IX: Things I’m Not Allowed to Do

Props to Lyrical Villain for this idea!

So there’s this trend that goes around in military circles where people compile lists of things their superior officers have forbidden them from doing. Usually wild, silly things.

And who do we know that’s silly with superior members above them in a uniformed organization?


Things I’m not allowed to do in the Org

Soooo… These are things that Saïx is making me write down ’cause he’s tired of repeating himself, I guess? Uhh, anyway…

I. I’m not supposed to break into Saïx’s office…

II. Even if I’m just trying to cheer him up! If there were more balloons in there, he’d be less mad and scary all the time.

III. I can’t hide trash in Vexen’s room.
But no one said I can’t laugh at him trying to find it, heheh.

IV. If an idea makes me laugh for more than three seconds, Marly said I can’t do it.
I’m getting reeeaally good at laughing shorter.

V. If Axel or Xiggy say I should do something, I… Probably really shouldn’t.
How come they never get in trouble??

VI. My title is Melodious Nocturne, not Couch Overseer.

VII. It’s rude to flood someone’s room, and being a mean brute who deserves it doesn’t make it okay… XALDIN.

VIII. I can’t refuse to answer to anything but “Almighty Master of Water and Music, not necessarily in that order”.
or can I
I’ve been told I really really can’t.

IX. I’m not allowed to reject missions by saying I’m not the right guy for the job.

X. I can’t talk over Saïx to explain I’m really really the right guy for dog petting, snack fetching, and Broadway plays…

XI. …even if it’s true.

XII. I can’t rig up funny traps for the bossy members.

XIII. Rigging up traps doesn’t count as official training for me or the so-called victims, actual wet blankets.

XIV. A goldfish in a bowl (with a castle!) can’t take my seat during meetings.

XV. I can’t mess with other people’s reports to make mine look less, uhh… bad.

XVI. Whoopee cushions aren’t real weapons.

XVII. I’m not allowed to sign someone else’s name on my report so they get in trouble.

XVIII. Mostly ’cause I’m gonna get caught really quickly and Saïx said if I’m gonna slack, I should do a better job of it.

XIX. I should disregard that last statement.

XX. Can’t run past Marluxia’s room and shout that his garden’s on fire.

XXI. Just ’cause we’re looking for hearts and all that doesn’t mean I can paint a heart on the back of my cloak.

XXII. Or anyone else’s cloak.

XXIII. Can’t say “not it” to get out of mission assignments.

XXIV. Lexaeus can’t fulfill requests to get extra days off for me.

XXV. Roxas and Xion don’t have to bark at people ’cause I say so and I outrank them…
But suuuure, Vexen can boss me around.

XXVI. Can’t use a sock puppet to soften the blow when I’m telling Saïx I didn’t do my reports… For three weeks…

XXVII. It’s not a supply deficiency if we’re out of soda and snacks.

XXVIII. No calling out sick on missions. Nobodies don’t get sick probably?

XXIX. Furthermore, missing a nap isn’t a sickness… I guess…

XXX. A musical number doesn’t take the place of training.

XXXI. Or paperwork.

XXXII. Or this list.

XXXIII. Or any task given to me by Saïx.

XXXIV. Except for fighting, which is technically a musical number for me.
I almost got away with that one…

XXXV. “No thank you” is not an acceptable response to missions.

XXXVI. May not wander the castle singing badly.

XXXVII. May not wander the castle singing well.

XXXVIII. I’ve been advised that hiding in Xiggy’s room, Atlantica, or the broom closet doesn’t make my problems go away.
but it sure saves me time, heheh

XXXIX. Not allowed to get the Organization caught up in little world issues like my favorite bakery running out of donuts.

XL. And no, Axel agreeing with me doesn’t make me right.

XLI. Filling out my report upside down and still badly doesn’t count as effort just because it took more work.

XLII. My time off can’t overlap with days we gotta work, no matter how much I whine about being tired.

XLIII. I’m not a doctor, so I can’t diagnose myself with needing indefinite bed rest.

XLIV. Vexen is a doctor, but he won’t “indulge this derisory misbehavior,” blah blah blah.

XLV. The only way to pass training standards is to train, not to beg Xaldin to lower his standards just a tiny little bit.

XLVI. It’s not even a little funny to tell the new members to meet me in the Foyer That May Someday Be.

XLVII. When I get a mission, I’m supposed to just do it. Not put the index card down the sink. Not ask why. Not whine whyyyyyy. Or fall asleep or pretend to fall asleep. Or dive behind a couch. Saïx will get really mad if I try to bribe him and he won’t jump on a change of subject, no matter how genuine. Complaining also won’t work. Even if it’s loud and to music.

XLVIII. A dark corridor isn’t a magic door and I definitely shouldn’t call it that.

XLVIV. Kingdom Hearts isn’t a magic moon and Saïx is gonna do something reeeaally bad if I call it that… I might’ve intentionally forgot. It was scary!

XLIV. It’s not funny to tell Xaldin to check his computer for class ten air leaks.

XLV. The Organization is not and will never be a band, so I can stop trying to name it now.

XLVI. A bad job can’t be dismissed as “really good training” or “showing everyone how not to do it, which is technically leading by example”.

XLVII. Not allowed to suddenly hug anyone without prior permission.

XLVIII. No, I’m not allowed to ask permission for hugs for the entire future.

Art by Mayberry at dA

XLIX. I can’t use not wanting to sweat as a reason to do, uhh, nothing.

L. “Huh?” is not a good answer to whether or not I understand a mission Saïx just explained for an hour.

LI. Starting a rave in my room won’t save me from a cleaning inspection.

LII. I don’t have feelings, but if I did, I can’t express them with two radios, a pack of fireworks, waterworks, and my sitar.

LIII. Saïx suggests that if I want to be heard so badly, I should fill out a report once in a while.

…Aaaaand I think that’s it. Ugggggh… I gotta take a nap or nine of them back to back. I guess that’s just sleeping. Huh.

BioQuest: Rise, Rapture, Rise

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Observing the man at the piano, his carefully averted eyes and stiff posture, Elizabeth felt a rising need to somehow get him out of here… But she took a breath and reminded herself why they were there: the girls.

Her pleated skirt swirled around her as she turned on a heel, looking into the glassy, piercing eyes of Cohen. “I implore you to choose, sir. Inspire me,” she prompted, and he hummed in return.

“You are one to challenge me, aren’t you? It’s perfect,” he said, patting the pianist’s shoulder absently. “Simply perfect! Why not…” He started, weaving in a lazy circle to side of the piano opposite her. “Rise, Rapture, Rise! We all know the words, now don’t we?”

The musician at the bench just nodded, his fingers leaving their place above the keys only to nimbly turn the page of his music book. There was no time for panic; her mind whirled ahead of all that. This was her battlefield – years of observing and studying and learning while trapped in her tower, this was where Elizabeth shined.

The song was commissioned by Ryan, so it had to be grand, and Cohen would never relinquish his piano. “Ah, of course!” She beamed, continuing as she took a seat beside the pianist – where she could see the sheet music.

Booker and Cohen both watched her, she could just feel it prickling at the back of her neck, but… Soon, they’d both understand exactly what she wanted them to. “The rise of the music with the lyrics… So elegant, masterful.”

Looking to Cohen again, she made her first request. “Might this gentleman have a guitar?” Booker bit back the scoff, but a quick glance at him showed tensed shoulders, locked knees… He was going to give her an earful later. She smiled.

“As my muse, it would make it easier for me to feel the music if he were to play.”

“Yes, yes, of course! Brilliant!” He clapped twice, voice dropping to an impatient sneer. “You there!” The man in the bunny mask jumped, rushing over. “Fetch the guitar for my songbird’s muse, and be quick about it.”

He was only two steps away before Cohen lashed out again. “No, no, no, not that way! You idiot, they’re in the gallery!” The pianist nodded to the hallway behind them, and the attendant took off in that direction without a word.

“Hurry! Fools,” Cohen muttered, straightening his vest for emphasis.

Booker looked on as the staff turned into a doorway near the far end of that hall, and he thought aloud. “New staff, is that–”

“No excuses!” Cohen shouted, his voice straining and escalating as he went on. “I’ve had this staff for years; years, I tell you, and he knew, he knew, he knew!!” At the last scream, he slammed his open palm on the piano, getting a faint echo of notes from the instrument.

“S-sir?” Guitar in hand, the attendant approached Booker and gave Cohen a wide berth. “For you.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled, ducking through the guitar strap as he raised it over his head.

“Now,” Cohen chirped, standing over her and the musician beside her. “There’s no need for guitar in our fine city’s anthem, but he’ll have his chance. Fitzpatrick!”

As easy as that, the pianist began. While they played through Rise, Rapture, Rise, she caught glimpses of Booker’s gaze drifting from the guitar to her or Cohen or the attendant on loop… Almost as if he were one of those people trapped between times. Almost.

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Read the next chapter.

– – –

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BioQuest: For the Music

Read how to join this choose your own adventure story here.
Read the previous chapter.
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They stood in the hug, silent… As Elizabeth gradually brought her arms up around Booker and let out a long breath. Exhaustion hit her right then, a sudden fog closing in on her mind.

“I…” His voice resonated from his chest and above her. One of his arms drifted away from her, his hand resting on her head. “Anna,” he muttered and the fog instantly cleared.

She stepped back. Booker didn’t even seem surprised by it… Just waiting, shoulders slumped and eyes dull. He was a man who hadn’t known hope for years.

…And whose fault was that? Elizabeth felt her hands tighten into fists but… She walked a few beds down and spoke over her shoulder, “Good night, Booker.”


The following morning had been chaotic. Tenenbaum left to get clothes for Jack, putting him in charge of the Little Sisters. She was met with a chorus of protests that Elizabeth could barely say goodbye over.

And there they stood at last, outside his apartment in Mercury Suites.

“I expected he’d host us in Fort Frolic,” Booker commented, staring at the apartment door. Music flowed from within the residence, a sign of Cohen she’d come to accept. “Looks like we can’t be that lucky.”

“When have we been lucky?” She teased, smirking at Booker and seeing a trace of a smile on his face. “Well? Are you ready?”

“Are you?” They examined each other, but neither one answered… And when she admitted to herself that no one was going to, she knocked on the door.

A finely dressed server in a bunny mask answered the door, his posture perfectly straight. Possibly to compensate for being just a touch shorter than average, since she doubted Cohen required it. But then again…

The piano music swelled and fell, Cohen heard wordlessly shouting above it to the musician on the bench. The door man stepped aside and finally, he noticed their arrival.

“Ah, my songbird!” Cohen gestured grandly, swaying towards them in time with the piano. “Come in, come in! I see you’ve brought your muse.” Booker and the lanky man at the piano scoffed, Cohen eyeing him appreciatively all the same.

“We’re here for the music, Mr. Cohen,” she reminded him, walking past him to the piano. There had to be a way to hear about his networks under the guise of admiration, but first…

She ran her hand along the piano, fark and sleek, well used but gently cared for. She couldn’t help but smile. Uncomfortable as she was with Cohen, Elizabeth had always enjoyed singing.

“Right to the point, I like it,” he emphasized, following her to the piano but standing behind the musician, whose wide, watery eyes fell to the keys before him. “Well, my dear? Which of my masterpieces would you like to begin with?”

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Read the next chapter.

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Demyx: Demisexuality

Greetings to you all!

For this weekly challenge on orientation/gender identity in the Square Enix Amino, the obvious choice for me was Demyx of Kingdom Hearts, who I head canon as demisexual.


First, what does it mean to be demisexual? According to AVENwiki, “a demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone.” <Source>

So where do I get the impression that Demyx is demisexual? Well, let’s take a look at his general personality and habits… Mostly from the manga, where he got the bulk of his development.

Demyx is lazy.

From the KH manga

He doesn’t want to work at his missions or even just simple tasks assigned to him. He’d rather relax, play music, read comics… Hide in a closet from Saïx…

But the main point of this rather obvious observation is to demonstrate that it is exceedingly difficult to motivate Demyx to action.

What does motivate Demyx?

To be fair, like most people, he’s easily motivated by fear.

That’s likely what keeps him at the Organization and doing the bare minimum required to get by without being turned into a dusk.

But that’s what motivates him against his will. What would it take to willingly motivate Demyx to work?

No surprise here:


* For the sake of your friendship

I needed this page, but the translation was a little off. Whoops!

If he’s given a choice, he’ll work hard for the sake of friends – even friendships he’s not part of! Roxas had a very poor opinion of Demyx and while we can agree exactly whose fault that is (DEMYX), it shouldn’t foster much kindness from Demyx to Roxas.

And yet there he is, willing to go above and beyond his normal zero effort… So Roxas can go to the beach with his friends. Close emotional bonds clearly mean a lot to Demyx on principle since he’s willing to actually do something in the name of it!

But how does this make him demisexual? Plenty of people place high value on emotional ties without being demisexual.

It’s all about heart.


Nobodies don’t have hearts, but it’s confirmed by Xemnas (revived Xemnas, mind you) in Dream Drop that a Nobody can re-grow a heart and the ability to feel. To understand how this works, let’s look at Axel at the start of 358/2.

He’s everything that King Mickey describes Nobodies to be: lacking a heart but good at faking emotions well enough to be convincing. But as he gets close to Roxas and Xion, his heart starts to form.

…only to be ripped out by all the sad in that game and KH2.

Anyway! Why did Axel’s heart form? He was prompted by the things that mattered most to Lea: being remembered, particularly by those you hold dear.

That triggered his heart to develop along with the ability to feel genuine emotions. Considering that template, let’s revisit Demyx!


Nothing seems to strike him as overly pressing or important, as we all know. But he’s far too expressive and emotional to not have a heart and have had one for quite some time.

No one in the Organization took him seriously enough to consider it. And why would he tell them about it? Exposing a conspiracy about Kingdom Hearts not being needed for them to get their hearts is way too much work for him, let’s be real.

But he definitely had a heart throughout the games and books he was in. In the manga, when Saïx explains to Demyx that he has to kill Sora or else he’ll kill the rest of the Organization, Demyx hesitates:

“D-doesn’t that make him one of us?”

To feel hesitant due to kinship, you have to truly feel. Not to mention forming an emotional connection so important to Demyx that he considered Roxas “one of us” after he killed most of the Organization.

In the games, it takes Sora and Donald rejecting his statement that Nobodies do have hearts for Demyx to finally get serious and accuse Sora of being a traitor. Before trying to kill him–

While there are theories that Demyx was dropping a facade in this scene and showing his true heartlessness, I believe this shows his genuine emotional depth (as in the ability to feel so deeply betrayed that he actually wanted to fight).

The manga has a similar scene prior to their fight (for comparison and reference):

This kind of depth could only be achieved by having his heart for a long time without anyone realizing. Now how did he get it?

Because having emotional connections was the most important thing to Myde just as being remembered was the most important thing to Lea. (Note: Demyx’s Somebody doesn’t have a canon name yet, I just like Myde.)

Exposure to what you value most will get your heart back for almost any Nobody that’s retained their human form. For Demyx, this prompt was constantly being near people who were considered just like him and his need to have the emotional capacity to connect with them.

With that in mind, it stands to reason that he would be demisexual due to placing such a high priority on emotional closeness.

There you have it!

Agree, disagree, or feel the need to express a thing? I look forward to your illustrious comments!

BioQuest: Anything

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Read the previous chapter.
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If the math from Fink’s stolen records could be trusted… Jack was a child in time spent alive only. Elizabeth smiled to him, tilting her head. “Jack, I promise to do everything I can for the rest of these girls.”

The tension in her chest surprised her and her smile weakened. For a moment, her and Jack locked eyes… The girls were quiet and the water in the pipes around Olympus Heights whispered to its destination. It could’ve been ages or seconds. “Nothing will stop us.”

In a second, he seemed taller until she realized– instead of hunching over, Jack was standing straight with shoulders drawn back. “I’m coming with you.”

“Nein,” Tenenbaum corrected, “You will stay here and watch the little ones.” She snuffed her cigarette in the ash tray for good, reaching for Jack with her other hand as his shoulders slumped again.

“Dr. Tenenbaum,” Elizabeth began, moving to stand beside the two of them. “What if–”

“He is not yet free of Fontaine,” she confessed and Elizabeth saw his hand tighten to a fist on the yarn at the edge of his sweater.


“I have only removed the control he had over Jack’s mind. Without two doses of Lot 192…” She sighed, lowering her hand from his shoulder. “Jack. Stay here and watch the little ones.”

His head tilted down first, eyes glued to a section of wall above Tenenbaum… Until finally his gaze hit the floor too. “Alright, Mrs. Tenenbaum.”

“Now,” Tenenbaum continued, picking up her matter-of-fact tone again, “To bed with you both. You will need rest.” Without waiting, she retired to an office towards the back edge of the sanctuary.


Elizabeth couldn’t even remember seeing it before. And when she turned back to where Jack had stood, he’d already curled up on a bed for the night. Her heels on the tiles were the last noise left, and even that hardly touched the peace of this place.

Stopping at Booker’s bed, she placed a hand on his shoulders and he immediately woke. Quietly, watchfully, but instantly alert… And his eyes softened when they registered her face.


“Elizabeth?” His voice came out a little raspy, and she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I just… Wanted to say thank you.” He looked away from her then, but she knelt to follow his gaze. “Everything you’re doing here, it means so much to me. You are a father like Comstock never was,” she said, trying to express gratitude but twinging it with bitterness.

“Hey, Elizabeth,” he answered, leaning up as she stood. “It’s… I mean, uh… Just…” He struggled and she waited, unable to move… And he got up too, gathering her in a loose hug. Warmth radiated from him, and he placed a kiss on her forehead so light she barely felt it. “Anything for you.”

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Read the next chapter.

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