Love the anonymouse!
She did me a fic, and in e-mail told me I could repost it, and she almost called it Doze.
So, here's Doze, a giftfic by my anonymouse. She said she couldn't write either, everyone heart at it or something. ::waves it at her F-list::
Title: Doze
Author: Anonymouse T
Fandom: FF7/YYH
He does not know, at first, what is going on. In truth, he will have no idea about what happened for a long time. He will never come to know of the details. For now, however, what he does know is that there is something very, very wrong. He knows that he is unconscious, or partially unconscious. He is distantly aware of the pain, but what worries (should worry) him is the numbness. He has never been fast, but now his thoughts move far too sluggishly through his mind, and he can no longer feel his body.
He spends some moments (or maybe some decades) in suspension, and, if he knew the concept, he might have thought of it as a strange, disturbing dream. If he had been aware, he might have decided from the beginning that this was some kind of illusion created by a higher demon - he had often seen them spin refined, subtle illusions of impressive creativity and attention to detail, capable of enveloping a victim for decades or maybe more, designed to drive those caught in it into varying degrees of madness.
He starts waking up a little. He feels demonic presences flickering around him, strong ones, and another presence he is unable to identify, and then he feels the pain.
Years (centuries) in the Makai taught him… things. Reactions. Patterns. He is in pain and he is being restrained - he follows his instincts and tries to lash out. That’s when he discovers he has to fight for control of this body.
He spends quite some time after that observing, and trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Thinking has never been his strongest point - his brain once belonged to a human intellectual, but he learned very little in the Ningenkai; his vocabulary, as most of what he knows, is due to stolen books and some strange lessons from Makai inhabitants - knowledge is power, after all, so he did learn some things - but one of the lessons he learned best is that sometimes it is better being stupid. (Not a fool, just stupid. That is important. Do not call attention to yourself, be just strong enough to kill the small fry and just wise enough to keep out of the way of the strong predators, act on basic, predictable instincts and keep nothing valuable, be it secrets or beauty or gold: in the Makai, no one a truly dangerous will ever get interested in someone as boring as you.)
This is one of the main reasons for him discarding the theory of this being an intricate illusion - he is too tedious for any mastermind to bother with, and any high demon fickle enough to simply pick the nearest target around would have tired of this by now. He does not know, nor does he care, about what conclusions the others came to, but he once asked the most powerful of them about their situation, simply to receive confirmation that this is real. None of them question the most powerful one, for he is an S-class, one who was once called Satan in the Ningenkai and deemed the most powerful of demons, and even here on the back of a no longer human mind his power is terrifying.
He knows that the others are not weak, he himself is not weak, but he can feel them - a lupine mind relying mostly, if not solely, on instinct, as he himself did until not too long ago, and an assassin presence, lusting for blood. He cannot feel the third one, and for a while it takes all the control he has to keep himself from feeling worried.
He watches the man whom they will eventually start thinking of as theirs, and the man who reminds him far too much of somebody he used to know, interact and tries not to remember too much. Everything is far too alike to his past for his peace of mind. Everything is just different enough that he sometimes finds himself making comparisons.
He knows that the others have been troubling the not-human, the one who has control of the body. He is not really interested in their power plays - he is not really interested in anything, lately, and he tells himself that he only watches the outside world because there is nothing else to do, because he is getting bored, because he is looking for a chance to escape. There is a morbid sort of fascination in watching such a similar story play out in such a dissimilar way, and though he never understands the feelings or the motives behind the actions, he can’t make himself look away.
He is, very vaguely, aware of emotions, in the same way he was not exactly aware of the pain in those distant first days. Pain which was not his to feel. Except that the body was, in a way, his, so maybe the pain did belong to him after all. The emotions feel faded and controlled, like something that has been put away and sealed in a box.
They had come to feel some respect for the not-human, if only because of his willpower. He does not let any of them take control of his body for very long, and it gets more and more difficult to fight for it as the days pass. Even the most powerful one has difficulty wrestling control from him now.
They all watch him now, all four of them.
There is power in feelings. There is power in memories, in history. They cannot fight him physically, and he has a strong spirit. Soon they are whispering into his mind, asking him questions he does not want to answer, telling him truths he does not want to hear (though to be fair he does not want to hear them at all), never really weakening him but taking him closer then ever to the edge, closer to the invisible line of his limits. Closer to breaking.
They do not always mean harm. Doing nothing is boring, and they are curious. They hurt him nonetheless.
The story that seemed to be so similar to his own had always been quite different, in the end, and its finale reflects that: the bride which always existed but chose somebody else gets sick and weak and eventually disappears. The doctor regrets nothing that he has done and, indeed, fully intends to do it all over again. The experiment rages against itself, accepts its condition as a punishment that does nothing to lessen the guilt it feels, and tries to die. Except that it doesn’t manage to.
He never quite manages to understand how they ended up in the coffin. He does understand that the not-human does not want to get out.
The others are both angry and somewhat grimly satisfied at this turn of events. The not-human has done his best to ignore them for a long time. He will have to listen to them now.
--anonymouse
So, here's Doze, a giftfic by my anonymouse. She said she couldn't write either, everyone heart at it or something. ::waves it at her F-list::
Title: Doze
Author: Anonymouse T
Fandom: FF7/YYH
He does not know, at first, what is going on. In truth, he will have no idea about what happened for a long time. He will never come to know of the details. For now, however, what he does know is that there is something very, very wrong. He knows that he is unconscious, or partially unconscious. He is distantly aware of the pain, but what worries (should worry) him is the numbness. He has never been fast, but now his thoughts move far too sluggishly through his mind, and he can no longer feel his body.
He spends some moments (or maybe some decades) in suspension, and, if he knew the concept, he might have thought of it as a strange, disturbing dream. If he had been aware, he might have decided from the beginning that this was some kind of illusion created by a higher demon - he had often seen them spin refined, subtle illusions of impressive creativity and attention to detail, capable of enveloping a victim for decades or maybe more, designed to drive those caught in it into varying degrees of madness.
He starts waking up a little. He feels demonic presences flickering around him, strong ones, and another presence he is unable to identify, and then he feels the pain.
Years (centuries) in the Makai taught him… things. Reactions. Patterns. He is in pain and he is being restrained - he follows his instincts and tries to lash out. That’s when he discovers he has to fight for control of this body.
He spends quite some time after that observing, and trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Thinking has never been his strongest point - his brain once belonged to a human intellectual, but he learned very little in the Ningenkai; his vocabulary, as most of what he knows, is due to stolen books and some strange lessons from Makai inhabitants - knowledge is power, after all, so he did learn some things - but one of the lessons he learned best is that sometimes it is better being stupid. (Not a fool, just stupid. That is important. Do not call attention to yourself, be just strong enough to kill the small fry and just wise enough to keep out of the way of the strong predators, act on basic, predictable instincts and keep nothing valuable, be it secrets or beauty or gold: in the Makai, no one a truly dangerous will ever get interested in someone as boring as you.)
This is one of the main reasons for him discarding the theory of this being an intricate illusion - he is too tedious for any mastermind to bother with, and any high demon fickle enough to simply pick the nearest target around would have tired of this by now. He does not know, nor does he care, about what conclusions the others came to, but he once asked the most powerful of them about their situation, simply to receive confirmation that this is real. None of them question the most powerful one, for he is an S-class, one who was once called Satan in the Ningenkai and deemed the most powerful of demons, and even here on the back of a no longer human mind his power is terrifying.
He knows that the others are not weak, he himself is not weak, but he can feel them - a lupine mind relying mostly, if not solely, on instinct, as he himself did until not too long ago, and an assassin presence, lusting for blood. He cannot feel the third one, and for a while it takes all the control he has to keep himself from feeling worried.
He watches the man whom they will eventually start thinking of as theirs, and the man who reminds him far too much of somebody he used to know, interact and tries not to remember too much. Everything is far too alike to his past for his peace of mind. Everything is just different enough that he sometimes finds himself making comparisons.
He knows that the others have been troubling the not-human, the one who has control of the body. He is not really interested in their power plays - he is not really interested in anything, lately, and he tells himself that he only watches the outside world because there is nothing else to do, because he is getting bored, because he is looking for a chance to escape. There is a morbid sort of fascination in watching such a similar story play out in such a dissimilar way, and though he never understands the feelings or the motives behind the actions, he can’t make himself look away.
He is, very vaguely, aware of emotions, in the same way he was not exactly aware of the pain in those distant first days. Pain which was not his to feel. Except that the body was, in a way, his, so maybe the pain did belong to him after all. The emotions feel faded and controlled, like something that has been put away and sealed in a box.
They had come to feel some respect for the not-human, if only because of his willpower. He does not let any of them take control of his body for very long, and it gets more and more difficult to fight for it as the days pass. Even the most powerful one has difficulty wrestling control from him now.
They all watch him now, all four of them.
There is power in feelings. There is power in memories, in history. They cannot fight him physically, and he has a strong spirit. Soon they are whispering into his mind, asking him questions he does not want to answer, telling him truths he does not want to hear (though to be fair he does not want to hear them at all), never really weakening him but taking him closer then ever to the edge, closer to the invisible line of his limits. Closer to breaking.
They do not always mean harm. Doing nothing is boring, and they are curious. They hurt him nonetheless.
The story that seemed to be so similar to his own had always been quite different, in the end, and its finale reflects that: the bride which always existed but chose somebody else gets sick and weak and eventually disappears. The doctor regrets nothing that he has done and, indeed, fully intends to do it all over again. The experiment rages against itself, accepts its condition as a punishment that does nothing to lessen the guilt it feels, and tries to die. Except that it doesn’t manage to.
He never quite manages to understand how they ended up in the coffin. He does understand that the not-human does not want to get out.
The others are both angry and somewhat grimly satisfied at this turn of events. The not-human has done his best to ignore them for a long time. He will have to listen to them now.
--anonymouse