personals blocked. (ap.)

"Stop calling me the angel! You don't know me. You don't know what I've done. ... I don't know what I am, but I'm not an angel."

[mercyist-blog1]

Thimble stop crashing for .2 seconds

[crueltic-blog]

         “ Oi. Frisk. ” His voice lacks the usual bite ( one so very fitting for a self proclaimed hellion ) from where he stares at the younger in his presence. Ever so suddenly, he loses track of his vessel that will lead him on the path he desires – and where do they go? Off on their own, hiding among glowing flowers.

   This peaceful place suits them the most, he supposes.

         `` Why are you hiding now, and moreover… Without me? Do you want to die? “

@mercyist.

[mercyist-blog1]

        “I don’t want to die, actually. For once, I like being alive--it’s nice.”

They hadn’t specifically ran from Chara, but they had ran from an enemy, and Chara was distracted. It isn’t their fault that he had gotten riled up over the fact that they couldn’t ‘see the pattern.’ Plus, Waterfall’s starting to grow on them. It helps their nerves settle whenever they need to calm down. They smile up at their guide--their patented gentle smile seeming to make the flowers grow a little brighter. If he had suspected they ran, he’d have to remember that where would they run to? Nowhere. There’s nowhere they could run to flee from him, even intentionally. 

        “C’mon Chara, taking a quick breather w-won’t kill you.”

[mercyist-blog1]

Late at night, I could hear the cryin’. I hear it all, tryin’a fall asleep. When all the love around you is dyin’ -- how do you stay so strong? How did you hide it all for so long? How can I take the pain away? How can I SAVE, a fallen angel, in the dark -- never thought you’d fall so far! 

    fallen angel            i won’t let you fall ( close your eyes )             ( TONIGHT )

personals don’t reblog/like.

[mercyist-blog1]

        “MOTHERFUCKER--”

[mercyist-blog1]

✶ bctterccps

*(Great job, you found the switch!)

Chara’s voice rang out with false enthusiasm as they watched Frisk finally succeed to hit a single button. The past few minutes of simply following the other child as they continuously fell had been damn infuriating, and they were more than ready to move on. 

*(Remember, the next room is just a rotation of this one)

They better not fall down again.

A rotation in perspective. Yeah, like this room had been of the last one. They had fallen down several more times than they should have by now, so they do know where it is. When they walk through the next doorway, albeit slowly, they walk along the wall to find where it rotated and then, hesitantly, walking over to the switch they believed to be the right one, not wanting to fall again.

                ( That was a trip taken twice too many times. )

[mercyist-blog1]

✶ fataliism

The most helpless feeling in the world is not knowing how to end a loved one’s suffering, and unfortunately this was a concept Sans was all too familiar with.  He has walked Papyrus through nightmares as a child and learned to cope with his own, but Frisk’s own visceral response to these visions comes from palpable experiences–right down to the red copper wash over their palate–and how the hell is he supposed to fight memories?

Where can he even begin?  How far back can he reach?

“Kid, you an’ I are the only ones that remember…everything that happened in the Underground,” he starts, eyes falling shut, blinding himself to a broken child crumpled upon golden tiles.  “And for starters, you have to leave all of that there.  That’s what I’m tryin’ t’ do.”

When he opens his eyes again, there there is no blood, there is no dust.  There is only a dark kitchen and a scared little human.  “You oughta tell Toriel ‘bout this.”

                Leave all of that there.

They’re trying to do that. They want to leave it all behind, go into a life they’re more scared of with people they finally trust, instead of dwelling on the repeated timelines that they could recall with frightening ease, even more frightening images following each remembrance of each timeline. They could not--perhaps would not be able to forget the look on Sans’s face in the Judgement Hall when they had to watch Chara fight him. They wouldn’t be able to forget his words. None of them. They want to apologize for doing that, but they know he would only say that it wasn’t them. But it was. It was them. It had always been them. Chara could not have taken over if they hadn’t strayed from their path. Chara would not have ordered them to kill so easily if they hadn’t grown curious. Chara did not have to gain control, but they had been patient. ( but they had never been a patient child. )

        “I can’t.”

It’s not that they don’t want to tell Toriel. No, they desperately want to tell her--they want her to kiss the nightmares away so they can finally feel what a good night’s rest feels like. They want her to hold them close, protect them from all the evils of the world for just one night. But they can’t. They can’t tell her about the nightmares, because she doesn’t understand like Sans does. She couldn’t understand. She could try and empathize, but it’s just not the same. Trying to understand is not the same as understanding. Sans should know that.

        “Wh...at would I even tell her? That I dream I die several times every night? That I dream that I’m the six other children that she couldn’t save even if she w-wanted to? I know you see the wrong choice in that, Sans. ... Trying to understand, and actually understanding are two different things. Do you really think that i-if Toriel were down here instead of you... I would have told her about the nightmares? ... I guess... it really doesn’t matter in the end. I forget them every time I have them, and then something, anything reminds me during the day. It’s a cycle I’ll have to l-live with. And that’s m-my own fault for not controlling my anger, for straying off the path... a-and for that, Sans, I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

At least, not kill them. Hurt to spare, perhaps, but never kill. This affliction is their own fault.

[mercyist-blog1]

They... well, looks like their phone battery is dying again. God save their soul. Or someone save them.

[mercyist-blog1]

hey asshole where the fuck have you been

[mercyist-blog1]

I’m going to be completely honest---I forgot I had this blog.

[mercyist-blog1]

⟡ monetvry.

          ‘ i’m sure you did, little human. and do you think a measly thirty gold is near enough to make a dent in the money we need for a limo?? ‘

        “ well excuuuuse me for not being filthy         frickin’ rich when i first fall down here!         geez louise-- oof---!!! ”

They sure did trip over a donut. Great.

[mercyist-blog1]

⟡ royalspear.

❝ …H-here? ❞ Undyne furrowed a brow in response to the vague reply. Out of where? Hotland? The general area? The building?

…Or maybe just this incredibly awkward situation. Great, she already messed up this encounter with her lack of knowledge when it came to actually being social. The scientist clicked her pen nervously, glancing around the room before looking back at the human.

❝ Out of w-where? I could give you directions…? That is, i-if you want me to. ❞

Perhaps... perhaps being vague wasn’t the best option to choose here. They were never good with making the right decisions, now were they? Their mental health just keeps getting worse and worse as the time ticks on in this timeline, and they sincerely wish that someone would kill them, for this isn’t their timeline and they wouldn’t be able to go back to their own from here. But they take a deep breath... and keep their head high.

        “ i’d like d-directions to... um... the skele-         ton brothers’ house? i n-need to talk to         them. ”

They could have backtracked, but they didn’t want to risk it at the time. Maybe this version of Undyne could ensure their temporary safety until they find the ‘Sans’ of this timeline, so to speak. They need to find whoever was in charge of the time machine that Sans had once slipped up on mentioning and go back home. ( Funny; they had never thought of it as such before now. ) 

[mercyist-blog1]

⟡ bctterccps.

@mercyist

*(… You notice there is a red switch behind the pillar.)

Chara may have gotten impatient with the other child. Whatever. It was an easy puzzle, and they were taking forever.

The pillar? Which pillar? The one they’re standing next to, or the one that’s just ahead of them? Confusion twists the corners of their lips downwards and they just move on instinct ( as the spirit seems to have gotten irate by their lack of knowing ). They move over to the pillar next to them and feel around to find the button and they slowly push their hand down on it, flinching preemptively, in case they fell again.

[mercyist-blog1]

⟡ comiicsaans.

Falling quiet, he grinned to himself triumphantly as they struggled through their laughter, he’d never seen someone laugh so hard they’d CRIED before but he supposed it was likely something humans did. Afterall, they didn’t seem all too concerned by it and the expression on their face was undoubtedly pleased.

                 ❝What can I say, puns are my                 speciality. You alright, kid?❞

        “ th-they sure are! ”

They had to keep themselves from erupting into another fit of giggles at something that goes unheard by the skeleton, to which they begin to slow breathe... in... out... in... out... just so they could see past their tears. It’s confusing, how they think to do that so easily, but they prefer to not explain such a thing, as they likely wouldn’t be able to. 

        “ i’m fine! you just got me real good. ”

[mercyist-blog1]

Cosplay Day! (closed.)

[mercyist-blog1]

⟡ quiiestis.

      He was silent, uncertain how to react. Papyrus had never been in such a position, but it was clear now that he couldn’t just leave. His friend was suffering alone and what sort of friend would he be if he just left them. No, he always wanted to cheer his friends up, he wanted everyone to feel comfortable and happy. He needed to do something. When Frisk spoke again, it was all the invitation he needed. Long strides were made, quickly closing the gap between the two. He fell to his knees, gently wrapping his arms around the other’s frame, being comforting but gentle. 

      “ FRISK, I WOULDN’T ASK. IF YOU EVER WISH TO JUST TELL ME, I WILL BE ALL EARS. BUT KNOW I AM HERE. I CARE ABOUT YOU AND SO LONG AS I AM HERE, I WILL MAKE SURE YOU GET NO MORE INJURIES. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL PROTECT YOU! NO MATTER WHAT. ”

      He would be lying if he wasn’t curious. But, he had a faint idea himself, wondering how many of those injuries were because of him. Did humans not heal as quickly as monsters? If he had known that, perhaps… there was no point dwelling, that would only upset his friend more. For now, he needed to just be there for them and keep them cheered up best they could.

They had become desensitized to the random jolts of energy that came from the skeleton--usually in the form of sudden hugs and activities that little to no one saw the point of--but this one movement finally caught them off guard. Considering the fact that Chara was notably silent, and that they were literally blind without his guidance, their body instinctively jerked away, but then they let out a  jittering breath, form quivering as they forced it out. They had learned to be prepared for sudden hugs and people picking them up and touching their cheeks, arms, legs, chest-- they had forced themselves to ignore the panic that swelled every time. But they couldn’t this time. Fear made their panicked breaths turn into heavy ones, threatening to make noise as light sobs, but they refused. 

Frisk raises their arms to hug the skeleton back, trying to keep themselves calm about this situation. They remember one just like it. Their father, soothing them, telling them that they’re a good girl--

        “ p-papyr-rus i--- ”

They had forgotten what they wanted to say. What could they say? The loud static of their father’s voice cut through them like the knives they once used against themselves. At one point, they believed in the term destroy yourself so no one else can. And they wish they had. They wish they’d never thought that treatment was okay. They wish they’d fell into the Underground sooner. They wish they’d done something rash sooner-- They wish they’d--- they wish they’d---- they wish--- they, they wish----

Their train of thought slows to a halt and all they can think about is how Papyrus isn’t their father. All they can think about is how Toriel is not their mother. All they can think about is how their family would never be able to get to them. Not without going through Papyrus. Not without going through Sans, Toriel, Undyne. Not without their new family backing them up. So they think about how safe and welcomed they are and how they l o v e their new family. ( The lingering thoughts come creeping back again. ) 

                --- suddenly, they begin to ramble.

        “ b-before i came int-to the underground... m-my         family p-pretty much w-want-ted someone else.         when i-i told my mom a-and dad that i didn’t wa-         ant to be their little g-girl anymore, they started         to hit m-me and i didn’t kn-know why? i th-thou-         ght that i should be hon-honest with them, i thou-         thought that they’d be-e welcoming... bu-ut no...         they ha-ated me bec-cause i’m-m m-m-me. 

        my-y fa-ather---h...he... he g-got too clo-ose and...         he...hehehe... ha ha...hhhAHAHAHAHA! ”

They’re laughing--by gods, are they laughing. They don’t know what else to do. They don’t want to think about this anymore. They don’t want to talk about it anymore. They want to go to bed and wake up and neither of them would remember this conversation but they aren’t asleep and neither is Papyrus, so their hysterical laughter fades into fits and bursts of sobs as they try their damnedest to continue.

        “ he..heee, he, ha ha ha! ha... he... got too close         and he... tried to do things tha-at i learn-ned         weren’t good... and i... i... i’m-m s-sorry-y-y pa-         apy-yrus-s, i d-do-on’t me-ean-n t-t-to make y-         you-u-u ups-s-set... ”

[mercyist-blog1]

i queue’d & posted a few replies on a few of my blogs but for now u can catch me over on my new frisk or papyrus. if you follow frisk u gotta follow the Big Bro. u gotta

[mercyist-blog1]

⟡ skeledxd.

Why?

      The question repeated in an unspoken mantra;  blunt force shocks of pain like nails raked across a chalkboard sounded without signs of stopping throughout the dark creature’s skull. Did they not know what unknowns they tested by coming here? He wanted them gone, Why were they here? Why? 

whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy?

The creature forced himself back, and breathed in the thick, all encompassing nothingness he knew better than anything else. Let it drown him out now–It was better this way, it was  safe.

* “☠⚐ ⚐☠☜📬”

            * [No one.]

He replied and chanced the silence that had drifted between them. 

Please leave,

                              Leave me alone,

                                                                   Please just  f o r g e t.

        “ i can’t be speaking to no one, can i? ”

Their question, mostly rhetorical, can also be answered if one wanted to be smart about it, so they don’t allow the other the time to do so ( as they have a sinking feeling that he would attempt to ). They let out a nasally sigh of discontent, unsure of what to do from here. The aura he gives off flickers in and out and it spits their anxiety higher and higher each time. Their ears ring with words they want to say, with words they know they should say, and with words they can’t say, ever. 

        “ d... don’t, leave? you’re... you’re fading in         and out and i... i don’t know how to get back         to my timeline and i’m not sure i’m suppos-         ed to yet? i just... i don’t want to be alone.         not here. not N O W. ”

They hate begging, but they hate being alone even more. So they hope that they’re not too terrible of company.

[mercyist-blog1]

⟡ fataliism.

“Heh, kids like you are supposed to want junk food,” he steals away from the fridge with a crisp, cool apple.  “But, hey, whatever floats your weird little boat.”  It is with an affectionate teasing that he walks over and sets the fruit in Frisk’s open hand.  But before he makes another move, he pauses to consider the child–particularly the dark shadows beneath their eyes.

“I heard you, y’know,” he begins, voice soft.  “You screamed.  I had a feeling you’d come down here.  Did ya have a nightmare?”  Or rather, judging from the aforementioned shadows, would be yet another nightmare.

The moment the fruit is lain in their hand, they shakily wipe it off ( it’s just habit ) as they struggle to laugh along with the skeleton’s offhanded comment about their dietary choices in the middle of these ( long ) nights; then he cuts off the lightheartedness with a topic they were hoping that he wouldn’t bring up. They really do have terrible luck. In a hope to stall for time until the other got bored, they take a bite out of their apple, trying to savor the taste before the too-real illusion of that horrible metallic tang tainted their tongue once more. 

Realizing that this would only serve to make him more worried, and cause him to stay around longer, they swallow harshly and cough gently, bringing up their knees to their chest, trying ( in vain ) to stop themselves from shaking so terribly. They can’t remember the topic of the nightmare. Was it about the other souls this time? Or was it about their parents? Maybe about what they went through at school before now? The more they tried to think about it, the less they seemed to recall.

        “ ... i... don’t really remember. it all just blurs         together. i don’t know if it’s about my f...fath-         er and what he did to me, or my mother and         what she said t-to me... or about what happ-         ened in the u-underground... or even... even         memories that aren’t mine. i can’t tell anym-         ore. i just want to sleep in peace for once,         sans... i want to sleep without waking up with         the taste of blood on my tongue a-and the         sting of tears in my eyes. ”