Gaster Gang ships

Creator

"Create in the image and likeness? Oh, I already heard it once.

I've heard, seen, know. Even aware.

I remember those who called themselves people. Pity creatures. But such different... Someone had a mind, someone dictated the way of the heart. And someone was mercenary, greedy for power and glory. But…

Oh yes, there's one "but". Everyone has a soul. Whichever defect a person has suffered, they always remained themself, albeit somewhere in the backyard of consciousness.

Almost each of them appreciated their own life above all else, but because of a broken heart they could step into oblivion without fear, without hesitation. It was funny to see this. Know and remember.

Oh yes, I remember. I...I'm the same. Nearly. Human?

I don't remember. My soul is old and thin, barely holding in the physical body, under the weight of the experience. But memory and longevity are a punishment to me eternal, for all my deeds. And therefore, I create now. From boredom and despair. To entertain yourself at least a little, so that for a brief moment find meaning. After all, in order to put my hands on myself, I can never get courage and boldness. Courage to meet with darkness, enveloping and empty, like nothingness, and boldness...To look in the eyes of all those whom I leave.

So...

The clay is sculpted, the stained hands. Red, with an admixture of sand and lake mud a little. It is wet, even too much, smears hands and slips out of my old, tenacious, knotty arthritic fingers.

In the image and likeness of his own, you say?

You can't do that, oh, you can't...

Let them be flawed. Let there be withered and miserable, let there be selfish freaks who don't know love and tenderness, who know how to kill. Whom - it doesn't matter. Each other, prey, those who want to kill them.

And their greatest virtue will make greed. Let them save, protect, cherish and groom their jewels, which in fact - nothing.

A bunch of sparkling pebbles

By investing in them lust, I will make a hundredfold more fruitful than necessary. That children were a bargaining chip, a reflection of the impossible dreams of their parents, so that children suffer and become copies of those who gave birth to them. Let them rape, humiliate, kill, forcing each other writhe in pain and disgust.

I will give pride to them with a vengeance, so that they pass by old people who need a crust of bread. To forget their own parents, to hate those who are below their status, forgot unwanted friends...

And some, very, very few, I will give love and compassion. That they are tormented most of all, surrounded by such.

Create in the image and likeness? Why, if you want to stay in the creators?

It's much easier for your children to be maimed to take care of them and play around, watching their swarming.
It's like flies in the mud, by God. Oh, yes. Pun.

Although, no. I'm not God. I...I'm a human. At least, in my own thoughts, it is worth acknowledging.

And so...Two figures are ready - male and female. Roughly molded, rather sketchy than right.

If I blow at them, blowing my cheeks and taking a deep breath before ...

No. And yet, no matter what, I'm a human.

I am human.

The human who created These. In the image and likeness. Nearly.

I am human.

The Creator. A blind and mediocre artist who painting pictures and listening to music, which is played by a wandering musician under the window. Inept.

I…"

- by Manic_Schizophrenia

The person who wrote this lives in my country. Also writes fanfics, only on the site - Ficbook. A Russian web-site where fanfics are written with different genres on different fandoms.