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howlsofbloodhounds · 21 days

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demisexuality can be so hard to explain because it’s misconstrued as you just wanting to trust the other person before you have sex with them. and I get why the misconception happens. But demisexuality differs in that there isn’t sexual attraction at all before that bond forms.

I think what people have difficulty with is the idea that there are people out there who aren’t experiencing sexual attraction at all until a certain point, if ever, because we’re taught that sex, libido, and sexual attraction are all the same, both in and out of queer spaces.

And when you’re learning about asexuality and demisexuality, you may learn that people have romantic and aesthetic attraction separately from sexual attraction, and that sexual and romantic attraction aren’t necessarily intertwined, and that may challenge your worldview on sex.

But “I trust you enough to have sex with you” isn’t the same as “I’m not sexually attracted to anyone but you, and the reason I’m sexually attracted to you now after we’ve established this close bond is literally because of the bond of trust we’ve been able to form”.

It’s easy to see how those can get conflated. On the surface, if you’re unfamiliar with asexuality, they may sound the same. But it’s important to acknowledge the difference between “no sex until I trust you” and “no sexual attraction unless I trust you and maybe not even then”.

Demisexuality is housed under the asexuality spectrum. It’s part of the gray area between being allosexual and asexual. It’s part of why the definition for asexuality includes “little to no sexual attraction”. It’s a mostly asexual experience with an asterisk.

While being demisexual may have impacts on a persons sexual activity, even demisexuals have a varied relationship to the act of participating in sex. Libido and sexual attraction are not always intertwined either, which can make telling the difference tricky.

I think of sexual attraction as libido that has a compass. Since I rarely ever experience sexual attraction, but do have libido, it’s noticeable for me when that libido actually has a direction to go, rather than being a floating, nebulous, independent thing.

Remember, not everyone is demisexual. There’s a difference between waiting to have sex and not having sexual attraction at all until a certain point. This also inherently ties demisexuality to romantic attraction and relationships, and not all demisexuals are alloromantic.

But if you read what demisexuality is and think “everyone is like that” or “that’s just being a woman”, you either 1) are demisexual 2) don’t understand what it is or 3) both. And it’s okay to not know. Just as long as you’re willing to try to learn.

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howlsofbloodhounds · 24 days

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hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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Chara & Stage 4’s relationship kinda but I don’t wanna type everything out again so here’s screenshots;

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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me and who guys

killer by rahafwabas

color by superyoumna

#killer!sans #something new #killer sans #sans au #au sans #color sans #othertale #utmv sans #utmv #undertale

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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Palestine will be free. Please help how you can: here's a masterpost. Thank you so much to @/sulfurcosmos for keeping it updated.

ink by comyet swap by p0pcornpr1nce dream by jokublog killer by rahafwabas color by superyoumna horror by sour apple studios farm by guinongtale_au

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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can u draw killer experiencing the horrors

he struggling frfr. the more you love a character the more trauma you gotta give them lmao

Killer belongs to RahafWabas

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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TW:

A Genocide run.

Abandonment.

Killer dehumanizing and objectifying himself.

Self harm, self mutilatation, stabbing.

Breakdown.

Mentioned suicide.

Mentioned character death.

Mentioned starvation and forced cannibalism.

Psychological torture

Chara & Killer are codependent asf

I’ve mentioned this briefly before but I kinda HC that there’s basically a Bad Ending to Killer’s story where Chara/the Player loses interest in him, and just stops appearing. Stops Resetting completely.

And Killer thinks he can still feel Chara’s presence, can still sense them through their shared DT and fused souls. But he can’t communicate to or with them, no matter how hard he tries.

And at first Killer didn’t think anything of it. Chara wasn’t at their usual meeting spot when he woke back up from the last Reset, and he just figured that maybe they’re busy and will meet him there soon.

Time draws on and they still aren’t there. Killer tries to stop himself from asking any questions about it, it’s not his place to question his partner.

But eventually he can’t stop the questions. He’s being doing that a lot more lately.

Questions. Question. Questioning. Questions.

Doubt. Disobedience. Useless. Malfunctioning.

Chara isn’t there yet, the creatures are still alive. Which means that his partner hasn’t started the game without him.

But what if they did?

Have we displeased them recently? Surely not..we did everything right.

Except for the time we hesitated. Again.

He was just a child..

He was weak.

…A Reset hasn’t happened. What if Chara somehow slipped up? What if they were injured?

Would they be mad at him if he left the spot, or would they be mad at him if he doesn’t immediately go looking for them?

For a while he’s stuck. Just standing there and debating in his head.

A part of him urges that he should go check on Chara. Another suggests he stay where he is. A stray thought considers starting the route without his partner.

His thoughts leave him in a moment of confusion. He doesn’t know what to do, there were no leftover directives. He doesn’t have any tasks to complete. He keeps thinking about all the ways he could’ve upset them, and what that could mean for him.

And right when he senses something closing in on him, tightening around his throat like a noose and weighing him down, something inside — he doesn’t know what — orders him to find Chara. Now.

The body moves on its own, before his mind can even catch up, heading out of Snowden and towards the doors of the Ruins.

They’ll be waiting for us there. They will give us our tasks for the day.

And if they aren’t?

Killer tries to ignore how the lack of an answer throws him off, although the body doesn’t falter, despite the way the soul wavers slightly.

Too much emotion.

We do not need to be Stage 1 right now.

Objective: Find Them. They will fix us.

Killer’s mind turns off, as soon as the new task is registered. The soul stops trembling for a moment, but the leaky eyed skeleton is far too focused to notice, and too blank to care.

The new voice, the orders coming from within, are a new experience. Stage 2 would almost be..”thrilled” by having something new, if it weren’t currently trudging through the snow with a single minded focus.

Stay hidden. Do not let yourself be seen. We cannot afford distractions, nor starting the route without Them.

The body doesn’t question, quietly slipping behind and between the nearest buildings as quickly as possible. Which wasn’t as fast as Killer would’ve hoped.

We are growing weak. When did we last rest?

Who cares. Keep going.

We can’t. We’ll crash—

Shortcut. Destination: the doors of the Ruins.

Magic tugs at Killer’s core before it can even began to consider the ramifications of magic usage from an already drained body, as if the body was just moving with blind faith and purpose.

Something tells Killer that the ramifications were already considered before hand, and dismissed as not important: judging from the sense of satisfaction that came from within the soul, as soon the body completed its assigned task.

Even stumbling and falling face first into the hard ground wasn’t enough to stop the skeletal frame from shuddering with what Killer could only assume was glee; the phantom feeling of a small, skinned hand lightly grazing his cheek. A reward, for a successful completion.

As he forced the body back on to its knees, ignoring how even that seemed like a Herculean effort, something vicious stirred within him.

Weak. Pathetic.

It’s trying its best!

We try everything to feel. And this waste of space gets to take it all?!

Please don’t do this…

But the decision was already made, as Killer summoned a knife into his hands and plunged it into the body’s arm; brutally twisting at the handle. The blood splattered over the face Killer was forced to wear, red liquid gushing down the thin, spider cracked, white bone.

The body fell forward, a scream tearing out from clenched teeth. As the blood leaked from the deep wound, coating the snow, Killer couldn’t fight the cackle that escaped him in between the body’s sobs. Tears— actual tears!!— ran down the face, diluting the dark determination, and mixing with the red on the white beneath the knobby knees.

“At least you’re good for one thing,” Killer hissed at seemingly no one, the words echoing through the skull, but he and his other selves knew who he was talking to. So did it, as the star of the morbid painting on display, curling in on itself. Attempting to hide. From him. Good. “Blood always did look good on you.”

It doesn’t take long for that spite to pass, the familiar haze settling over his shoulders, and for a moment Killer can only numbly watch as the blood keeps gushing.

..nothing new.

You’d think that you would realize that after the first million times. Of course we wouldn’t feel it.

It deserved it.

No one deserves that.

We do.

Quiet. On your feet.

Immediately, the body attempts to stand. It falters, and Killer growls when his shoulder hits the side of the wall; jostling the knife. The body whimpers, as if sensing how the usually apathetic presence was growing increasingly displeased. But it kept going, an obedient little dog, as Chara always said.

Obedient little bitch.

You’re so mean..

Hush. Find Them. You are malfunctioning.

The voice said it multiple times already, but yet. That’s the one that finally seemed to sink in for Killer.

Malfunction. Malfunctioning. Malfunction.

An error. Error. Error. Error. Errorerrorerroreroor errorerrorerrorerror—

Objective: Find Them.

The blood kept dripping, and Killer couldn’t focus on anything except how he couldn’t feel the warmth of it on the bones, in contrast against what he could only guess was a biting chill.

Where are They?

Find Them.

Where’s Chara?

The world tilted, and the body drops sideways. Killer faintly heard a grunt leave the sack of bones he inhabited, the skull slumping against the door of the Ruins then down on the shoulder.

Get up.

He couldn’t. It wouldn’t listen, the head laid limp and weak like a marionette that had been cut loose from its strings.

“ Up. Get up.” The body (?) mumbled, though the words hardly reached Killer. And the bones weren’t budging this time, hardly even a twitch of the finger. He couldn’t shake the sudden drop in his core, the overwhelming empty. It felt like a lifeless carcass.

Discarded doll.

..Something told Killer he wasn’t going to be fixed this time.

—

And then from there, two things happen. Killer fails or succeeds at drawing Chara’s interest again.

He fails, he dies. He has no clue how long he lasts, how many days or even years pass. He doesn’t recall when he decided to do his own Genocide Route. He knows it was Stage 3; another one of its panic induced, feral meltdowns.

The details are fuzzy, and he can’t truly can’t muster much care about how Chara could potentially be pissed about it. He’s struggling to remember what a body requires to survive.

He doesn’t need food, or rest, or sleep. He never felt hunger or pain or exhaustion before in his life. He’s never felt anything before.

Remembering to eat and drink and sleep was..rather simple at first. Easy ways to quiet his mind, squash any and all questions and doubts for the moment.

Then the tasks became..boring. Routine, he could mindlessly do it all without requiring focus. And that only gave his thoughts time to wonder and ponder over things he never had before. Never needed to before.

The commanding voice inside never goes away. It gets strange when Stage 2 gets like that, starts dishing out new tasks and missions as if trying to redirect Killer’s focus. Keep him away from thinking.

Chara always did say they could never leave him alone with his thoughts. “Who knew what dangers would spawn from that?!” They’d laugh, squeezing on Killer’s wrist with that face splitting grin.

What dangers, indeed…

In this ending, it doesn’t matter what dangers it could’ve spawned. Killer dies, someway, somehow. Maybe he kills himself: either from guilt, a desperate need for something more, or a breakdown. Maybe even he kills himself believing that it won’t matter, because They will bring them back.

They always bring him back.

Or maybe he dies from starvation. The food runs out, the Core shuts down, and eating days (weeks? Years? Centuries?) old monster dust doesn’t sustain the body. Until it’s chugging along on nothing more than fading Determination and blind devotion. Until, finally, his will runs out; and he’s just more dust among the many.

But in the other ending, when Chara returns for them. That’s when the thoughts actually become a danger. When the second Killer finally realizes that a life without Chara is not only possible, but something he wants.

He can see all the possibilities now. New experiences, new places to explore, new people to meet and fight and kill. Maybe he could even find that ever elusive love he read about in the comics? So much new.

And isn’t that insane? He’s never wanted something before. But he wants this more than anything.

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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TW:

Biting.

Feral and Animalistic Behavior.

Growling, snarling, biting, etc.

Roughhousing.

Subtle attempts at asserting dominance.

Implied dehumanization.

Mentioned violence.

Mentioned blood and possibility of infection.

Deep loneliness.

Badly translated Arabic.

Implied one sided Color x Delta.

If anyone told Color that he would one day be used as a chew toy for his traumatized, crazed, alternate version of himself, mass murdering best friend; he would’ve called you crazy.

But as luck would have it: he was the crazy one. Because he was currently allowing Stage 3 to chew on his arm like it was a fresh piece of bacon.

It was better than the alternative, of Killer attempting to break Color’s neck with his teeth maybe, but by the stars did it hurt.

“okay, buddy,” with a grimace, Color attempted to shake Killer off his arm. Which was a bad move, because the way Killer’s head snapped towards the skeleton, wide and intense gaze pinned straight on him, was a soul stopping moment.

Color could hear the growl building up in Stage 3’s chest, the ribs rattling, and wasn’t that just swell? Sweat dripped down the skeleton’s forehead.

“look, bud,” Color gulped, attempting to keep his voice steady and to maintain a sense of calm. He knew Stage 3 wouldn’t understand what he saying, but it would understand the emotions. He didn’t know how the crazed being would react to signs of pain or fear, but he knew he shouldn’t stare directly in his friend’s (?) eyes. Animals typically took that sort of thing as a sign of being challenged. “i know you think you’re being nice..”

The responding rumble from the skeleton body latched on his arm seemed to confirm that, and Color couldn’t help but find that a bit sad.

What exactly led this part of his friend into thinking not immediately ripping someone to shreds was being kind, and leaving bite marks in flesh and bone was friendship?

It was a rhetorical question. Color knew who made them like this. Not exactly what, but he could guess. Was it really even a surprise that Killer could hardly function in society? People were either threats, lines of code, or interesting toys to play with his friend’s eyes.

Somehow Color managed to worm his way into being something different. But that didn’t mean he was safe, he was aware of that. He was something new, really.

He just hoped his novelty wouldn’t ware off one day. That maybe that bits of Sans that was left over in Killer had enough care for him to not throw him away once he got boring.

Guilt suddenly overtook Color at that thought. It was a cynical way to view things. He knew Killer was trying, he knew his friend was relearning how to care for or trust others.

The fact Color had gotten as far as he has with Killer, to the point that the multi souled creature would proudly proclaim him a friend, already said a lot.

But it was times like this that Color couldn’t help feeling insignificant; very much like a toy. He knew the higher Stages of his friend’s soul certainly weren’t stable or mentally sane, in a way that was different from Stages 1 and 2. At least they could pretend to keep it together.

But not Stage 3, and probably not 4, either. Definitely not Stage 4, actually. Killer had attempted to hide the existence of that one from Color for a while, and he was clear when he said he didn’t understand Stage 4 in the slightest.

Stage 3 was feral. Or..”crazy,” as One has described it. It didn’t take Color long to realize that 3 didn’t think in complex ways, like he or the lower Stages could.

It saw the world in movements and survival. Non verbal cues, body language, the tone of your voice and facial expressions. The creature was unpredictable; one wrong move could have it attacking whoever moved or looked at it a certain way.

Stage 3 twitched sometimes, uncontrollably. When it was excited or nervous, mostly. Those could pretty unnerving to see.

Its movements were very much like a predator, graceful and adaptive, yet it was clear that it was ready to attack at any moment. Look it in the eyes or smile a certain way, and it’ll be on you before you could even blink.

This even applied to..”friendship.” Color couldn’t really say if the feral animal living inside his friend’s broken body knew what friends were, but Stage 3 was the definition of love bites and roughhousing (if leaving teeth marks and bruises during play times counted as that.) Perhaps a better word would probably be more animalistic, like a pack mate.

Or a pup that 3 had to care for. Or a sheep it had to herd, maybe even a resource that needed guarding. Territory.

Color couldn’t say, and Stage 3 couldn’t tell. Out of all the Stages, navigating this one’s world was the most confusing.

“..but, that hurts.” Color reached out, cautiously placing a skeletal hand on his friend’s skull. He hissed when Killer instinctively clamped his teeth down harder, thanking whatever Gods existed that he didn’t hear a bone snap. Stage 3 was tense, shaking with what seemed like excitement (or maybe it was fear? Fear of the unknown?), yet it wasn’t growling and going for the neck yet. “not everyone can endure what you can.”

Slowly, slow enough that the feral thing could stop him if it wanted to, Color began to lightly scratch along the top of its skull. Killer was quiet and unnaturally still, staring with those dark, huge eye sockets at Color. The flame head attempted to avoid staring back, suddenly aware of how awkward it is to be giving your grown adult best friend head scratches.

He couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he was going to die. Killer had warned Color against Stage 3 for a reason, after all. Had even advised using extreme methods such as killing him, putting Killer down as if he was a rabid dog, if that meant Color lived.

Killer wasn’t the type to exaggerate the danger, not while in Stage 1. Stage 2 was all about the flair and the dramatics, pretending he cared about anything more than he actually did. Emotionally fake, in any way that actually mattered. Everything about 2’s acts was..unreal, like watching an alien putting on its human skin and play acting.

(Color couldn’t hold that against him. There was no winning in his situation. Mask and be seen as a creep, don’t mask, and be seen as an emotionless husk that was still a creep.)

Stage 3 was a threat. It can, has, and will brutally kill. Anything resembling friends and allies were temporary things in its world. The only luxury is that it won’t bother to draw out the death. It doesn’t want pain, it wants you out of its way. Away from it.

Color’s soul felt tight, conflicting thoughts pulling him in different directions. Perseverance urged him to cease any potentially life threatening actions immediately, but kindness and patience insisted in giving this a chance.

Bravery suggested taking a bolder action. Maybe Stage 3 would react better if Color could show that he was stronger?

Justice reared its head in disgust at the thought. Hadn’t Killer had enough people forcing dominance over him?

Judging by the way Color still hadn’t pulled away, his fingers even bravely making their way down and underneath Killer’s chin, the decision had already been made. A unanimous one, once Color carefully went over every perspective.

Sudden movements would only scare Stage 3 off, or provoke its temper. Color didn’t want to hurt Killer, even if said friend was currently chomping down on his bones like a tasty meal. Especially when this was just 3’s atypical way of showing affection, despite how bad it hurt.

With a gentle hand, Color was sure he could show Stage 3 a way of love that didn’t have to hurt.

“it’s alright, جرو.” He muttered lowly, watching the way Killer’s body shook in its fear and confusion. It still wasn’t attacking, despite it all. Trust was there. The hold on his arm was present, but certainly not as hard as it was before. “i won’t hurt you. أنت آمن مع—“

Color’s words were cut off by Killer suddenly lurching away from him, and Color leaned back when the skeleton bared his teeth at him. Dark ink slid down the porcelain white face, staining the teeth, and the soul was barely anything resembling a shape. More red than white.

Color tensed, his breath catching, as he stared back; his eye socket blown wide and the eye light a mere pinpoint. Despite his fear, the flames burned a fierce orange, as he stood his ground; raising his chin up at the animal and narrowing his eye.

It wasn’t a challenge, but there was no way he would allow the fear and surprise to show. And he needed Stage 3 to see that he wasn’t going to be pushed around.

The two stared, one attempting to maintain eye contact while the other stared intently at the space between eye sockets. It was quiet, not a sound beside the rumble of the air conditioner in Color’s run down, crappy apartment.

3 suddenly let out what sounded like a chuff, snapping his teeth at Color. Before the cracked skull skeleton could even react to that, Killer was on his feet and rushing out of Color’s bedroom; in what could only be described as his tail between his legs.

Color watched his friend run away in quiet astonishment, slumping against his bed pillows. He knew where the animal was likely running off to; Nightmare. Or to be more accurate, the dark, warm, and quiet closet in Killer’s bedroom.

Which meant Color likely wouldn’t be seeing Killer for another few days. A few weeks, if Nightmare keeps him busy.

Disappointment was a knife in Color’s soul, that ever aching loneliness already making itself known; an empty cavern in his being that he could never seem to keep filled.

Blood dripping on to his shorts demanded his attention, and Color glanced over at his arm. The bite was in a perfect shape of Killer’s teeth, covered in salvia. An infection was likely, if Color didn’t heal it.

Color didn’t want to. He wanted someone else to heal him for once, to feel the warmth of healing magic and intent washing over him. Battling off darkness and bone deep loneliness.

But Killer just ran away. Dream and Ccino were likely busy with their duties, Epic was likely spending the day with Cross. Gaster was still in the Void. Core Frisk..he didn’t want to have to rely on them. They were just a kid, they’d probably freak out if they saw the injury.

..It might reflect badly on Killer. And his chances on getting into the Omega Timeline, once Color managed to help him leave Nightmare.

Which left Delta. Color was overdue in giving his ex roommate the souvenirs he got for him, anyway. With his uninjured arm, Color reached over to grab his phone from the nightstand; immediately pulling up his most recent contacts.

As soon as he caught sight of the profile picture, of Delta’s brazen smile, Color couldn’t help but consider if things had been different. If he had decided to give up on Killer like everyone seemed to want him to, stayed in the Omega Timeline with Delta and tried to live a normal life.

The thought of it caused his non existent stomach to churn. He wasn’t built for staying in one spot. He couldn’t give up on Killer. He knew it was dangerous, possibly even impossible. Maybe it was even pathetic to be chasing after someone as unstable and danger prone as Killer.

Everyone kept insisting the same thing, over and over. He can’t change.

But Color couldn’t believe that, not for a second. Not when he’s seen the way Killer crashes and breaks after each mission. Not when he’s seen the man come apart at the seams over the injuries of a beloved pet, blaming himself for every single thing that goes wrong.

Not when Killer looks at him in that way. Scared, but hopeful. Trusting. Admiring and loving. He can’t be the reason why such a look no longer grazes that face. The reason why his hope up and shatters and flies away in the wind. He won’t be.

But it’s nice to have support, whenever Color is the one left in shambles. He’s grateful for Delta, truly. But he can’t give the man what he wants. He’s just glad that Delta seems to understand that.

Without allowing himself to ponder much more on it, he quickly presses down on that green call button. He’s silent as the rings fill the air, the sounds breaking through the silence in such a way that Color has to resist the immediate urge to hang up. Grating on his non existent ears.

The rings seem to go on for such a long time that Color finds himself holding his breath once again, wondering if perhaps this is the point where Delta finally leaves. Or maybe his friend was busy, and Color will once again have to patch himself up.

Then the soft, welcoming click of a phone call being answered fills the room, and Color heaves a sigh of relief. He can’t stop smiling when he says,

“hey, de. you have a moment?”

—

I had to use Google Translate for the Arabic bits, so it probably isn’t accurate, but here’s what they’re supposed to mean:

‎الجرو = Supposed to mean pup. But translates to puppy.

‎. أنت آمن مع = “You are safe with—.” Supposed to be “you are safe with me,” if he wasn’t cut off.

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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Broken minds leave trails to follow all killer's stage is so goood.

#doodle #sans #killer sans #undertale au #undertale #sans au #killertale #sans aus #bad sans gang

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months

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TW:

Talks of past trauma, abuse, and torture.

Talks of fears such as being weak or controlled.

Mentioned possibility of a meltdown/panic attack.

So like a lot of people like to HC that Killer and Cross are often paired off together as partners on missions, and I can’t help but wonder how it’d effect Killer to have a partner again.

He’d probably start trying to test Cross’ strength, purposefully acting out or doing things to judge Cross’ reactions; even if that puts Cross or the mission in danger.

Because Killer doesn’t actually understand what it’s like working as equals with a partner. The strongest leads, the weaker one is subservient. You can throw up all the facades of being equals — joking around, shoulder pats, thanking for saving the other at a close call — but it’s all just an act at the end of the day.

Or at least it is to Killer. Chara was the only partner he ever had. And for the longest time, Chara ruled over him; despite how buddy buddy they looked on the surface. Killer knew his place for the longest.

But then he became stronger. He got to decide what happened to Chara. He decided they didn’t deserve to live anymore. And that was his right.

He was stronger than them. He worked hard to be, waited and watched and learned. He earned it.

Like Hell he’s letting some righteous, holier than thou soldier call the shots. Especially not one that has a Chara lurking around him.

Especially not when it’s only happening because the Boss decided Cross would be good at handling him. At reeling him in. At controlling him, is what Killer heard.

Killer has spent many lifetimes having chains latched on to him. Not even his mind or body is under his control anymore. His emotions aren’t even his.

So I’d like to think that Cross and Killer would definitely get off on a bad start at first. Which is probably both confusing and irritating for Cross; given that he was in the Royal Guard, and likely knows very well how to work in a team and how to follow the chain of command.

Cross thrives in that type of environment. Killer balks at it.

So it’ll probably be a long road of Cross trying to realize why exactly Killer is so opposed to him. To realize how Killer is viewing Cross and this new ‘partnership’ as a threat, as yet another set of chains, and not a legitimate partnership that could even potentially be friends.

To realize how Killer is afraid of being controlled further, of being “weak.” Worried what Cross could do if he’s stronger then Killer, worried about slipping back into that mindless obedience that his old partner drilled into him.

And it’ll very likely depend on advice from the others, likely Nightmare, for Cross to realize that; because Killer will never admit it, probably wouldn’t even realize that it’s there, and it’ll probably take pushing him into Stage 1 and a meltdown to even be realized.

But I think it’ll be cute and sweet to watch them become true equals. Actual partners and friends. Maybe more if you wanna go down that route.

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