#unable to attach to their previous human life or those around them anymore

[howlsofbloodhounds]

thinking about a certain anonymous confession on the utdr confession blog mostly unable to get behind sans aus where chara is “evil” and i get that completely, but also something new is probably the only time i can get behind “evil” chara is because the au leaves enough open for interpretation and nuance that most of the fandom just doesn’t do anything with or explore anything with

Cause like, chara is hardly completely evil—the remake/timeline of the something new comics making the player more obvious was pretty clear that the player was heavily involved and that killer wasn’t the only one effected.

it leaves room to wonder about Chara got where they are in something new—so manipulative, apathetic, desensitized, cruel, controlling and possessive while still acknowledging they are just as child trapped in the same game that killer/sans is no matter how much they might’ve tried to resist or fight back or protect themself or make themselves the biggest nuisance around.

there’s enough interpretation, moments we don’t see, to wonder about the nature of killer and Chara’s relationship. It’s not a stretch to think that once upon a time they were genuinely partners. Not equals, because Chara’s the most Determined and therefore in control, but for the longest time they only had eachother. only the other was real. it’s interesting to explore but many don’t

[syl-vb]

vent

(not proofread, and will never do)

The idea of parental love has always been foreign to me. growing up, i never really comprehend what the feeling is like behind reciting to your parents 'i love you' or giving them kisses on the cheeks bring. i drew a lot of guilt from that, thinking 'i failed as a daughter and as a human, unable to return the warmth given by the most important people in my life', but i as i grew in age and my the days of youth became countable, i realized i was never really at fault or somewhat disfunctional from birth but rather, i was never raised to understand or grasp the concept of parental love. this theory is further proven by the torn of my parents' marriage, each tearing the other down, each lashing their frustration onto their children. this toxic dynamic mixes with the chemical of mental and physical abuses only continues to spiral into a generational trauma soon to come by. or rather, just a continuation of a legacy. lately, i found myself wondering of my worth. as a child, i was never really insecure nor do i consider myself to be one now. there are insecurities, but not so much it can be defined as my personality. rather, i believe i am quite confident and my peers have said so too. yet these past few days got me wondering about my whole self-worth. the knowledge of being trash-blood, whore, worth-like-duck, are such a creative insult i cant help but have those plagued my mind days and nights. as khmer wouldve phrased it, ពូជអេតចាយ សំភឹង ពូជទា sting terribly like cobra venom. a big part of my happiness are lost, thanks to you mom and dad, i really love you for that. this got me reevaluating my existence as a whole and the idea i wont exist at all seems like nirvana. too bad, i lost my time (if i had even reached nirvana at all in my previous life). now that we land on the topic of nirvana, i just realized i blabbered nonsense. when we talk about nirvana, is reaching eternal peace without going back to the karmic cycle in buddhism, therefore once you had reached the state of nirvana, you would not be reborn and reincarnate at all. in the best animated way to explain it is, imagine your soul to be like a fish in a small tank, you would swim around again and again but when you are reaching nirvana, you are being removed from that tank and released into the sea where you heard nothing inside the tank anymore. this essence apply to the karmic cycle of human life in buddhism. our souls are constantly being born and die, reincarnating endlessly from years and universes to come by, thus why the main objective of buddhism is guiding the mortal soul to nirvana where they are at eternal peace, no longer borning and dying through lives, and they will heard no suffering or cry of the mortal world. one of the principle in buddhism is building no attachment. when there is no attachment, there is no pain and grief. when there is nothing, there is nothing to lose. now that strikes my consciousness hard because i feel i am quite greedy growing up. i would still consider myself one, in fact, this bad habit never got bettter. but what remains the same was i found issues building attachment towards my family, which now seems like a blessing in disguise. societally speaking, they will say i am indifferent, and they are true. but what can a girl do to help herself against such situation? is not like i can runaway from home or cut them out, i owe them so much and i depend on them. the least i can do i live like a dead mouse and come to life when they need me for the least..

[mrarchewannabe]

First Contact and it's Complications: Part 2         Biology Lesson 

This is head researcher Bea'zikal following up from my previous reports as I stated before, I do apologize for the lack explanation and detail in those entries and I will now give you the full documentation of what I have observed with my time spent with Humanity and more specifically Human Head researcher who is referred to as Jamal Alteriq, a very fine scientific mind and excellent guide as he was the one to be our ambassador through Human space and of course to keep eyes on us. We saw many incredible things on our journey and I will explain in due time, but I thought it wise to give a basic run down on human biology to better help visualize the scenes I will explain in later logs. (Note: I advise you to open the attached encrypted files for observation while reading)

Humans are lightly Haired mammals that evolved on a rich but highly diverse Planet that was covered in approximately 71% water with humans living on the 29% of Land, resources were plentiful but competition was fierce as many species competed for control of those same resources, the resources in question being food and 'fresh' water which is a specific term as humans cannot drink water that is above or below a certain Ph. Level or a has a heavy imbalance of minerals;They also cannot drink any water that is contaminated with parasites, or Planetary elements such as dirt. This of course isn't to say humans have entirely weak stomachs as they are capable of consuming certain acids such as Malic and Citric Acid which is used in food flavoring, and of which would result in violent death should either substance be consumed by a Zeatikian, in addition to consumption of such compounds they can digest Certain forms of Alcohol and many forms of Capsaicin which many of course know isn't poisonous but considered non-edible to all Zeatikians and instead sees a use as a defense weapon. Moving on from the topic of consumable and non-consumable liquids brings us to eating habits; Humans specified as Omnivore 'Persistence' Predators, and can consume a wide variety of Meat and Plants, which a balance of both is needed to maintain peak physical form and a healthy digestive and immune system. From what Human Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq has told me ancient human hunting wasn't chasing down prey at high speeds but rather simply outlasting it in a slower walk chase(Note: Humans have a extreme amount of stamina and can walk for hours at a time as they evolved to efficiently maintain a pace of speed) and when the prey was tired and unable to continue on humans would slay the creature and bring it back to be cooked then consumed. (Note: Cooking is one of the few things that are shared in Both Zeatikians and Human evolution) Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq also informed me that eventually ancient Humanity began Agriculture and that is what primarily began to start up human culture and civilization.(Note: again one of the few things that are shared amongst our history)

Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq told me of the Human Life stages which are of a very different cycle of our own from our People the Zeatikians, conception of offspring is relatively the same between our two species, but with various degrees of success in humans as their method of reproduction is relatively different between Human to Human. Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq Suggested that's all we do to speak on the matter and I obliged his request how ever odd I thought it was.(Note: After doing research on this topic myself I also now recommend that all Zeatikian researchers stay away from this topic as well as it's very traumatizing to look at) Humans generally can only have one child every half a cycle but it can be more numerous if chance allows it, and human offspring is extremely vulnerable and must be cared for by it's parents constantly otherwise it will most likely guaranteed to perish; of course in this time human 'infants' (Note: Infants are the name for children that under a cycle and half old) are cared for by not only the parents but also other humans hired to be care takers as well that can give the infants whatever they need at anytime while the parents set off to complete tasks. 

Humans possess what is called an Endoskeleton(Note: Observe attached files) which gives their bodies structure and allows an anchor for their extremely complex muscular system as well as keep internal organs safe and secure. This Endoskeleton is made up of bones of very high calcium content and is extremely durable and strong, shown being able to with stand many hits that could cripple, paralyze or downright kill a healthy Zeatikian. Infant humans start out with more numerous but weaker bones and cartilage numbering around 300 individual structures but eventually after many cycles they all fuse into their respective positions and become stronger and thicker; this is most prominent around what they call their 'Skull' which is a bone structure that contains their brain and connects to the spinal column (Note: Observe Highlighted Area) and starts out segmented and eventually becomes fully fused and one solid structure in about 22 cycles. Part of the function of the skull is a basic one hinged jaw that contains anywhere from 32 to 36 bone structures they call teeth which allows them to tear through tougher foods and aids in digestion, the human jaw is relatively weak surprisingly only able to produce 300UPSQ which would absolutely be enough to hurt a Zeatikian so I would advise you be careful.

Adolescent Human offspring undergoes a change around 9 Cycles in males and 7.5 in females, as they approach sexual maturity they begin to swell on muscle mass and increase in growth exponentially over a time period of 4 cycles, during this time hormones are pumped through and over about 1.5 to 2 cycles the voice deepens and body hair is increased, this incredible change is known to cause certain behavior changes as well as changes in diet and appetite. Many human females have certain large orifices located on their chests that are used primarily to feed their young, which should have been obvious seeing how I have already stated they are indeed mammals,(Note: I have been told to report on this much only as logging anymore would make many among the human population uncomfortable, I do not know why but I shall oblige) and as mammals they are indeed warm blooded, which means they do not take too well to fluctuating temperatures as Being in below freezing temperatures for too long can lead to a humans death in about 20 minutes should they be naked in said weather; and so if in the future you have humans boarding your vessel be sure to keep it atleast a median temperature of 400TM and provide them with necessary heating elements if they do not have any.

Humans possess a 'Circulatory system' much like our own that pumps blood all across it's body at a very steady rate of 60 to 100 beats per tick, which is quite slow compared to our 120 to 150 beats per tick. Humans also possess a blood color that shines a bright red compared to that of a Zeatikian that has a bright purple hue, both of our species have iron in our respective Hemoglobins but our kind carries what they call 'Hemerythrin' while they carry whats called 'Heme' and thus that's what gives the difference in blood pigmentation. They also possess various different organs that process everything from sugars and proteins to alcohol and carbs, the 'Liver' which is described as a 'Blood Filter' cleanses the blood as it passes through it, while organs like the 'Kidneys' process liquid waste, sugars, salts, and all minerals to help keep it stable within the body.

The Human 'Immune system' is a very strong and very important system in the human body as humans do not have segmented Carapaces like all Zeatikian's have, rather they possess a skin of 7 layers and this layered skin protects the body from the outside world, when penetrated or slashed open blood will began to flow out much like a broken carapace or cut joint segment would, the cells in the human would try to seal the cut with platelets which will form a scab, which is a temporary seal while the skin is being repaired anew; as this process does share similarities with the way our Carapace heals itself our process is much slower while the humans can heal their skin in a matter of a few rotations depending on the severity of the injury. Of course during the cut possible bacteria and other such microorganisms could have infiltrated the bloodstream and usually once successful they become targeted by the protector cells or as humans call them 'white blood cells' for destruction.

The 'Digestive track' is relatively self-explanatory so I will be brief on the subject, when food is consumed it is first chewed and made wet by the 'Saliva' a human produces in their mouth which helps break it down further and eases the transfer of food from the mouth down the 'Trachea' as they call it and into the 'Stomach' which becomes broken down by 'Stomach' acid,various compounds,and gut bacteria that absorb the nutrients and forward the waste through what humans call the 'Large Intestine' which then transfers through the 'Small intestine' which is the excreted by the Human, relatively the same processes any Zeatikian goes through.

Humans of this modern era however are nearly perfect as about 1000 cycles ago an event on their home world that was put into motion made humans as nearly perfect as they could be biologically, but this change however was not a instant process as the changes would only take place slowly after every generation, each one living longer then the last, getting sick less, and less in the population being born with genetic conditions that had debilitated humanity for eons. Nowadays it is rarer for humans to catch a sickness, but impossible for any human being to be born with a genetic condition aside from the few they found desirable. Many live long fulfilling lives from what I'm told by Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq, some living their full total lifespans of 200 cycles which I can only dream of living a mere 40 cycles let alone a long 200 cycles. 

This concludes my report on the basic biology of humanity I hope you found it informative and helpful, I shall work on my next log about human economic and social status, which Human Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq Helped immensely on. 

Head Researcher Bea'zikal Signing off

(I hope you enjoy the sequel to what I wrote first I'm really proud of this one but please tell me if there is anything I could do to better my writing? Constructive criticism is appreciated, more parts on the way)

[apomaro-mellow]

From the Deep

Read on AO3

He wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. There, among the crashing waves, a mer beast. A creature from the depths that meant to do him harm. Poe had been minding his work, retrieving the nets he had cast when something bumped his boat. He stumbled a bit, but figured it wasn't anything to be worried about. Probably just a bigger fish that had been trying to take advantage of his catch before he pulled it out.

But he was bumped, much harder and then the waves suddenly turned choppy. The clouds above had begun to darken when they had just been clear and bright. Then Poe saw it rise from the water.

Skin white as the moon. Hair black as the the deep from where it came.

With a raspy roar, it commanded the oceans and toppled Poe's boat, knocking him into the water. While he struggled to find his bearings, he felt something sharp sink into his arm. He didn't know if it was claws or teeth but he fought it off anyway. He was at a disadvantage here but he had been in scraps before. He tried to wait for the right moment. Poe let the monster sink in even deeper to his flesh and pretended to lie limp, letting the creature gets its guard down so that he could get a better idea of their shape.

The thrashing stopped and Poe was sure now that those were teeth. With all the strength afforded to him, he raised a fist and landed a blow. Given that he was drowning and underwater, it wasn't as powerful as it could've been. But it was still enough to stun the mer beast. To make certain, Poe took out the knife attached to his leg and swung again. He didn't know what he hit but now there was even more blood in the water.

He was smacked by a dark red tail that retreated and Poe was left there, trying to figure out which way was up. He broke the surface with a choked gasp and looked around for his boat. It had been capsized and a little beaten but wasn't destroyed. The seas returned to their previous calm and the sun broke through the clouds.

The only thing Poe had as proof of his encounter was the bite mark on his bicep.

A year after and Poe was still on the hunt for that beast. Since then, a few had caught glimpses of it, but only Poe had the displeasure of coming so close to it. He swore he'd never let that thing hurt anyone ever again. Poe knew he was lucky. Had the tides turned just a bit, he'd be dead. It was another one of those days, Poe alone on his boat, the waters calm.

He was armed with a spear, ready to take down the mer beast the moment it showed itself. And today was the day. He knew it the moment the clouds turned back and rumbled. Poe grabbed his weapon, ready this time.

Or so he thought.

The waves got choppy again just as before, but they soon turned even more turbulent. The creature rose and this time even higher as a water spout lifted them into the air. It gave Poe a menacing look and a hiss and Poe felt an itch at his back. He turned and saw a giant wave bearing down on him. Before it could take him out, he turned back and thrust his spear at the beast. Poe watched as it sunk into the beast's chest and then his vision was blocked by the deluge of water.

He was falling, or maybe he was spiraling to the side. He could even be rising. Poe had no idea which direction he was going. Only that he was in fact moving. Poe was a strong swimmer but even the best couldn't move against an act of nature. But he'd done it. He had killed the monster. If he drowned now, at least he had that accomplishment.

All of the air had left his lungs and he couldn't stop the initial suction of water. He tried keeping his lips tightly sealed down but that wasn't all he had to worry about. If he could get his brain to stop swirling for a moment, he could figure out where he needed to go. If he could stop his vision from darkening...If he could...

Poe choked, unable to hold his breathe anymore. It got even darker. The something was pulling him. No, it was holding and carrying him. Poe felt something thick wrap around his waist. Did octopi eat people?

Whatever it was, it felt gentle. And the water was cold but this was warm. Poe closed his eyes, thinking this might not be such a bad way to go.

And then he was choking up water, coarse sand under him and the setting sun at his feet. But he didn't see any of that. What he saw was the face of a gorgeous angel. Poe tried to talk but his throat was still raw from choking up salt water.

He wanted to thank them, to ask where he was, how long he'd been out, where was his boat?

"What's your name?", he asked instead, the moment his throat was cleared.

"Finn."

"Finn", Poe repeated like a prayer, something precious. With a groan, he lifted himself a little on his forearms and turned his head away to look at where they were. He vaguely recognized these trees. This was an islet, not too far from home. If his boat didn't survive, he could make the swim, although it'd be quite the distance.

Then he turned back to Finn and smiled at his lovely face again. He noticed he was shirtless, which was a nice thing to notice. And then he noticed the scaly, bright blue tail below his waist, which would've been a nicer thing to notice first. Poe froze, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Partially out of shock but also the blue was so vivid and iridescent, he couldn't look away.

"That's a...that's a very um, pretty tail you have there. Nice and shiny."

"Thanks. It's for luring prey."

Poe knew he'd follow that tail in a second if he saw it. And how quickly the thought came to mind scared him.

"You're a...a mer beast? One of them?"

Finn frowned, but he didn't look angry. "We prefer to be called mer folk. At least in human tongue."

"Human tongue?"

"You wouldn't be able to pronounce it in our language." He paused for a moment. "I know you've already met one." He eyed the bite mark on Poe's arm. It had faded a bit but was beginning to look like something he'd carry for the rest of his life.

"I met a beast. A monster. He's one of you?"

"A mer, sure. But he's sold his soul for power. And he's using it against you humans."

Poe thought about how the waters moved to their will. How the sky got dark. As he was realizing just how strong this enemy was, a loud splash came from the water. Poe looked up while Finn looked away in embarrassment. A bright yellow tail rose from the water and slapped down, causing another big splash.

"I've...I've gotta go", Finn said. "Can you make it home alright?"

"I'm a man of the sea", Poe said confidently. "I'll manage."

Finn smiled and turned to roll himself back into the water. Poe couldn't help but grin at the sight. He was sure that Finn was much more graceful in the ocean. Once submerged, Finn gave Poe a wave and then swam off, presumably with another mer bea-mer folk, Poe reminded himself. Finn and the other one with him were mer folk.

The one who had attacked him was still a beast.

As they swam away, Finn ignored all of Rey's scolding. He was swimming in the clouds right now. And nothing could bring him down. Even Rey could see that. She rolled her eyes, giving up on lecturing him for now.

"So? What's that sailor's name anyway?"

Finn stopped short and Rey frowned, confused.

"...I didn't get his name."

Rey cackled so hard she was turning flips in the water. Imagine pining after someone for months and then not getting his name!

[nadziejastar]

What are your thoughts on the various types of lesser Nobodies?

The members of the Organization each had their own distinctive weapons that didn’t exactly cooperate if someone else tried to use them, but Keyblades were even more particular. If someone else so much as tried to pick it up, a Keyblade would simply return to its wielder’s hand. Or so Xion had heard.

We should have gotten to learn how the members of the organization got their weapons.

Nobodies derived their personalities and abilities from memories of their human lives. But what exactly were those abilities? What gave rise to them? The answer that came to mind was the presence of memory itself. They were chained by their memory, and in those bonds was power. So it was probably fair to say that Roxas and Xion were bound by the same memory.

And we should have learned how they got their “personalities” and abilities, too. The Nobodies they control are one of those abilities, no doubt. They should be based off of specific memories from when they were human. Which means that the organization members should have gotten a MUCH more flesh out backstory than they got. I’m really disappointed that most of them remained so flat, even including the popular ones like Axel. He may have been very likable, but his backstory in KH3 left him very flat.

Sorcerer

A sorcerer, magician, or “witch” attempts to influence the surrounding world through occult (i.e., hidden, as opposed to open and observable) means.

There should have been a story/lore based reason for each of their fighting styles. There are no lesser Nobodies based on Vexen/Zexion. It probably means that those two did not have any fighting abilities as humans, which makes sense. But the rest of the organization probably did fight as humans, thus they can control Nobodies based off of that fighting style.

Sniper

A sniper is a marksman who operates to shoot people from a concealed position. Snipers generally have specialized training and are equipped with high-precision rifles and high-magnification optics, and often feed information back to their units or command headquarters.

Braig was a sniper when he was a castle guard.

Dragoon

Dragoon, in late 16th-century Europe, a mounted soldier who fought as a light cavalryman on attack and as a dismounted infantryman on defense. The terms derived from his weapon, a species of carbine or short musket called the dragoon.

Dilan was a dragoon.

XaldinHe has the image of a medieval Chinese military commander. He is excellent at strategizing, and a powerful soldier. I’m sure the players all know that he is a contender for the first or second strongest in the Organisation. I’m satisfied that I was able to depict that strength in his personality, too. I personally really like this character.–Nomura

But he was also based on a Chinese military commander. We didn’t get to learn much about Dilan. What was his motivation? Why did he side with Xehanort? 

Watching that foolish beast flail about only deepens my disdain for humans and their incessant need to be pinned down by feelings. We became Nobodies precisely to avoid the shackles of emotion. It was only later that we realized the scale of that loss: that some things simply cannot be done without a heart. Nonetheless, I see nary a pleasant thing about it.

Why did he want to get rid of his emotions and why did he consider them a weakness? What was his opinion of Ansem the Wise, and how did he feel when he was banished? Did he want to take over Radiant Garden?

Samurai

The ideal samurai was supposed to be a stoic warrior who followed an unwritten code of conduct, later formalized as Bushidō, which held bravery, honour, and personal loyalty above life itself; ritual suicide by disembowelment (seppuku) was institutionalized as a respected alternative to dishonour or defeat.

Aeleus was a samurai.

LexaeusHe’s a character with strength to rival Xaldin. While Xaldin has power plus technique, I’d say to Lexaeus is more of a samurai, or that he has bushido-style strength. If you listen to his very last line in Re:COM, I think you’ll be able to see his spirit. I wanted to do more with this character.–Nomura

Nomura said his final words showed his spirit.

Lexaeus: You are the Superior’s—Forgive me, Zexion. This was a fight I should not have started.

In Re:CoM, these are his last words. He seems to have some honor and was loyal to Zexion.

Lexaeus gave him a cruel smile. “Hmph…so I must accept my defeat here. But do not make the mistake of underestimating the darkness in me! As I am destroyed, it will leave this ruined vessel and drown you!” 

Then there was a terrible shock wave far greater than what Riku had felt from the darkness that Lexaeus radiated before the battle. 

“Wh…what’s happening?!” A relentless swirl of darkness surrounded him, swallowing him up until he disappeared into it. 

Lexaeus laughed madly. “This is my strength… I, number five in the organization… I who was once his favorite pupil!” Those were Lexaeus’s final words before he vanished into the darkness.

In the novel, there’s an extended final scene with his final words where he apparently commits seppuku and says he was “his” favorite pupil. Who’s favorite pupil? Ansem? Xehanort? We’ll probably never know.

Berserker

Berserker, Norwegian berserk, Old Norse berserkr (“bearskin”), in premedieval and medieval Norse and Germanic history and folklore, a member of unruly warrior gangs that worshipped Odin, the supreme Norse deity, and attached themselves to royal and noble courts as bodyguards and shock troops. The berserkers’ savagery in battle and their animal-skin attire contributed to the development of the werewolf legend in Europe. These Viking berserkers were infamous for fighting in a violent rage, recklessly charging at their enemies without armor or any other protection, and seemingly without concern for their own health.

Saïx is a strange case. Unlike the apprentices, we never saw Isa fighting as a human. He was just a kid. So how did he become a berserker of all things?

Prayers are uttered to Odin, as the object of contemplation. Why Odin and not the wolf, bear, or whatever? The berserk trance is brought about by Odin, he is the inspirer, that which brings something outside the self within the self. This is ond, inspiration, or vital breath. This triggers the wod, or fury and possession, which is where the wolf, bear, or whatever comes in. As a god, Odin is a “larger” concept than the animal, and so the effect he has upon the mind during the ritual will be the greater.

Berserkers worshiped Odin. To go berserk, they needed to meditate on him and receive divine inspiration. In other words, they couldn’t just go berserk at will. The needed to meditate upon a divine purpose to go berserk.

Do you know what happens to those who lose their true purpose? Inevitably, they destroy themselves.

I think Saïx was the same.

It infuriated me how you just exited our lives. I lost…all sense of purpose.

He needed a purpose to go berserk. 

Yes, I thought you didn’t need me anymore. If you didn’t need me, then I no longer held meaning.

For him, it was Lea. 

Saïx hesitated for a second, and Roxas ran at him.

He blocked the Keyblade.

Long ago—I remember, I didn’t hate fighting. Saïx flung his claymore at Roxas.

And so, Saïx remembered things from a long, long time ago.

My theory is that Saïx would need to meditate on his purpose before he could go berserk. Before he went berserk fighting Roxas, he thought back to a time before he hated fighting. Back when he had someone to protect and fighting actually had meaning.

Assassin

A murderer of an important person in a surprise attack for political or religious reasons.

One of the things I disliked about KH3 was its characterization of Axel/Lea and seemingly retconning his role as an assassin. On the clock tower, Axel and Saïx revealed their shared goal of finding Subject X. Saïx wanted to work his way to the top of the organization hierarchy so he could find out what happened to her. Axel said that he couldn’t keep up with Saïx and his willingness to do the icky jobs Xemnas wanted them to do to achieve that rank.

This flies in the face of ALL the hints from the previous games about their shared objective:

In order for Sora—no, for Roxas to live, and also for us to accomplish our own goal, Zexion is in the way. And, if it’s for the sake of our own goal, we already decided what to do, that time.

In the novel, Axel references their shared goal and how they decided to do whatever it took. Zexion was in the way and Axel killed him.

Given the right memories, the Replica could mimic the powers of the original. Which meant that if he were implanted with somebody else’s memories, he would, hypothetically, gain other powers. Somebody’s—or maybe even a Nobody’s. He had one particular Nobody in mind. All the members of the Organization were still influenced by the memories of their human lives.

Here, it references Axel’s memories of his human life as a reason he wants to use the Riku Replica to defeat someone and absorb their powers. Sounds like Axel was, at least partially, motivated by revenge.

Axel let out a breath. “Look, I knew Vexen and Zexion would cause trouble for you. That’s why they’re not around anymore.”

That sounded more like he was justifying it to himself, Axel thought. Their lack of hearts didn’t render their actions meaningless. It wasn’t as if they never thought carefully or acted without objectives in mind. Humans and Nobodies alike would pursue their own purposes.

“The dirty work doesn’t bother me,” Axel went on. “You just make for the top.” There was nothing false in that, and he looked Saïx in the eye as he said it. Saïx stared hard back at him. Right. We have our own agenda.

Again, it demonstrates how Axel was always the one willing to do the dirty work to achieve their goal.

“Everything is back to normal. Of course this is for the best, isn’t it?”

The reason I’m unable to answer Saïx is probably because I depend on him, thought Axel.

“Xemnas has also been irritated at the recent changes in plan. Everything has to go back to normal, for the sake of our goal too… Lea.”

Axel finally looked over at the sound of that nostalgic name. Saïx was looking at him. It made him think of his time as a human, and the memories came surging back.

Here, Saïx is trying to coerce Axel into killing Xion for the sake of their goal. He never even considers doing it himself. It sounds like Axel was always the one who handled the icky jobs like killing, not Saïx. Because, obviously, that was Axel’s job. He was the assassin.

I just did what I thought was the best thing at the time. For Roxas, for Xion, for the Organization—and for Isa. But most of all for me.

Axel was at first willing to kill Xion. And who was he doing it for? Isa. And for himself. Because he needed Isa. He emotionally depended on him. Saïx knew Axel needed him and manipulated him by calling him “Lea”.

Axel didn’t care anymore about what the Organization needed, what Xion or Roxas wanted, or even what was supposed to be good for the worlds. He had been using the Organization for his own ends from the start. The only thing that had changed in the meantime was who it was all for. Maybe Saïx would call that a betrayal. But his world had changed.

It doesn’t sound like Axel’s willingness to kill had anything to do with Subject X or finding information about her. It sounds like Axel was wiling to kill for Saïx. He and Saïx wanted to take over the organization for Saïx’s sake.

What were you really after, Lea? We joined the Organization at the same time, and formulated our plan. At this point, it’s just an idle fantasy. Everything changed. You, and me.

When Axel refused to do what Saïx wanted and left the organization, he apparently didn’t need him anymore. And Saïx couldn’t handle that.

Yes, I thought you didn’t need me anymore. If you didn’t need me, then I no longer held meaning.

Of course, Axel’s motivation was retconned in KH3. Instead of Isa being his reason for staying in the organization, it became Subject X/Skuld. And along with that change, Axel’s role as an assassin was whitewashed. Maybe the idea of the fan-favorite Axel being happily willing to ruthlessly murder people didn’t seem appropriate anymore. Especially if it was no longer not for his best friend, but for a girl who is basically a stranger to him. I dunno. But I think it’s BS.

Dancer

A warrior who dances across the battlefield, garbed in colorful raiments. Tends to have low stats and specializes in support magic.

Demyx was a dancer.

DemyxFrom the beginning he was created as a light-hearted character, but his voice actor really made him stand on his own as a character despite the short appearances he had. He is by no means strong, so I think it’s funny how you don’t see it coming when his abilities make him a formidable opponent. His line before exiting was something I thought of on the spot and had them add in.–Nomura

He is described as not very strong. We never got to see him as a human, but he was probably a performer.

Gambler

(Bakuto, 博徒) were itinerant gamblers in Japan from the 18th century to the mid-20th century. They were one of the forerunners of the modern Japanese crime gangs known as yakuza. Bakuto plied their trade in feudal Japan, playing traditional games such as hanafuda and dice. They were mostly social outcasts who lived outside the laws and norms of society.

Luxord has still not received a backstory. I think we can tell a lot about him with this, though.

LuxordIn all honesty he is my absolute favourite Organisation member. I like how he treats everything as a gamble, like Setzer from FFVI of old. I actually wanted to make him stand out more. At least I got him to say some things during the meeting scene added to KH2 FM+… but Luxord should have been able to do so much more…–Nomura

Nomura wanted to do more with him.

The nation of Lucis was said to have worked akin to a mafia crime family since the nation’s ancient beginnings, and despite its peace was said to have engaged in strict rule, including a ban on firearms and a lockdown in the capitol city. Noctis was the crown prince, and Regis the current king. Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto—Noctis’s team members—acted as his entourage akin to a Yakuza kyodai-shatei structure.

Maybe his gambler/bakuto job is the reason why he’s apparently going to have a connection to the Verum Rex world. In Re:Mind, Yozora’s driver sounded like Luxord. And Luxord’s wild card is apparently going to be what helps Sora return.

Reaper

Death is frequently imagined as a personified force. In some mythologies, a character known as the Grim Reaper causes the victim’s death by coming to collect that person’s soul. Other beliefs hold that the Spectre of Death is only a psychopomp, serving to sever the last ties between the soul and the body, and to guide the deceased to the afterlife, without having any control over when or how the victim dies.

The Reaper and Ninja Nobodies were introduced in KH3. I think Marluxia’s intentions were supposed to be known by the time KH3 started. He wanted to bring his sister back. That’s why he wanted to control Sora and the Keyblade and take over Castle Oblivion. That’s something that should have been explored in the Dark Seeker Saga, explaining how Marluxia became a vessel. Maybe Xehanort convinced him that if he helped open Kingdom Hearts, he could reunite with his sister.

Ninja

A ninja (忍者) was a covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan. The functions of a ninja included espionage, deception, and surprise attacks. Their covert methods of waging irregular warfare were deemed dishonorable and beneath the honor of the samurai.

Larxene’s backstory is a Keyblade wielder from the age of fairy tales. But why was she a knife wielding ninja archetype character? What was her life like before she became a Nobody and tried to take over Castle Oblivion? How did she get so twisted and when did her hatred of men develop? What is the nature of her feelings for Marluxia? That’s what I wanna know.

[pckarchives]

because going back and adding these to the previous q & a’s would be a pain ... beneath the cut , you’ll find all of brynn’s information !

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟎.     ›     brunnhilde brynn naoimh friar.

► species ➔ kelpie. ► biological age ➔ 1,803. ► weight ➔ 130 lbs. ► height ➔ 5′9″. ► build ➔ very thin with a bit of muscle! though, fun fact: if she is trying to lure in someone who prefers a bigger or smaller girl, that is what they will see! because kelpie aren’t actually human anyway, her human form only serves to draw others in, so they appear as the most appealing form, according to those around them. she looked a lot bigger when she lived in france and weight was in style, but she’s much thinner these days. she doesn’t understand humans, she doesn’t like this. ► disabilities ➔ none! ► weapon(s) of choice ➔ in an every day situation, her fists! she does not fight often (anymore), but she is very capable of solving those fights via human means. if a battle requires more than that, well... kelpies have no problem dragging someone down to the depths of the sea and eating them. ► skills ➔ see above. in addendum to the dragging someone to the depths of the sea thing, she can trap someone in her arms so they can’t escape her. works best when she’s in water, but she could make it work on land. also, she has a weather-sense! usually only matters when storms are coming, because she can feel when the waters get restless. she can summon a storm herself, but dear gods, the amount of effort that takes. she’s done it once in her near two thousand years of existence and has elected to never do it again. finally, she can actually turn into the horse spirit when she’s underwater. it looks... a little more mermaid-ish than one would think, but it’s a horse, okay. in her horse form, she’s ten times faster and stronger than a normal horse and... y’know, she can drag someone to the bottom of the sea and eat them. notably, if she is shifted on land, she appears like a regular black horse! maybe a little bigger than normal, slightly monstrous snout, but you’d have to look really closely to notice that. ► weaknesses ➔ her bridle. anyone gets their hands on it, they have control over her, which... is extremely terrifying, considering what she can do. so she keeps that thing hidden where no one has a chance of finding it or taking it from her. ► worst habits ➔ unfortunately, she falls in love very easily. after all of this time, she’s still a wide-eyed romantic. she also trusts entirely too easily. you would think she would know better, but? no? ► nervous tics ➔ she plays with seashells! talking to the sea is very much a mermaid thing, yes, but mermaids and kelpies are close relatives, and they all need a bit of water comfort. so when brynn’s feeling a little nervy, she’ll toy with a seashell or pearl, maybe have a quiet and awkward conversation with the nearest sea. ► sexuality ➔ what a silly concept. ► are they single? ➔ at the moment, yes. ► are they happy? ➔ literally always. ► are they angry? ➔ sometimes. really depends on the situation. ► are their parents still married? ➔ she doesn’t have parents! kelpies are independent spirits and they aren’t exactly born the way humans and other beings are. she simply came into existence, exactly the way she is. she’s been “adopted” many times, taken in by loving couples who hated to see such a young thing on her own in the world. but as far as biology goes, she has no parents to speak of. ► happiest memory? ➔ meeting iliana khepri! and, in addition, meeting her sons when they were turned! brynn doesn’t have many friends who’ve lasted throughout the years, as most people eventually die of old age, if nothing else. but having such beautifully-spirited friends who are as eternal as she is is a gift that she can never overlook. ► worst memory? ➔ the moment she, rohan and iliana found elliot the night of his wedding. certainly, there are worse things that she has lived through, long before this child was born, married and broken. but this horror is the freshest and it hurts the most. he had been so excited to tell them of his wedding and he simply wasn’t the same after it all. elliot may be nearly two hundred years old, but he’s still a baby, as far as she’s concerned? and he’s already been hurt in a way that even she’s managed to avoid so far. being there to witness it and being unable to stop it... yeah. she should have eaten that man. ► biggest regret? ➔ trusting a djinn with her bridle. she’d been friends with the woman and had been so certain that it would be the right move. wrong! anyway, brynn ate her. ► best thing they’ve ever done? ➔ saved quite a few travelers and tourists from storms and people with ill-intentions. ate a few dictators. ► worst thing they’ve ever done? ➔ in her “youth,” she ate people indiscriminately. she didn’t quite learn to control herself until she met iliana and had a reason to be kind. so she’s eaten quite a few children, her fair share of families, etc... she’s not proud of it. ► worst thing that’s ever been done to them? ➔ remember that djinn from earlier? yeah, she accused brynn of being a witch... during the witch trials. and given that brynn didn’t have her own bridle, she couldn’t even save herself. and she wasn’t one of the ones who had to drown to prove her innocence; no, that would have bene a mercy. she was burned. do you know what happens when you put a water spirit in flames? ► what scares them the most? ➔ the thought of someone getting their hands on her bridle again. she’s a full romantic, loves and trusts wholeheartedly, but she’s not sure she’ll ever trust that much ever again. ► who have they left behind? ➔ honestly, no one! though she’s been to many places and has met many people, she has rarely gotten attached to people, only to leave them behind. you could say she left iliana, rohan and elliot behind, but even then... not really? she’s kept in contact with them over the years, calling them ever so often to make sure they are doing well. elliot has recently taught her about facetime! ...she does not understand it. ► who would they kill for? ➔ anyone who needs it. this comes with the understanding that not every situation calls for death. some people just need a good curb-stomp and the problem is solved. but if someone truly needed her to kill, then she will do so. ► who has hurt them the most? ➔ the aforementioned djinn. that was a few hundred years ago, so you would think she would be over it? but no! absolutely the worst thing she’s ever experienced! ► who have they hurt the most? ➔ she would be hard pressed to say. she hasn’t hurt anyone she’s cared about. and when considering those that she’s eaten, no one person matters more than the others. ► who scares them the most? ➔ no one. ► if they could say one thing to their family right now, what would it be? ➔ “i have an ipad! ...what do i do with it?” SEVEN FACTS ► ‘birth’ place ➔ the north sea. ► hair color ➔ currently, blonde. it has been a number of colors over the years, due to beauty trends and hair dye. she was born with brown hair, a little lighter than her horse mane, but prefers the blonde. ► eye color ➔ blue. ► birthday ➔ september 30, 216. ► gender ➔ all kelpies are female. ► summer or winter ➔ summer. ► morning or afternoon ➔ morning. EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ► are they in love? ➔ no. ► do they believe in love at first sight? ➔ absolutely! ► who ended their last relationship? ➔ she did. ► have they ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ yep. ► are they afraid of commitments? ➔ not at all! ► have they hugged someone within the last week? ➔ no, which is a shame. ► have they ever had a secret admirer? ➔ probably? ► have they ever broken their own heart? ➔ yes. SIX CHOICES ► love or lust ➔ love. ► lemonade or iced tea ➔ lemonade. ► cats or dogs ➔ dogs! ► a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ depends? with a life like hers, she needs both. ► wild night out or romantic night in ➔ romantic night in. ► day or night ➔ day. FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS ► been caught sneaking out? ➔ no. ► fallen down/up the stairs ➔ yes. ► wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ yes. ► wanted to disappear? ➔ no. FAMILY ► do they and their family get along?  ➔ she doesn’t have a family! ► would they say they have a “messed up life”? ➔ no. ► have they ever ran away from home? ➔ yes. ► have they ever gotten kicked out? ➔ no. FRIENDS ► do they secretly hate one of their friends? ➔ no! ► do they consider all of their friends good friends? ➔ yes! ► who is their best friend? ➔ iliana khepri. ► who knows everything about them? ➔ see above, plus rohan laghari and elliot aldridge. ► pack mate they’re closest to? ➔ prediction-wise, she’ll get close to theo, megan, alicia and nico, so as to help them not eat people, but especially theo and megan. (brynn shows up and adopts two cannibal kids on sight... as she should!) also kali, on account of her living with the vampires and being rohan’s baby sister. but of course, she will always be closest to iliana and her boys. ► pack mate they’ve fought the most? ➔ she is not a fighter! ► if forced to choose between their life and that of their closest pack mate, who would they save? ➔ martyrdom leaves no winners. she and iliana have always saved themselves and she doesn’t see why that would change.

► hobbies ➔ professionally, she’s a marine archeologist, but that started out as a hobby, as well! other than that, she likes taking dives and swimming with dolphins, whales and sharks. make no mistake, she is not the apex predator in that situation. but kelpies are repulsive to sea creatures, so as to prevent them from being eaten. so swimming with them is always safe, thankfully. and though she will not admit it under extreme torture, she does like roaming around in her horse form. she’s given quite a few horseback rides to children, because their happiness is all she could ever ask for. ► social media handles ➔ social what now? ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. it’s a good day if she can figure out how to put a number in her contacts as it is, no need to get creative. ► favorite color ➔ sea blue. ► favorite video game ➔ she has tried video games before and just cannot understand them. every time someone mentions a new one, it’s a different console? the controller has a new design? how does anyone keep up? ► favorite song ➔ modern love by david bowie. ► favorite scent ➔ incense! ► favorite band/artist ➔ julie d'aubigny was one of a kind. ► favorite place to be ➔ not to be cliché, but... the beach. the sand, the ocean, the rocks... she lives for that kinda vibe. ► favorite season ➔ summer! she can get into the water as much as she wants without people looking at her strange. ► favorite word ➔ alacrity. ► favorite meme ➔ i pretend i do not see it. (elliot taught her this one and he’s very proud of her for remembering it.) ► if they were an animal ➔ i... horse. ► if they were a color ➔ blue, in all of its forms. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ literally any of those tiktoks with the audio that goes: fuck, i.. i... i love you ! no, that’s too soon, you met this girl this afternoon ! okay, FUCK. she’s looking scared, maybe, like, should’ve came prepared with a poem, a haiku, maybe a hug, y’know ––– i could’ve killed you & hidden you with a rug, WHAT THE FUCK ? did you just say that, you fucking psychotic maniac –––– ?! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ blank space. ► aesthetic ➔ blood-stained seashells, clam shells pried open with shaking hands, blonde hair tied back into a peppy ponytail, blonde then red then pink then ombre but never brown never again, the ocean lapping at pale feet, calling the lost souls back home. ► motto ➔ “this isn’t the first ending i’ve survived and it won’t be the last.” ► theme song ➔ in for the kill by la roux.

► medical issues ➔ none. ► knows far too much about ➔ worldwide theologies. she doesn’t subscribe to any particular religion herself, but she has always been fascinated by the existence of higher beings, so she chooses to believe in all of them! ► fears death via ➔ fire. ► chances of being “evil” ➔ eh, pretty slim. she’s malevolent by nature, but has no interest in going all dark side again. she’s been there and she’s not impressed!

[deviationdivine]

Nightcall (RK800-60 x Reader)

TLDR: Even androids can have nightmares... 

Word Count: 1506

TW: Angst to Fluffy Fluff (One-Shot)

((60 needs more love movement continues until I hop back on the full angst train))

"Do you really think Y/N loves you for you, RK800-60?"  A disembodied voice cuts sharp in the unfamiliar setting. There is no warmth from the very person he held what seems like moments ago. There is clinical cold, stormy in its terrain as the Zen garden appears decayed. No longer connected to anything and slowly dying from its loss of power.  His eyes shift across searching unable to find an exit. It strikes him in the chest. Stress makes his synthetic heart pump in laboring thrums increasing his absolute fear. Is this real? No! It’s impossible!

Please. An internal plea to escape his personal hell fuels his stress levels. Nothing comes from his lips as he remains trapped, unable to work his body. Please, please take me back!

He is free. He’s not connected anymore. How did it find him?

Everything is cold. This is no longer that safe place where he is wanted and loved. He doesn’t have to be afraid of failing. Not with you but this isn’t where you are. This is a nightmare. 

Is this what Connor sees? Does he know about this?!

Frantic, disabled from finding a way out, RK800-60 feels as he did first becoming deviant. It wasn’t his choice but he does not want to lose how he feels. If he does you will fade away. He cannot bear that.

Why is this happening? The android’s eyes dart quickly taking in surroundings. No longer bright or pretty but frigid, barren a drop in the abyss which he falls down to knees.

Dropping there now upon frozen ground he can only be at the mercy of the master program. Trying to reach out now for a sign of that warm cocoon he last remembers, instead his panic stricken gaze lands on the familiar gray sleeves of Cyberlife issue jacket. He holds arms up now studying the return of his mark for them, created for the purpose of destruction. Blue glows stitched in the fabric like a chain as it once again brands him in service. 

No! No, please don’t take me from Y/N! "You're nothing," the voice continues out of those shadows morphing entire garden. A forgotten domain perhaps and in a way it is because there was no more reach to stretch out and capture what it once controlled. Yet it speaks the fears of the trapped android who becomes subject of its vicious taunts. "You’re just a copy. Of the first. The original."

The narrator, moving out of the withering shadows cast by dead trees swallow up in the abyssal garden showing true colors. Starkly its source wore white and looked on with sharp disappointment. "You'll never be good enough. You never were. Not even to me." "Amanda?" His voice finally activates but it is not right. He sounds warbled. As if he is suffering a malfunction. Why can he not scan or run a diagnostic on his system? No. It is not reality. This is an irrational fear manifesting. Somehow this is inside his head.

Get it out! Make it stop! "Look what your disobedience has gotten you. Nothing but a hopeless fantasy and hope is not for androids." The image of Amanda spoke his deepest fears for all to hear within the unmade Zen garden. "Did you think you could escape? Like Connor did? That you could find love, live a free life?”

He sunk further under Amanda’s scolding. Ripping at his free will tore it to pieces. No longer thinking clearly only falling into the quicksand tugging him back into his programming shackles. Only the voice of Amanda twists him. As before long ago at the Cyberlife warehouse when it no longer defines him. That’s all gone. His freedom, his happiness is destroyed.

“You could have been so much more,” Amanda continues to cast down the android where he belongs. In service to his creators as it is meant to be. “You’re a great disappointment to me…”

You’ve been a great disappointment to Amanda you know. You’ve been a great disappointment to me.

Somehow it’s his voice. He watches as Amanda becomes him but with zero emotion, only a shell imprisoned inside his own body. That’s what he is. He’s a machine. 

“Look what you’ve become.” The doppelganger points at the battered, broken android. “A filthy deviant. You made me into this. You allowed it. To become weak. This is where you belong in the Zen garden.”

No, he does not belong here. He belongs only where he is complete. Wake up. Just wake up...

“Wake up,” your voice is too insistent to hide nerves. Attempting to shake him out of stasis for the last ten minutes it’s complete panic at this point. Thrashing around in bed is so frighteningly human you felt sick. What is going on in his head? This is too real now. “Sixty, please wake up!” 

The android’s eyes pop open staring wildly about unable to focus with anxiety levels pushing their limit. Red flashes lighting up dark room in a warning.

^83%

Level of Stress 

Immediately your breath catches when he grabs on desperately and all you can do is press close to still him. His body trembles causing you to cup the android’s face gingerly to soothe the obvious spike in anxiety. It takes everything in your will power not to show how scary this is. 

“Y/N?” RK800-60′s voice muffles. Burying his face into your neck helps. Circling arms around waist presses both of you together. That’s where he stays saying nothing further because he did not have to. 

He is with you now. It’s all he wants. This is real. It must be real because your skin is warmly human against synthetic. 

“A bad dream?” Asking gently you already had an idea. Of all the time that passed since he started sharing this space with you it’s the first it’s happened. Circling his LED with a fingertip calms both questions and his stress as you anxiously wait for it to stop flashing crimson.

“Am I good enough?” The android asks to counter your previous question. Bad dreams. Androids are not supposed to dream or so he thought. 

Good enough? What is...? “Of course you’re good enough,” whispering these feelings brought everything to the surface. For you it’s so simple as it makes this real between you. At least you thought so. To hear him doubt himself only fuels a terrible ache in your heart. “Don’t ever ask me that. You’re everything.”

Everything. He savors the sweet words from your lips. It’s his lifeline. There is nothing else. How can there be when you are the reason?

“Y/N, I-I’m sorry. I just want to be more. How can I be more when I’m a copy, when I wasn’t meant...”

“Stop right there.” You interrupt almost angry. Never at him but this idea is too much to wrap a head around. Tonight started so wonderfully until you couldn’t stay awake any longer. He came to bed as he does every night to mimic your sleep patterns. Falling into stasis after a while as he’s wont to do; your lips touch his burning temple kissing the flashing glow. 

He leans close then. Clutching onto your hips, tangling needful beneath blankets; RK800-60 settles into your body like a satellite orbiting the globe. Attached in his struggle for validity, conscious of laboring breaths escaping your lips and it sends him home. This is home. He fought out of the nightmare to return to you. 

“You’re not just a copy,” you soothe in words and actions. Stroking fingers through his unruly hair, you smile at the soft curls threading through them. “You’re my Sixty.” 

A serial that is a nickname for him now and no longer merely a construct of what he was built as. A copy of Connor. 

The android listens to your heartbeat for a while. Keeping his head atop your chest and focusing on stress levels makes this calmer. He feels better. This traumatic nightmare won’t prevent this life especially with you. 

How gullible, utterly stupid can he be? How could he ever question? Having this love despite his being an android, a copy of another, makes him feel like someone. 

“Forgive me, My Love.” 

A soft declaration on his breath is all you can think about now. He’s that distracting on a good day. “You’re most certainly forgiven, Honey Bun.” 

The light giggle out of you draws his head up and a crooked smile spreads teasingly across his lips. No longer at the mercy of his mind you are the only thing on it at this point. His peppering kisses dusting all over your face, neck and chest answers well enough. Return affection is all he needs to lower stress. It falls moderately and finally yellow blooms beneath your tender touch. 

He keeps your fingers pressed to his indicator. Knowing that you accept him is all the medicine he would need. Even if androids can dream there is only one person he would call out to in the night. 

You.

[kisstheashes]

Anti Character Chart

Before I begin, I just want to make it clear that this is a character chart for my Anti, and no one else’s. This is just how I write his character!

Appearance:

His skin has a green tinge normally at least lined with glitches, though his glitching can become violent enough it looks like he's splitting apart

He has short, deep forest green hair (think October 2016)

He normally has one eye with a neon green iris and one eye that's pitch black

His teeth are long and sharp enough to tear through flesh and muscle with ease

His tongue is pointed and extends about 7 inches outside of his mouth

Black gauges in his ears

His slit neck doesn't bleed anymore, but the exposed inner flesh has started to rot slightly

He has claws about 4 inches long

He wears plain black t-shirts, ripped black skinny jeans, and heavy black boots

He smells like acid and bleach

He tastes like battery acid and rotten flesh

Alternate Appearances:

With help from his static, he can conceal his monstrous appearance and look normal

Depending on his mood his eyes will change to both pitch black or pitch black with green irises

His mouth can extend all the way to the back of his jaw, with extra teeth to boot

He'll grow proper fangs that reach halfway down his chin

In his ""true form"" he'll become shrouded in red, with his green eye literally glowing and pointed ears

Logistics of his form:

Normally he is fully incorporeal. He has a human-like form but it is not physical

To gain a corporeal body:

He has to attach to a host that will complement his energy. It doesn't have to be a perfect match, just someone who won't eject him

To attach, he has to "infect" the host. Intrusive thoughts, nightmares, lost time, possession, hurting them & loved ones, and mocking/taunting/threatening them inside their head

It can take months or even years to attach to his host fully, depending on how compatible they are and how resilient the host is

Once he's broken down the host enough and attached fully, he'll kill the host to gain full control over the body

So yes, Anti lives inside corpses

This works because Anti's presence acts like life support for the body. Cells will regenerate, the heart will beat, etc. New wounds in the corpse will heal because the body acts as if it's alive. However, these wounds will not heal any quicker than they would on a normal human

The wound that killed the body will not heal because it is a wound previous to his full possession of the corpse. But it also will not bleed anymore, and he can conceal it with static

The corpse will also continue to have any scars that it had while alive. Those are long past the point of being able to be healed

As long as Anti is in the body, it will not age or die

If Anti leaves the corpse he cannot come back to it. It will drop dead the instant he leaves. So he tends to be protective of the bodies he's in

The only things that will kill the corpse while he's in it are beheadings/dismemberments or being burned to a crisp

Personality:

He's completely sadistic. Any amount of pain is something he revels in- the more pain there is, the better. It doesn't matter if it's physical pain or not

He's highly intelligent and observant and can create complex plans down to a T. I.e configuring electronics, knowing how his victim will react, and everything else to stay in control of his plans

Unfortunately, he's impulsive. He'll abandon his plans because he sees a new opportunity that may or may not be better in the long run, but its something he wants now. 

He has deep anger issues. If you do one thing to piss him off you can end up getting his full wrath. 

In his wrath, he can turn animalistic in behavior and will hack, slash, claw, bite, and growl through the situation

Anti has a god complex. He needs people to bow to him and thinks that if he can do enough [insert motivation here] he will become a god, or at least like one

He's a manipulator and abuser. He will do everything he can to break down his victim so in the end they'll become a puppet and go crawling back to him and beg him not to leave. He uses his mind control static to help with this process

He's very touchy. Even when he's torturing you he will give you soft touches that in other contexts would feel comforting. If he's trying to manipulate you he'll go as far as hugging, cuddling, etc. Though he also likes to just touch people because he knows it makes them uncomfortable

He's possessive and wants his victims to only need him, and will do anything to make them his

He's a cannibal. He feeds off of human flesh and blood exclusively. Though he can go long periods without feeding, it messes with his ability to use his powers and makes him weak

His commands are law. If you disobey you'll reap the consequences and then some

He will mock you, taunt you, and threaten you because he either thinks its fun or knows it will get the reaction he wants

His favorite weapons besides his claws and teeth is any kind of knife or sharp blade

He does not like pain, and has adverse reactions to it just like we do

Powers:

He has a static aura that he can conceal if he wishes, but normally he doesn’t because it can become exhausting

He has four main types of static:

Pleasurable Static- when he pushes this into his victim, it makes them feel good and they can't register any bad sensations anymore (i.e. getting sliced apart feels good). Victims will not remember what happened when they were in this static state. They will only remember feeling good, and that they should not have felt good

Painful Static- this is a weapon. This static has no other purpose than to hurt. When pushed onto his victim it's so painful it's fully incapacitating

Reality-Warping Static- he uses this to not only conceal his own appearance but conceal other parts of reality. When this is used on/around his victim, he can force them to see whatever kind of "reality" he wants. They cannot see, hear, touch, or taste their way out of these hallucinations. 

Mind Control Static- this is one of the tools he uses to make puppets. When he force feeds his victim this static, it invades their brain and takes over every free thought they had. It's incredibly painful, and if he hasn't used it in a while his skills in this can get rusty. This static can be used either gradually with little doses with static-infused words/touches, or it can be used all at once for quicker effects.

He can warp time by either going backward or stopping it entirely. Though this takes an incredible amount of energy, so he prefers to only warp time when necessary

He can turn into a "static mist" where he can watch anyone from anywhere. He can't be seen but you can feel the static if he doesn't conceal his aura

His glitching helps him to teleport wherever he wants

He can hack/turn on/configure technology just by touching it. This is a relatively new skill, so on rare occasion, he'll still mess up

He has a finite amount of energy. When he runs out/low he will stop glitching and will be unable to do the simplest of things with his power

[aadeshbhardwaj27-blog]

Novel; THe SECRET Of That Day; Chapter 1

Curled in his arms, bedsheets were a mess that morning. Her hair stuck to his sweaty arms, his breath was caressing her ears, and she was smiling. Somewhere she knew, life is not going to be the same for her. She glanced at his calm and composed face and admired the perfect dusk of his skin. She moved her fingers over his face. She was creating a silhouette in her mind. She was too sleepy to open her eyes. And the best part was to stroke his eyebrows. She knew he would always smile when she does that. She would stroke his brows until he wakes up. She knew that was the best way to say “Good Morning” to him. And that day, she wanted to do everything that she always thought about. Not just the way everything happened, there was something, something in their eyes, in their minds, and in their bodies that just took “them” a step ahead.

Thinking over the last few years wasn’t really something that came along with choices, instead, she had nothing but to keep up that one ray of hope that someday, somehow, she is going to fall in his arms. There will be a day when she won’t be holding back anymore. The glimpses almost flooded her eyes with tears. Lying down with him the way she always wanted to, kissing him softly when he sleeps, moving her fingers in his hair and grabbing them until he holds her tight. She was living the time of her life when everything that she had thought about was then a reality. She softly rubbed his cheek against hers and nuzzled her nose against his nose from the side.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. He smiled, she blushed. He turned around and kept his face against her chest and held her. Held her like a small baby, like as if he’s never going to leave her. He held her with just the right amount of force and passion. He smiled within the ends of her curls and swiped them away from her face. He gave her one hard look and softly kissed her lips. Within a second, she fell into his arms as if she was so broken and tired as if what she was searching for have just found her with the same madness.

There were so many questions banging her inner head but she chose to let them be and not ponder over the things that would snatch her euphoria. It was her time to forget about the world. As the passion in his eyes gave away to his hands to caress her everywhere from head to toe, she could not resist but to respond with perfect moans. She took his name with every breath and moaned even harder when she felt breathless. She couldn’t resist the glimpses to scatter all over her mind as of what the last night have been for her.

THE PREVIOUS NIGHT

“Is there no light on your staircase ??” She said while climbing the stairs that would lead to her “Dream mansion”.

“Ouhh!! Aagghhh…” She cried. She stumbled on to the first step, perhaps because she was too naive to be able to understand where those stairs were leading to. But he held her arm, as to prevent her from falling.

“Miss, you’re unable to walk on my stairs, how will you manage me and this house ???” He said and laughed softly.

“Will you just shut up…I will !!” She said in a baby tone and caressed her to where his stairs have just kissed her “welcome”

“And by the way Bhondu Ji !! I’ll save this bruise as a memory which will always remind of this day”. she said and looked straight into his eyes. The same dark liquid ink eyes she gets lost in from the day she started seeing through them.

There was a thing with him. Whenever she looked into his eyes, he was conscious. perhaps to avoid some secret silent decisions being revealed to her. Well, whatever that could be, it didn’t matter. The important part was the “time” they were having with each other. Those desolate moments. Desolation from the world and the rationals, desolation from “this v/s that”, “yes v/s no”, and in fact, from “you v/s me” for that matter, there was desolation from everyone and everything.

They weren’t two people anymore. They were one!

As soon as she reached the door, she could hear him ringing the keys in his pocket. He took them out and asked her to open the door.

She looked surprised!!”Welcome to Your mansion highness”. He said as she stepped in. She looked so surprised. Instead of looking at what this house has to offer to Her, she looked at him. And looked at him with questioning eyes that already knows the answers to everything said unsaid. That was a moment when she really felt likea

embracing him and never let him go. But is there anything that never ends?? Well, practically no. But then, she wasn’t living the “time” practically and that was what felt like bliss. When you don’t have intellect involved in a relation, just remember one thing, that is the best one you have or ever had!

She hugged him and didn’t let him go.

As it is said, everything has to end somewhere, somehow, someday! The embrace ended.

She looked at the house finally. It was a two bedroom hall kitchen apartment with two rooms on either side, a little ahead, straight to the entrance gate there was a glass pane almost of the size of the wall. She moved towards it and removed the curtains. She was taken aback by the view it was offering.

“It’s so beautiful!” She exclaimed like anything.

“Yeah…But not more than you” he said and laughed

“You mechanical engineers !! You don’t even know how to romance a girl” she said and he shrugged!

“So this left side room is mine. The other room remains vacant mostly. It’s used only when my family visit me. Both the rooms have washrooms attached! Pick for yourself where you wanna go. Everything is all yours” he said and smiled!

“Yours is mine…All.mine…But you go first and have a shower, I can’t bear these sweaty sweaty arms…Till then, I’ll look around and see the House ok” she said and he left.

She looked around and find newspapers spread everywhere, water bottles left capless, books were lying from floors to fridge top and especially the places they are not meant to be. She saw his clothes from the sofa to the dining table and where not!

He always claimed to be a very tidy person! She was in a habit of believing whatever he says every time but she was witnessing the mess which was no different from any other bachelor’s apartment! It was quite normal and in fact, she was enjoying cleaning the place off. She enjoyed it because she knew life is not going to offer her so many Moments where she would feel like his wife!

When he came back after 15 mins, he could see the actual neat and tidy person in the room. He was smiling to see that the books have returned to the shelf, newspapers were folded and kept in the right place. He opened the fridge and saw water bottles filled and kept neatly. He was admiring what his life would be like with her! He was smiling and smiled for a little longer. She wasn’t there when he came out. She was in the other room.

“Oh, Goddd I love her”, He whispered and smiled again’.

“Aji sunte ho! Aap Apne kapde kaise kaise rakhte hain ?? Yaha to bakheda Phaila hua hai??” (Listen, dear, where do you keep your clothes?) She called out from his room and laughed. He went inside and saw her struggling with a pile of clothes which she was so confused where to keep. He came near the cupboard and took the pile from her hands.

“Have you come here to be a servant?? Let it be…Ye ho jayega” he said and closed one door of the cupboard from his side …

“Will your wife be your servant too?”

She said almost instantly.

He had nothing to say. But he knew exactly where the conversation was leading! They knew this one fact crystals clear from the day they were together !! They were two different Colors! How could they just mingle and give rise to a single colour !! The colour of humanity.

Her face dropped down as she said that!

He looked at her and embraced her.

“Look!! now leave all this, go and freshen up. You must be tired”.

Finally, after a long wait of 20 mins, she came out. She wore a black dress that he gifted her on her last bday! She always felt happy wearing it and she would keep smiling all the time. That dress !! It was a one piece and she wore it only with him! She had never worn that dress with anybody! She was waiting for that one day when she would wear it and show it to him. It was an off-shoulder dress and he was watching her with his mouth wide open. She was blushing which was so contrary to what she is. She was a girl who cannot blush, who just doesn’t know how to blush!! But that day, only God knows why she was laughing like hell!

“Now I am going to remove this okay. It’s my bday present! I don’t wanna ruin it”, she said and stood up from the bed.

“Noooooo…Why are you changing? You’re looking beautiful !!” He said dropping down his face!

“Yaa but I want to keep it safe … So you’ll have to agree “, she said.

Within an hour, they had their conversations, their little arguments over his alcohol and leniency towards studies, over her not so feminine looks and everything they found important to be discussed. The last thing was something over which they both agreed.

will be continued…

Dear Readers

This story is very close to my heart … I hope I am keeping you engaged … I hope you’re liking it … There’s a lot more I want to share through this story … !!

Love❤

Aadesh✒

[essekknits]

Victor Nikiforov’s Life and Love

Victor said he’s been neglecting Life and Love for almost twenty years. He was almost 28 when he said it. So, that means Victor started neglecting his personal life and feelings when he was eight years old.

Eight years old Victor with a bowl haircut looking with wide eyes at the fifty years old Yakov, completely admiring cause this guy helps people skate so beautifully and /he can make him do that too/.

Little Victor deciding that he will be the best and win and skate better than anyone, no matter what it takes from him.

Victor, the bright, shiny Victor, who probably had tons of friends in school cause he’s a kind and social boy, slowly drifting away from them because he needs to be BETTER. Conversations in lunchtimes slowly turn to awkward silences. Less and less people invite him places, cause he would probably say no anyway. People he considered his friends regecting him with more and more faint excuses, until at some point they flat out say “we don’t want to be with you, you’re weird”.

Victor deciding that if people already see him as weird, he would be the weirdest. He grows out his hair, stays his sociable self even when no one wants to be around him, doesn’t get attached to anyone and always focuses on skating.

He grows up, and it becomes normal. He dedicates himself to skating, barely making friends. He only bonds with his skater friends and talks to them only about skating. He just knows better than doing anything else. He knows it would be like in school all over again. These people are with him for Skating Legand Victor, and this is who they are going to get.

Victor cut his hair short, deciding that his long hair because “too normal”. Too identified with him. He wants to change. He *has* to change, if he wants to stay relevant. He knows that if he stops being Skating Legand Victor Nikiforov, he would lose all human contact. This is all he is. Without it, who is he? What is he worth without his skating? His art?

Victor constantly trying to surprise people. Do the unexpected. In his mind, always the thought of having to be better. Having to prove that he is better. That he is still worth something. His life depends on that. “I can only find strength in myself” he thinks as he creates elaborate programs and graceful step sequences. At the age of 27, he finally decides to create something personal. He skates to Stay Close to Me. This program is a prayer, a call to his past self. Stay close to me. Don’t leave me. I don’t want to lose myself completely. I lost too much already.

Victor is drained. No emotion, no colour, no ideas. Without inspiration, Victor is as good as dead. Not only as a skater, but as a person. After all this time, are they even separate? He’s sitting on the couch, his dog, his only companion all these years, close to him, just scrolling through his phone. And then he sees it. A video. A man a few years younger than him, a man he met in the banquet, skating his program. And it is a call for him, an echo. There is music in the man’s movements, a prayer for closeness and warmth, and it is an echo to Victor’s. Later he learns they were praying for the same things, from completely different reasons. And this performance is flowing with so many emotions, that Victor decides on an impulse to leave everything behind and go to the performer, hoping, like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, to gain a heart. Some inspiration for the rest of the way.

Victor arrives to find inspiration, but ends up finding much more. He acts on what he knows, bubbly and flirty like they were in the banquet, expecting Yuuri to act the same. A bit more under control, but with the same sentiment. Oh boy, how wrong he was. The Yuuri he finds is completely different. He is anxious and self conscious. He stays distant from Victor, so Victor reacts the only way he knows, by putting on the Skating Legand persona.

Victor becomes a coach, and tries to remember the lessons his own coach taught him, even though he didn’t always listen. He watches Yuuri carefully, learning what helps him and what sets him back, learning from his own mistakes on how to work with him, and slowly. It surely, he begins… getting attached. Deep inside, he feels warmth he hasn’t felt in years.

They sit on the beach, and Victor already knows he would be anything for that man. He was always good at adapting, so can be whatever Yuuri needs. A coach, a friend, a father figure, a brother, a lover… he knows he would be anything Yuuri asks him to be. He is shocked when Yuuri jumps up, asking him to be himself. It seems like Yuuri is the first person who didn’t want him to be anything but himself. But looking deep into himself, Victor wonders. Does he even know who he is?

A list of things Victor learns about himself through Yuuri’s eyes:

He is a harsh teacher, but a fair one. Willing to push a student to their limit, but always makeing sure they don’t cross it. Complimenting and criticising equally after every competition, working relentlessly to help Yuuri find his own strength.

He is a messy eater, that every time he tries to eat rice he gets some stuck to places rice shouldn’t be able to get.

Even though he is a very forgetful, he is also extremely observant, and the memories that are related to Yuuri are all carefully catalogued in his mind, ready to use.

He has no idea how to deal with other people’s emotions. He just doesn’t always understand them. It makes him come off as cruel and uncaring at times, but he never does it on purpose, and always apologises and tries to learn from his mistakes.

He is a loud sleeper. He snores. He talks in his sleep. He murmurs in soft Russian, and when he asked Yuuri what it sounded like after one particularly loud night, he managed to put together the sentence “promise you won’t leave”.

Things Victor learns about Yuuri while looking at him:

He is very self conscious. When people look at him his hands usually start fidgeting, like he’s not entirely sure where they’re supposed to be or what to do with them. When he skates though, his arms move so gracefully they look like he’s painting a picture on wet rice paper.

Yuuri is almost constantly anxious. Like, all the time. He got used to it by now, so it’s hardly noticeable to people on the outside, but it’s always there. It makes it look like every little thing is setting him off and he’s being over dramatic, but in reality, those little things are just the last straw, making him snap under the weight of the anxiety he carries in him his whole life.

Yuuri isn’t confident. It’s a result from the previous two, but it’s important enough to be a separate section on the list (The list is actually Victor’s Notes app, empty of everything but these two lists). He hesitates before making any choice at all, especially when it has to do with his skating and competitions.

When Yuuri is stressed, he practices. A lot. He would go to the rink, or to the ballet studio, and practice for hours at a time. Nothing too hard, nothing too complex, just a pattern of mechanic movements, and the music that comes out of his body in those practices is melancholic and lost, floating.

Yuuri is determined. Once he decides to do something, he will do EVERYTHING to get it. He will brush off any fall, push any pain or discomfort away from his mind, until he gets to his goal.

Related to the last one. Yuuri would never show any sign of pain or discomfort unless he really can’t take it anymore. When Victor saw Yuuri’s feet, bruised, after a long day of practice, he was shocked. Yuuri never indicated that he was in any sort of pain. He would exhaust himself to the point of losing breath without complaining for a second, almost vomiting at the end of the practice as he attempts to catch his breath.

Yuuri is very empathetic. He knows emotions very well and would always consider other’s before his own. It makes him a great friend to everyone else, but also makes others unable to be his friends, since he would never talk about his own feelings if given the chance to avoid the topic.

Yuuri’s smile rarely reaches his eyes. Yuuri mastered the art of smiling without meaning it. His smile can be the brightest thing in the whole world, yet he wouldn’t reach his eyes. They would stay that same mix of sad, scared and tired as they usually are, spiced with something Victor never managed to truly understand.

When Victor sees Yuuri crying in that parking lot in China, crying because of what Victor said and how wrong he interpreted Yuuri, he thinks he missed the chance. He thinks he ruined everything he worked so hard to build between them. And then, through tears that came deep down from his soul, Yuuri said one sentence. “Just have more faith in me than I have in myself”. And then he realises that he does. He has absolute faith in Yuuri to do the right thing.

And then Yuuri goes on the ice, and his performance is… perfection. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t land al of his jumps perfectly. His skating is music. It’s a story. It’s a prayer. It’s everything Victor dreamed of and so much more. It is Yuuri’s deepest emotions, exposed to anyone who knew him well enough to see. And Victor has the honour of knowing him well enough.

When Yuuri skates to him after it ended, with a smile brighter than the sun (a smile that gets from his soul and all the way into his eyes, Victor notices), Victor is too overcome with emotion to stop himself. He didn’t feel this much in a very long time, so when he finally does, he just can’t stop. He practically jumps on Yuuri, arms carefully placed on his head and back so he wouldn’t get hurt, and kisses him. It’s a deep, passionate kiss, and as soon as Yuuri recovers from the shock, he dives right in.

When they pull apart, Yuuri is smiling up at him. His eyes are soft and bright, his cheeks red both because of the kiss and the effort of the program he just skated. He is breathless and trusting and Victor dreamed about this moment for so long, and his entire body is just full of emotions he stopped himself from feeling for twenty years.

When Victor hears that Makkachin is in danger, he is torn. A part of him tells him to go back to his dog, his companion, immediately. It tells him that he should be in Japan, waiting for Makka to get out of surgery. But the other part of him tells him he has to stay with Yuuri, help him in the competition. It tells him that Yuuri needs him to skate his best.

Yuuri isn’t unconfident anymore. He takes control of the situation and doesn’t hesitate to tell Victor to leave him and go back to Japan. Victor has never been prouder, or more desperate. He doesn’t want to leave Yuuri. He is afraid that without Yuuri the numbness would return to him.

The numbness doesn’t get a chance to come back. He spends the next day worried. Worried for his dog, and worried for Yuuri. He is scaredthat his closest friend would die, afraid that Yuuri would lose, and generally very stressed.

24 hours pass very slowly when you miss someone, but the time finally comes. He waits with Makkachin in the airport, knowing Yuuri is just as worried for Makka as he was, especially after losing his own dog less than a year earlier. When he sees Yuuri again, the stress of the last 24 hours is clear on both their faces. They run to each other, impatient to finally be with each other again.

when Victor feels Yuuri’s arms tightening around him, it feels like home. It feels safe and warm and so, so right. It’s like a warm blanket around you when outside is cold and stormy. Or at least, Victor thinks that’s what it feels like. He never had the chance to spend his winter indoors, or in bed with a blanket.

Yuuri pulls away from that hug to say he entrusts himself in Victor’s care, and Victor can feel it means more than just letting him be his coach. He doesn’t really know what it means, but from Yuuri’s eyes, he knows it’s big. So he takes Yuuri’s hand, kissing it softly and smiling as he says that it’s almost like a marriage proposal. Later he learns it indeed was. When they embrace each other again, he can feel Yuuri crying on his shoulder. They both let go of their defences, let down their guard, and just melt into that hug. They are both extremely vulnerable and exposed at that moment, and none of them feels bad about it.

The day before the finals, Yuuri doesn’t act like his usual self. Victor, observant as he is, notices it. When Yuuri asks him to take him sight-seeing, he agrees. He couldn’t refuse to him. They go everywhere, shop everywhere (well, Victor does. It’s an old habit). In the evening they walk through the Christmas market, Yuuri standing by his side and thinking, searching for an answer to a question Victor didn’t know. So he just watched at the light in his eyes outshone the strings of lights around them, watched him blush as he spotted something.

Victor follows him into the store, curious. What could Yuuri possibly want from a jewellery store? When Yuuri buys two matching gold rings, Victor’s heart almost explodes.

Yuuri leads him to a church. He stands in front of it, and takes Victor’s glove off. When he slides the ring on Victor’s finger, Victor feels almost nauseous, his heart too fast. His face is calm though, a soft smile and shining eyes, and the faintest blush on his cheeks. Yuuri, on the other hand, is blushing. Unlike Victor, his face tells how nervous he feels. When Victor puts the ring on Yuuri’s finger, asking him to show him the Skating he likes most, there is determination in Yuuri’s eyes, and love so big and open it can melt the ice around them.

In the restaurant, Victor doesn’t think before saying it’s an engagement ring. He thinks he messed up, but Yuuri is actually more worried about the mention of the gold medal in front of all of his competitors than about the marriage proposal.

When Yuri kicks him in the back, screaming “Victor Nikiforov is dead”, Victor falls into his fear, just a little. This is a faint, nagging voice now, whispering “are you even you anymore” when he lets himself listen to it, and Yuri lights it all over again. When he breaks Victor’s record, Victor couldn’t be more proud, or more afraid.

“After the finals, let’s end this” Yuuri says, breaking Victor completely. Yuuri that made Victor helpless. Yuuri that filled him with so much emotion he can hardly contain it. Yuuri that just a day earlier gave him a ring, that earlier that day kissed the same ring before starting a program about love and passion. That Yuuri is now telling him so coldly that he wants to end what they have, tomorrow. And for the first time in a long time, Victor cries.

He decides it wouldn’t be in vain. All that Yuuri taught him, all he showed him in their time together, it wouldn’t be in vain. Victor will go back to the ice. He found more than inspiration. He found love. Love for skating, love for life, love for Yuuri. He will skate again, and Yuuri would see the music he learned to make with his body.

The day of the free program arrives, and Victor stays careful and observant. He stays distant, like a coach should be. When Yuuri tells him he wants to smile for his last time on the ice, Victor remembers the parking lot in China. “Just have more faith in me than I have in myself” Yuuri yelled at him through the tears. And Victor does. “How long are you going to stay in warm up mode” he asks Yuuri, and Yuuri understands. He hugs Victor. The reporters might say Yuuri cried, but Victor knows he was actually laughing.

In Yuri On Ice, much like in Stay Close to Me, Victor can hear an echo of himself. “All you taught me wasn’t in vain. See the Victor that lives inside of me” Yuuri says with every movement. With his ambition. He adds another quad, and his entire body is begging “look at this. I can be better. I can be the best. I can be like you, so watch me”. And Victor watches. And Victor knows.

When Yuuri gets off the podium, 0.12 points away from his goal, Victor waits for him. “It’s not gold, but…” Yuuri’s smile is a bit embarrassed as he hands Victor the medal. Victor gets closer and closer, leaning over him. “Do you have anything that would make me excited” he asks, hoping that he didn’t misread Yuuri’s eyes. When Yuuri flips them, jumping on him and hugging him tight as he asks Victor to stay with him just one more year, Victor cannot contain his happiness. He found it. He can stop neglecting it. His life and love.

[sanderssidecanons]

Title: A deal

Words: 1906

Pairings: None

Warnings: Violence, gore, vomiting, if I missed anything please tell me

Additional Info: Insane! Sides

Logan was walking through the hallways, thinking about the previous days he experienced in the mind-palace. Everything was pure chaos, every single side was acting unusual, Virgil didn't come out of his room once, Logan even thought that the anxious trait already starved in there, yet another way of suicide that was completely new to the logical trait, guaranteed a way to die Virgil never chose, yet alone of the long way of waiting and suffering that goes along with it. 

Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly and looking around in the hallway before continuing his way, taking deep breaths as he tried to ground himself. He had to remember, to keep the conversation with Virgil in his memories. Virgil was right, it wasn't like him to be enslaved by insanity and yet here he was corrupted to the core with no way of saving him. He will never be pure again, he honestly didn't even know why Virgil came especially to him for help. 

Logan bit his lip, his fangs piercing his skin but causing no blood to flow as he thought about everything Virgil said, tilting his head in thought. The anxious trait was calmer than usual, he certainly wasn't afraid to confront the logical trait, even though Logan killed Virgil just as many times as Patton and Roman did. Maybe even more times, and still trusted the anxious trait him. Logan simply couldn't wrap his head around it, the whole situation being completely and utterly illogical to him. It just didn't make any sense for Virgil to come to HIM for any help, since he was the first side getting corrupted AND drank his essence on multiple occasions.

 Logan shook his head again, suddenly stopping as he heard a familiar voice speaking in a foreign language.

 „Guten Tag.“

 Logan narrowed his eyes, turning around and facing Deceit, hanging upside down from the ceiling while sitting on the ceiling like a frog. It would be impossible for the villainous trait to stay on the ceiling, but he could hold his position anyway, how nobody knew. Something was with his hands and feet, something the other sides didn't have. Logan clicked with his tongue, smirking slightly as he answered: „Your german won't cause any mercy to bloom inside of me. Points for effort though.“ Deceit grinned, showing his viper-teeth, while he tilted his head so far it was no longer upside-down but the way a head usually was when you were not hanging from the ceiling.

 „Come on. Thhhrow me a bone here. I didn't do anythhing wrong.“ Logan rolled slightly with his eyes as he countered: „That's a lie.“ Logan didn't bat an eye, even as all of the dozen eyes from Deceit were glaring directly at him, white pupils almost shining from the poison Deceit wanted to throw at him, while the villainous trait himself still maintained his smile. „Anyway, assss I wasss sssaying. I have a little deal for you... And I won't be very happy if you wouldn't acccept it.“ Logan scrunched his eyebrows together, continuing to glare at Deceit, even though the logical trait was never exactly sure at which eye to glare.

 „What do you want?!“ Snarled Logan, sparks almost shooting out of his glasses. He was certainly not happy with the villainous trait, but his wrath would only be higher if he knew that he eavesdropped on Logan and Virgil talking to each other in the logical trait's laboratory. „I sssuggest you to ssstay away from Virgil for thhhe time being. You are cooperating withhh ssssome rathhher... unwanted busssssinesss.“ Logan bared his teeth as he contered: „I don't remember making my business your responsibility Deceit. And now shut your lying mouth and crawl away, I won't talk to you anymore.“

 This was certainly not what Deceit wanted to hear as Logan froze at the next words: „You got tenssssecondsss.“ The villainous trait began countin slowly, leaving Virgil enough time to run a little distance, plan's already forming in his head but unable to start any of those as Logan suddenly heard: „FIVE, I LIED!“ Followed by maniac laughter looked Logan back, surprised to see Deceit crawling on the ceiling in an insane speed, jumping from said ceiling and landing boots first on Logan's back, pinning him on the ground, but the logical trait was having none of that as he turned on the floor, leaving Deceat pinned down. Logan reeled back and punched the villainous trait right under the eye, Deceit hissing in pain as he snarled:

 „Watch for thhhhe eye you hooligan!“ Deceit opened his mouth as far as a snake, revealing sharp little fangs and Logan could only scream as the villainous trait practically broke his back to bite into Logan's shoulder, the logical trait completely forgetting that pinning Deceit down was almost useless. Deceit took advantage of Logan's stunned shock as he turned yet again to pin the logical trait on the ground, only for Logan to ram his knee into the abdomen of Deceit, who groaned in pain, giving Logan enough time to kick him in the face and sending him flying back a few feet, the villainous trait landing painfully on his back, knocking the air out of him.

 Logan snarled, his insane powers finally paying off as he dashed towards Deceit, made a high jump and landed with his feet on Deceits chest, a loud cracking audible next to the loud scream of the villainous trait, who howled in pain, trying to wriggle away, but the feeling of being trapped under Logan's shoe settling in. Logan screeched in a too high tone for a normal human being as he used his claws to slash at Deceit, the villainous trait screaming even louder as Logan slashed through multiple eyes on his face, including his original right eye. All of them were leaking black liquid that wasn't insanity, the gash on his face too big and to painful for him to open his eyes That was it. This took the cake. 

Attacking Deceit was one thing, but rendering his eyes useless was just too much! He was almost eighty percent eyes, he needed every single one of them. Deceit growled and screeched in anger, two new arms pushing Logan away who huffed in surprise, quickly landing on his feet to see what just stopped him from killing the villainous trait. He couldn't believe what he saw. Deceit used his insanity to grew two more arms, the new limbs leaking with insanity, clearly not meant to stay for long. 

Logan wanted to start another attack, but the villainous trait sprinted towards him, ramming all of his four fists in Logan's face, his nose cracking under the pressure and blood flowing down like a waterfall, the logical trait howling in pain as he was flying backwards. He tried to slow his fall with clawing on the walls, but he was too fast and flew down the stairs, crashing into the wall right next to the door, eyes drooping and unconsciousness spreading in his body, black slowly spreading in his eyesight. Logan smirked slighty, spitting some blood and insanity on the ground, smirking slightly as he saw Deceit crawling down the stairs, being significantly slower than usual, clearly in pain. 

He waited until Deceit was standing right in front of him, before he talked: „You won that one... but one wrong look towards Virgil and you're dead meat.“ Deceit smiled widely, his unhurt eyes widening as he answered: „It'sssss a deal.“ Logan closed his eyes after that, finally going to sleep after a long time of torturing his mind for so long. He lost, but he certainly won't leave it like that.

Virgil was glad he took that little trip inside of the library where all of Thomas' memories were stored, the peace and quiet and happy memories certainly soothing the anxious trait in a way he didn't experience in a long time. He especially watched the early childhood days of Thomas, where everyone was just a little worm living their merry life and the most recent memories before the corruption, where they made all of this videos together, the anxious trait tearing up once again just at the mere thought crossing his mind. 

He sniffled slighty, wiping his eyes and smiling at all the happy memories. If his plan worked, it could maybe return to the old days, it would be the same and Insanity would be nothing but a nightmare, just a bad memorie they tried to forget. Oh, if it was that easy. Virgil opened his door, surprised as he found it unlocked, remembering clearly that he did in fact lock the door. His door was locked all the time, so Patton wouldn't come in to drag him to some of the murderous games he didn't want to play. He peeked suspiciously inside, spotting a big chest on his purple rug, raising an eyebrow at the sight.

 The anxious trait didn't know how long this chest was standing there, but it was certainly for at least a few days, considering that Virgil took a few snacks and spent days int he library, just hiding and remembering everything. He read the little note attached to the chest and frowned deeply as he read the scribbly handwriting.  'A gift from me to you -Deceit“ Virgil was afraid to open it, not sure if he really should, but curiosity winning the best of him. He grabbed it and slowly opened the chest, the smell almost knocking all the air out of him as Virgil coughed, overwhelmed by the strong scent radiating from inside the chest.

 Virgil peeked inside, heart stopping at the sight he saw. It was Logan, well, what remained of Logan. He was stuffed in this chest, being that it was much too small for him, and left there for at least a few days until he suffocated in the locked chest. His face was blue due to the lack of oxygen, his mouth opened but dried out, his flesh already rotting, cockroaches crawling inside and out of his body,digging through organs and skin.

 They already chewed all the skin off of his left arm, the bone clearly visible next to the purple and blue flesh. Some flies through towards Virgil, who quickly swatted them away, eyes tearing up, not out of melancholy but of pure grief, suddenly realizing what he did with spending days in the library without returning. Logan had to be in his room for days. Maybe Virgil could have saved him. A cockroach was crawling out of Logan's mouth and Virgil slammed a hand on his mouth, the feeling in his stomach too much as he threw up right next to the chest, everything spinning and robbing every little sense inside of him.

 „I'm sorry, Logan. I'm so sorry.“ whimpered Virgil as he closed the chest, crying for a few hours over Logan's rotting body, not care if he will return, but out of simple shock for losing him like that. And one of the worst parts was, that he didn't knew if Logan would come back like he was, or already corrupted to the core. If it was the second possibility, he would have to get him back once again. But he would do it. For Logan. „I'm so sorry Logan...“  

[cold-b-writing]

The Queen’s Book

"It's too silly is it not?" the Queen blushed and shook her head. Thinking that it was a terrible decision to ask in the first place. Why did she do it? The whole day she thought it was a good idea and now? It was nothing but embarrassing. "I...I am sorry..." She looked down at her feet. "no, don't be sorry..." he muttered, slowly taking a step forward and looking up at her, smiling. "i...you have nothing to be embarrassed about. i just...it's just surprising, y'know?" He shrugged and shook his head. "Yes, I know..." Toriel wanted to hit herself. "I just thought...I thought it would have been a good time..." "it sounds like a good time..." the skeleton held her hands. She looked back down at him. He wasn't embarrassed about it at all. In fact, he looked excited. "i just had the queen ask me to read a book with her..." he scratched the back. "Is that wrong?" Toriel blushed. "I...I am sorry...I shou-" "no, i'd love to..." Sans smiled as he looked up at her. That smile, whether it was intentional or not. It brightened up the Queen's world. It was full of excitements, nervousness and full of life. A smile the Queen had not seen in many years. She smiled warmly as she went over to the other room disappearing for a couple minutes. Leaving the newly appointed Royal Guard all by himself for the time being. Wandering around the throne room, he couldn't help but admire all the flowers around him. These flowers meant something to the Royal family. They looked sweet and innocent, however they were very deadly and poisonous. A somewhat creepy combination. Sans decided to admire these flowers from a distance as he leaned on the window sill. He had no idea how he got this far. It wasn't too long ago that he remembered re-calibrating the puzzles in Snowdin every day just in case if a human ever showed up. Now, if he simply turned his head to the left, he was looking at the rest of the kingdom in its magnificence. If he turned his head to the right, he would be staring at the beautiful and impressive throne room of the mighty Queen whom he's fallen in love with. He was almost giddy with excitement, wanting to tell everything to his brother back in Snowdin. Not like Papyrus would really care. The tall skeleton would probably just sit there smoking; not even paying attention to whatever is being said around him. Sans huffed and shook his head while thinking about Papyrus. He loved his brother, but he cannot deny the overwhelming sloth nature of the tall skeleton. He heard footsteps after a couple minutes and perked up. The Queen was no longer in her golden armor, nor wearing her crown. In fact, it was a beautiful dress with nightshade attached to the sleeves and jewels encrusted into the chest area with the delta rune on it. Not much of it could be seen as Toriel was hugging a humble little book with a warm welcoming smile and a blush. "My...someone else in my life and I used to read this book together before things had gotten complicated..." She smiled with a hint of sadness at Sans. Thinking about someone who had been dear to her for what seemed like a life time ago. She paused and sighed with countless memories running through her head as she looked down at this book in her arms. The man who filled her life with such joy and had beautiful children with her. She remembered every time they smiled to each other as they read this together before bed, and the smiles of a couple children whom she would later read to. Being alone for such a while had helped her forget a little bit of what she lost. But with this book in her arms, she mix of emotions build up into her eyes as she thought about a previous life of her. Running down her cheek as she couldn't possibly replace everything she had lost. A short voice soon broke her out of what seemed to be a trance. "my queen?" a quaky voice muttered. The Queen looked up, her red eyes glistening as she looked down at the man who had made her smile again for the past few months. He was so energetic and full of life, he reminded her so much of the other people she once had. "I'm sorry..." she shook her head and laughed as she wiped the tear away from her cheek. "This book...it means so much to me..." she smiled sadly again as she made her way to the throne and sat down. Motioning for the short skeleton to sit on her lap with her. He did so without hesitation. More so to make sure if his Queen was okay more than anything. Of course she would always say that she was just fine and that she was just lost in thought. While this answer never really satisfied Sans, he let it be. If she didn't want to talk about it, that was her choice. "so what story is in this book?" he asked. "It's a beautiful story about an angel..." She explained as she smiled at the short skeleton. "An angel who has seen the surface travels down here. Helping everyone and making friends along their way to the barrier. Through some miracle, they..." she paused. Not wanting to give everything away to him. She had read this story so many times with very few people. It would fill her with hope every time she would read it. Hoping that one day, this story might come true if she read it enough. She looked down at Sans who seemed to have bright cyan stars in his eye sockets. Mesmerized by the brief description she gave him. She smiled warmly at him as she slowly opened the pages and brushed off the dust that gathered in this book. Deciding to narrate, and voice act for her small dear reader. They both enjoyed every little moment together as they read this. Sans resting his head against her as she wrapped an arm around him. Resting the side of her head on top of his. He thought this would have hindered her ability to read the story. However, he soon learned that she didn't even need the book with her to tell such a heartwarming story. *************************************************************************************************************************************************************************** The Queen sighed as she looked down at the boo for one last time. Slightly disappointed in herself that she hadn't seen this coming. There was one thing she could never put together when it comes to reading this book with someone. There was something that everyone she read with had in common after reading this beautiful story with her. Something that hat wracked her mind for so long and kept her hesitant to read it to just anyone. Turning around and looking down at the beautiful deadly flowers. She realized exactly what that connection was with everyone who had read this book. Death. Those whom she would read this story to would eventually wither away from her life. Like some flowers in the garden that would whither no matter what she would do to take care of them. For such a long time, she would try her best to keep something around her. She thought life was playing a cruel joke on her. Making her stand around and watch as everyone around her fades away. Leaving her all by herself as she had not aged a day. Despite the large amount of time that had passed. She was still young, unable to fade away from this world as well. She couldn't afford to for so long. Too many people had relied on her guidance; she couldn't possibly remove herself. She wouldn't subject even her worst enemy to the kind of pain she had. The feeling of love and loss. The feeling of being alone. Not like it mattered now. Her whole life, she had simply been sitting around and watching. She watched as the monsters were forced underground by the humans so long ago. She watched as her family simply crumbled into nothing but piles of dust around he. Now was no different; she watched as her kingdom fell apart. She watched as a human had soon come to the Underground and ripped yet another being dear to her from her arms. Now, there was nothing. Not even sadness; she was an empty husk. Just waiting for death to finally come and tell her that it was her turn. Simply staring blankly down at the book she had read to the people ripped away from her. She soon heard footsteps, seemingly small and quick. Almost like a child. However, no child was ever allowed this far into the kingdom. At least no children that were not a part of the royal family. She turned her head and there they were. The child that had been travelling across the Underground. With that cold smile of theirs; this was all just a game to them. Toriel sighed and put the book down by the window sill where a short skeleton once sat. Looking down at the child with a blank expression. "I know what you've done..." the Queen muttered to the smiling child. They didn't react, it was almost like everything was a game to them. The kingdom meant nothing to this child. Nothing really mattered to them. Not even the man who they had ripped from the Queen's arms in Snowdin. "I know you took him..." the Queen went on. "I...I am sure you were expecting me to be enraged. Expecting me to simply dare you to come to me so that I can end you." The child raised their knife. "I already know that is pointless." Toriel said. "It isn't possible for me to win. Why even try...?" she turned around and made her way past the throne room. Slowly trudging her feet to the barrier, not even caring if the child followed her or not. Nothing really mattered anymore. Making it down the hall and to that infernal spell that kept her kingdom locked down here. She sighed as she faced the endless hall one last time. Looking around at the six human souls she had already collected. She knew she only needed one more human soul to break the barrier. However, she couldn't win against this human facing her. They had too much Determination. They would out last her in the end. Finally, it was when it was too late that she finally met someone who would out last her. The Queen turned around to face the human. "I am sure Doctor Undyne already told you how to cross the barrier..." she said as she looked down at this dirty lover killer. She could see the dust on the child's hands. They killed quite a few monsters before coming here. The Queen felt that somehow, that in another time. This human could have have been friend with her. However, that didn't matter now. Nothing did. There was nothing to live for anymore. "I will not fight you..." the Queen said as she placed the palm of her hand over her chest. Soon enough a bright light emitted from her as she held her soul in her hand. She knelt down with the soul and held it out towards the human. "Child..." she muttered. "I already know I cannot win against you. So I am giving you what you have asked for. A way out of this decrepit place..." The human held the soul in their hands. Looking up at the queen. Cracks were starting to form all over the queen's body as tiny shards of her began to float in the air and fade into oblivion. "Child..." the Queen repeated. "I ask that you make me this one promise..." the child didn't answer. "when you cross the barrier...and you leave this kingdom...please do not come back." The child moved past Toriel, making their way towards the barrier. "There is nothing to come back to..." the Queen said. "You have already ruined everyone's lives down here..." The human didn't even turn around or react to what was being said to them. They simply went on to win the game, like always. After all, there was nothing behind them. Nothing but a pile of dust. "Goodbye..." a voice muttered from behind them. It didn't matter. After all, they had crossed the barrier.

[lettersofsky]

I Want You To Know

Tip Jar

I was listening to someone play FNAF while grinding and I started writing. So here you go, have something about Mangle. 

I want you to know what it feels like.

To be torn apart; to have your limbs ripped from your body and your insides pulled from inside you by tiny, delicate hands.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To be unable to do anything to defend yourself from them, to be forced to stand there as they ruin you. To be unable to move as they tear your fur from your body and break you until there’s nothing more that they can break.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To be put back together, day after day so that they can break you all over again. To have your limbs replaced haphazardly so that they’re barely attached to you because you’re only going to be broken again, so why waste the time to fix you properly.

I want you to know what it feels like.

For them to give up on fixing you, night after night. For them to decide that it’s too costly to keep fixing you and to leave you in your broken state, the mess of metal, wires and fur that you’ve been left in.

But they can’t scrap you. Oh no, that’d be too kind for you. Instead they make profit from your suffering; they make you into an attraction, encouraging those who broke you to come put you back together and tear you apart, over and over again. Until you’re just a mangled mess that barely resembles what you used to be.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To be unable to move as you used to, to need to drag yourself on your broken limbs just to get out of the corner you’ve been shoved into; like some forgotten thing. To need to drag yourself along the wires of the ceiling just to get anywhere without dragging your expos skeleton along the hard floor, the ache and sparks that run through you when the floor is the only option keeps you in your corner.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To have them laugh at you as they stare at you with mocking smiles and tiny, delicate, pointing hands. For them to gawk and jeer at what they made of you, at how they destroyed you until there was nothing that could be done to fix you.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To be unable to move as a swarm of them approached you and held you down, you won’t know why they bothered to do so as you would never have been able to bat them away from you. You weren’t programmed to protect yourself, only to entertain the children.

You could be replaced, the children could not.

I want you to know what it feels like.

As they reach into the mess of wires and metal that makes up your chest, searching, digging for something that they haven’t destroyed yet. There’s only one thing there that they could be after, the only thing they’ve never managed to break before.

The little box that contained your voice

I want you to know what it feels like.

As they wrap their hands around the box resting in what was once your throat, almost crushing it in their fingers. You can’t say anything to make them stop, vocals like that were never added to your voice box. So, you’re forced to repeat the programmed lines of your act as they start to tug on the little box.

I want you to know what it feels like.

As your voice starts to skip and stutter from the pressure of their fingers around your voice box and the insistent tugging of their hands as they start to pull it from its place. As your lines start to mix and blend together until one starts in the middle of another and the words start to mix together.

You can hear them goading each other on, talking over you as the hand around your voice box tightens once more and gives a more insistent tug on it.

I want you to know what it feels like.

As you feel it come loose and be crushed by the child’s hand. Your voice cuts out as the child’s hand pulls it from its place, dislodging it from where it rested. The child’s hand retreats from your exposed insides, notedly pleased by the damage they’ve done to you.

There’s a moment of silence as they look down at your broken form, before your voice box sparks back to life. It’s not what it used to be; gone are your recorded lines, replaced by a harsh, grinding, static-like noise. They recoil from you then, hands over their ears as they run from the corner you’ve been left in and the mechanical noise coming from what remains of your voice box.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To be unable to do anything as they did so, to be unable to stop them because that’s not what you were made to do. You were meant to entertain the children and that’s what you would do, even if it left you broken and mangled. Even if they destroy you.

Nobody cares that you’re being broken, day after day. The children don’t come for you, they come for the others. The ones that remain whole at the end of every day, that get repaired the moment anything seems to go wrong with them.

Even the older models are treated better than this; they’re kept safe in Parts and Service, being recycled into their replacements. All but your previous model; it’s too different from you, the parts wouldn’t fit the way they do with the others.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To finally break.

For your programming to snap and suddenly you’re moving. It’s day, working hours and the place has been booked for a birthday party. You make your way out of your corner and along the ceiling until you reach the room filled with sounds.

Nobody notices you, too focused on the children and the others confined to the stage. You use that to your advantage.

You immediately focus on the form of the security guard, you don’t know if he’s one of the ones who keeps you broken, you don’t care. You move to him as quietly as you can, but the faint sounds of your exposed joints moving can’t be heard over the shrill, excited screams from the children or the sounds of the band playing.

You’re perched over him before you know it, waiting for the perfect moment to move.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To skin your teeth into the man’s flesh, so sharp even after everything that has happened to do. To pierce the skin and crush bone with a strength that no human could ever possess, caving in the skull and snapping on something soft and wet.

You pull away as quickly as you shot forward, tearing what you have in your jaw from the man’s skull and hanging silently in place.

The children are still screaming, but it’s completely different from what it was before you dropped down; they’re terrified. Everyone’s screaming around you, frantic to escape the room now that the guard’s bleeding out on the floor.

I want you to know what it feels like.

To be scrapped, deemed too dangerous to be kept.

You deserve after what you’ve done; you almost killed that guard, broke him like the children broke you.

They confine you to the back room to wait for someone to come dismantle you, to take apart what’s left of you and to destroy your programming until there’s nothing left of you.

You can’t escape the room, you can’t escape your fate.

The children broke you until you couldn’t be fixed anymore and when you finally managed to strike out against what was happening to you, you’re put down for being too dangerous.

You’re going to be destroyed for doing what had been done to you day after day with no consequence to those who did that to you. What a cruel fate.

I want you to…

I want…

I don’t want to be broken anymore.

[lordnochybaty]

"Don't worry, I'm right here, and I'm not leaving" for James/Thomas :)

Okay, this is not only super late (sorry!) but it also got super angsty somehow. Like, seriously, it’s so angsty that if you want a do-over you can pick another prompt. XD Though I don’t promise it will be less angsty.

Hope you enjoy anyway? And thanks for the prompt. I had fun angsting myself.

Also on AO3

They’ve been in this house for a month. It seems abandoned, no one bothered them here, no one followed them so far. They tried not to come out much during the day, still hiding and waiting for the possible pursue. Thomas carefully did not think of this house as theirs, as a house that could possibly become theirs, just like he did not think of any previous hide-outs as anything permanent. He greeted the sight of every new place with curiosity and joy at finally being able to see more of the world, but never with the hope that this might be his to see for years to come. Hope was important, but it needed to be the quiet, persevering kind, not the one bursting at every possibility, getting attached too quickly. Thomas before his imprisonment never thought there was a difference and how important the distinction was.

Now, after a month spent in the house, the hopeful thoughts started seeping into his mind and he let them.

It was not too big of a house, it would suit the two of them and there was enough place for the second bedroom for the sake of propriety or guests.

The orchard seemed highly neglected, but still showing some promise. Thomas could hardly bare the thought of working in the field again, but the idea of growing something was a tempting one. And surely they would need some sort of income… And something to do as well… People always cast less suspicion on those who were busy with an honest job.

The city was close enough to be of use but far enough to not disturb them.

They could have a life here, he thought as he let the more mundane hopes go through his mind. Where he would put the bookcase. How they would need a table in the main room. That they could probably get a horse and how he hoped James knew how exactly to buy one. Thomas’ experience with working horses was thin at best. His experience with buying one even worse.

His thoughts plummeted down the path of how little he really knew about the life of a free man who was not supported by his family’s money.

He learned a lot in the last decade. Things he never thought he would be able to do. He could work on the field. He could cook well enough not to starve, even though his repertoire of dishes was rather plain and his sense of measurements more adjusted to cooking for thirty men rather than two. He learned far more about the human nature in general and his own as well. The sure certainty that one only can know oneself through what he’s been through was engraved in his scars and callused hands. And yet now, finally free, he felt as lost as a child once again.

He had no idea how much anything cost, he could be cheated twice over. He almost forgot how to talk to people and not seem like someone from an entirely different part of the world or at least different part of the society. He had no idea how to blend in and while it might’ve been an entertaining tale, when he tried to dress as a commoner so James’ could give him a proper tour of London, now it seemed less thrilling and more terrifying.

Left to his own devices he would be found or killed within days. If he lost James-

He stopped his thoughts immediately with the strength well practiced over the years.

He gasped for air, sliding down the wall to sit curled up in the corner of the main room, feeling as if he was drowning. As if he was diving deeper and deeper with every step he took from the plantation and finally there was no air for him at all and no way he could run back fast enough to survive. His insides turning, twisting as he gasped for air, trying to control it and waiting for it to pass.

The sky turned gray with the first lights of the morning when the spell started to fade. He laid on the floor, panting as if he run for miles, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing the bile down.

Now was not the time for this.

He was not alone yet.

Eventually, he managed to heave himself up and slowly make his way towards the bedroom.

James laid in bed, covered with everything Thomas could find in the house. An old blanket, some thick rugs that could’ve been clothes before. There wasn’t much and James shivered underneath it all, though he tried to shove the covers off of him. He was burning up again.

Thomas went to his side and took the cleaner cloth he made from the shirt he took from the plantation. The water he left in the chipped basin was still cold enough, the night air not as thick as it would become during the day. Carefully he dampened the cloth and run it over James’ overheated skin. His face, his neck, down his chest which was moving with shallow, rattled breaths. The sound of them haunting Thomas.

James’ mumbling became louder and slowly slightly more understandable.

“No… please… don’t leave… please…”

“Shh,” Thomas asked quietly, with one hand petting James sticky, dirty hair and the other moving steadily with the cold cloth to lower his temperature. “It’s alright. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.”

“Nonono… we can’t stop now… we need to go…”

James struggled as if to get up and Thomas pressed him back into bed. He was relieved he didn’t have to fight James in the midst of his nightmares, but the ease with which James was pushed back frightened him.

“We’re safe here, James. We’re alright.”

“You can’t… not like this…” James tossed his hands, looking tortured and haunted as Thomas tried to calm him with his touch with only partial success. “… for nothin’… don’t….”

The urge to get a doctor fought in Thomas with the fear of being caught. Of being imprisoned again. James being imprisoned. What if they just killed him anyway? What if he died on the way to prison? Was it all worth risking now? For a doctor that might not be able to help? And how was Thomas supposed to pay him? They had nothing, the clothes on their back and few coins left from what they stole right after leaving the plantation. It might be enough for the doctor, but how was Thomas to know? And what he will do after this? He could go for few days without food, he knew that well enough now, but James? After such illness, he will need to build up his strength. Would they even be allowed to stay here?

He kept shushing James, who mumbled on, protesting against something, begging and pleading, he was breaking Thomas’ heart, but he made no move to leave the house.

He wondered how he will explain this to James if he recovers. How James’ is not the only one of them who changed into a less honorable shape. How often Thomas debated taking action over the risk it brought and how often he pretended he didn’t see the cruelty of the guards or pleading stares of the inmates. How often was he deaf to pleas and how often he shared what he learned with the guards to avoid trouble and half-cocked attempts at rebellion that would doom them all. How often he wanted to rage and protest and fight, but the still so fresh memory of Bethlem bent his neck into submission.

How now he had to make a choice: risk their lives or only risk James’ and yet he sat by the bed James suffered on and kept quieting him down, not only because he wanted him to find some peace, but because the sounds in the dark, empty room sounded too loud and too risky.

James trashed in the bed again, Thomas’ hands on his shoulders unable to calm him down.

“Don’t! No! Don’t- Don’t leave! Don’t!”

He was tossing around as Thomas tried to press down his flying hands, touching his face and pressing closer to ease his fears.

“Shhh, love, shhhh.”

James fell back on the bed as if the strings were cut from him, but his face did not relax, it looked even more tortured as Thomas pressed soft kisses to it, his hands running through James’ hair as he kept mumbling with tortured, painful sobs.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled his sweaty face pressing against Thomas’ colder hands.

“I’m here, love, I’m here,” Thomas assured quietly.

“Please, John—” Thomas’ hands stilled for a brief moment as his breath caught slightly, before he pressed another kiss into James’ brow, right under the line of his hair. “Don’t—”

“Don’t worry, I’m right here,” Thomas assured quietly, “and I’m not leaving.”

He kissed James’ forehead. It was far too warm to the touch. Perhaps even worse than it was at night. He held him close, uncertain anymore if he was the one giving comfort or seeking it.

“He wouldn’t let you die, would he?” he said quietly, his thoughts now on the man he didn’t get to meet, but who granted him another chance at life with James. “Regardless of risk and your opinions.”

He moved away to look at James’ tortured face. James still hasn’t said much about the man that betrayed him and saved his life, but he was still angry and hurt over their parting. That much was obvious even when he was conscious enough to hide his feelings on the matter.

Thomas could not find in himself anything but gratitude towards the mysterious John Silver. Cruel, selfish part of him that grew alarmingly in the last decade, was certain that alive James was the best outcome, even if he was also hurt and betrayed.

He realized with suddenly that now, thinking of John Silver he not only felt gratitude but also shame. The disgusting, burning twist of it deep in his stomach.

“He would have saved you, wouldn’t he?” he asked quietly, his voice thin and weak. Barely audible over James mutters and moans.

He put the cloth back into the water-filled basin.

“He already did once, didn’t he? His efforts really shouldn’t go to waste…” He smoothed down James’ hair again and kissed him quickly once again before standing up to leave the room. “I will be back as soon as possible, love.”

He did not pause on his way out, worried if he does he will stop for good. He moved quickly, determined to fight back the urge to hide and trying to avoid overthinking his decision, to outrun the growing fear. He walked as fast as he dared towards the nearby town, hoping he didn’t just doom them both.

Hope was all he had now.

[archafic]

ARCHA 4.

“A dark force is brewing just beyond humanities reach. Behind the scenes, Crowley plots something sinister, unbeknownst to the Winchester brothers. Gabriel had been in hiding, he didnt expect to believe that anyone knew he was alive, and yet, here he was, front and centre. Gabriel was now nothing more than trapped and seemingly powerless, and swept up with him was that stupid girl, who had so accidentally been thrown in his world of angelic crazy.”

Word Count: 1500+ per chapter

MASTERLIST / ABOUT

FIRST / PREVIOUS / NEXT

CHAPTER 4: LIGHT

With a blazing flash of white light and the silencing sound of white noise, the serene quiet of Vermont was abruptly awoken. A crater in the earth that spread some meter’s, knocking over trees around it, manifested with the bright flash. At the collisions centre stood a bloody man clutching a skinny girl, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as well as a large sliver knife in his left hand. As the light darkened and the serenity came creeping back, the man dropped to his knees, he rested the girls limp body onto the cold forest floor. It had gone from the middle of the day to the darkest of night in seemingly no time, the surge of power that the Archangel let loose had unwillingly thrown both him and the girl forward in time, as he had held her tight, the white surge of power had thrust them through times clutches, so far forward that the world had been engulfed into that evenings night. Gabriel cupped his throat, thick, velvety red blood slowly dripping down from where Agiel had stolen his grace, and yet, the deep gash had disappeared, the surge of power healed his wounds, however drained the last of his angelic power. 

Gabriel sat for a moment, allowing his vessels heart to slow. He snapped his fingers, half hoping that he would zap back away into hiding and be safe from all this madness, but no, it couldn’t possibly be that simple. Nothing happened. He tried again, and still, nothing. Gabriel looked up, the night stars sparkled and danced above, a gentle breeze blew through the air, lightly blowing across the trees, making a sort of endless wave through the leafs. Something felt different about his vessel. Sure, it had been the same vessel he had used for many a millennia now, but all of a sudden he felt more attached to it than ever, something tethered him to the strange fleshy prison he now had no choice but to inhabit. Gabriel could feel the wind against his cheek, not the uncontrollable force of mother nature he had know since the dawn of its creation, but the human-ish sense of it, of understanding at a non-angelic state, he didn’t understand how to feel about it, how it was to feel so very weak against mother natures forces. It was then that he realised, for the first time in an eternally long time, he was weak. The agony Gabriel felt pulsating through his vessels body was something that had seemingly been long forgotten from his being. He held the shining silver Arcangel blade in his left hand, he inspected it for a moment. Michael’s blade. How did Crowley get this? He thought as he examined the knife, realising it was the only thing he had to protect himself now since he had so rudely been plucked from his homestead.

Gabe then looked down to the girl he had unintentionally saved durning his great escape; her face was sharp, her palms muddied in her own blood, yet her jaw in perfect condition, much unlike it had been before the power surge was made. He rested the blade against her chest. My power must have healed her too? No wonder I'm totally drained. 

The one thing Gabriel did notice that certainly hadn’t been properly healed was the girls hand; a symbol meticulously carved into her flesh that still bared her own dried blood, the cut that Agiel sliced had now healed over and left a highly noticeable scar embedded in her flesh. The scar bared the sigil of Gabriel, an undeniable connection the two now shared, this, however, meant nothing to him. Her suffering had no impact, the only reason the girl was saved was because she could be used against him. To the fallen angel, human connected was nothing more than an abstract concept he had never truly known, something he had only abused to manipulate those who were once lower than himself.

The Human race; nothing more simple or stupid. To be human was to be manipulated, was to be controlled, was to have comfort in the face of an inevitable death that one knew nothing about. To be human was to be weak, and that was what Gabriel hated the most.

The girl started to stir as she lay on the cold forest floor, she began to blink her eyes open, squinting strangely as she attempted to decipher the situation. It took Wren a moment to see in the cold night’s darkness, however a bright full moon loomed over and illuminated the scene around her. As her sight adjusted, realisation set in. She understood that she was in a clearing, a wildwood surrounded one side of her and a dark black road that seemed to go off into a void of nothingness on the other. The girl hadn’t quite engaged into panic mode yet, which was impressive to say the least after the horrors that she had just experienced. As her eyes became atone to the evenings darkness, she noticed a shadowed figure standing above her, staring at her with familiar eyes, in shock, Wren felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She became aware of the fact that the scene currently playing in front of her very eyes was none other than the one she had dreamed. Finally, she realised, it was him. The shadowing figure looming over her, the man from her dream, he was the same man that had opened the door to her apartment and given her the key’s to freedom, to her new life. The man that she wished she would never have to see again, because if he were to return, it would be to ask for his keys back.

Wren continued to lay, unable to find any words to break the chalky, echoing silence. She felt her jaw, it wasn’t aching the way she remembered it had before unconsciousness overcame her. Most of the agony she had endured seemed nothing more than a far off dream from another life, except for one, a burning sensation was slowly overcoming her left hand. A sting began to crawl around her palm and quickly seared into a pulsating pain, seemingly on fire. It forced Wren to sit up and examine the ache. As she sat up, the heavy metallic thing that sat agains her chest rolled away to the forest floor, she noticed it doing so and realised what that thing was; the same knife those two men had held so threateningly towards her earlier, so she wasn’t safe after all? The girls heart began to race again, she knew she had to run away from anyone who possessed such a weapon as that, all it could bring was evil. Wren began to crawl backwards, and yet the man continued only to stare at her, as if she a wild animal. Stick’s and twigs littering the forest floor protruded into her knees as she attempted to shuffle away from the man and his blade, the burning sensation in her hands, too, began to intensify.

Gabriel finally snapped out of the daze he had been in, for a moment, he had began to contemplate the whole of his existence as an almighty being, much in comparison to the weak little thing he had saved. The girl, who was now shuffling away from him in an awkward fashion, looked towards him with an expression of fear in her eyes. Why was she trying to run? He did not know.

Gabriel looked to her, saying very little and portraying an expression of distaste and confusion.

The girl began to whimper a breathy cry, she slowly stood up and clutched her right hand, she stared at it, her face expressing fear and uncertainty towards the scar carved into her flesh. Gabriel began to stride towards her slowly, he could see how alarmed she was, but did not care to calm her. He knelt down and picked up the Archangel blade that once belonged to his brother. The girl froze, she stood staring at the stranger in front of her. To Wren, he walked towards her in a harrowing fashion, he held at the sharp blade in his hand. As he grew closer, her scarred hand began to set itself on an even intenser internal fire. Now a pulsating, reddish glowing colour, the scar on her right hand illuminated the twos faces even more, radiating the same light as a campfire would, it pulsed slightly, in a strange median state.

The girls breathing was heavy, agony cast behind her words, ‘Wh-’ she let out a small yelp as her scar burnt deep behind her flesh, ‘Who are you?’ she finally asked. Gabriel stopped for a moment, Who was he? Cast out, alone, alone for an everlastingly long time. His grace, stolen from him. Now a powerless angel trapped in a fleshy prison. Who was he anymore, what was he?

Human.

Gabriel was nothing more, nor nothing less, than human.

—- CHAPTER 5

[reachforthebiscuit]

Day 77 of sobriety...

So to start out, I suppose I could give you all my real name, and that is Stephen; although according to AA tradition, I suppose rather than my maiden name being used during this abnormal little chronicle for myself, lets just say that my full name is Stephen AlAnon, as it so appears in my meeting’s standards during this long journey to everlasting sobriety. 

These past 77 days (sobriety date is April 15th, 2017) have been something of an interesting experience to say the least, and although I should verify that I would never throw a con to the program that helped me reach my goals of alcoholic abstinence, the events that had unfolded during my road to clarity ranged from strange, to sad, to happy, to weird, then ecstatic followed by anger and frustration. 

On that day, 4-15-2017, I had just gotten out of the hospital for what was a terrifying diagnosis of Acute Pancreatitis. I was shocked, not so much that I have an organ failing due to my chronic drinking and bad choices, but for the fact that me, a 23 year old kid from a little town called Prairie Grove, Arkansas, had just gotten smacked right dead in the face with the reality at hand. I knew enough was enough, I wanted it to end: the long, harrowing nights that seemed to sink and drown in the bellowing world of inebriation and self-denial. 

Enough was enough. I didn’t have to be living with my 88 year old grandfather anymore because my parents no longer wanted anything to do with me. I didn’t have to continuously lose these amazing jobs that I, for a short time, saw as expanding career opportunities that gave me a sense of professionalism. I no longer had to want to die just so that I didn’t have to deal with the pain and repercussions left behind from all those bridges I burned to the ground. And god, most of all, I didn’t have to be alone anymore.

I called them, the heroes of this story that would show me the way to a better life, and there they sent me without so much as a dime in my back pocket encompassed in lent and the single cap of a pen. It was my first time flying, and other than the overbearing waves of sweat running down my neck and chin, I didn’t feel a thing. I wasn’t afraid at all. Just waiting impatiently for the plane to reverberate the sounds of certainty that I had made it to Fort Lauderdale, Florida. 

Shortly after I found my bag at the pickup ring I searched for a man wearing a Banyan Treatment Center t-shirt and black shorts with a lighter leash attached to his belt loop. I was a little in shock, I suppose I didn’t really know what to expect from my transporter, but I certainly didn’t expect him to look so normal and like a genuinely laid-back human being. I remember the tattoos the most as they seemed to be crawling from his legs to the cheekbones on his face. My first thought was how badly I wanted my first tattoo, followed by my second thought being an overall feeling of relief. I was so far from home, and for the first time ever, I was happy for that. 

Shortly after introducing myself to Robbie, we got into his car and headed our way to a place called Stuart Banyan Detox Center, and I was a little perplexed at the sound of that. “Detox?” I rattled in my brain at the sound of it, “But I already detoxed myself at home?” And it was then that I realized why they were rushing me so quickly to detox. My heart rate was so high by the time they checked it, they thought I was five minutes away from a seizure followed by my heart exploding (that last part was more what I thought was going to happen, it actually felt like it was going to punch its way out of my chest).

After a generous amount of Ativan and Clonidine, I was able to find a means of peace and rest. That is, until I had to wake up for relapse prevention groups three fuCKING HOURS LATER I’m sorry, moving on. During these particular groups, I was unsure as to whether I was supposed to take them seriously. Frankly, I enjoyed them, but I unfortunately have the kind of personality that shifts to fit my ever-changing environment like that of a chameleon, hiding from the potential danger surrounding. This, for those that are unable to follow, meant that regardless of my own thoughts and opinions, my mind would be quick to disregard such feelings of individuality and follow suit to the blending crowd around me; meaning that I really had nothing unique of my own thought perception at all most of the time. So when someone in the group room says they don’t need any program to keep them sober, my brain tells me i’m on the same level as that guy. 

Luckily for me, though, I then soon thereafter met my new roommate who would, for a time, become a bit of a life-coach. This particular gentleman’s name was William, and he was quite the character. I should let the reader be aware, that when I say “life-coach,” that I was being a tad sarcastic, and although this guy turned my views towards my addiction around and cut the chameleon circuit in my brain, he was and is to this day, as he puts it, a dirty scumbag human being. His words, not mine. Understandably, you the reader may be thinking “what the fuck is this,” but I can assure you more than anything that his self-proclaimed title of dirty dirtbag was something that actually awoke some sense of reality within me. It made me realize that I wasn’t any better, and in some strange way, that actually helped me understand that I didn’t have to constantly try to blend in with what the crowd’s opinions are, simply because we’re all already the same when it comes to us alcoholics and drug addicts here in rehab. We’ve all done something that stresses the fact that we are certainly not saints. 

After a few days of playing Halo 3: ODST in the recreational room with William, I get a notification from my clinical director that I am to promptly leave for Pompano Beach for what is known as PHP (partial hospitalization); which by Banyan’s standards, is really just a series of apartment complexes down a street near the treatment center. PHP was a little more open, but still held the structure and security that a rehabilitation program entails, such as: you go shopping once a week with 75 dollars taken out of your insurance for food but the Techs (clinical technicians, they were more like security guards) had to take us to and from the store with constant supervision, one outing a week with either a movie or bowling, and if you are caught walking off of property outside of these designated events, you will be put in what is commonly known as “isolation.” All this sounds like a heavy set of rules for most people, but to me it sounded like the perfect amount of structure. I felt like a child under surveillance, and for some strange reason, I actually enjoyed it. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe from my own addiction. 

PHP was a little eventful here and there, but I always felt that was the product of Banyan making their decision to put six guys in each apartment to room with each other, and in a three bedroom apartment, it can feel a little tight and tense with the levels of testosterone in the air.  I actually had to move out of my original apartment after my first week due to a bit of an altercation between my roommate and I, and by “altercation,” I mean that he was scary looking and just did twenty years in prison and I may have cried a little as he yelled at me for eating what was apparently his tuna. In a way, though, this was just about the best thing that happened to me in PHP, because the one guy I would come to meet that same day that I moved from apartment A to apartment B later became one that I still, to this day, refer to as my best friend, Zachary. 

This guy and I hit it off right off the bat, due to our common interest in comics, art, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and overall humor. Our ridiculous antics would occasionally flood my mind at all the wrong moments, such as job interviews and AA Speaker Meetings, causing inappropriate laughter to burst through my tightly held together mouth and nostrils; and as you the reader may have already assumed, this unfortunately allowed an unsavory amount of awkward moments with my previous potential employers and AA enthusiasts. 

I’ll give the reader an example, and please pardon the crude, boyish humor that follows: I would be sitting on the porcelain god, Toiletus as Zach and I properly referred to him, and just barely in the middle of carrying out my duty as an American citizen with the right to bear brown, I would hear the faint sound of flat, bare-naked feet slapping the tile floor, progressing toward the bathroom’s closed entry. As the madman reached the handle of the locked knob on the door, I would see the key hole slowly turn horizontally to allow whatever awaited me beyond my wooden barricade to creep its flat-footed way in. As the door opened, the creature and I would lock eyes, my expression caught in a paralyzed gaze of fear as I made peace with my Gods. 

As PHP came to a close, I said goodbye to all the friends I had made through the good times and the bad, and made my way to the conscious decision to follow up my release with IOP (intensive outpatient) with the same program, Banyan. As it was revealed before after my transition from Detox to PHP, IOP was another slow push to the realities of the outside world. More freedom ensued, with the exception of a Urine Analysis every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, a curfew enforced for 10 P.M., and the requirement of paying rent for the house you now live in with four other male clients. 

And that brings me to today, where I am and who I make the everyday choice to be. Zach wound up being my roommate again, here in IOP, and that makes everyday a good one. I would like to conclude this little life update with the reader that I hope is still present and say that if you are struggling with an addiction, you can get help. Not just with Banyan, there are so many other Treatment Programs out there, and I promise you, it is worth it to put that life in the rear view mirror. Everyday I wake up sober is a day worth living, that-so being in contrast to the life I was living for myself not even 3 months ago. I hope if you read through all of this and if you are going through something where you think you might need help, its a great feeling to know that there is help out there. You just need to know where to look. 

Banyan Contact Info: (888-781-9297)

Suicide Hotline: (1-800-273-8255)

                                    Until next time,

                                              -Stephen AlAnon