Tear It Down

Kingdom Hearts IV trailer

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p*ypal: @/kadiancommissions / [email protected] c*shapp: $haydeetebelins

dog tax:

I use no Generative AI to write for me.

I use no Generative AI to create images for me.

I do not wish to write with people who actively use Generative AI.

If you write with me, you won't ever have to fear any AI being used to doing my replies for you. I will not feed your writing to ChatGPT and the like, and I would appreciate it if you don't feed my writing to any kind of Generative AI either. You do not have my consent to do so.

starting over - are you a little overwhelmed with where our thread is going? let me know, and i'd be happy to start a new one with you!

pausing - if you're feeling one thread more than another we have going on, that's perfectly fine! you're welcome to let me know if you'd like, but it's not a necessity.

multiples - if we have a ship that you love and you have many ideas for them, always feel welcome to throw them at me no matter what! while it may affect my reply speed due to having more, it doesn't affect my interest at all!

regrouping - maybe we initially had an idea that didn't pan out but you don't know how to say it? just shoot me a message and let me know you'd like to plot further/something else.

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It seemed like the other kid was a little freaked out by their escape but that was okay. He knew how to get away and by the time they'd stopped he was aware that the boy had something different about him. Something that wasn't familiar but was recognisable. That made sense, actually. If they were both freaks then that might be why the weird robot wanted them together. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried something like that.

But his eyes were also watering and his nose was running and he squeezed the other boy's hand. The hand that was suddenly checking his own, moving his fingers and checking his palm and he hesitated. He wasn't especially used to being touched by anyone even if the holding hands thing had been both necessary and really nice so being inspected felt a little weird.

On the other hand, this was the only person he kind of knew in an unfamiliar place. "I don' know if we de same but ain' met people like me befo'."

That thought and the little inspection made him reach for the pockets of the unfamiliar clothes and he frowned. "Ain' got my glasses. Dat ain' good. De adults ain' like de eyes." The little Cajun started to look around and reached back for his friend's hand. "We gotta find some sunglasses..." his stomach rumbled faintly and he tugged them towards the end of the alley, "An' maybe some food."

After a second he smiled, "My name's Remy what's y' name?"

No claws. No fangs. Victor actually seems disappointed by that, but not for long. Even if they aren't exactly the same, the eyes and lack of fear are enough. They'd be treated the same way by the people around them, and while Victor certainly won't tolerate that for himself ever again he's not going to leave Remy to suffer it either. The other boy is stuck with him, although the way he speaks is almost incomprehensibly strange sounding; he can understand most of it, but some of the words are combined in ways he's never heard before-- lunettes de soleil? What is that even supposed to be?

The other boy's name itches at his memory, though, as if it should be familiar somehow. A feeling like remembering that he's forgotten something but still can't put a finger on what. “...'m Victor.” Half-remembered manners and graces make him bounce their clasped hands awkwardly, exactly twice.

Remy mentioned food, though, and Victor is already sniffing at the air for anything that smells even half-way edible in the alley. Not a great idea on his part-- it smells overwhelmingly of rot and garbage even through his blocked nose, turning his empty stomach enough that he tastes something sour in the back of his throat.

Or maybe that's just his own hunger. He's been starved long enough to know what that feels like once the pain stops, and he can't remember the last time he'd eaten-- the last time he'd been fed; it would make sense if it's not the foulness making him feel ill but the desperation.

The idea alone is enough to spike his anxiety, get him fidgeting and looking around, entire upper body bobbing and swaying as he looks for any sign of something-- anything edible within easy reach. He thinks he can hear rats scurrying around in a big metal bin, and quickly he's leaning toward it like he's on the end of a chain with his ears literally twitching as he orients on the unseen target. Victor nearly jumps for the top lip of it, making it as far as crouching to gather himself before the pressure of his own grip on Remy's hand holds him back.