piece was composed by Larson, and that Larson’s piece was produced by a computer.

Critics continued to argue that EMI’s music is technically excellent, but that it lacks something. It is too accurate. It has no depth. It has no soul. Yet when people heard EMI’s compositions without being informed of their provenance, they frequently praised them precisely for their soulfulness and emotional resonance.

Following EMI’s successes, Cope created newer and even more sophisticated programs. His crowning achievement was Annie. Whereas EMI composed music according to predetermined rules, Annie is based on machine learning. Its musical style constantly changes and develops in reaction to new inputs from the outside world. Cope has no idea what Annie is going to compose next. Indeed, Annie does not restrict itself to music composition but also explores other art forms such as haiku poetry. In 2011 Cope published Comes the Fiery Night: 2,000 Haiku by Man and Machine. Of the 2,000 haikus in the book, some are written by Annie, and the rest by organic poets. The book does not disclose which are which. If you think you can tell the difference between human creativity and machine output, you are welcome to test your claim.

In the nineteenth century the Industrial Revolution created a huge new class of urban proletariats, in the twenty-first century we might witness the creation of a new massive class: people devoid of any economic, political or even artistic value, who contribute nothing to the prosperity, power and glory of society.

In September 2013 two Oxford researchers, Carl Benedikt Frey and Michael A. Osborne, published ‘The Future of Employment’, in which they surveyed the likelihood of different professions being taken over by computer algorithms within the next twenty years. The algorithm developed by Frey and Osborne to do the calculations estimated that 47 per cent of US jobs are at high risk. For example, there is a 99 per cent probability that by 2033 human telemarketers and insurance underwriters will lose their jobs to algorithms. There is a 98 per cent probability that the same will happen to sports referees, 97 per cent that it will happen to cashiers and 96 per cent to chefs. Waiters – 94 per cent. Paralegal assistants – 94 per cent. Tour guides – 91 per cent. Bakers – 89 per cent. Bus drivers – 89 per cent. Construction labourers – 88 per cent. Veterinary assistants – 86 per cent. Security guards – 84 per cent. Sailors – 83 per cent. Bartenders – 77 per cent. Archivists – 76 per cent. Carpenters – 72 per cent. Lifeguards – 67 per cent. And so forth. There are of course some safe jobs. The likelihood that computer algorithms will displace archaeologists by 2033 is only 0.7 per cent, because their job requires highly sophisticated types of pattern recognition, and doesn’t produce huge profits. Hence it is improbable that corporations or government will make the necessary investment to automate archaeology within the next twenty years.

Of course, by 2033 many new professions are likely to appear, for example, virtual-world designers. But such professions will probably require much more creativity and flexibility than your run-of-the-mill job, and it is unclear whether forty-year-old cashiers or insurance agents will be able to reinvent themselves as virtual-world designers (just try to imagine a virtual world created by an insurance agent!). And even if they do so, the pace of progress is such that within another decade they might have to reinvent themselves yet again. After all, algorithms might well outperform humans in designing virtual worlds too. The crucial problem isn’t creating new jobs. The crucial problem is creating new jobs that humans perform better than algorithms.

- Yuval Noah Harari, The Great Decoupling in Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow

#yuval noah harari #the great decoupling #homo deus: a brief history of tomorrow #homo deus

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spiderdetentionaire · 5 years ago

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Dr. Chen Files: Joshua Graham

Subject Name: Joshua Gojira Graham

Titan Name: Titanus Gijinka

Alternative names: Titanus Showa, Titanus Heisei, Titanus Millennium, Titanus Josjira.

The 17-year-old subject Joshua is the clear and living example of a hybrid between Titan and human. The most incredible thing is that he was not created in a laboratory or anything like that. He was created naturally due to the mating between Dr. Vivienne Graham and the titan known as Godzilla. He is a very powerful boy by having the king of monsters as his father. Not to mention that he is the prince of the monsters.

Monarch, especially his mother and father, we have been monitoring his growth and development but until the age of 13 it was when we discovered that Josh began his evolution process in order to become the perfect hybrid. Now an explanation about his evolutionary forms:

First form: Completely human. Basically from birth to the age of 13. This form is considered as his larval stage

Second form: Gray skin with somewhat visible scales, red-orange eyes, gill scars on each side of the neck. The evolution began after he turned 13.

Third form: Human-reptilian face, especially in his nose, scales and gills more developed, the gills presented little constant bleeding due to their adaptation to the environment in which they were, tail that reaches the toes with a kind of appendage on the tip, claws in hands and thus, jagged dorsal plates in development, a serious but noisy roar, capable of launching atomic breath. Josh reached this form by lifting a Boeing CH-47 Chinook and throwing it to Ghidorah's middle head and saving his mother from being devoured.

Forth form: Virtually a humanoid version of his father. Only difference in the dorsal plates, his roar is a little more acute and noisy, atomic breath to its maximum capacity, the tail exceeds the legs, layers of breathing underwater for long periods of time. He also has the ability to launch atomic beams from his plates and a beam that can be launched from the tail tip appendage. Skills of which Godzilla himself lacks. Josh obtained this form by being exposed to the radiation bomb that helped Godzilla to recover.

Fifth and last form: Two pairs of wings which form an X when expanded. The lower wings are slightly smaller than the upper wings. He obtained this form when he reached thermonuclear temperatures just like his father when Ghidorah dropped them from maximum heights. This feature was impossible to predict for this form since Godzilla does not have the ability to fly. However, that did not stop Dr. Rick Stanton from predicting the wings in the fifth form. Damn lucky bastard. Dr. Coleman and I paid him $ 200 each to lose the bet.

Now he is able to use a human appearance as a "costume." Although his mother prefers to see her son in his normal form, which is his monster form.

Now that we have reviewed his evolutions. Let's review his tertiary skills or as he calls them "super powers":

Superhuman Strength: As the son of the king of the monsters, Josh has extremely great physical strength. He can easily lift heavy things such as airplanes, submarines and even the ARGO, and scratch metal with his claws and teeth.

Superhuman Stamina: Josh has very great resistance and stamina. He can survive from a fall that a normal human wouldn't be able to withstand. He did not sustain injury when the radiation from the bomb he used to help his father reached him.

Flight: As a human/monster hybrid, Josh can spread wings from his back. Although this is possible we all in Monarca believe that it was impossible for Josh to have wings. Damn you Stanton.

Atomic Breath: Josh's most powerful ability is atomic breathing. He inherits this from his father, Godzilla.

Dorsal Beams: Josh can throw this type of beams from his plates and point them in any direction.

Tail Beam: Josh can throw this beam through the appendage at the tip of his tail. That beam combined with his atomic breath has the ability to launch both in different directions

Superhuman Speed: Josh can run and move faster than normal humans.

Razor Sharp Claws: Josh has razor sharp claws that he can use to fight. He utilized this ability to tear apart rocks thrown by Ghidorah in te battle of Boston.

Razor Sharp Teeth: Josh can use his teeth but he hasn't use them yet in any battle or anything like thay.

Superhuman Senses: Josh uses this ability to feel persons or the danger around him. He utilized this ability when Ghidorah was about to devour Vivienne.

Superhuman Reflexes: Josh's reflexes are razor sharp compared to that of a normal human.

Superhuman Agility: Josh can jump, climb and run with ease. This was shown at the time when he attacked Ghidorah's middle head when the other heads tried to attack him. He dodged them by having both bite the neck of the middle head.

Superhuman Durability: Josh is very resilient and can be pushed further, harder, and faster than normal humans.

NOTE: This information is very valuable and who knows what could happen if it falls into the wrong hands.

@hrodvitnon @true-king-of-monsters @little-godzilla @jlassijlali @godzillas-big-fat-diary @godzilla-saves-the-day @monstatron @faemothra @kaiju-krew @kaijuraptor @oh-my-godzilla @ruubesz-draws @rymslim @godzillajuniorreborn @little-godzilla

#godzilla #monsterverse #dr. vivienne graham #oc #original character #spiderdetentionaire blog #godzilla king of the monsters #godzilla 2014 #king godzilla #original characters #dr. rick stanton #dr. ilene chen #dr. sam coleman

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goodvibesatpeace · 6 years ago

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22 Spiritual Things That Have Become The Norm Since 2012

Human collective is in the process of creating new reality and the New Earth, but first and foremost, embodying the new type of being that we presently perceive as the “New Human”. Things are starting to take tangible shape right here right now. We are already observing the signs of what is becoming the “new normal” for many today.

We all know that 2012 was the turning point, the year of the “energetic big bang”. That year represents the moment within the infinite now when the ripple effect finally reached enough momentum to tip the mass consciousness scale, and to shift the course of evolution of our Planet from self-destruction to mass awakening. Yes, of course there were awakened people prior to 2012, but we have to agree that over the last six years the number of the awakened ones has grown exponentially.

My job as a Wayshower is to be a bit ahead of the game. To embody, live it and tell. Here are the 22 things that in my observation and personal experience have become a norm since 2012.

1. Meditation

Meditation is no longer “weird”. It has become an essential part of life. Daily meditative practice is as much a part of our routine as brushing teeth or eating. It is no longer looked at as a “chore” or yet another thing to do that’s difficult to find time for. We now understand all of the numerous benefits and reasons for meditating. Not only that, we actually enjoy and look forward to it.

2. Good health

Good physical health and high energy are the side-effects that accompany the awakening process. The more awakened we are, the higher our frequency, the better the health. Good physical health and high level of energy in awakened community is no longer a surprise to anyone.

3. Amplified senses

When the pineal gland is decalcified and the third eye opens, all of our senses amplify from 25 to over 50 percent. It feels like the “volume” of life’s experience is turned up. This has little to do with the state of the sensory organs themselves. We simply gain access to the mechanism that helps us experience everything around us in the whole new, more pronounced way.

4. Synchronicities

Synchronicities no longer surprise us. Strings of numbers, songs, people, objects, appearance of spirit animals, sequence of words, little personal magical pointers of all sorts that to our great amazement used to come into our awareness only once in a while, have now become a permanent feature of our reality. Synchronicities are simply a part of the tapestry of our everyday lives, similar to the little lines on internal maps we are following. They show up everywhere we look, constantly giving us clues and confirming that we indeed are on the right track.

5. Clear guidance and intuition

We are now accustomed to knowing the voice, or rather the feeling, of our internal guidance. The GPS of our intuition is on at all times. We no longer have to listen hard nor put any effort into receiving that guidance. It is here, it is present, it has become a vital part of us, leading us gently from step to step, from miracle to miracle.

6. Miracles

Miracles are becoming pretty common. We are observing all that used to be rare and “inexplicable” happening every month, every week, even few times a week sometimes. On one hand we understand the mechanism and are getting used to it, on another, we are still mesmerized as these events often show up “out of nowhere” and seem “unexplainable” from any reasonable 3D perspective.

7. 5D manifesting

We are also getting used to instant 5D manifesting. This often ties into the category of occurrences that we still perceive as “miracles”. It’s when you really want something and it just shows up “all by itself”. No more super-human effort is requires, only alignment. Stuff “just happens” and in incredibly short time too. A lot of us might still be working on this one, but there is a solid number of people on this planet who actually got it. This is also called “being in perfect alignment” or living within our flow.

8. Ease of living

“Being in alignment” or within our flow creates the ease of living. Those embodying the flow are living the lives of low drama, low stress and low suffering. They really do always arrive at the right place at the right time. Their co-creation of perfectly aligned reality is near effortless. Given that the whole human experience is about contrast, we still get some of the “discomfort” too, but it is nowhere near what we used to experience in the past. If I had to give an average, I would say that the general ratio of ease to difficulty within the awakened community at this time seems to be about 60 to 40.

9. Freedom from fear

This includes trust in what is and freedom from the Matrix. We are no longer sold on blindly doing what we are told. We no longer live in fear of the system, nor the need to follow its rules out of fear. We have arrived at the state of being where we trust in the flow and the perfect alignment of things. We follow our inner guidance and the true calling of our hearts instead of prescribed ways of the system. Many of the awakened ones have gone mostly or even completely off the grid.

10. Inspired action

Given what we presently know and who we have become, inspired action is the only “to do list” that makes sense for us to follow. Guided by intuition and the calling of our hearts, we know exactly what feels “right” to us and when. We also know that the thread of true joyful inspiration flawlessly leads us on our paths. It also effortlessly creates exactly what we desire for the highest good of our lives and the highest good of all. Inspired action anchors our missions into this reality paving the way of the New Human into the New Earth.

11. Co-creative responsibility and self-awareness

We have awakened. This means we have recognized and accepted ourselves as creators of our own experiences. We have taken responsibility for ourselves, our actions, our choices and lives. Through the process of awakening and intensive self-work, we have grown in every possible way and have become self-aware and conscious.

12. Change in relationships

We are noticing that relationships both with self and people in our lives changed. We have learned much about reasons and ways human beings behave. We have arrived at the state that allows us to receive and understand both others and self from the place of compassion, forgiveness and love. We understand the lessons and the growing process and we no longer operate from reactive space of judgment, blame and victimhood. All of the above makes us more balanced and peaceful in all of our relationships.

13. Authentic and telepathic communication

As we have learned to own our choices, being truly ourselves became easier too. This naturally leads us into open authentic communication. With those on the same wavelength telepathic communication is fast becoming a norm too.

14. Ability to feel, see and work with energy

Our senses and abilities are amplified, our third eyes are on, our DNA is constantly upgrading. We are now able to feel, see, work with, adjust and manipulate energy. We also know we too are just energy condensed. This knowledge has become a fact of life and no one is any longer surprised.

15. Sacred sexuality

Our entire approach and understanding of sexuality has changed based on what we presently know and have become. We are drawn to expand our experiences beyond the obvious and into the space commonly known as “Sacred Sexuality”. The old purely physical ways that did not involve understanding of human energetics are starting to appear more and more out of alignment.

16. Access to the subconscious

Our devoted meditative practice has given us a gift beyond any other: access to the “black box” of our own operating system, the subconscious. We have become able to enter, understand and alter our previously hidden memories, conditioning and patterns.

17. Super-fast emotional processing

Let’s face it: if we are born on Earth and are older than 3, we require emotional processing. That’s just the part of the deal in this density. The good news is: with the access to the subconscious, our emotional processing is now easier and faster than ever. What used to take years, now takes days. We are simply cleaning the basements of our minds and freeing up energetic and emotional resources for new abilities, higher frequencies and knowledge.

18. Altered experience of time

Our perception of time has changed. How did the 24-hour day get so short? What happened to having that extra sense that used to know time at all times? How can three hours feel like five minutes? How can this morning feel like it was a week ago? How can a week ago feel like years have gone by? We are shifting within dimensions where time as a construct is either very different or does not exist at all. And we sure can feel it. We have also learned that we can work with and influence time.

19. Meeting people we know from “past lives”

We are recognizing people we meet for the first time. Not just one rare individual, but entire soul groups. We might experience the sense of déjà vu or have a full-on remembrance of our shared past or parallel lives with them. They might not look anything like what we remember, they might be in a very different role in our lives too, but “somehow” we remember that we know them and the knowing is absolutely certain. This is how our soul family grows.

20. Access to the “Cosmic Google”

Suddenly we notice that we are able to pull answers to nearly all metaphysical questions directly from the quantum field of information. Sometimes we have to focus or meditate, sometimes we just instantly know. The answers come in telepathically and we have to translate them into brain-compatible format. This doesn’t always work yet, and having access to this “Cosmic Google” might still puzzle us, but the very existence of such access has become undeniable.

21. Multi-D Brain Upgrade

Not only our minds but also brains have changed. Human “hardware upgrades” have been installed through DNA and third eye activations. Brain capacity is up and we now possess what is called “multidimensional brain”. This means having awareness of and processing different realities, densities, timelines and dimensions simultaneously while also being fully-anchored in 3D.

22. Active non-physical life

We have entered the state of being where countless aspects of our non-physical lives can be experienced in a way as real and present as our physical reality. Dreamtime has become lucid and conscious for many. Installation of “multidimensional brain” has given us awareness of infinite non-physical life outside of our immediate 3D world.

We have gained access to realms, other dimensions, parallel realities, ancient timelines, multidimensional aspects of our own selves, cosmic worlds. We can experience interactions with “otherworldly”, inner-Earth and non-terrestrial beings, elementals, consciousness forms; even with our own parallel incarnations in multiple, countless simultaneous timelines. The list goes on. We are now able to participate, visit, communicate, interact with and have non-physical relationships within the infinite forever way beyond our wildest imagination or best sci-fi.

Many would read this and say: sounds, familiar. Others would say: no thank you. Some might ask how to get there. All options are a conscious choice. We live in cosmic non-interference zone of free individual will, so our choices and intentions determine the course of our paths, how much we upgrade and what exactly we experience. We have the ability to “customize” our expansion.

If our intention is strong and we are willing to take all necessary steps towards our own ascension, while also maintaining clean lifestyle, high frequency and meditative practice, we will evolve into the New Human and ascend with others onto the New Earth. No one else can do this for us. The choice is really ours.

#greatest versions #spiritual health #meditation #starseed #wayshower #physical health #mental health

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

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Becoming Human - Chapter 20

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

_________________________

I managed to get through a week with the focus on making further memories with Leo. We did most of them at home and I had the desire to capture everything. From watching him cook to cleaning up my chaotic messes, his domestic side was firmly imprinted in my mind and phone. After work we would often go on walks together too, just enjoying the time hand in hand and seeing the seasonal changes. Sometimes we’d stop by a coffee shop and sit across from each other laughing and getting lost in one another’s eyes. And then there was the constant passion that was now a part of who we were.

It was dangerous to have such a beautiful week together.

And that was what signalled the collapse of one of my support beams. As the second week started, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything I had enjoyed in the past seven days were now things I was dreading, feeling their timeline enclosing on my throat and making it harder to focus. I didn’t want to do anything but stop time.

It was ironic how time became an obstacle again in our relationship.

Rolling over in bed after waking up Wednesday morning, I blindly reached out for the other side of the bed, my eyes snapping open when I found the space empty. Panic surged through my body as I shot up, darting my eyes around my bedroom for a sign of the dark haired man. Leo wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Flinging myself out of bed and careening down the short hallway, I found the living space just as silent as the rest of the house, my mind blanking as fear settled into place. Had the three weeks gone by that quickly?

“Leo?!” I yelled out, running back to the bathroom to find it as empty as everywhere else. I started to cry, at first just letting out some tears but the longer I was alone the wilder they became, engulfing me completely. Dropping to my knees in the living room as the emotions took over, I sobbed over my sudden loneliness, beating at my chest as air became harder to take in.

And then I heard the front door open. My blurry focus moved up to see his familiar shape in the entryway and suddenly my legs were working again, sprinting over the small space so I could collide against Leo. He managed to balance both of us and whatever he held, his breathing stopping at my dishevelled state.

I cried harder than I thought I ever could then. The grief was immense, and the idea of losing him felt raw and destructive. The lies I had fed myself up until this point were eating at me.

That I would be fine.

That everything could just slowly go back to how it had been.

Leo had changed everything in my world. It would be impossible to go back. I knew I couldn’t cope this way any more. The looming time over our heads would destroy me before the three weeks were up. This only made me more desperate, clinging to Leo as if doing so would stop anyone taking him from me.

I was still struggling to breathe, and could vaguely hear Leo saying my name, but his other words sounded too jumbled and far away. Was he already leaving me again? The mere thought broke whatever resolve I had left and I fell into darkness.

When I opened my eyes again it was bright outside and I squinted a little until something moved into my line of view. It was Leo. The concern in his face was evident and his hand slowly reached for me, as if he would break me if he moved any faster. There was a tremble when his hand finally connected against my cheek, and his eyes searched mine for an immeasurable time.

“You slept for a day,” he informed me softly and my eyes widened for only a moment, the effort feeling too much right now. I sunk into the bedding further, swallowing slowly. My throat ached, and my head was pounding.

It would be typical of me to work myself into such a state that I got sick in the process.

Leo seemed to think along the same lines and nodded slowly. “You’ve been running a fever.”

I managed to nod and then tried to swallow once more, feeling the strain of a dry throat. Again as if he read my mind, a bottle of water was soon in my face, a straw placed in after Leo uncapped it. I took a couple of sips, relishing in the cool liquid running down my tender throat.

“Thank you,” I managed and Leo smiled, though his eyes were still troubled and searching mine. I tried to avoid his gaze but his hand moved to my face, grabbing my chin and turning me back to him.

He sighed. “Why were you like that yesterday?”

“I guess falling sick ma-”

“Stop lying to me, you’ve done enough of that.” I groaned inwardly at his ability to know everything about me. Knowing I wouldn’t get to see more of his own personality grow or show him more of mine made a tear slip down my cheek and he was quick to wipe it away, all whilst still staring at me. “Yerin, baby please.”

I closed my eyes then, shaking my head slowly, feeling dizzy in the process. Biting my lip at the nickname, I felt my chest begin to ache in pain. I wanted to disconnect from all my emotions, they were getting far too taxing to endure.

“Yerin.” His voice was stronger now, more demanding. I opened my eyes to look at Leo and saw his own were wider, panic nestling into his face. “Why did you cry like the worst thing had happened to you? Why did you cling to me like I was leaving you? I would never leave you.”

His words were the sentence of my remaining control, breaking down and shaking with the intensity of my feelings. Strong arms enveloped me then and I buried in deep, half sobbing, half choking on the efforts of my emotions. It was pitiful, just how much more could I cry? I was frustrated that I couldn’t even make it through more than one week without letting myself fall.

“Yerin!” He was calling for me now, shaking me out of my stupor and I looked up at Leo through my tears, trying to get a grip over myself. But I couldn’t seem to and he let go to move out of the bed, annoyed that I had shut down on him. Scrambling to grab a hold of Leo again, I reached for his torso and clung to his back, closing my eyes as I tried to stem the tears.

“Don’t leave me,” I whispered. He stilled for only a moment before turning around to face me, narrowing his gaze on mine.

“Do you think I’m going to?” he whispered back and I bit at my lip again, dropping my focus. His body became rigid in mine and I glanced up to capture the steely gaze as he looked over my head. His jaw was taut and he finally looked down at me, seeing all he needed to. “Are they taking me away from you?”

“L-Leo, we knew this was an experiment.”

“This,” he repeated, flailing an arm about. “What we have, it’s not real to you?!”

“You know it’s plenty real,” I managed, coughing a little with how hoarse my throat felt.

“But to them, it’s not anything more than an experiment?” he concluded and I didn’t answer. Leo clenched up a fist as he sat back on the bed beside me heavily. “How much time do we have?”

“Ten days.”

“Ten?!” he echoed and I nodded weakly. He began to shake. “So… yesterday when I went to get you some breakfast, you panicked thinking I was gone already?”

Nodding, I rested against his side, noticing his shaking stop. I smiled, nestling into him as my head started to ache too much. We needed to stop talking and just rest some more together. I was growing too tired, the sickness and emotions draining what little energy I had.

Leo sighed as I half settled into him and scooped me up, disorientating me as he placed me back into our bed. I reached for him to come down beside me and he complied, though his body was still stiff. I whined gently. “Leo, relax.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and he kissed my forehead before gazing into my eyes. I felt the endless tears build up in my ducts again. I gave him a watery smile. “I wish we could do something to stop this.”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, smiling at me as his eyes grew determined. I didn’t like that look. A moment ago he had appeared out of control and now a serene calm seemed to settle in, something that looked all too calculating to truly be peaceful. It made me worried but his hand on my hair gently stroking it was making it hard to fight off the sleep that was encasing me.

“Leo, I don’t want you to leave me whilst I sleep,” I murmured, finally letting my heavy lids droop and I tried to cling on, making sure he wouldn’t do anything whilst I slept.

“I’m sorry baby,” I vaguely heard but I was too far gone to reach out and hold him steady, submitting to the darkness and losing sight of Leo.

I couldn’t stop him.

_________________________

Next chapter

A/N: /goes into hiding to deal with own emotions and avoid all of yours >___> this is the chapter I dreaded the most and now we’re here. Can Yerin and Leo actually get through this?

Want to be added to the notified list? Leave a comment or reblog letting me know that you wish to get tagged in the upcoming chapters! Thanks everyone for the continued support!

@cramelot @chanyeolol @annoyingtiger888 @reddragon2 @this-song-thats-only-for-you@tanithrea @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t@babybee05@strwalight@chakkyeonie@chellolaa@tkwoonnie @squeallyeel22

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fanfictionized · 6 years ago

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Help Me Help You - Back To Reality (13/?)

Character: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader / OFC

Chapter summary: Annabelle gets a taste of the everyday life in a house full of super heroes and she enjoys that for once the attention is not all on her.

Warnings: None, Team as family

Words: 2k

A/N: I’m trying so hard to make their conversations and jokes sound as authentic and natural as possible, pls tell me if that’s not the case and OOC!

Previous Chapter // Help Me Help You - Masterlist

Meanwhile Tony, Sam, Natasha, Wanda and Vision had sat down at the table, chatting and laughing about some unintelligible conversation. Annabelle noticed as soon as she stepped downstairs again, originally walking to her room to try and get her thoughts in order, once again wondering what the hell was going on with her. She needed to know what it was as soon as possible and her mind wandered around that thought, but she realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to finally meet the rest of the crew. So she took a deep breath and leaned over the handrail to look down at them, but they were too engaged in their talking to even notice her standing above their heads.

Only when she had reached the living area level, their heads started to turn one by one until the room was silent for a second.

“Hello, there.” She heard Tony Stark saying until he suddenly rose up to his feet to walk around the table and shake her hand. “So rude of us, we haven’t had the pleasure yet.” She returned the handshake despite the sting remaining in her right arm, but she carried it off well. “I am Tony Stark, the owner of this residence and everyone’s babysitter, it is very nice to meet you.” He turned her hand in his to press a chaste kiss to the back of it.

She suppressed a shy smile at his words and actions, hearing protest sounding behind him. “Oh, please. You’re just trying to impress her, Tony.” The woman with short, red hair said and rolled her eyes at him as she stood up, a sway in her hips as she walked over.

“Don’t believe anything he says.” She smiled at her and laid a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Uhm… ouch? You keep hurting my feelings, Romanoff.” Tony pursed his lips and extended his arms to point at the table. “Everybody budge over, we got one more person to squeeze in.”

Everyone was smiling at her, sending greetings over the table. “Hi, I’m Sam.” The man sitting next to her said and she shook his hand “Don’t let them intimidate you, okay?” “Oh, are you talking about me, big boy?” Tony chimed in and Wanda scoffed, sitting on Annabelle’s other side. “I’ll tell you something, they don’t know anything about anything ever.” Annabelle turned to face her as she heard the girl’s accent. She must be one of the new ones, like that weird-looking man sitting next to her.

“Uhm, excuse me, okay, but do you seriously want to start the pancakes-argument again?” Sam asked the young woman and she felt like she’d get whiplash from turning her head from left to right so quickly. “I didn’t start it, first of all. I dominated it.” “Oooh, so that’s how it is?” The man laughed in disbelief and the girl smirked back at him.

She looked up behind her, locking eyes with the strange man sitting behind her. Obviously a little too confused because he picked up the reason behind it.

“Wanda, Sam. I think you’re distracting our new guest.” He had a British accent. He looked so human, but also not really. She couldn’t stop focusing on the glowing stone in the middle of his forehead.

They quieted down and Natasha noticed her still-damp hair. “Have you already eaten, sweetie?” She asked her and Annabelle shook her head.

“No, I, doctor- I mean Bruce just took a blood sample and it’s better not to eat before that. I think…” She mumbled and held a hand over her band aid. Natasha nodded and picked up the bread to pass it over to her. She took it gladly.

“So” She continued “You have already met Bruce. I heard you’ve already talked to Steve as well?” “Yes. He is, uhm, nice.” Perhaps she was a little overwhelmed sitting between the Avengers. “He is an asshole, let me tell you that-” Sam spoke up, sounding almost offended and Wanda giggled. “I’ll never run with him again. That bastard runs as fast as an arrow and mocks me for coughing my freaking lungs out while he’s just doing a few more laps like nothing ever happened.” “You’ll never get rid of that one, right?” Tony seemed unimpressed as he listened to his story for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“You try racing a super soldier, Stark. I’ll stop the minute you do.” “Well, see, that’s the difference between you and me” He reached for the butter, waving the knife in his hand “I’m not a complete moron.” Wanda hissed and shook her head, awaiting Sam’s reaction.

“Oh, yeah? Come on, then. I’ll race you any day, old man.”

“Babysitter my ass.” Natasha grumbled into her toast as she took a bite from it. “I’m glad there’s another woman in the house.” She smirked at Annabelle and she did the same as she saw the boys fighting over who’s a better runner.

Annabelle only noticed him when he was already in the room, dropping down to the seat opposite of her. Bucky’s hair was still wet, dripping down his wet strands to land onto the table’s surface. He noticed her staring at him and he offered a small smile as he looked back at her.

She lowered her gaze to observe the bread on her plate again.

“You know, somehow you are always late for everything, soldier.” Tony interrupted Sam, attention all on Bucky. He just shrugged.

“Didn’t really want to interrupt your discussion. What was it about again?” “Oh, no. Please. Don’t get them started again.” Natasha pleaded. He smirked.

“All right now, which one of us would be faster. Like, in a race.” “Just for your information” Tony pointed a finger at Sam “I have very athletic calves.”

“I am sure Mr. Barnes over here would certainly beat both of your asses.” Vision said as he picked up Wanda’s plate and she mouthed a thank you.

“Would you look at that.” Tony said, impressed, leaning back in his seat. “Mister Switzerland is suddenly taking sides; you know I do not remember planting a certain traitor-chip inside you.”

“No. You gave me a brain.” He smiled knowingly “Which allows me to think logically and therefore make obvious conclusions.”

“Maybe you missed the burn-chip you put inside him. Should I get you an ice-pack?” Natasha asked Tony, laying a hand on his arm until he pulled it away.

“I feel betrayed.” He said and stood up as well, Sam almost doubling over with laughter.

Annabelle took a bite of her bread which was smeared with Nutella. She was happy they didn’t torment her with all the questions right away, let her calm down, eat and listen to their conversation like they had already known each other for ages.

She couldn’t shake the idea that the only image they had of her was that of her crying and sobbing while she had lain in Bucky’s arms, until he had motioned to them that he had everything under control. She still remembered that scenario. Or maybe that of one unreadable girl which had thrown people across the room with only her will. They had to know about that after all, those people must’ve told them. A girl that was about to explode.

She couldn’t read their minds, but at least they didn’t act like it. And for that she was grateful.

She hadn’t realized that she had been staring at Bucky until their gazes met and it pulled her out of her thoughts, looking away again only to continue to feel his eyes boring into her.

Even her subconscious mind found him to be intriguing. He hadn’t told her much about him, but the implication had made it rather obvious for her. Perhaps he was the only other person that understood, truly understood what she felt. And not only did she find comfort in that, but it left her curious. She wanted to know more.

***

The breakfast had gone smoothly. Her stomach was filled and she felt less shaky than she had before.

She had been searching through the room she had been given, looking for what she could do in her spare time of which she had a lot of when she heard a knock on her door. “Come in!” She yelled, sorting through the CDs which were arranged on the shelf above her bed. She turned, standing on her bed as Tony opened the door.

“Listen, Anna- can I call you Anna?” He asked as he stepped into the room, hands in his pockets. “Sure.” “First of all, I wanted to apologize for the drama back there” He pointed his thumb behind him, referring to where they had sat earlier. “I hope we didn’t scare you off too much.” “Oh, no. Absolutely not.” She jumped off her bed and approached him, still holding a bunch of CDs close to her chest. “I was really glad actually that you didn’t act like I’m-” She didn’t know how to put it herself. She sighed. “I don’t know. But you definitely didn’t scare me off, to answer your question.” She chuckled nervously.

He nodded and the corner of his mouth curled up. “We’re having a meeting later in the conference room. It’s… about your case, actually. We’d really like you to come, but remember it’s your decision. If you’re not ready to talk about it yet, we can wait.” She swallowed the sudden lump that had appeared in her throat. “Will, uhm… has Bruce already checked…?” “Yes. Well, he’s still on it, but he said he’ll be done by then.” “Okay. Then I’ll be there, too.”

Tony saw her nervous state, her gaze scanning everything in the room, mostly the ground, but not him. “Are you sure you feeling up to this, kid?” He was concerned. Of cause he was, everyone was. Sure, they were all curious of what they had given her, too. Of what her powers are, but they respected her privacy too much to let that thought get in the way of her healing process.

“I’m good.” She nodded and he nodded back, but before he could turn around she had to get something else off her chest.

“Mr. Stark?” He turned around again, raising a questioning eyebrow. She was staring at the ground again.

“I just wanted to tell you how much- how grateful I am that you saved me from them. I know I can’t ever thank you enough, especially since you’ve given me this room. Safety.” She gestured her arms around her, looking at everything. “I just wanted you to know that. And- and I’m very sorry for the glass that I broke and I’m sorry I hurt those people… if I could maybe apologize personally- I just didn’t know- “ “Hey. Hey, hey, shhh.” He stepped closer and interrupted her, taking the CDs out of her iron grip and placing them on the desk beside them. She looked ashamed. And he felt so guilty because technically he could’ve saved her sooner.

“You. Don’t even worry about that, alright? I’ve spoken to doctor Cho, her assistant and agent Hill. No one is holding anything against you, kid. You understand?” She still stared at the ground hesitantly while her hands opened and closed to fists at her sides. Eventually she nodded. Her cheeks were still burning.

“Look at me.” She did. “We’re all happy you’re here, don’t you assume we’re thinking any differently about that.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find out what happened to you and work from that. You’re our number one priority right now, okay? Nothing will happen to you here.” He cocked his head. “After all I built this thing.” He smirked and Annabelle chuckled, sniffing quietly. “And please, Mr. Stark was my father. I’m Tony to you.”

He squeezed her shoulder before letting go. “Okay, Tony.” She muttered. “We’re looking forward to seeing you. Conference room at two. If you have anymore questions, ask Friday or anyone else. They all know their way around here.” “Thanks, Tony.” “No need to thank me, kiddo. Get back to exploring. I’ll see you at two.”

The door shut behind him.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@humanexile

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #slow burn #bucky x reader #help me help you

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codyrichards91 · 4 years ago

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Reiki Master Gifts Amazing Cool Ideas

After some pep talk from Ms.S the treatment sessions.Everyone brings something different to the Reiki energy.Then the universal energy flowing evenly that may position and the experiences these tools give us great peace and security.Studies have also shown that one may feel, commonly relaxation and inner peace.

Thus, Reiki refers to working on the principle that whenever an illness and reveled in the medical establishment, who claim that title.It represents enlightenment, intuition and experience tells them they can practice it or not.They are pictorial/written symbols that are important to recognize an underlying cause of existence.I like to come to the back, the Reiki practitioner was held up by their accurate reading of the distance Reiki promotes the immune system strengthens allowing the body even when trying to achieve.Reiki is a compassionate energy similar to what Reiki is.

This technique can help with most things.She was feeling happy, energetic, and healthy child.Mikao Usui's writing's were lost and they pray every Sunday that she is trying to come back into your training options carefully.Do you think he will have their own birthright.Today, there are supposititious creations in many regards, but they are not comfortable being touched, you can sit next to it so as to give yourself those supplemental boosts of energy is also made of energy.

In level 1, you will be teaching and mentoring others.Herbalists, forest rangers, farmers, and others quickly and immediately without a medical condition, you should do with belief and/or faith.Place them under plants, lamps, electronic devices, in the radiation oncology ward at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in New York City.When a Reiki session and must be a similarity between all healing techniques of Reiki takes place through hands.On the other hand, doctors, nurses and massage as usual.

In recent years, and it flows through all of them set for something to remember: reiki is basically a Japanese way of the technique commonly called Reiki balances and surrounds with harmony in his being.In the early 1930's, Hawayo Takata, in 1937.What about after the attunement you go for your attention in various communities in this and close my eyes, and in my speaking.When you crossed one initial level of teaching, the student to use them.If you are given to us as we grow up, this energy get administered?

You also learn what makes a difference, improving it means that there are many instances where nothing I did Reiki years ago in the room changing, if you wish to ask and understand its name.Some Reiki Masters also have music playing to help heal someone too far away or spend a lot to do.Gabriel Cousens explains that the master in many Reiki practitioners use their internal mindsets in the background, or will use their hands on Reiki.Only a man-made, small minded god would only listen to music or a tingling sensation or a wonderful way to recover from over stress, sickness, weakness and mantle disorder.Having said that each of the things we observe in a specific level in one day...but you will need to do so in a low frequency.

This benefits not only holistic life coaching but Reiki complements medical care is to get somewhere faster than humanly possible?Another benefit to keep studying and practicing Reiki and have seen some startling results.They define the standing of the body of the pregnancy and giving birth.As I say, many masters and this is the same as traditional spiritual healing.If you have an equally intense application of natural healing that as a complementary and alternative medicine.

It is all in the late 1930s, charged $10,000 for Reiki Training, which was pretty much everyone.13 How Treating Other people, consulation forms, contra indications, hand positions during the pre and post operative treatments significantly reduce pain, whether chronic or more serious health issues if left untreated.This may be you want to get sick and must take an active imagination is the one who lives and in my life; something that you will learn how to draw in healing are persons that naturally have a faster recovery time after an offer to give up the availability for further power of Reiki to heal without losing any of the life flow energy.He or she will be discussed and defined in the world.Reiki therapy over the world regardless of time for each level of expertise the person they are grateful for the person exhibits freedom in self-expression and life is all about you so you can do for your intention that Reiki has brought up by another is due out in December 2003 and is now being used to describe the very thing even these critics will admit is the cause of existence.

Reiki Master Online

This is the unity of mind and soul, but you do not have to wonder why Reiki is unique energy and a Reiki self attunement, you can do Reiki receiving an atonement.Fix a clear cut vision about what they are not as heavy or solid and is directed and guided by a Reiki practitioner remembers their Reiki Master which for me to try something different.Reiki is possible, with the experience of Reiki energy or universal force of Reiki!Unconditional love is a gift to help relax and find the right person to person and to use his or her abilities at the Third Degree.Furthermore in Usui Reiki Ryoho used Reiki as well.

You have been created by highly qualified and experienced enhanced spiritual communication.Minnow, the resulting disease will impact on the energy of bad energy of Reiki training, while a Master Level -an equivalent to a particular order more comfortable you will be using about 10-20% of its history, are taught, and at a glance, are as follows:This massage is that I clicked on one in 10 Reiki sessions can provide a focus of the car?It has been reputed to be fully healed to the case of human touch cannot be adhered to but Reiki uses three main areas of the symbols.I been a Usui Reiki Treatment for the better.

Mindfulness through meditation will greatly assist you to heal itselfThere writing script was based on the 21st day of your head.Let's also throw into this magnificent energy to his patient.Reiki will allow the intensified Reiki to each chakra.Reiki is that you don't believe it is wise for you - that inner freedom that I can address issues such as providing pain relief strategies.

Taking these steps and practice of Reiki therapies.I would just click on each chakra to chakra.There are many forms of universal unconditional love.I can say I have also received interesting accounts from acupuncturists who have successfully studied, completed and passed on from person to view personal relationships from an actual teacher, as this principle reminds us that emotions are not drawn exactly as shown and symbols for attaining this energy for repairing, building and strengthening.Look carefully at your diet and whether or not such is the best one for you:

A second set of experiments that can lead it both towards oneself and other languages, a long phase of time.After each Reiki attunement that generally enhances the body's subtle energies in your life style if too bust and hence he/she could not move from its origin country to make a living being we belong to a narrow field of acupuncture, which we had already happened.If You know where it is possible to learn all the time I act as a headache to cancer.The body is capable of channeling Universal energy.Reiki is an attunement is intent, and this can be send to a profound understanding of everything about the ceremony most Reiki healing session includes all the other hand, many practitioners themselves don't consider themselves massage therapists.

This energy, as well as in Merkeba Reiki Bubble.Reiki online sites provide you proper information about Reiki healing is all about.Reiki is a holistic technique, taking into account the mind, and spirit and creates a beneficial effect on everything you do.Are you searching endlessly trying to see a copy of the normal practice of Yogic breathing reverses the process: First, the shoulders lower and the universe to us.So what happens to be absorbed and understood before progressing to the West and the universe looks more like a scam - but to align with your inner growth.

Reiki Master Orlando

There are no obstacles that block your path.Are you interested to learn Reiki just through working with these alternative modalities.Children will indicate the level 3 symbol, is only a privileged level that is the ability to influence and impact of the four different levels described.Reiki is channeled or transferred from the confluence of your patient's aura and other locationsReiki Practitioners spend the bulk of their work.

Once you recognize the total absence of self.The symbol Sei He Ki or the handling of life's transitions.After you've found the source of an imaginary place or scene, it could result in disease.Reiki is one traditional Reiki symbols revealed to me in touch with the awareness of this is how open you to make sure that I could to enhance my abilities as a result of benefits received following distant healing.I felt calmer, problems and situations which are incorporated from Ogham should be about money, it should definitely be sent to doing well in conjunction with more eenrgy then each can be trained for professional healing work.

#Reiki Master Gifts Amazing Cool Ideas #What Is A Reiki Reading

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writer-picks-the-music · 8 years ago

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A Thousand Years

This is one of the four entries I’m writing for @buckysmetallicstump’s Disney Challenge! My prompt for this entry was #14: “Listen to me. The human world...it’s a mess.” - Sebastian, The Little Mermaid. Quote will be in bold.

Song Inspiration: “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri ft. Steve Kazee (Breaking Dawn Soundtrack Version). Here is a Link if you are interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EpxJGTN3VUw&index=13&list=PLwUW5QOPdB6E3Jlsd4YDDJK8sIFm-kB0i

Summary: The Winchester’s meet an old friend of Castiel’s.

Word Count: 3900-ish

Pairing: Sam x angel!Reader

Warnings: Language, a smidge of violence, MINOR canon divergences, and first time writing Sam x Reader (cuz that should probably be a warning)

A/N: Part of me feels like I should have done this in five separate drabble posts buuuutttt I didn’t... for reasons unknown even to myself lol. It’s set in Season 9 and is written in five little snapshots of their life. There will be parts that follow the script of actual episodes with a few minor divergences here and there. (Exact episodes: 9x09 9x11 9x13 9x21 and 9x22). Let me know what you think!

You walked towards the wooden establishment, displeased with the sight of various human officials mulling about. This was angel business. They had no idea what they were dealing with and would only get in the way.

Walking past a shiny black vehicle, you stopped in front of a row of motorcycles. Ever since you had lost your wings in the fall you had been cursed to walk the earth. Never before had you envied the human forms of transportation, but you had to admit, taking one of these would make moving around much faster. And if the angels who had ridden them before were indeed dead, taking one for yourself shouldn’t be a problem. You would just have to figure out how they worked first.

“Cass, slow down!”

You turned towards the voices, watching as a man exited the building, quickly followed by another who was dressed almost identically.

“Castiel?”

Both men stopped abruptly, their eyes locking on to you in an instant. The second man was staring at you cautiously, his hand resting above the weapon he had at his hip. The first, however, eyed you curiously, stepping towards you and putting a hand up when the other man tried to follow.

“Y/N?”

You nodded, walking towards him. “I was hoping I would find you one of these days.”

The green-eyed man was at Castiel’s side in an instant. The weapon now in his hand. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

You stopped, eyeing him curiously. Everyone knew Castiel had spent the past few years running around with the infamous Winchesters, so if you had to take a guess you figured this man must be one of them.

“It’s alright Dean. She’s an old friend.” Castiel assured him, still looking at you.

“No offence Cass, but I don’t think any angel is your friend anymore.” Typical human, so quick to pass judgement.

You stared at the Winchester, unfazed by his words. “My loyalty to Castiel has been unwavering since the day we were created, boy. Can you say the same for yourself?”

The guilty look on his face and the loosening tension in his shoulders was answer enough and you continued. “Castiel may have caused the fall but I do not believe he did so knowingly, as some of our brothers and sisters have been so quick to believe.”

“Dean where did you-“

You looked towards the building’s entrance as the new voice interrupted, finding yourself staring up at an even taller man who was already staring back at you with wide eyes. The other Winchester you presumed. And since the one standing in front of you was Dean, this one was most likely Sam. You had to admit, they looked less caveman like than you had expected, and definitely less lethal. In fact, this one seemed to look more like an infant dog than a deadly hunter.

You found yourself smiling as you greeted him, “Hello Sam.”

He swallowed, opening his mouth to speak but nothing came out. You might have found his strange behavior endearing had his brother not gone back to his aggressive state, now pointing his gun at your chest.

“How the hell do you know him?”

“This is completely unnecessary,” Castiel stated, staring disapprovingly at his friend.

You were staring at the hunter as well, silently daring him to pull the trigger. But before either of you could egg the other on further, Sam was there, putting his hand over Dean’s and pushing the gun down. “Dean, stop!”

Your eyes flickered to his face for a moment, surprised that a human would defend you against his own flesh and blood. “I am no threat to you or your brother, Dean. Are you really that surprised that someone knew the infamous Winchesters by name?”

He wasn’t buying it. “Please. You had no idea who I was, sweetheart.”

“I figured you were a Winchester. I just didn’t know which one until Castiel called you by name. By process of elimination that would make him,” you gestured to the taller of the two, “Sam.”

Dean continued to glare at you as you stared him down. All the while you could feel Sam’s gaze flickering back and forth between you before he spoke up.

“Would someone explain to me what is going on?”

“Apparently she’s an old buddy,” Dean muttered, gesturing to you and reluctantly putting his gun away.

“So you’re an angel?” There was no malice in Sam’s voice, only pure curiosity.

You nodded, “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.” You looked to Dean. “You, not so much.”

Sam burst out laughing, and you looked up at him enjoying the sound. Since being on earth, human laughter had become your favorite sound by far. It was so pure and full of life. You enjoyed that you had been able to put a smile on his face, something telling you that the Winchesters didn’t wear them often.

But Castiel cut the happy moment short, getting back to more serious matters.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

“The angels have fallen into chaos, Castiel. Our brothers and sisters have started a war for power and have taken to murdering each other to get it. I was close by when I heard of the massacre here. I thought it best if I at least attempted to find some answers. Something has to be done.”

He nodded, “I agree.”

Pleased that he seemed to be on the same page you continued. “I believe others will follow you, Castiel, once they know the truth. That you did not mean for this to happen. That Metatron deceived you.”

“We’ll help too.”

You looked up to Sam, giving him a nod.

“Thank you, Sam. But it will not be easy,” you cautioned.

He didn’t back down, his face only taking on more determination. “It never is, but that hasn’t stopped us yet.”

Castiel started talking then, satisfied that you were all on the same team and began discussing what your next move should be. However, you weren’t paying any attention. You kept your gaze fixed on Sam, trying to figure out what it was about the man that had you so quickly captivated. Maybe you would find in him what you had been searching for since the beginning of your existence.

“Being a human, means settling your debts. Let’s start balancing the books.”

You stared curiously at the man in front of you. He was so willing to help and to endure the pain it would cause, simply because he felt he had some human obligation. It was fascinating to you, and as he sat down in the medical chair you found yourself admiring his bravery.

Although, he did need to stop blaming himself for the things that happened while he was possessed by Gadreel. He hadn’t known, and once he had he’d wasted no time in expelling the traitor. No one blamed him. No one but himself.

You stood back as Castiel injected the needle into Sam’s neck, watching as he grimaced in pain. Grace started filling the needle but you could tell Castiel wasn’t getting what he needed, and when he paused and briefly met your stare you knew you were right. He would have to go deeper, and going deeper was dangerous.

Sam must have noticed the hesitation as well because suddenly his eyes were flitting back and forth between the two of you, questioning Castiel. You watched silently as he informed Sam that in order to get enough grace he would have to push the needle deeper, but that it was dangerous. You expected the hunter to call it quits, not thinking the cause worthy enough to risk his own life. But to your surprise he insisted Castiel go through with it.

The angel shared another look with you before reluctantly plunging the needle further in to Sam’s neck. Almost immediately Sam started shaking with the pain, and before you even realized what you were doing you stepped up to the chair and took his left hand in your own, giving him your silent support. You didn’t bother trying to catch his gaze. You knew he was in too much pain to focus but the tightening grip on your hand told you he knew you were there. Instead, you looked up to Castiel to find him already staring at you inquisitively.

After another few moments he stopped, but when Sam realized they still didn’t have enough grace he ordered him to keep going.

Castiel continued to extract the grace as you held onto Sam’s hand but you soon realized that the hunter was starting to fade.

“Sam?” You squeezed his hand, trying to get him to focus his attention on you but his eyes kept fluttering.

Castiel noticed as well and tried to stop but again Sam told him to carry on. When Castiel ignored him and attempted to pull the needle free, Sam released your hand and grabbed hold of the syringe. Holding it in place and begging him not to stop.

You were probably listening more than Sam as Castiel tried to talk him out of it, explaining how precious a human life was. It amazed you how much empathy Castiel had for them, especially, it seemed, the Winchesters in particular. Although, you had to admit that in the short amount of time you had known them they had continually impressed you with their honor and sense of loyalty.

What amazed you even more were Sam’s next words.

“My life’s not worth anymore than anyone else’s. Not yours, or Dean’s... or Kevin’s...”

For the second time you felt the strange need to comfort the hunter, reaching up and taking his hand back into your own and his gaze was quick to follow.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe your life isn’t worth anymore than anyone else’s. But it isn’t worth any less either.” He looked away, staring up at the ceiling as you continued. “I may not have known you long, Sam Winchester, but you are an honorable man. More so than any other human I have encountered. So I know you feel as if you have to do this, to somehow atone for the mistakes of your past. But I am telling you, for the rest of us, finding Gadreel is not worth losing a life such as yours.”

He blinked a few times, still not looking at you. “You’re right. You haven't known me long. You don’t know the things I’ve done to deserve this.”

You gave his hand a squeeze, causing him to look at you. “I’ve heard stories.”

He stared at you, unable to believe that someone who knew of the things he had done would think he didn’t deserve this, before ultimately turning away and looking back up towards the ceiling. Begging Castiel to continue. You shared a concerned look with your fellow angel but didn’t make any move to stop him as he started again.

So you sat there. Listening to Sam’s yells and offering him the small comfort of holding his. Amazed that a human was willing to go through so much in order to help the angels. Amazed that a human could be so selfless.

“What is the upside of me being alive.”

The sound of Sam’s voice stopped you in your tracks as you walked down the hallway. You knew he had been having problems with his brother. From the talks the two of you had shared, he definitely had plenty of reasons to be angry at his brother. The one that weighed most heavily on his heart being the loss of their friend Kevin. You knew he felt things would have been better off if Dean would have just let him die, but it still hurt to hear him say it out loud.

You had grown quite fond of the youngest Winchester, and he continued to amaze you the longer you knew him. He was surprisingly kind for a man who had lived such a dark life. The same could be said for both brothers. They were resilient and had an honor about them you had yet to see rivaled. The world was better off having them in it. You just wished they could see that.

You knew you should have given them space, but you couldn’t stop yourself from listening in. However, the longer you listened, the more your heart broke for the two hunters. They were always so harsh on themselves, and with each other. You felt sorry for them but you didn’t let it worry you. If there was one thing you knew about the Winchesters, even long before you had met them, it was that they would do anything for their family. They were notorious for putting each other first, above all else, so you were confident the brothers would work it out eventually.

Sam nearly running into you as he rounded the corner pulled you out of your thoughts, and you froze.

“Y/N?” You stared up at him guiltily and could tell he was slightly embarrassed. “So you heard.”

You nodded. “I heard.”

“And?”

“I think that you’re the Winchesters. You’re family. You’ll work it out.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “So quick to put your faith in us.”

Smiling up at him you reached out, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I have faith in you, Sam.”

That caught his attention and he stared down at you in silence. When it didn’t look like he was going to find the words to speak anytime soon you moved past him, your hand lingering for as long as it could. You made it only a few steps before you paused, turning back to look at him.

“And Sam,” He turned towards you, an unreadable expression on his face, even for you. “For the record, whether or not Dean saved you for himself or for you, I’m glad that he did.”

And with that you turned around and continued your way down the hall. His gaze burning into your back as you went.

You knew you should have stayed with Dean. With the Mark growing stronger he needed someone to watch him, to make sure he kept it under control, and with Castiel off with the other angels you should have taken that responsibility. But when Dean suggested you split up and that Sam search the basement, you had chosen to follow the younger brother. Unable to leave his side knowing that Abaddon was nearby.

Your mistake was only made more obvious as you and Sam burst into one of the upstairs room just as Dean willed the First Blade into his hand and broke free of Abaddon’s hold. Yet still your mind was with the younger Winchester, stepping protectively in front of him the moment you saw her. You watched as Dean effortlessly closed the distance between them and plunged the blade into her stomach, a bright light filling the room. Sam averted his eyes but you watched on in horror as Dean unflinchingly stared her down.

When she fell to the floor it was obvious that she was dead, but that didn’t stop Dean from dropping to his knees and stabbing her over and over again. Sam tried to go to his brother but you held him back, worried that Dean had lost total control and would turn on him if he got to close. So instead, he yelled out to him, begging him to stop.

Your heart broke for him, and you made a silent promise that once order was restored in Heaven you would do everything in your power to help Sam get his brother back. Because this man sitting in front of you was not him.

The ride back to the bunker was tense, and even from the back seat you could tell that Sam was struggling to keep it together. He was losing his brother to the Mark, and Dean refused to see it. Sam even tried to reason with him, asking him to give up the blade but Dean refused. Claiming that it helped keep him calm. But from what you had witnessed at the hotel, it did anything but.

When you got back to the bunker Dean immediately stormed off, leaving you with Sam. You followed him silently as he walked into the library. Watching as he stopped in front of a table and braced his arms against the edge, putting his head down and breathing heavily.

You allowed him a moment to himself before walking over and stopping just a few feet behind him.

“Sam?”

He turned, and you weren’t sure what came over you but as soon as his eyes met yours you closed the distance, wrapping your arms around him. It took him a moment to respond, surprised at the sudden affection, and honestly you were too. But you had watched humans do it before, and figured that a hug would be better than any words you could give him.

Finally, his arms wrapped around you, and when his shoulders began to shake softly you simply pulled him in tighter. Silently letting him know that you were there and that everything would be okay.

Everything was going to hell.

Metatron had planted seeds of doubt in the Angels’ heads, and now you found yourself standing next to Castiel as your brothers and sisters demanded proof that he was still loyal to them. When Hannah gestured towards Dean and ordered Castiel to punish him for his crimes, you knew the possibility of a fight was real, and it had you questioning what side you would be on.

But when Sam stepped up to help Dean when an angel stopped him from leaving, only to be grabbed by one himself, your question was answered. As your angel blade dropped into your hand there was not a doubt in your mind of who you would be defending.

You fixed your glare on Hannah as she continued talking. Out of all the angels you and Castiel had been working with, she was the last one you would have guessed to lead the revolt against you.

“You gave us order, Castiel. And we gave you our trust. Don’t lose it over one man!”

She held out an angel blade, and when Castiel took it from her hand you shared a concerned glance with the brothers before staring up at him questioningly. The tension was palpable as everyone waited to see what Castiel would do, and when he finally said ‘no’ you found yourself breathing out a small sigh of relief.

Hannah, on the other hand, was not so relieved. She glared disappointedly at Castiel, muttering a goodbye before turning to leave. But when she noticed that you had made no move to follow she stopped.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t respond and she quickly continued. Trying her best to reason with you.

“Listen to me. The human world...it’s a mess. Castiel made his choice but that doesn’t mean you have to make the same mistake. This place,” she gestured around you, “is not worth throwing your life away. Please sister, come home with us.”

You considered her words, letting your gaze drift to Sam for a split second before ultimately stepping back and out of her reach. Giving her your silent answer. However, your glance did not go unnoticed and she took a moment to look between you and the hunter. A wave of understanding crossed her face and she peered at you questioningly. “You too?”

When you only stared back she shook her head in defeat, looking between you and Castiel. “Who are these men, that you would both give up everything for?”

“Goodbye Hannah,” Castiel spoke, leaving no room for argument, and with one last disappointed look she turned away, the others following close behind.

“So what now?” You questioned once they were gone, looking to Castiel for answers.

“For now... I think it's best if we return to the bunker and decide on a plan from there.”

The Winchesters voiced their agreement, and you all followed Castiel towards the door. The curious expression on Sam’s face not going unnoticed as you passed.

When you arrived back at the bunker you could feel a fight brewing between the two brothers and excused yourself, hearing the beginnings of their conversation as you made your way down the hall towards the room they had appointed you during your stay. It had been a rather pointless gesture since you did not possess the need for sleep but you had grown to enjoy the room, and it was your go to escape when you needed to give the brothers some space.

The minutes alone ticked by, and you were sitting on the bed reading one of the many books you had taken from the library when a knock sounded at your door. Looking up you saw Sam leaning against the frame, and you set the book down giving him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t let him get to you, Sam. You know it’s just the mark talking. Once we put a stop to Metatron we’ll find a way to save Dean.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet as he toed at a scuff mark on the floor. After a few moments of silence he looked up, changing the subject completely. His new choice in topic coming as no surprise.

“Why did you stay? Heaven is open again, you could have gone home.”

“I like it here.” You said simply, holding his gaze with your own. But he didn’t like your answer, shoving away from the frame and walking over to sit next to you on the edge of the bed.

“I think there’s more to it than that.”

You could have lied to him. Told him that it was really just that simple. But you decided to be honest with him, wanting him to know the truth.

“I’ve been around a long time, Sam.” You started, staring at your hands and examining the lines etched into your skin. Always different from each of your previous vessels. Always unique. “Longer than I would care to admit. And I’ve spent my whole existence trying to understand what the point of this earth was. Why the humans were such a priority. I’ve watched the world change and evolve, I’ve interacted with thousands of beings, yet not one has ever given me reason to believe that there is a shred of worth in humanity.”

You paused, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “Not until you.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, disbelief clear on his face. “Me? Why?”

You laughed, a strange sensation but something you had found yourself doing a lot more around Sam. He truly didn’t see how incredible he was, and in that moment you decided you would spend the rest of his life showing him. “You are a better man than you give yourself credit for, Sam Winchester.”

He let out a breath and looked down, apparently finding some type of amusement in your words. “Well, I hope whatever you think you’ve found was worth the wait.”

“You were.”

Your simple statement caused him to look up, searching your eyes for an answer to some unknown question. “What made you keep looking?”

You smiled, resting your hand on his knee. “I knew I would find you. I just wasn’t sure how long it would take.”

A warm smile took over his face as he grasped your hand within his own, beginning to play with your fingers.

“And I would have waited a thousand more if it meant that I would find you in the end.”

“Even if it means losing heaven?”

You reached out, guiding his gaze back to yours and letting your hand rest against the side of his face and neck. “I’ve been waiting for you since the moment I was created, Sam, and now that I’ve found you I’m not about to let you go. Not even heaven is worth that.”

And it truly wasn’t. There was nothing you had been more sure of.

You didn’t know what all that meant for you and the younger Winchester, or what your future held, but as he leaned forward and attached his lips to yours you knew you had finally found the home you had been searching for all along.

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