What is Shadow Work, and how can it help you? Are you ready to confront your shadows and emerge into the light of authenticity and wholeness?
Within each of us, under the surface that we show to others, is a dark side, or a shadow self just beneath our skin. It sounds like a supervillain origin story when I put it that way, but I’m really just talking about the psychological concept of shadow work.
What is Shadow Work?
Within the shadow, we confront aspects of ourselves we’d rather keep concealed: our fears, insecurities, traumas,…
I feel, ah, awful about this confession. Anyway. I'm a Sebastian Michaelis kin, who was hoping to talk to sourcemates, but it's so difficult to sift through the people wanting to kindate, vs finding the people who want to make a connection. I understand the majority of the kin community is this way (now), at least with fickin, but it's difficult, frustrating, and exhausting. I'm not a toy, I'm not here to fill a void in your life.. I'm a person, too. I'm different now, and I get lonely too.
As a Ciel, i think part of your problem is the bond thats made that life goes beyond the singular life, at least in the experiences of everyone from that canon I’ve ever met. Your soul is not one life, its all of them. Everyone you’ve ever been and will be. So you’d own any soul you ate forever, until you intentionally released it. My Sebastian has had to intentionally release souls in the past.
On that point, most Ciel’s are still owned. And when you belong to someone so completely, it tends to go into needing them to fill that void. I did, years ago, before I met mine. But also....
Most Ciels youd meet now are more shallow than they realize they are, /shrug. They don’t really know themselves and how to properly treat sourcemates and canonmates, (hell most of them don’t even understand what otherkinity truly is-) and how to distinguish the two. So I can see how it’d be like fending them off with a bat.
Bitterness spread through my body and i could feel my face mold into an unpleasant scowl. I was done. With everything and everyone. It was easier this way, letting the bitterness take over me. Letting it consume every fibre of my being with its power.
Happiness as far as I was concerned was now overrated and so I resigned myself to accept my bitterness, embracing the cruelty that bubbled in my heart. I had given up. Given up on my emotions, and given up on forming connections.
'Tch' I thought to myself 'who needs useless connections anyways. All they're good for is getting in the way.'
I smirked lifting my head to look straight down the alley I had been walking down. The new me wore her cocky smirk with pride as she stepped into the light of the open street, reborn again.
So. This took a while, and I’m sorry lol. Life and work have been bitches and I’ve been de-stressing a lot with some equally ego trash friends of mine. But I finally got time to write, so here it is.
It’s also shorter than I anticipated because I decided to split up the next chapter into two parts. Sorry guys. Not really.
But so yeah. @alcordraws, @galaxy-starheart and @kenmarlenn here’s the sads I promised and maybe it’s not as breaking as I’ve been advertising but I hope it still makes you cry.
#friendship
AO3 Mirror
Chapter 7: Hypothesis
Dark stared down at the prone form of Yandere where he lay in one of Dr. Iplier's few clinic beds. The ego was scarcely recognizable, covered from head to toe in a myriad of casts and bandages. Tubes and wires snaked out around the gaps, attached to various machines gathered at the head of the bed. One produced a steady beep. Dark knew it was Yandere's pulse; the beat of his heart buried away beneath all the rest.
He looked so small. Yandere was hardly large in size or stature to begin with, but like this he almost looked a child. An actual teenager, caught in the throes of a tragedy. Only a few tufts of red and black poked out from the bandages wrapped around his head. There was deep bruising around his eyes, and an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose blurred more.
Slowly and quietly, Dr. Iplier stepped up beside Dark. Having been the ego to bring Yandere in, he'd been by Yandere's side the longest. A few had stopped by after hearing the news: Host, Orville, Wilford. The doctor knew Artie would have been there as well, were he not out of it himself. (He wouldn't have allowed Artie to move from his bed yet anyway. His stitches had barely begun to heal.) They had all left eventually, as there was little any of them could do.
"It's catatonia, not comatose. His... everything, it's in shock. Post-traumatic stress disorder, to put it simply. It's... it's so severe he isn't even responding to extreme external stimuli. Only his eyes have moved since you brought him in, and... I felt it might be easier to just close them."
That had been Dr. Iplier's diagnosis, once he'd done all he could for Yandere's physical injuries. He was hardly a psychiatrist, but he knew enough to recognize the details of Yandere's condition. Part of him wished it was a coma, even if it meant there was less chance of Yandere waking up. At least he would be unconscious. At least he could be at rest, instead of trapped within this frozen state of muteness and loss of motor functions.
It was part of the reason for his quiet, besides the somber atmosphere. He turned to Dark and his tone, while hardened with accusation, was subdued. "...If he'd been human, he would have died before hitting the floor, from what you explained to me. If he were a weaker ego, he would have died before you could bring him to me. He should have... even with his materials and fan base, he shouldn't have survived the surgeries."
Dr. Iplier's grip tightened on the edges of his clipboard and he chewed at his lip. "I spent twelve hours alone realigning his bones. Another six painstakingly removing their fragments from his organs. Another six patching up the lacerations and tears, I... I don't believe in miracles, Dark." His brown eyes glanced to the older ego's face, but it hadn't so much as twitched. Those dark eyes were still locked onto Yandere, greyed hands clasped stiffly behind his back. Dr. Iplier sighed. "Some combination of his support and his abilities pulled him through it, but Dark... I can't do anything for his mind."
Finally, finally Dark turned to evenly meet his gaze. It was chilling and demeaning but beneath that noxious surface lay other suppressed emotions. He didn't say anything, though, so Dr. Iplier continued. "Your shadows broke more than his body. I think there's more to it than a disorder caused by the conflict. I think they left something behind."
Dark quirked one solitary brow, silently offering Dr. Iplier the chance to explain further.
Well, at least he was listening. That alone was more than the doctor had allowed himself to hope for. He sighed again, scribbling something down on the paper attached to his clipboard. It was just a doodle, but it helped him feel productive; helped steady his nerves. "Your shadows caused this, Dark. Your aura, whatever you want to call it. They did this... and I believe they're the only thing that can fix it. It's the only treatment I can think of."
When Dark spoke, it was akin to a subtle shock in the room. The already chilly clinic lowered a few degrees in temperature. "He's an ego. Not a human. Surely, he can work through this."
Dr. Iplier immediately shook his head. "I don't think so. We've never dealt with something like this before, but... Dark. Look at Host. Look at what your abilities have caused him. That was in a controlled state. This... this was catastrophic. There's no other word for it. You know this is something only you can address." He looked to Dark again, working up the nerve, his gaze sad and pleading. He might not be especially close to Yandere, but he never wanted to lose an ego.
Dark was tense. Dr. Iplier could see the frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. "...if I refuse?"
Dr. Iplier's brow furrowed and unlike the other ego, he allowed his frown to show. "Then... my prognosis is bleak. I don't think.... It's not a matter of him dying, Dark. If Yandere stays like this... if he can't be who he is... the fans will lose interest. They'll forget. He'll fade, Dark. He'll fade if he can't be everything Mark created him to be."
Dark turned away from Dr. Iplier, then, but the doctor could still see the tension in his face. He could see the internal debate swirling around in those dark eyes and knew in that moment the responsibility had been taken from his hands. He'd done all he could for Yandere. The rest was up to Dark now; the ego who had driven him to this state. "...I'll consider it. Leave us."
Dr. Iplier almost protested, concerned for exactly what Dark might be inclined to do, but in the end he knew giving Dark privacy would be for the best. Dark wouldn't do anything so long as he lingred, so long as there were witnesses. No, this was a matter he and Yandere needed to sort out themselves.
How Dark planned to do it, Dr. Iplier had no idea. But for Yandere's sake, he hoped it would be something successful.
Once left alone, Dark released a heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped and he allowed his rigid posture to fall as the full weight of the situation settled within him. He forced his fingers to unclench, hands releasing each other to swing listlessly to his sides. Still, the emotion didn't show on his face, only lingering in the depths of his eyes. Even alone, he had standards to uphold.
"Only I can fix this, hm?" He murmured to himself, stepping forward until he could grasp at the short bed rail. He leaned forward on it, looming over Yandere until the shadow he cast engulfed a majority of the younger ego. He didn't so much as twitch in response.
Dark's eyes narrowed. "Only I.... Why should I be required to fix anything? I warned the brat. I told him not to play with forces he couldn't even dream of. He didn't listen, and now he faces the consequences. It's a lesson." The words were a rumbling growl under his breath; a deep rumble in his chest. This was why he wished to be alone. He needed privacy to sort out his thoughts.
To make a decision.
He scoffed lightly and leaned back. "They all still blame me. For all of this. Everything. You were the one who stabbed the artist. You were the one who nearly destroyed the building. You were the one who signed his own death sentence- it was practically a suicide! Yet I am to blame for this. For everything. And now they want me to fix it. To fix you." He scoffed, again, harsher and more demeaning.
Dark forced his gaze away from Yandere, though he couldn't bring it to focus on anything else. He merely glowered into the liminal space. "I am required to do nothing. I have no guilt or remorse for my actions. I knew this outcome was a possibility. I knew the risks. Perhaps you should have considered them more."
He didn't know if Yandere could hear him. Catatonia, Dr. Iplier had emphasized, not comatose. Sometimes, that meant the victim was still conscious, or aware. Others, they might as well have been comatose. Even if Yandere couldn't hear or comprehend Dark's words, he felt compelled to address the bedridden ego. This was all his doing. All of the accidents. If Dark had his way, none of this would have happened. No one would have been significantly hurt.
Yandere would have broken, most definitely, but only to the point of becoming Dark's puppet. Not like this. Not so broken he couldn't even blink or breathe on his own, with his tattered and bruised lungs. Dark's grip tightened on the plastic beneath his hands until the grey of his knuckles turned bone white.
He hissed under his breath. "It failed because of you. It failed because you couldn't simply play along. You had to get ideas. You had to fight back. If you'd simply let me in...."
Yet, that was precisely a reason the aura was so attracted to Yandere. His stubbornness and strength of will; two qualities Dark had himself. Necessary traits if one were to even attempt to wield the darkness. Yandere had them, and he'd used them, and they were key factors as to how he was capable of undermining Dark in the first place. His aura had been all too eager for fresh meat and a more susceptible mind. It was precisely the outcome he'd tried so hard to avoid.
"If only you'd let me in... instead of it...."
Dark finally looked back to Yandere, expression grim and pensive. He allowed some of his tiredness to show; a weariness creasing at his brow and forming lines on his face. Ripping one of his hands from the railing, he hesitantly reached out. Grey fingers found the most prominent tuft of red at the front of Yandere's head and brushed it back with a gentleness that was not contrived. Again, Yandere didn't stir, not even the monitor shifting its rhythm.
He might as well already be dead.
But he wasn't. Yandere wasn't, and even if he did die, he would come back. But it was impossible to know if his resurrection would break the stupor. If his fans would even have faith enough to revive him. If Dark allowed the contaminent, the issue, the "infection" to linger, would it only worsen? Would it become truly impossible to address?
Dark did not want Yandere to fade. Like Dr. Iplier, it didn't matter what his relationship to any given ego happened to be. He would do everything in his power to make certain none of them faded or disappeared. It had always been his primary goal, since the beginning.
Yandere couldn't fade. Dark would not allow it. Much as he refused to accept blame, refused to acknowledge his mistakes or his guilt, refused to admit he cared. He would not allow Yandere to disappear, be it of his own devices or Dark's machinations. He was in control here. He was the king of the castle and all who lived in it.
Dark closed his eyes and leaned back, hand returning to the railing. He drew in a deep, steadying breath and focused all of his attentions upon his aura. His shadows. His darkness. He attuned every last sense to the writhing mass of power and malice.
It sang to him. Spoke to him. It caressed his skin and brushed at his hair like an old friend. Like a faithful companion, but Dark knew better. He knew how those gentle touches could turn to teeth and claws; the murmurs a biting demand gnawing at the unwary mind. He'd had years to learn about the aura and comprehend its every quirk. It took experience to control; to master.
Yandere never stood a chance.
Once certain of his grasp on the aura, Dark, pressed it forward. Like so many times in the past week, he let his energy seep into the ego before him. Yet this time, it wasn't alone. This time, Dark wasn't merely standing back to watch and to wait. This time, Dark was going with it.
He would find Yandere, and he would bring him back. Or else.
Alright, so, here it is. Boy even though the outline came to me like breathing, actually writing the thing out was a little hard. I haven’t written much Dark or Yandere so it was an experience balancing out my personal interpretation with those that I’ve seen on Tumblr and AO3. Took a lot of inspiration from @alcordraws, of course.
Including the idea for the fic itself. So go give them some love! It's gonna revolve primarily around Yandere and Dark, with cameos from the other egos. Though third person, just a heads up that the POV will be switching from chapter to chapter between the two, just so we can get a clue as to what exactly is going on in their heads. ;)
Without further ado, let’s get this crazy train rolling!
AO3 Mirror
Chapter 1: Discovery
Dark liked to think of himself as astute. Observant. Well aware of not only his surroundings, but those occupying them. It was a key aspect of being a manipulator. If he didn't have a grasp on all the details, every last puzzle piece, then that left room for surprises. The unexpected. Things that could trip up his charm and psychological cues and alert his target to the truth.
Yet, it took him an exhorbitantly unusual amount of time to realize something was off about one of his own egos. The beings who lived and worked at Egos, Inc.; seeking to maintain their respective footholds in their creator's community and avoid simply fading out of existence.
Granted, the ego in question had always been difficult to read. He wasn't predictable like the rest of them. His emotions, personality and goals all tended fluctuate wildly from one given moment to the next. Just when Dark thought he had the ego figured out, he'd switch on a dime for seemingly no reason at all. Sometimes Dark wondered if the ego was even more unpredictable than Wilford Warfstache himself. Now that was a terrifying thought.
No, Yandereplier was certainly one of the more volatile, malleable egos. It wouldn't be such a big deal, were it not for just how unstable the ego was. Try as they might to understand his triggers and avoid them like the plague, something new would inevitably set Yandere off. Understandably, that meant most of the egos gave him a very wide berth. Not that he seemed to mind.
Dark was not one of those egos. Dangerous or not, Dark didn't fear any of his fellow creations. Fear was a form of control, and admitting to or showing the emotion would give that control to whoever dared cause it. Dark would never allow it. He was in control. He controlled himself, his aura, the building and all the egos within it. He'd worked far too hard to let anyone pry that iron grip from his icy hands. That included Yandere.
However, something seemed more and more "off" about the ego with every instance of their meeting. Yandere was never invited to the board room, but he occupied the same building as Dark. They were bound to cross paths even if Dark preferred the cool, shadowed sanctity of his office.
Most often, it was a quick exchange in the numerous hallways. Occasionally, they'd be taking a meal in the break room at the same time. Yandere never stopped by to visit Dark, and Dark reciprocated that decision.
Recently, however, some of the egos had been calling "family meetings," of a sort. Dark would always scoff at the term, seeing as they were about the farthest thing from a family that a group of people could get. Yet he attended the droll things anyway just to make certain they weren't plotting anything against him, and to be sure no one died. It always tended to be chaos when more than a few egos got together in the same room.
Apparently, during these meetings grievances and ideas were meant to be aired out for group opinion and approval or dismissal. It was supposed to help stop unnecessary conflicts and arguments which tore threw parts of the building and would leave it in shambles. Dark hardly cared; he only listened for the information.
These meetings were what truly tipped him off to Yandere's odd behavior.
They didn't use the board room for these. They would gather outside if the day was nice, or in the break room, or occasionally one of the nice sitting rooms that came with the building. Once or twice the meeting was even hosted in the studio. This meant the egos could lounge wherever they pleased, with whomever they pleased. There were no real rules and it became quite clear very quickly which egos got along with each other.
The Googs would always form their tight knit square in a corner. Bing would be nearby with Bop at his shoulder. Silver, Ed, Dr. Iplier and King would form an amalgamous sort of band and clump into pairs or one big group depending on their moods. Bim hovered near Wilford, always, with the Jims close behind. Host obediently sat at Dark's right wherever he happened to be. Artiplier and Yandere were the odd ones. Sometimes they'd be off on their own, sometimes they would be huddled together, and sometimes Artie would decide he wanted to be near the Host for a meeting.
Inexplicably, when this happened, Yandere would sit on Dark's other side. He wasn't sure if Yandere was simply protective of Artie or feeling left out, but so long as the ego left him alone he didn't mind.
Dark had to wonder if the subtlety of the changes were the reason it took him so long to catch on. Yandere had various ticks and warning signs to him, but it required paying severe attention to every little twitch and blink. Dark didn't have the patience for that sort of thing when he'd much rather be absorbing details about the egos he could control.
Yet when Yandere began to twitch and fidget anxiously beside him during a particularly long and boring meeting, Dark decided it was time to delve into this peculiarity. At least it would be entertaining. Calling upon his most soothing voice, Dark probed at the younger ego with his aura while he spoke at a low volume. No need to disturb the proceedings. "Are you alright?"
Yandere flinched, head jerking to the side in a manner that looked almost painful. When he glanced to Dark, his eyes were wide; pupils shrunk down to the point it was a wonder he could see anything at all. The smile on his mouth was beyond strained. "Oh! Yami. Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired from studying for my exams, ha HA ha HA ha...."
Dark slowly quirked a brow. Yandere's voice, while still sugary sweet, was clearly as tense as the rest of him. The words sounded forced past his teeth and his laugh wasn't the "adorable" giggle it tended to be. No, everything about the young ego beside him screamed "unhinged." Dark prodded a bit harder, attempting to ascertain the cause. "I know you must study hard. Are you sure there isn't anything else? Anything that might be... bothering you? Making you uncomfortable?" His dark eyes settled on Yandere's hands; his fingers twisting and tugging at his pleated skirt. "You're fidgeting."
Yandere burst out an uncomfortable laugh at that, immediately removing his hands from the garment entirely. The sound drew a glance or two from the nearest egos but for the most part went ignored. Outbursts from Yandere were nothing new. "Am I? Oh. Maybe I had too much caffeine this morning. It always gets me so excited, ne!"
Dark wanted to grimace at the contrivity of it all. He understood what it was like to try containing emotions that eventually burst forth from a cracked shell, but Yandere was terrible at it. Host's muttered narrations at his back had changed tune, and in his peripheral he noticed Artie was no longer paying attention to the meeting. He seemed concerned. Dark made a mental note and pressed on. His understanding of the situation was deepening. "You don't seem excited. You appear nervous, Yandere. Am I... making you uncomfortable?"
He leaned further into the ego's space, pressing down with his aura. Yandere had never shown fear towards Dark before, but maybe something had changed. It felt like the power he pushed at Yandere just kept going. Rather than stopping and ensnaring or engulfing the ego, it simply... drained away. Disappeared somewhere. Dark didn't like it. "You can be honest. I'll move, if you like."
Yandere's muscles were growing more tense with each passing second. He was crumpling, slumping beneath Dark's looming posture but not leaning away from him. He wasn't showing apprehension, but the anxiety was still there. Dark's ego was doing its job- or at least, he believed it was. Yandere's next words were forced past gritted teeth. "Yami, you don't scare me. I'm fine. I just... I just think I need some air! It's too stuffy in here, ha HA ha...." The corner of his mouth dipped into a steep, nearly pained frown.
"Yandere..." Dark weedled just a bit more of his power forward. He needed to know where it was going. He could feel the Host at his back, debating an interruption. Artie was poised with feet flat on the ground and hands on his chair. Even Wilford, across the room, was beginning to shoot Dark squinty-eyed looks. He'd have to back off soon. His icy fingers touched Yandere's quivering arm. "I don't think-"
Abruptly and without warning, Yandere gave an ear-piercing wail. Immediately, any ongoing conversations ceased and all eyes whipped around towards the source. Several of the egos were cringing away or still covering their ears. Dark felt a rush of energy slam into him with enough force to push him back away from Yandere, giving him the space he needed to leap up. Behind him, Host folded over on himself and Artie toppled out of his chair. A quick glance at Wilford showed the ego resting twitching fingers on the gun at his belt.
Yandere stood, every last muscle in his body pulled taut like a rubber band. His arms stuck out to either side, fingers splayed and crooked into unsettling positions. As if they itched for a knife, or to wrap around someone's delicate neck. His head twitched ceaselessly to one side while he stared with wide, crazed eyes at the rest of the room. His mouth was pulled tight into an unreadable expression.
Dark could feel the power rolling off of Yandere in waves and for one of the few times in his existence, he was stunned. He could feel how his own aura tinged the energy flowing out of Yandere and his curiosity was instantly piqued. He stared with the rest of them, wondering what the snapped ego would do now.
Yandere heaved several ragged breaths through his teeth. The muscles in his face were all screwed up tight but he didn't seem to have a target for his sudden aggression. His eyes flicked among the egos present before he let loose a smaller scream, storming out of the room in a flurry of skirts. He'd ripped the door half off its hinges when he exited, and he didn't bother closing it behind him.
Various egos exchanged confused, wary glances as crashes and more screams echoed back from down the hall, but they eventually gave way to silence. Wherever Yandere had gone, no one was willing to follow. Hopefully he would take his destruction outside of the building.
Bim had come over the moment he felt it safe enough to help Artie back onto his feet. They both immediately turned their attentions to Host, who assured them he was just fine. Wilford, seeing how shaken the group was, called an end to the meeting and warned them all to give Yandere some space.
A lot of space.
Then he strolled over to where Dark was still sitting, contemplating everything he'd just witnessed. He rested his hands on his hips and shot the shadowy ego a suspicious, wary look. "And just what are you smiling about? You wouldn't have anything to do with whatever all that was now would you, Darky?"
Dark glanced to the ruined door. Slowly, he clenched his hand into a fist where it rested against his leg. He could still recall that surge of raw power; how his own aura had been funneled into it without his knowing. He understood, now. He'd put the pieces together and the possibilities set the gears to turning within his mind. He tried not to look too smug as he met Wilford's withering gaze. "Of course not. He was already tense. Something must have just made him snap. You know how teenagers are, Wilford."
Yandere could feed off his aura. Yandere could feed off his aura, and apparently he didn't even know. But Dark knew. And Dark didn't plan to let the possibilities slip through his fingers.
Yandere wasn't feeling very much like himself lately.
Murder... destroy... rip, tear, shred...
For the past week, it felt as if he'd been on a steady decline. Physically, mentally and emotionally. He'd rolled into some kind of "funk" without realizing and couldn't seem to claw his way out of it, no matter how hard he tried. Every attempt at sanity, every grasp for calm, every chance for contemplation wound up smothered.
Panic. Anxiety. Fear. Paranoia. Anger.
He was just so angry.
Feed us...
Yandere would admit he had a bit of a temper, but the amount of outbursts he'd had lately were record breaking. Sometimes he couldn't even identify what exactly set him off. The fact there was no obvious cause(s) was what truly terrified him. If there wasn't a cause, then what if he really was just going crazy? What if his adorable quirks and tics were finally taking their toll?
Mark hadn't made a video on him in so long.
Was he... losing himself...?
Consume...
No, no he couldn't be. Sure, he was a little unstable, but that didn't mean he failed to grasp at who he was. What he was meant to be; to do. He was Yandereplier. He was sweet and vicious; cute and cunning; weeby and murderous. He had his senpai, and his adorable uniform, and his favorite knife. He was a figment.
He had his playthrough origins, his animations, even a live action skit! Not everyone could claim that. Not everyone was as loved and remembered as he was.
If Mark's fans couldn't forget him, then how could he possibly forget himself?
It didn't make any sense to Yandere. He tried and tried to figure it out, but always the static returned to his ears. Always the ringing buzzed in his brain, turning his thoughts foggy. He'd get so agitated when he heard the sounds. The voices never stopped, they'd been going endlessly for a while now and even for Yandere it was becoming too much. He couldn't escape them. Couldn't escape it.
We hunger...
The shadow tailing him. The burning eyes in the darkness. The softest of footfalls. The hush of breath that wasn't his own. He knew it was there. Yandere knew someone was there. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't.
Unhinged...
No, it didn't matter what the others said. What Mark or the fans said. Yandere was a loose cannon, but he wasn't crazy. He wasn't paranoid. He knew something was after him.
No one would care. Yandere couldn't confront his shifty stalker, and he had no one to ask for help. Most of the others were scared of him; terrified. He hadn't cared before, but now it was a hindrance. Those who didn't fear him, didn't care for him. Or he knew they'd just call him crazy.
Not crazy I'm not crazy I'm not I'm not I'm n o t
Feed...
Yandere didn't exactly have... friends. Dark had been an idol of sorts, before he started acting... weird. Wilford was almost like a guardian to Yandere, but he never took anything seriously. The Host, while occasionally matching Yandere's wavelength, was too anxious. The Googs held zero interest. The rest, as mentioned, were simply terrified of him. There was only one ego who seemed capable of not only tolerating Yandere and all his intricacies, but also listening.
And he'd shoved him into a damn wall.
It was less that Artie had avoided Yandere since, and more the other way around. After his outburst in the meeting room, Yandere had been worried he might lash out again. His actions were so unpredictable lately; his mind a darkened mess. Artie wasn't like some of the other egos. He was weak. His sole source of "protection" was a delayed one, and there was nothing to stop Yandere from shoving a knife through his chest.
No, no it was better to stay away from him.
Even if it meant Yandere had become incredibly lonely.
We're here... we care... we'll listen... tell us all... give us all... kill...
Yandere curled up tighter at the base of his senpai shrine. He'd given up on running and hunkered down in his most sacred of places with the hope it would help somehow. He was so tired of running.
He was so tired.
Rest... we're here... sleep... embrace...
He hiccuped, sniffling around another stifled sob. He knew he was a mess. Yandere's uniform was stained with dirt and blood and a plethora of other culprits, his kerchief crooked and close to falling off. His long, red hair was ragged and disheveled where it hung over his face. His fingers, also stained with blood, were curled tightly into the strands; gripping and tugging. His face was red and puffy from crying, still wet and sticky with tears and snot. It was all he'd been able to do.
Cry and cry, and wonder what was happening. If the others had even noticed anything was wrong; different. If they cared. Probably not. He'd brought that indifference upon himself, but he never thought he'd need their attentions. Need their assistance. He was caught up in the trap of his own scattered mind and like a disjointed hall of mirrors, he couldn't find the way out.
Yandere cried out as another wave of static and negativity washed over him. It was palpable now, tangible, tingling like tiny needles against his skin. His extremities kept going numb without getting cold. It felt as if all the colors kept trying to drain away.
He didn't understand.
Kill.
He didn't understand.
Maim.
And though he didn't understand, he still felt those eyes. Those burning, terrible eyes melting across the back of his skull and boring deep into his mind. Nowhere was safe. He was never safe.
He was drowning, and no one could hear his screams.
I just wanna take a moment and thank you guys for all the kind words, be they in tags, asks or comments on AO3. You can ask @alcordraws, I was hella nervous about this fic when I started writing it. I wasn’t confident in the writing or characterization at all.
But now those fears are gone and I’ve gotten completely sucked into the thick of it! We’re not getting off this ride just yet, my friends. It’s all downhill from here... buckle up, buttercups. We’re going in.
AO3 Mirror
Chapter 3: Analyzing
Dark would admit, he'd been a little reckless.
After the first outburst during the meeting, he should have known simply flooding Yandere with his aura would result in uncontrollable chaos. His aura was a powerful, ancient thing. There was a reason it had attached itself to him and never leeched onto another ego. A majority of them wouldn't be able to handle it. Just a smidgen of Dark's influence, and they crumbled.
The more powerful egos, the reality benders like himself, could possibly wrangle the beast. Dark wouldn't know. He'd never give any of them the opportunity to try. The darkness was his to master, his to control, and his to utilize as he saw fit.
Yandere was different.
Dark could feel it. Something about the ego called to his aura. Something dark and demented and utterly twisted. Perhaps it was the part of himself Dark often saw in Yandere. The schemer, the conniver, the manipulator. Determined to accomplish his goals no matter the cost. That kind of hunger was precisely what called the aura to him in the first place.
Yet Dark's resolve remained. His determination and willpower were stronger; his cause greater. He was not afraid of Yandere stealing his aura away. The ego didn't even understand what was happening. He was just another pawn on the chess board before Dark. A pawn which had been elevated to something more valuable.
If Dark could simply harness this potential Yandere had, the possibilities would truly be endless. A puppet with powers similar to his own but trapped firmly beneath his thumb. Someone powerful he could direct without backtalk or questioning. He could still remember that surge of energy that nearly bowled him over during the meeting.
It was... thrilling. Enticing. Dark wanted more of it. He wanted it as his own.
He just had to be a little smarter about it. He'd gotten impatient and excited and paid the consequences. Hopefully, Yandere's nature would incite the same naivety it always did. No more looming or oppressive stunts. Dark was going to pull himself back, draw himself up and wield the persona Mark had laid the groundwork for. Yandere, while complex in personality, was simple in motivation and mind. A few key words and the ego would be putty in his hands.
Thus, throughout the week that followed, Dark put into motion his latest plans. Rather than confronting Yandere while he was alone or sending the full force of his aura crashing over the young ego like some ocean wave, he kept his influence minimal.
In the hallways, Dark would brush past Yandere as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all. He'd allow a bit of his energy to seep into Yandere as he passed, but otherwise go about his merry way. Yandere never reacted in an extreme, though Dark noticed the longer he did it, the more tense Yandere seemed to become. By the end of the week, he would twitch the moment Dark entered the vicinity.
That wasn't all, though.
Dark crossed paths with Yandere in the break room several more times. Occasionally by pure accident, but mostly on purpose. He would hunt Yandere down and wiggle a bit of his aura into Yandere's personal space. Only he was aware of it, so even if other egos were present (which was rare), no one had a clue he was up to anything. If Yandere proceeded to jerk about or breathe heavier or grasp tightly at whatever he was holding, well, it was just Yandere being his usual, unstable self.
It wasn't just the break room. After the first day or two, Dark had taken to hunting Yandere down everywhere. Sometimes, he wouldn't even reveal himself. He would track Yandere to his room, or a lounge, or one of the board rooms. He would follow him outside and to the roof and the basement, lurking in the shadows.
Wherever he went, whenever he found Yandere, he would push forth another sliver of his power. It almost became a sort of game. One Yandere was completely unaware of. The only egos who seemed to notice the shift in Dark's behavior were Wilford, who was always the first to notice if Dark was off; Google, who had eyes everywhere; Host, being Dark's right hand man and wisened by his visions and narrations; and Artie, simply because he was the only other person who willingly interacted with Yandere.
Dark had no idea what the extent of their relationship was. It appeared to be a tumultuous, tremulous thing. A weakly held together friendship supplemented with arts and crafts and gossip and whispers of the influences in their lives: senpai, and Red Man. (Dark was still trying to figure out who the latter was, much to his chagrin.)
However, none of them confronted him about his strange behavior. Either they were too frightened, or they didn't see any harm in it. There were always perks to being subtle; to taking the slow and steady route. It took time, and patience, but Dark was seeing more significant results than mere twitching and muttering by the week's halfway point.
Once, at the beginning of a meeting, Dark had drifted past Yandere as the ego was walking into the room. One little push and he seemed to tip over an edge; far smaller than the first two instances, but still a sign Dark's manipulations were having an effect. Yandere had turned to Artie, who'd been walking beside him, and thrown him into the nearest wall with absolutely no warning at all. He'd screamed, rambling about how Artie "wasn't his senpai," and then ran from the room after bursting into violent tears.
Artie had been alright besides a few bruises. He looked shaken and upset but that was merely a bonus for Dark. He'd ignored the way Host's face followed him through the room for the duration of the meeting and decided he wanted to see if he could make it happen again.
He'd succeeded. The very next day, Dark had found Yandere out in the lot behind the building. He was picking dandelions and humming to himself; the picture of peace and serenity. To any unknowing onlooker, Yandere could have passed for just an innocent schoolgirl- er, boy. It was instances like these Dark admired Yandere's ability to pose as nothing more than an angel. Were it not for Yandere's inability to maintain the charade once he'd snapped, Dark might actually have felt intimidated.
It was more difficult to breeze by Yandere outside, where there was less cover and more light. Thankfully, Yandere was prone to drifting into his own little world. Dark was certain the ego wouldn't have reacted to anything less than a touch.
Dark didn't need to touch Yandere to evoke his influence. In a sudden burst of rage, the young ego had screamed and pulled a knife from some inexplicable pocket within his garments. Like the reality benders, Yandere rarely seemed to follow the laws of physics. The only difference was the fact he couldn't quite manipulate them. With knife in hand but no targets in sight, Yandere had proceeded to slash and stab at the grass beneath his feet.
He'd screamed and snarled and hissed, spitting insults and threats at some invisible enemy while his blade dug into the dirt. Over and over he stabbed at the ground, falling to his knees and spilling tears onto the carnage. Dark watched the entire time, not deigning to leave until Yandere had crumpled into a heaving mess of tears, snot and saliva on the ground.
One of his personal favorite incidents had happened in the break room. Rather than whirl on Dark with murderous intent, Yandere had simply gripped the edge of the table and flipped it with a guttural cry of frustration. Like poking a lion trapped in a cage with a stick until it was driven to the brink of insanity. Dr. Iplier had been present and spilled his coffee all over himself. Bim, too, had very nearly been flattened by the table, as he'd been in the middle of breakfast at the time. Neither ego confronted Yandere about it before he stormed from the room in a rage.
Dark had followed, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips, hands clasped behind his back. Yes, this was the way to go about it. Continue pushing and pushing the other ego until his mind weakened enough to be manipulated. Until his aura could slip in and grasp onto the shell he had created without being sapped away into Yandere's own reserves.
By week's end, Yandere was doing his best to avoid Dark like the plague, but it wasn't so easy. Egos, Inc. belonged to Dark. He knew every nook and cranny of his blood, sweat and tears and there was nowhere Yandere could hide.
Dark would find him. Dark would push him. And soon, Dark would control him.
