#ff: character study

[rookiebe]

a bunch of steppe friends!!

[clandestinian]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, technically, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Vulnerability, Character Study, Arthur Pendragon Character Study, Kinda, Introspection, Friendship/Love, Crying, Canon Divergence - Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day (Merlin), ARTHUR DESERVED TO FEEL ANGRY Summary:

"All that power," Arthur taunts, "and you still can't save me."

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Arthur feels everything. He feels it all.

_________________________________________________________

Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction! If you’d be willing to read it and tell me what you think, I’d be forever indebted to you. Seriously. Lets make out. 

Love, adelaide <3

[comet-wire]

Last night I cried, and I mean UGLY cried at a foul hour because I love Albert Wesker and I hate it. (/Lh)

Like first off, the man's name is Albert??? Need I say more? But then, his name is kinda gothic when you say his full name. I don't know if that's just me. But just simply referring to him as Albert is goofy as fuck considering he's supposed to be a villain in RE. Not only that, he's got paper thin lips. How's he gonna get a kiss kiss??☝️🤨/ref

But it wasn't only that, mind you, it's also because this absolute FUCK, this evil David Bowie and Johnny bravo looking mother fucker, has consumed my life and every waking thought that sometimes it genuinely hurts and that's what I hate about being autistic. It's just how much I want to consume of something once it becomes a special interest and/or hyperfixation. On top of that, Wesker is a special case for me because I found out I technically trauma bonded to him as a comfort character. For the past year and a half now, I got back into RE because of the RE4R and began hyperfixating on said game then it spiraled into hyperfixating about the Wesker's storyline, with project W and so on. I already have a tendency to go back to RE periodically every like two or so years but this has low-key been probably the longest I've consistently fixated on RE without a single break in-between. My dad and I bonded over resident evil, he's one of the people who got me into RE, albeit he watched the movies and I got into the game's. Which means RE means a whole lot to me and since he passed my fixation on it only heightened as a source of comfort. I also found out when you have a comfort character during a horrible period in your life, you very well can trauma bond with said character. So that means out of all characters, I have trauma bonded to Albert Wesker and I am two seconds away from tweaking. 🤩

On top of that, every time @rainbowroadonsteroids sends me something remotely Wesker related I start punching my wall and they bully me for it smh./Lh+nm

Shout out to my favorite human nightlight, Albert Wesker. ☝️🗿

[vinular]

I made a sketch in class and I think I really like him...

Petition to make a new OC and a full scale drawing of him??

[no1ryomafan]

The urge to do a breakdown of arma and new ryoma specifically to try to understand why new ryoma is not at all acknowledged compared to arma despite new having far more screen time and being explored as a character then arma is so strong even though the answer boils down to two things: “art style preference” and “no one cares about ryoma as a actual nuance character” but both of those points makes me so mad💀

[atanx]

I see people bringing up Nishiki slapping Reina so fucking often and I'm so fucking tired of it.

Let's get this out of the way first: was it good of Nishiki to hit Reina? Should he have done it? OF FUCKING COURSE NOT. While violence is the answer to a not negligible amount of problems, here, it WASN'T.

HOWEVER.

People tend to act as though Reina was a poor uwu victim who didn't do anything wrong. So lemme explain the situation here:

1) Nishiki just saw someone he cares about A LOT get sexually assaulted or even raped.

2) Nishiki just brutally killed his boss because of an emotional / trauma reaction to witnessing said assault and was very shaken up by it, having collapsed to his knees when Kiryu arrives.

3) His brother just took the fall for it and will have to go to prison for a very long time.

4) Sawamura disappears from the hospital, leaving Nishiki with most of his support network gone in the blink of a fucking eye.

5) He goes to update Reina on the situation and she starts screaming at him, accusing him of being weak and useless, of failing her by not being able to protect Sawamura and Kiryu.

Great fucking reaction on her part, isn't it? He's just lost two of his siblings at once and she is telling him that it's his fault. Yes, Reina probably didn't mean it like that, but she still says it. And when Nishiki interrogates her on it, she doesn't retract it.

It's not helping that Nishiki's mental stability is already shot to shit because of various pressures, such as an important surgery for Yuko coming up, Kazama's clear favouritism, Kashiwagi's distance.

I reiterate: NISHIKI GETTING VIOLENT WAS BAD. HE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT.

And he apparently does slap her quite hard. But he also immediately regrets it, looking at his hand with shock. As someone who not only has a lot more physical strength than Reina and is in organised crime and is thus the stronger party in the power imbalance, it was his responsibility to try and counteract the power imbalance by restraining himself. And he failed at that.

My point is that Reina said what I consider to be unforgivable things, even if she didn't mean them. And she knows this because when Nishiki confronts her, she is scared. She knows she fucked up. Yet she doesn't try to retract her accusations or to reformulate what she feels.

They're both horrible in this interaction and this is why I don't like them as a pairing. Reina clearly is way over her head in the Yakuza world. Which is perfectly fine, not everyone can deal with it, in fact I'd wager that most people can't, yet she both involves herself in it and is involved in it by others. And then she deals with being exposed to the dark sides of the yakuza world by toxically unleashing it, here on Nishiki.

Another thing I don't like is the "he hit a woman because she hurt his feelings he isn't an uwu baby". Oh, so it would have been fine if Reina had been a man? No it wouldn't have. Why bring gender into this? Either say that no one deserves to be hurt or say that everyone deserves to get slapped every once in a while.

Let all genders be slapped and let all genders slap. All or nothing, cmon.

[cosmogyros]

Auditory processing issues suck SO HARD. I just spent about 1.5 hours watching the first half hour of a movie on YouTube, because I had so much trouble understanding the dialogue that I kept constantly having to go back and listen again and again and again, look up a transcript of the full film (the transcript contained mistakes, so it wasn't much help), compare and contrast various subtitle files available online, even cup my hands around my ears, etc. Just to figure out what the characters were saying to each other.

And it's not just literally understanding what words they say to each other, oh no. That's only the first step. The next step is figuring out what those characters MEAN when they say certain words. Like when a dude says "You know, I see, like, if we can get successful, it's, like, L-L, man… limos and Learjets," I feel like I'm having a stroke. I have to hit pause and sit there for a sec and ask myself a bunch of questions and do some research online.

Why did he say L-L? Why did he randomly say the initials of the two things he wants? Also, why does he specifically say 'Learjet'? When people dream of having a private jet, don't they normally say 'private jet'? I'd never heard the word Learjet before, so I had to go look it up to try to get more context, but that didn't really help. Is this a music biz reference I don't know? Is this a Canadian reference I don't know? If this happened once or twice during a movie, it would be no problem, but when I'm stopping and going back literally every two minutes, it takes for-fucking-ever to get through the film and my brain is So! Fucking! Exhausted!

I had to stop at about the half-hour mark. I felt like I was about to cry from frustration, so I quit for the night. I'll return to it in a day or two, when I've got a bit more mental energy, and try to work my way through the rest. If I can get through half an hour of film time per day (in an hour or so, however long it takes to get through that much), I can finish the movie in three days of watching. (And this is a movie I really, really WANT to see. I wouldn't waste a moment of my time struggling through it if I didn't care this much about it.)

Anyway. Sometimes when people say they "don't watch movies much", it doesn't necessarily mean they're being elitist snobs or whatever. Sometimes it's just so fucking challenging and exhausting to watch a movie that it leaves me feeling angry at my own body for being a dysfunctional piece of crap. I don't know if this counts as a "disability" and I'm not claiming that label because I don't want to step on any toes, but I have to admit that the mere prospect of watching a film often fills me with dread because it can be so intensely difficult for me (unless I just mentally check out and give up on understanding it completely, which is what I typically do when I'm watching with other people).

[catastrophic-dreamer]

there are a lot of things Law knows about: death, diseases, vengeance, regret, humans, monsters – to name a few. but there are even more that he doesn’t, things that encompass the whole spectrum of humanity, the entire scope of emotions and memories – things that might have been and things that can never be. a surgeon of death dreams, too.

bumping an older fic about my dearest baby boy Law - reread this recently and i still love it so much and idk, my writing might have peaked here

and here's a bleeding law because the fic is aching and full of yearning but also soft and hopeful about the future

[mycological-mariner]

2nd night watching Poldark and 1) they’ve mentioned the riots and they’re showing the unrest, I just really hope they don’t bungle it. Like, somehow the Poldark Mine is the only sustainable one or something and all the miners love their work so much, that kind of story, ya know? I don’t think they will because that would be ridiculously dishonest and I’ll just be pissed off. Also, once it starts moving along, I REALLY REALLY hope they make mention of the St. Just Liberty Tree and the taking in of French refugees and giving them English names and suchlike so they’re not deported. Also there was a lighthouse in one shot and I had to look it up because I could’ve SWORN it wasn’t built (at least not to that shape and height) until much later on. That’s just me being nit picky though

2) Verity continues to be my fave and by god do I want her to just snap and break her brother’s nose or something.

Honourable mention goes to the physician friend because finally the show mentioned in passing mine illnesses (that’s it’s whole other post though I’m already in my wormhole)

[sealluzz]

ocs w fan art doodle dump :p !!!

[almostlikequake]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Lockwood & Co. (TV), Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Celia Lockwood/Donald Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood & Celia Lockwood & Donald Lockwood & Jessica Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood & Jessica Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle & George Cubbins | George Karim & Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle & Anthony Lockwood, George Cubbins | George Karim & Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle & George Cubbins | George Karim Characters: Anthony Lockwood, Celia Lockwood, Donald Lockwood, Jessica Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle, George Cubbins | George Karim Additional Tags: Character Study, Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Emotions, gravestones, graveyard, Flowers, Light Angst, Angst, Friendship, Family, Adulthood, Memories, Personal Growth, Feelings, Character Study About Gravestones And Lives Lived, Post-Canon, Canon - Lockwood & Co. (Book & TV Combination) Summary:

A character study about the graves of Lockwood's family, Lockwood himself, Lucy and George.

(It's tagged Major Character Death because this is written from the perspective of the far future of after the trio have died as adults and as the trio are major characters, this tag is used. Also not too much detail is given about Lockwood's family in this so non-book readers can read this and probably be fine.) @lockwoodandcoff

[nonamerat]

[tuupii]

on the one hand pls dont do the evil!armorer plot twist

on the other hand evil woman hot

[ride-thedragon]

This cute little au about an in-universe question just crossed 20k words and now I wonder if it was ever that serious.

I'm just making stuff up from made up stuff.

Pov: I had to write smut and couldn't avoid it because it made sense for both the story progression and character.

[dankdefrank]

Vibhava-taṇhā

Summary: Vibhava-taṇhā (craving for non-existence): one of three types of taṇhā, which is an important concept in Buddhism, referring to "thirst, desire, longing, greed", either physical or mental. It is typically translated as craving. Vibhava-taṇhā can be explained as craving to not experience unpleasant things in the current or future life, such as unpleasant people or situations. This sort of craving may include attempts at suicide and self-annihilation, and this only results in further rebirth in a worse realm of existence.

or

Surviving is a miracle - living after is a curse. Two teenagers try to help each other while picking up the pieces of themselves. Content warning: underage smoking, light blood, guns, mentions of suicide/suicide attempt, suicidal/depressed thoughts. Read also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47493457

It starts with a feeling. Feeling almost primal, that it can even be called forgotten. She barely can believe it is still with her, as it appeared one day and has never gone away since. Running through her veins, she has realized – this so-called flight or fight response has become an inseparable part of her, whether she likes it or not. And even when her life is not endangered anymore, she can still feel it, crawling under her skin. It doesn’t leave, creating a mind of its own. She finds it ironic. After all, she knows the day she’s going to disappear, for good. It’s one of the marks that her death has left on her. Another – the fear of dying again. So she holds on to this feeling for her dear life, as she believes if she lets herself breathe, she’s going to fall apart, crumble to dust – literally. But maybe this paradox is killing her. Even if it does, she won’t admit it. Not yet. While Anne knows when her time will come, she cannot stand this lack of knowledge about the lives of others’. The war is over, she may be safe and sound, but not the others. Every day, she hugs her parents so dearly, listens to her colleagues a little bit more than it’s needed, pets her cat way too often, and finally, she finds every excuse to turn back to Sasha Waybright in her English class. But when it's been a second week in a row since she has appeared in school and answered her texts, Anne starts thinking that something is very, very wrong. Her absence is understandable, given… the circumstances. She knows that Sasha probably needs time but still, she can’t stop worrying. Maybe something wasn’t working, indeed, or they were too complicated to understand their own feelings, not speaking about the feelings of the other, but they’re still friends. At least, she believes so. 

Whatever the word for people sharing the same trauma is called. Sometimes, she thinks the events from Amphibia are the only thing that connects them and it makes her wonder – have they been friends at all? What does it mean to be friends? What’s the meaning of friendship if it ends with hurting the people that we love? She’s becoming more mature, thus she has to ask questions and eventually find the answers. It’s the part of growing up, the key to truly getting to know ourselves.

She doesn’t really control her body when she turns to Sasha’s dad’s house instead of hers on her way home from school. She lets it work on its own, coming up with an "I just wanted to keep you updated on homework and you weren’t answering" excuse. Not as if that really matters. It's a sunny, warm day. Spring is coming. The scars stay. She doesn’t feel that she's here though, as if her life was one big autonomic algorithm, but she won’t exit it. It would be unforgivable.

She passes through Sasha’s neighborhood. Although she has known her for years, she has only been in her house a few times. She has to think for a moment about whether she should turn right or left. An irritating voice in her head suggests as if that was the sign she shouldn’t go there at all. She doesn’t listen to it. Then, she sees it. After a closer look, Sasha’s dad’s house isn’t different from the rest of the building by the street. When she was younger, she’d always imagined it as an enormous, spacey villa with a beautiful garden, a crystal pool and an open driveway. It turned out she was more wrong than right – Sasha’s family could be living better than hers, but they didn’t see the point in buying a huge house for money to burn, when no one was there most of the time. Not like a smaller house would make Sasha’s loneliness more bearable. Still, the house is big enough to fit the family of five at least – when Sasha’s dad got remarried, Sasha gained two younger step-siblings. Before Amphibia, she hated their guts, calling them "annoying little shits", but after… It seems like she started tolerating them. Sometimes Anne would see her picking them up from school or even taking them to the movies. It surprised her at first, but it was heartwarming to see that Sasha was trying. Now, the house is quiet. No bikes left in the yard, no car in the garage – no living soul. She thinks so at first. Approaching, she notices the familiar silhouette sitting on the porch’s stairs, buried in the shadow. Sasha looks miserable. Her eyes seem to be more absent since their last meeting, with eye-bags bigger than before. Her short, messy hair, which definitely needs a haircut, is going in every direction. Chapped lips with bloody knuckles, one hand holding a flickering cigarette, and the pack of Marlboros sticking out from the pocket of Mr. Waybright’s old bomber jacket. Compared to this lovely weather, Sasha fills this view with her own sorrow. Anne even hesitates, as her friend doesn’t notice her appearance. But, instead, she finds her presence as the sign that now she has to reach out. "Hi," she says, standing in front of Sasha, who almost drops her cigarette. "Home alone, I see?" "Jesus Christ, Boonchuy," she lets out, "You almost gave me a heart attack." Anne laughs and decides to sit next to her. "Did your family leave?", she asks. Sasha nods. "Yeah, they went to a restaurant. I didn’t wanna go." She shudders. "Which gave you a perfect opportunity to smoke a cig." "If you want one, just say it." "I’m good." Anne declines. She decides to get to the point. "You weren’t responding to my texts." "I was sick." Sasha looks away, as if that was supposed to help her with an already bad lie. "Sasha." Anne's look pierces her. It's gentle, yet firm. "One of these days?" She doesn’t want to be too sharp, although she is, in fact, irritated – she can understand Sasha’s actions though, as her well-being is not something that she can completely control. To be honest, she lost this control the day they came back. Slowly, it started to take over and soon Anne had to admit it – Sasha was a wreck, nothing like the Sasha she has known all these years. She has changed, yes, and she appreciates it every day, but sometimes she would miss that courage and spark in her cerulean eyes, replaced by cold indifference. And then, Anne also had to admit – she could have saved the world, but still, she is helpless to make her world even slightly better. Sasha is quiet for a moment. "I guess. I’m sorry."

Anne sighs. She knows her – if she wants to know exactly what's going on, she has to dig deeper. Not directly. 

She changes the subject.

"What about these?" She asks, gently grabbing one of Sasha’s bleeding hands. Sasha doesn’t stop her, even when Anne reaches out for some water and gauze in her backpack. Sasha lets out a little chuckle. "Always prepared, aren’t we?" "Better be safe than sorry. There’s always some scratch at the tennis practice." Anne answers, smiling a little. She opens the bottle of water. "Gimme your hands." Sasha listens to her – Anne knows it’s not Sasha letting herself be cared for, but it’s still the same indifference swallowing her. Sasha just doesn’t want to make it longer than it’s needed, that’s all. Anne pours some water on Sasha’s bleeding knuckles and then applies the gauze, pressuring it a bit. "Thanks," Sasha murmurs. "I would be fine, though." "I know. But there are a lot of things where I could leave you on your own. I just don’t want to." "Yeah. I– I get it." The silence falls. It’s kind of awkward, although they have spent a lot of moments without any words. For now, though, the silence is not as safe as it was – it’s unknown, unpredictable and they have gone through too much to just let it be. The silence is a sign that they, in fact, have grown apart and will continue to do so. Which is a natural course of events, but they’re too tied to each other to cut the strings of their fates. They fulfilled their destinies, but the aftermaths of these are still present in their lives. Slowly, it becomes clear – they won’t fade away. And they can be swallowed by these or accept them as part of their way to, whatever. They’re supposed to figure that out. They can’t even figure themselves out. As Anne keeps holding Sasha’s hands in hers, trying to find something that would cut that silence between them, some topic to talk about, to pretend that absolutely everything is alright (when it’s not and she wonders if it ever will be). She cannot ignore her bleeding knuckles, or rather – the reason why they are even bleeding in the first place, but she’s perfectly aware she won’t get the straight answer. It will be lost in the sea of generality, which means – it won't even be an answer at all. Instead, she takes a closer look at the details she noticed when she stepped by Sasha’s house. Now, she’s more aware of those that she saw earlier and recognizes the ones she didn’t. Then, the familiar smell of cheap beer she can find at typical, high school parties during which she realizes she’s more lonely than ever, fills her nostrils. Before she knows it, she withdraws her hands from Sasha’s and the genuine, curious question leaves her mouth.

 "Have you been drinking?" Sasha shrugs. "A little. I’m fine." She adds in a way that Anne is going to investigate more and it is absolutely not needed. She wouldn’t have to, because in that matter Anne believes her, "This beer from his fridge tasted like shit either way." And she chuckles. Anne is aware Mr. Waybright won’t notice one or two of his bottles missing. Even if he will, he’s that type of man who offers some Bud Light to any teenager entering his house, probably wanting to be this "cool" dad. Sometimes Anne can’t stop hysterically thinking that he’ll make Sasha an alcoholic before she turns 21, but it’s only panicked thinking, because Sasha just doesn’t care about some percents in her body, unlike the average American teenager. Anne has seen her at the parties – and if she had to choose, who, the fuck, from this bunch of tipsy, vomiting kids still has all of their marbles, it would be Sasha, actually. No matter how crazy it sounds. He’s not a monster, to be honest. He’s just a really crappy parent, or like Sasha once told her – he "fucked up and is too afraid to clean his shit up because it started living its own life". Her words are painfully… accurate. It’s easier to let it be. Her rage has already evaporated anyway, leaving only a void in her heart but both seem to be equally destructive. 

"Why did you drink it, then?" For a while, Anne thinks she’s like the host interviewing the guest invited to the show, fucking Christ, the same surrealistic grotesque situation. 

"I don’t know. I do a lot of stuff without thinking." Her knuckles are not bleeding as much as before, so she plays with gauze in her hands. "Although… I was frustrated. I think." 

At this point, it looks like Anne could’ve left if she wanted to. Their whole conversation is only a facade, to be honest, as there’s nothing to talk about – or rather, their misery is too big to put into words and they’re focusing all of their strength to survive. They know, it’s not the only way to live, yet the old habits don’t go away, in their heads war continues, so do they, covered in grime and blood. Being safe is out of place, it’s… wrong. She could’ve let go of her hand, as they are both drowning in dark water, and kept drowning on her own – because one of them is the weight to the other and vice versa. Maybe in some alternate world she realizes – they share nothing with each other, not anymore. So she nods, gets up, says goodbye and goes home, and that's the last time she sees her – not six feet underground, where she stays the same messy teenager forever. Maybe, in some alternate world she doesn't even think about that as she actually has been dead , even if right now it feels like she is, and it cannot be, they’re whole, the one, even if on their own they’re only shattered pieces of people they used to be. Maybe , she thinks, sitting on this very porch outside Waybrights’ house and seeing the blink of reality that still can happen flashes in front of her eyes, we’ll die.

I hope we both die.  

(It’s not her thought).  

Finally, she asks something she should have asked a long time ago – despite the obvious answer – reverse shibboleth, that "hello" at the beginning of a phone call, while you know who’s on the other side. But you still have to do it and you don’t know why, the impulsivity of the decision you won’t even remember. 

"Are you alright?" Sasha looks at her – in the deep blue of her eyes Anne sees all of that hidden pain and she knows. Hell, no, the kids aren’t alright, the kids with skinned knees and gaps in their teeth, once they’ve run onto these streets where they grew up and got lost. Yet, they came back and prayed, prayed so hard to be able to continue being kids. They’ve lost their innocence though, disturbed by the aftermath of their experiences. It is a miracle they survived. But living with the consequences of such wonder, it is a curse. 

And then, Sasha does something that will haunt Anne in her dreams for a few next weeks, although the echo of it stays with her until her dying days. She puts her hand in her pocket and pulls out a gun.

It happens in the second – she springs up, just to step back, panicked and realizes – she thinks she’s in danger. She thinks that Sasha holding Mr. Waybright’s fucking Walther may be a threat to her and she hates it. Sasha has to realize it too, as her eyes are widening, wondering if that’s betrayal as well. Anne has to cover it up. 

"What the fuck?" She whispers, her body still tense and ready to flee in any second. "It’s empty," Sasha says, her voice breaking a little, "I promise." "What were you thinking?" "I’m sorry–" "Have you gone crazy?!" She explodes and she’ll regret it later but she can’t help it right now. "Has it even crossed your damn mind what the hell– I would– what I would have to tell her ?!" "I’m sorry!" Sasha yells with full force and Anne is aware that she’s not lying. "I’m fucking sorry, okay?!"

The silence falls, right before the neighbors become interested in this yelling outside. So they quiet down, for their own damn sake, although it doesn’t really matter. Anne even feels this unbearable, beastly, immature desire to scream her lungs out about what her friend-not-friend tried to do. Instead, she takes a deep breath. "Put this shit down. Right here," she commands coldly. "Don’t– Don’t protest." So Sasha follows. This little pact of the war, which is her dad’s gun being kicked as far away as possible from them, hurts because it’s not a necessity, not at all, yet it clearly draws another new line between them. And, she has to admit, Anne fully has the right to do so – she cannot be in control of it.

Then, Anne sits down on the stairs again, but farther than before, as if the invisible wall grew during these few moments that just took place, separating them. It’s not the first time, though. A lot of walls have grown in Sasha’s life. The one that her parents placed when she was just a kid, about whose existence she would learn much later, another one when both of them found new families and she realized there’s no place for her, and the other one, in a place way more different from the Earth, eons from there. The thing is – none of these walls have been broken and Sasha doubts they ever will be. But not Anne, Anne would always find some way to break through walls that have been laid down in Sasha’s life, as they weren’t existing for her in the first place. Anne would reach her, to the place where she went without any sound – her hero, her villain, her savior, her downfall. Now, Sasha has failed her and she knows it will impact both of them for the rest of their lives.

Anne lets the air out as if she was thinking if she should or should not ask the question. Finally, she decides to do so. "Is that because of us? Just… be honest," she says so quietly and exhaustedly that Sasha just wishes she had the strength to take her inside so they both could’ve laid down and after they’d wake up this whole situation would be nothing as some bizarre, blurry dream that they couldn’t have remembered. Like they used to. Sasha blinks. "No," she says, almost defensively, "no, it’s never been us, I swear."

Anne nods. "Alright." Her face softens, somewhere between blame and the feeling that maybe it’s the last time she believes her. "I’m sorry. For… yelling at you and stuff." Sasha chuckles wryly. "I’d yell at myself too. And… I’m not a fan of compassion either. So, uh, I probably needed that." "It wasn’t okay, though." "Anne, I swear, from this point now nothing will ever be worse than that." "Then tell me why." Anne looks her in the eyes and the icey, piercing blue meets the warm brown. "Tell me the truth." 

It reminds her of the same sunny afternoon, from a few weeks ago when they both decided it’s clearly not working – or at least, not for now. Maybe, some beautiful day they will eventually understand themselves and become exactly the persons they have been looking for in the images of way too troubled teens they were. But there, she loses it, the stability of her future, because just a few moments ago she could’ve been not here anymore. Her empire of dirt falls, so does she, from its highest tower – there’s no more place to hide. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, as one of the catechists from the Saint James middle school used to say during mandatory Lent’s masses.

Funny thing – God. She quickly realized she wasn’t a believer and it wasn’t really a surprising thing. Although her parents declared themselves Catholics and she was Saint James’s student after all, none of them took care about raising her in the faith. Her parents rarely attended church, which she used to find ironic, and Saint James was mostly Catholic in name only. It worked really well with her during her early adolescence, when she would find any feeling of being subjected to some, in her opinion, ridiculous religious system absolutely outrageous. If God exists, why do people suffer? Why does hell exist? Why does the loving God kill or hate his own children? And none of the priests, believers or sacred books would give her the satisfying answer – somehow, they still believed and she couldn’t understand it. She does now, hell, she craves strength to follow them as well. Lost in her own humanity, maybe faith in some higher being would save her from annihilation. She would live in a lie, but she would at least live, frightened by God Almighty, like the kids are scared of monsters under the bed. But, in the disguise of promising the rest of her soul that’s still a lie, making her sick to her stomach. The pain is a better companion, always silent and harsh – yet, she can count on it either way. 

"Okay."

Dance on my grave with me – take my hand and let me sing.

Sasha gulps. 

"Do you remember how you died? When you turned into leaves and we thought you were gone forever?" "Hard to forget." Anne chuckles hollowly. "What about it?"

"I… I just kind of started thinking about it. That it could be some kind of salvation for me. And I guess that’s why you were so furious, because you survived."

"We all survived, Sash," she says, her eyes staring into space in front of her. "Now we have to live with the consequences."

"Yeah." A moment of quiet, she starts to fidget with her hands. "It’s not like I exactly want to die. There are still things I’d miss and I know that there are some people who care about me and I care about them. I didn’t even live half the life I wanted. But there’s something in… me, some kind of wish to not exist and sometimes it’s just too strong. Like, there’s too much pain to fight for some happiness." Sasha takes a slow breath. "A-And there’s no real way to experience nothingness. Maybe death is too much, but… Shit, I wouldn’t even have time to think about it if that gun was loaded, I’m just… exhausted. I wouldn’t really care if I had to die in five minutes."

Anne nods slowly. She thinks for a second, and then she speaks up.

"We have a name for it. In Buddhism. It’s vibhava-taṇhā. Basically craving for non-existence." "Vibhava-taṇhā," Sasha repeats. Silently, she whispers it a few times under her nose. It sounds weirdly good while she says it. Anne looks at her, but Sasha doesn’t. "I told you what happened. To be honest, I’m not sure if I didn’t dream it, but… I don’t think that death is a salvation for non-existence." 

"Why?"

"Because there’s no turning back," she says, "and we don’t want to leave forever."

"And why did you come back?"

That surprises her. Sasha knows, she had to have some thoughts like hers at some point of her life. Yet, she decided to come back here, to existence, being the man’s worst nightmare and his biggest dream. Sasha still cannot fully grasp this concept and she wants to understand. "I… I still want to experience. And… nothingness will come at some point. Why not stick around a little longer?"

"But we’re smaller people than we used to be. I mean, we’re alive, but… what now? Because I have no idea. It kind of feels like I never will," she admits.

"Actually, it’s fine," Anne assures, "nothing matters. In a good way, so that’s okay. We’re the ones who give it all direction." 

"Do you think we’ll figure it out?"

Anne shrugs. "Eventually. I hope."

"I hope so too."

They don’t say anything for a while. A little eternity. Next, Anne decides to address something that is pretty accurate. 

"You’re not going to like it, but I think you should call your dad." Sasha opens her mouth as Anne cuts in firmly, "Or any other adult. I’m your friend but I’m also just a kid. I can’t just ignore the fact you just tried– tried to kill yourself and to be honest… I just simply don’t know what to do." 

And Sasha indeed doesn’t like it, but Anne’s right. She won’t argue with her.

She sighs. "Can you at least stay? For a moment?"

"Sure," Anne says. She doesn’t hesitate. By this, she means " I’ll wait for you. " So, with a shaking hand, Sasha pulls out her phone from her pocket. Nervously, she looks for "Dad" in her contacts, while her brain frantically tries to find some good words to tell him what happened, what is happening and what will happen. Eventually, she calls him and the sound of dialing seems to last forever. But he fucking picks up. She kind of wishes he didn’t. 

"Hi, Sasha. Everything’s okay?"

She looks at Anne and she doesn't know what to say anymore. She gulps. "Hey, dad. Can you come? I– I think I need your help." "What? Are you alright?" He sounds genuinely concerned. "I found your gun," she blurts out. She doesn’t even need to say anything more as the silence from Mr. Waybright seems to tell everything as he already guessed what she wanted to do. 

"Okay," he finally says, probably still processing her words, "is anyone with you? "

"Y-yes."

"I’ll be there in twenty minutes."

"I’m sorry." She doesn’t even control it, but that’s something she wanted to tell him a long time ago. 

"It’s fine. Just wait a moment."

"Okay. Thanks." She’s sure he wants to tell her something more – maybe "I’m sorry " as well, or "I love you ", but he doesn’t. He never does and she can understand it – they may be a family, but the lines were drawn a long time ago and probably even her death wouldn’t change it. But that’s okay, she can live with it. She’s used to it, after all. But he ends the call, as if they were just casually talking about what to get in the store and that thought makes her laugh. 

"He picked up," she chuckles, still shaking, even more than before. Her vision becomes blurry as the tears start to run down her face. "H-he picked up."

Anne just slowly opens her arms and, as if it was her only way to save herself, Sasha drowns in her. Clenching her shaking hands on Anne’s t-shirt, she lets it all out, her own catharsis – she will wake up in the morning. Anne holds her gently until her dad arrives. 

They’ll be okay. Eventually.

[name-doggo]

I personally think if people can romanticize and "forgive" William Afton then I have every right to think all Devon needed was some support and therapy. We all make mistakes<3(He murdered someone)

I can kinda see where you're coming from with that- The way you phrased it makes it seem like you're not excusing what he did, so yeah I agree.

Also At the very least with Devon, he didn’t mean to Kill Kelsey. Is he still a massive Asshole for wanting to Trap Kelsey in a suit for Hours outta Jealousy? Yes, but he wasn't so evil that he wanted to Kill him. (It's an extremely low bar to cross, but still gotta give Credit.)

I do believe in some way if Devon did get the right support he needed, he could’ve became a good person. That being said, don't let hypotheticals or AUs blind you to the fact in Canon he is an Asshole.