Deceit One-Shots

The Deception

Just some 'poetic' shit'

Enjoy!

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Nobody loved the villain. The villain is always wrong. The villain doesn't get what he wants. The villain doesn't deserve it all.

The villain.

Quite the name for someone who was only meant to be a darker side of one's personality. Only representing that of lies and deception, but also acting as a self preservation and preservation of others. Keeping the host away from harmful information and blocking the host from opening up to people he doesn't want to.

But instead of protection, he manipulates and deceives like he was told to do. What others simply said he was only made for.

To harm. To break. To destruct.

The villain wasn't meant to be good. A villain can't be nice, only what everyone says he is.

And nobody cares to understand that all of what is written is swirling in the mind of deception. The constant attacking of invading self deprication. The continuous amount of self loathing he has to face.

He hates it. Logic proving with reason that he shouldn't work, that he is only an invasion of one's mindset--an illness. Creativity says he's fake, that he's only but a ghost of what could've been something great. Morality, saying his dishonesty only brings fear, that he can act as one and take the face of another.

Anxiety, even a fellow antagonist, shuns him for hurting anyone, over thinking all consequences for sugarcoating--or gaslighting as they put it.

The host, only believing fact and not opinion, not believing a cry for help to be included and saved from the demons that haunted him. He listened to the emotions, the imagination, the voice of reason, and the vigilant men.

He heard their worries, their whines, their persistence to rid him of the deception. He hadn't needed to lie, all was well with honesty. He would bring joy to others saying how he thought he really felt.

Hearing this the liar removed himself. He needed no help to rid his own personality.

What once was himself remained a black hat, cape, and gloves. Black dust collected as his unknown legacy. The crushing weight of hiding was now removed from the host.

And of the host was nothing. How he thought he felt he didn't, only saying words of lies and misinterpretation. The loss of his closest comrades had occurred, he could not remove the words he had placed on their minds.

And on without the deception he couldn't close his mouth, for the deception had now ducked out.

But still there he was breathing only shallow and eyes flowing with emotions he had kept. The scales now only dull with no life and his closet lay open with his costume as if mocking his choice to leave the host.

His malicious brain almost nothing now and only but a cloud of misshapen thoughts and prayers for someone to save him. The deception would worry nobody had been there.

But was that what he felt? Had he been lying saying there was hope? That someone cared?

The deception wiped away his pathetic tears and gathered his garments, knowing what he'd say when he sees the Logic, Morality, Creativity, and Vigilance.

Oh but wait, the morality is simply weak. The deception can take the face of what is left of the broken morals and advance in his own account. And that he did.

Appearing as a father to three, he teaches them of philosophy and deceit. He encourages lying to whom lays in the orange cap. He persuades the host to deceive his closest family.

But the host refuses.

The host still then proceeds with honesty. That he must tell the truth to the orange.

'So mature' the deception states, clapping his hands slowly. The vigilance only glares as the deception reveals himself, only as what he was said to be:

The villain.

He relishes his title. He takes pride. He is now capable of what he liked and nobody could stop him. The deception is simply Deceit. He who lies and manipulates.

He who nobody cared for.

And he who still wiped his eyes from tears that same day.