Abandoned By God Chapter 2, A Deal With The Devil, Part 7, Set Aflame.

À̷͝b̴͏̷̶͏a̢̨͜͠͞ǹ̢͏d̴̴̢͜o̸̧͘n҉͏e͟͡d̸̴̛͢͢ ̶̨́͢b͟͡y͢͞͝͏̨ ̷͘͜͡G͢ǫ̷̧͟ḑ̕͠ ̷͠  Chapter 2, A deal with the Devil, Part 7, Set Aflame.

It was after he had woken up. He remembers what he taught him in times like these. He had taught him, when panic invades his mind, tearing him from within. Count down from five, and breathe.

Five things you See. Red. Red was all. Pink is what he was used to seeing, but after blinking away some of that dreadful red.

Breath.

He saw the black metal floor,

Blink,

A flashing blue and red light,

Blink,

A small figure in the distance, and something seemingly waving behind her. Her? Wha- No, his breathing sped up and he knew he had to focus, something he wasn’t exactly known for. That’s for sure.

Breath.

He saw wires scattered around him as if they had been torn apart in a fight.

Four things he can feel, What can he feel? Pain. His chest was set aflame as his life force flooded out of him. Drain his very existence. Speaking of it,

There was a wet feeling on his fingers and left the side of his chest. And as his body went cold,

Warmth came with the blood. Ah, that’s what the red meant.

Breath.

His head was stuffed with cotton, and all his thoughts were on him.

Breath.

Why?

Breath.

He felt guilt claw its way through what was left of his chest and up to his throat, leaving his lips as a sob. He almost heard his voice in his ears confronting his thoughts and chaos that was his soul. He had to focus.

Three things he could hear.

Approaching steps,

A terrible ringing,

Why?

His heartbeat.

Why?

Two things he could smell.

Nothing. the warmth of the earth slipped away to absolutely nothing, no, less than nothing.

Less than nothing is what his existence had become. He was worthless for not being able t…

His world became red,

WHY?

He was his fucking friend,m, he had done everything he could, it was not his fault for what happened! He did what he had too, It wasn’t his fault Host was a fucking unstable mess.  It wasn’t his fault, iT WASNT HIS DAMN FAULT.

HOW. HOW COULD HE?!

His world flooded back in red as the fire in his chest changed to a different kind of destruction. Instead of it destroying him. It wanted to destroy the world around him. To tear it all apart and dance on the ashes and traitor who dared to say he didn’t have their best interest in mind. Wilford knows whats best.

How dare he?!

He felt his powers surged around him as reality was suddenly bending to him once more and ecstasy flooded through his veins. Finally. Finally. He was in control again. Finally. The world was his again. He took the strings of reality and bent everything around him to chaos. Not the pink chaos he was known for. But a strange monochrome that was familiar to another ego. He screamed. He screamed as loud as he could, in rage and agony and the disappearing guilt. And in the chaos and madness, he could almost hear Amy screams.

Oooh! It's so cool! Thank you for writing this! :D  You portrayed the Actor very well!  You guys should really check this person out, Their fics are amazing! 

Slow Burn

(Just a little quick angst thing I wrote to vent the pent up feelings in my life right now. It’s based on @adreamoverlife ‘s fanfic ‘Abandoned By God’ and it was the perfect outlet. I hope you don’t mind!)

Accompanying Song: Control by Halsey

He had felt it since the day he was renounced. It leeched from him like a disease, stealing his very essence and leaving him less and less the being he once was. The very moment denied was the moment a corroded spot of black reappeared on his soul. And from then on it had only grown.

The book was heavy in his hands, bound leather cool, delicate page pinched between his fingers and ready to turn when he so desired. A sight that wouldn’t have been abnormal by any means, if the reader himself didn’t appear to be completely blind, and perhaps even a touch sickly. And yet he sat there all the same, reclined in an old-looking burgundy leather couch, head and focus on the little black book in his lap.

He flipped the page.

Host knew he was by no means a saint. In all of this, he was guilty of just as many crimes as the two oldest among them, if not more. He may have had a narrower focus with many less casualties, but there was no arguments that his methods had more than made up for the lack of body count. His cruelty then had been paramount, and, in truth, he did not regret a thing. At least, not anymore so than any of the others did their own crimes anyway.

Perhaps that was why Mark had seen fit to end their existence. It wasn’t out of spite or cruelty, but safety. Safety for the masses, safety for his friends, safety for himself.

Safety for Amy.

“Daniel turned a corner, heart beating against his throat, blood rushing in his ears, drowning out the quick harsh pants that escaped his lips. His mind had turned animal in his desperation; prey seeking shelter from the predator that lurked hungrily in the dark…”

Hosts fingers began to shake. He felt a stirring in his soul that he quickly tried to quell with a hard swallow. It was growing more and more difficult to press down, with less and less reprieve each time he was successful. But after a moment of fight that seemed like an eternity, it sank back low within him to wait in the shadows, coiled like a snake waiting to strike,

It had just been three little words and suddenly they were all scrambling to stay alive. A cooperative effort to deprive them of where they drew their power. All it had taken was just one video acting a a cruel joke. And those three little words from the board room still haunted his mind.

‘We are done.’

“He slammed the door behind him, the echo cascading down the halls and filling the room he now resided in like a crash of thunder. And then, just like that, all was quiet. There were no growls of anger, no claws clacking against the wood, no eyes to watch hatefully from the other side. Nothing. For all Daniel knew, it could be gone…

“But the man knew better than to believe the Author would let him escape that easily.”

A laugh burbled free from the being’s lips and Host paused, slapping a hand to his own traitorous mouth.

Dark, naturally, had been the one who reacted the harshest. Mark had cut off not only all their power, but denied Dark access to potential victims. And it left the demon cracked and seething.

It had been quick work to employ Google_Blue to try and hack into Mark’s channel to post their own videos, for they all knew there would be no hope posting them anywhere else, but there was no such luck. Google’s glitching had returned with a vengeance and the furthest the poor bot could get was into Mark’s email, something the human had anticipated and booted Dark from the system almost immediately.

Though Host hadn’t seen him since his shell broke open entirely that day, his presence could still be felt and was consistently strongest on the top floor where he had enclosed himself. His aura still trickled through the halls unchecked, like smoke, inflicting anger and suffering on any unfortunate enough to encounter it. 

Wilford, ever the hopeless optimist, was the ‘action over reaction’ kind of thinker and immediately turned to his rejected TV pitch. It wasn’t hard to get Bim and Dr. Iplier sold into it, with a little sweetening of the pot of desperation for Silver. Oliver had also been happy to jump in and try to finagle the equipment into hacking the airwaves for broadcast dominance, but to Wilford’s own surprise and Bim’s immediate horror, their realized their waning control over their powers made it impossible to bend reality to the grand extent expected.

Bim retired to his room without another word while Wilford, palms shaking, started a shouting match with Silver that ended in the hero getting shot six times. Dr. Iplier made quick work of the the wounds and made to round on the pink menace, but found him disappeared without a trace.

Host had foreseen his turn coming and had tried his hardest to find a way to let them down gently. There was simply no way he could change anything on that grand of a scale, especially now when everyone was wasting away so painfully slowly. It burned him inside to be able to feel himself die all over again.

“Daniel didn’t know what made him do it. There wasn’t a particular sound or sensation of presence, but the man knew, as he slowly turned to the darkest corner of the room, that he was no longer alone. He peered into the darkness, and though he could see nothing, hear nothing, he suddenly found himself lunging for the door. But, to his crestfallen horror, the hand clicked stiffly in his hands. Locked.

“He screamed.”

Host didn’t realize he had blacked out until he came to, registering a different environment than where he last remembered. Cold grey tile, the smooth white porcelain of a sink, the pure and sheer reflectiveness of a mirror; the heavy and horribly familiar weight pulling on his arm.

The warm, iron laced tang of blood. It made his stomach lurch in a dangerously nostalgic way. 

Then came a cough. Seeing without seeing, Host could tell that someone was huddled in the corner, their sniffles and quiet moans of suffering telling more of a tale than Host’s words ever could. His fingers drew tighter around the old Louisville slugger, fingers creaking against the red tape as dread filled him to his core.

He turned to the mirror, twin hollow spaces void of light staring back at him in the gloom, his infinite mark of desperation and shame. He could feel the cloth that used to cover them wrapped around his wrist, tied tightly with hurried urgency. It was warm, wet, soaked through to his skin with the same substance that now flowed freely down his face.

That soft crying was becoming a nuisance, and in the egos tears, he felt that black spot begin to grow once more, cracks running through his fragile psyche until he could feel fire burning through until he could take no more. With a viscous snarl, he raised the bat and swung.

The bloodied ego in the corner screamed as the glass shattered into a million brilliant pieces, and within them he could see more than just his reflection staring back in those shards as they fell.

He panted, feeling more than seeing the way the glass glittered in the blood the pooling around his feet. As he calmed, he tilted his head back until he stared at the ceiling, watching with half lidded empty sockets as the light above him flickered and buzzed. A smile, soft and sad pulled at his lips as he began to speak with a gentle droll that betrayed the swirling hurricane of emotion within.

“And it was then, in that moment, that Daniel realized that nothing had been chasing him after all. The horror, the presence, had been within him all along.”

Waiting for the next chapter is probably really boring. So let's add some art to this blog, shall we? :D

I made one of those lol

You can send me a few or reblog it for yourself

What Would you guys do if I Wrote a One-Shot About the Sanders Sides?

I based this blog on Markiplier Egos. Then threw in the Septicegos (Who you will see more of s̴ooń) Since I just brought the septicegos here, do you all think it would be too much change at once to maybe write some Sanders Sides? 

Um, hi me again. Are you okay? You haven't posted in a while...

Hello, hello.I didn't want to make another announcement, I know that everyone thinks those are annoying, I was just gonna wait another day and leave an authors note in the next chapter.  But I guess I’ll just answer it here. I went to see the solar eclipse and it was a VERY long drive. I was so busy packing, I forgot to work on the next chapter, or post any artwork at all. I worked on artwork during the drive, but I can't show you any of the artwork because it contains spoilers for where the plot is going in AbG. (Abandoned by God) I’ll try to have the next chapter posted tomorrow, Its about 1/4 done right now, but I think I can pull an all-nighter than grammar check it tomorrow. :) As for feeling okay,

I haven't been feeling myself lately...

À̷͝b̴͏̷̶͏a̢̨͜͠͞ǹ̢͏d̴̴̢͜o̸̧͘n҉͏e͟͡d̸̴̛͢͢ ̶̨́͢b͟͡y͢͞͝͏̨ ̷͘͜͡G͢ǫ̷̧͟ḑ̕͠ ̷͠  Chapter 2, A deal with the Devil, Part 6, Glitch who Needs no Introduction.

He doesn't think he’ll ever forget it. Not now, not ever. He’ll never forget the look on Jacks' face when he took control. When he showed once and for all he wasn't something to be played with. Not something that would just cooperate with everything his maker said.

There was a hunger for power and attention. He was the main event, the reason why they all watched. He was the clock ticking away the audiences long hours theorizing and roleplaying. It was intoxicating his already twisted mind and was more gratifying more than any other sensation he'd ever felt. He recognized that look of exhilaration on its face.

What is that?

There was a thing of beauty in front of him as Anti watched from the screen wondering who in the world could this creature of independence be? Marks panicked speech all but muted by the vengeful roar of the bat swiping through the air. The strikes were calculated, each had a designated target, making each one potentially fatal. A beautiful dance of emotions.

But it was wasted on a definite partner who could never appreciate the beauty of it.

He processed the expression on Marks' face.

It was the same as Jacks.

Who is this?

The figment orchestrating the Creators doom was made of well-built form cloaked in a casually black button up vertically white striped quarter sleeved shirt. Grey pants with torn up knees covered his legs. His slip on shoes a darker gray. It would make sense for him to have slip ons, for he didn't seem like the type to have good knot tying abilities as where his eyes (maybe?) once were. All that remained were black sockets. Eyes that enveloped Anti with a story that was better than any book could ever hope. That's when the smell hit him. It was the smell of blood and decay, but with an after thought of pain and ink. Anti stared through the screen of the monitor and wondered,

Who is he?

He may not know who he was, but he knew exactly what he was going through.

Pink flooded his vision and Anti fled the monitor and retreated back to the depths of the code out of surprise. the feeling of solitude slithering down his spine. he wanted to go back, to see and hear more about this stranger he knew from a glance.

No.

He had come here for a reason, he could not abandon his goals just because he had seen another one of Marks discarded creations. No

He would simply hunt the mystery ego down after he got a physical form.

Speaking of,

Anti swam through the sea of code searching for the status of the Googles. He bypassed the firewall easily, Hm. The Googles prided themselves on their security, but it looked like this software hadn’t been updated or maintained in months. Makes it easy for him.

Google Unit Red- Offline

Google Unit Yellow- Pending

Google Unit Blue- O̶nl͙͙i҉̘n̜͙̝̯͐ͥ̌͘͟͝e̶͈̭͙̘̯͎͕̥ͬ̾ͩ̅͘͜

Google Unit Green-Powering Up

Anti figures Green is the best way to go as, last time he checked, Green had the most information. Antis face cracked a sickening smirk as he waited for Green to power up, waited for the moment his system was the most valuable, and then like a snake is on the grass, jumped from the computers code to Greens mainframe the second the androids eyes split open.