#he’s what the eyeballs have nightmares about and they didn’t even think they could have nightmares | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fallen-in-dreams · 1 year ago

Text

CHAPTER TEN on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 9,611.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

Enjoy. ^_^

[I'm likely going to not update next week. Christmas and all that - more details in the AO3 author notes but it's not necessary to read. Hope you all have a great holiday. :)]

Tumblr version:

… Chapter Ten: A Pound of Flesh. ...

.:.

Hearts aren't supposed to hurt like that They're not supposed to break so fast They say that time's a healer How long is this burn supposed to last?

-- Hearts, by Jesse Ware

.:.

“They’re all dead.”

Darkness was a wave of smudges. A blur of smoke at the edges of her vision. Cold steel at her throat accompanied by a feeling of dread. A familiarity of pain and death. Her dreams never wavered, wave after wave crashing down on her.

The cries in the distance were familiar. Team Seven. No. Team Kakashi. And the numerous people she’d watched die over the years. Friend or foe. They screamed at her but all she could do was scream back. Unintelligibly. What was she supposed to do? They were beyond helping. They were all dead.

Why can’t they just leave me in peace?

Sakura shook violently as she burst into consciousness, the dark red motif of her dream imprinting itself on her mind’s eye. Splotches of paint splattered colour pressed against her eyeballs as she rolled off the bed and dragged herself into the bathroom before emptying her stomach into the sink. Not the toilet. Never the toilet. The smell of that, sweet or disgusting, would just make her vomit again.

She never understood the accepted norm of throwing up in a toilet of all things. Sure, it’s easier to just flush the damn thing, but you can puke into buckets too, and flush them. You can throw up in any number of things that can be used to flush it. Then you just discard the container. And yeah, you might clog the sink but who cares when your body is heaving violently? Maybe it was psychological. All in her head. She hated the idea of it.

But to use a toilet? To put her face near… that? Disgusting. To open her mouth to… to where…

That’s where your poop goes.

Sakura giggled even as she clutched the sides of the basin tightly, her fingers turning almost as white as the porcelain itself. Her stomach turned and her body lurched forward, then she heaved again. Chunks from the previous night’s dinner made her nauseated again and she emptied her stomach into the sink, unrelenting wave after wave until her abdomen was too sore and dry to conjure up more.

Not clogged.

She groaned and leaned her back against the wall, breathing heavily. Her legs were like jelly. She shuddered and slid to the floor. Sakura had felt physically ill after a nightmare before but never this bad.

Has to be the prazosin.

Stealing the medicine from the hospital had been a whim, but she didn’t regret it. Her dreams were still dark, but she felt less dazed coming out of them. Maybe she was just imagining things, though, since results could take one to two weeks to show, with the full benefit taking up to eight weeks. Or so her memory told her. Sakura had only been taking them for a few days. It was too soon for any tangible results.

Must just be my imagination.

It was the only thing she could think of, but it didn’t make sense. Nausea was a possible side-effect of the drug (a rare one), and dizziness. She also felt drowsy often and had increasing headaches. But now that she thought about it, she’d been experiencing many of the common side-effects for a long time. So how was she supposed to know if the blurred vision, dizziness, or palpitations were from the prazosin or her PTSD?

Or maybe I’m remembering the list of side-effects wrong.

Sakura knew it would take time, but her pessimistic side wondered if this was even going to work at all. It didn’t matter. She sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the details of her dream but they were fuzzy already, fading fast. All she could recall were shapes and emotions. Falling asleep had been easy with how happy she’d felt at the time. Because Gaara had asked her out and she felt so good. Emotions she’d tucked away for so long had brimmed to the surface and she felt giddy, like an academy schoolgirl with a cliché crush on the hot boy in class. A feeling that reminded her of others but was now for Gaara alone.

Did he even go to the Sunagakure Academy?

She scoffed at that, ignoring the way her face warmed at the idea. But they were going to go on a date. Well, they had planned to plan for a date. Nothing was happening just yet because… well, she assumed his busy schedule caused the need to make a time and date, to slip his mind. And it felt surreal. She didn’t know what he had planned but at least it would break up the monotony of her day to day. Or evening. Whenever it would be. Would he plan something for the two of them instead of the evening meal shared with his siblings? Maybe it would be wise since he was so busy during the day.

She smiled lightly at that, then climbed unsteadily to her feet. Her vision blurred and she swayed a little but after about a minute, she felt strong enough to leave the bathroom. She didn’t need to clean up after herself other than to wash her mouth out. The sink was still not clogged.

The clock on her wall said it was just after one in the morning. It was too early to be up and too late to start a good night’s rest; she was suddenly wide awake. Her eyes strayed over her belongings.

Why the fuck?

Sakura grabbed the Aloe Vera plant Matsuri had given her on her first night in Suna. Over three weeks ago. It was a stupid thought, what had just popped into her head, but she wanted to try it out, anyway.

She pulled out the scroll she’d been using for the ink creatures and set up the ink well as usual. Moonlight filtering in through the window was her only guide as she drew out an image of the plant. It wasn’t an animal, but she didn’t care. Taking care with the chakra infused ink, Sakura performed the hand signs to bring it to life.

There was no hope in her heart. After all this time, Sakura was used to not hoping. But there was a tug on her heart every time she achieved something, regardless of how probable it had been. And with this ink creation jutsu, she’d had more than a lot of failures. But…

She cackled as her newest creation rolled out of the scroll like a blob of paint that had gained sentience, before toppling over and splattering all over the floor. What a mess. It wasn’t like the snakes or the birds; it didn’t have a viable form. It wasn’t something that she knew could move on its own. But at least it was entertaining watching it lose cohesion to go from a strange succulent shape to blob and then implode on impact with the real world. She set paint to paper again, this time trying to recreate the hazy figures from her nightmares. These had their own momentum in her mind even though the memories were still blotches and all manner of incomprehensible shapes, but she tried to focus on the feelings they invoked as well. Sakura closed her eyes and tried to focus. This jutsu was clearly never meant to be used like this. She didn’t care.

Sakura focused on the outline, the texture, how heavy it had felt. Like it was a real thing. She ran the brush over the scroll by memory alone, closing her eyes halfway through the process. It was too abstract, but she was determined to bring it to life. When it was done, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, surprised by her own desperate expectations.

She looked down at it.

Well, that’s a monumental, fucking let down.

The image was too abstract. There was no other way to describe it. Sakura debated whether or not to just toss it, but if she didn’t lift it from the parchment then it would waste the scroll. It looked nothing like her dreams, in its essence. But she felt a weight drop in the pit of her stomach looking at it. It was creepy. She didn’t want to bring it to life. The sharp, jagged strokes smudged in with softer but hazy edges; they were at odds. It reminded her of her ugly mirage problem. But it couldn’t stay on the paper.

Sakura did the seals slowly, pulling the ink from the page, but then released her chakra from it before it could fully form.

That was so fucking stupid.

Likely nothing would’ve come of it, but her feeling of dread superseded her logic. It had to die. That was all there was to it. She shivered. The soft breeze wafting through the window reminded her of her vulnerability. No matter how strong she became, Sakura was inexorably weak.

And bored out of her mind, once again.

.:.

An hour later, Sakura woke with a start at the sound of a loud bang. She’d dozed off on the floor, leaning against the bed. The ink splatter from her failed attempt at making her nightmare real made fun of her from several feet away. A silent, cackling demon in her mind. She groaned and sat up straight, rubbing at her eyes.

There it is again.

What was with the banging? She stood shakily and tried to listen for it. The next one was softer, but closer. A spike of chakra on the edge of her senses that didn’t belong to anyone who lived in this mansion. To someone who stayed out of it. She sent her chakra out, pulsing, making itself known. The air shifted around her; it was almost harder to breathe. She was so used to only detecting Kankuro and Gaara’s signature; maybe Temari’s was throwing her off? Or maybe she was ignoring the obvious.

And again.

The bang was creeping her out. Maybe a windowpane was loose somewhere? She glanced out her window, seeing nothing. Nothing but shadows, dancing across the nearby rooftops, but no sign of the Root shadow that she could see. She narrowed her eyes at the closest roof, wondering if there was a jutsu that could work like binoculars. She could use one right about now. The way those shadows were moving was unnatural. If only she could get a closer look. But Gaara had asked her not to leave the mansion at night.

Like I’m a child avoiding the bogeyman.

She scoffed and turned away from the window.

Better go take a look.

Another bang. She shuddered and quickly removed her kunai from the window frame, gripping it tightly in one fisted hand. It wasn’t poisoned yet, but it would do as a just in case. She took a deep breath and opened her door slowly. Her heart was racing like it had been expecting a hallway monster to jump out at her. She laughed with a soft croak and stepped tentatively out of her room.

The blackness of the hallway blinded her when she left her room behind, and she held her hand out, running it along the wall to keep herself heading in the correct direction. No lights were on and the stream of moonlight she could see coming in downstairs was not strong enough to guide her, yet. The mansion was creepy at night. She shivered and paused at the top of the internal staircase. The bang was coming from downstairs.

Maybe I should wake Gaara?

She rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment, trying to rationalise that. No, she could do this herself. He’d already seen how weak she was. Sakura didn’t want to give him any more reasons to look down on her. Not that he did. Or so she told herself. He couldn’t, not with how kind he’d been.

Worry about that later.

Sakura was more than capable of checking out a strange sound in the dead of night. She’d done worse. Gripping the kunai to her chest she reached out to grasp a hold of the banister to steady herself. One foot in front of the other, she descended the stairs, keeping her ears and eyes peeled as she tried to sense if there were any intruders. Or if she was just going mad hearing things. All of the above.

She stopped at the bottom of the steps and pressed her shoulder against the wall, peering into the poorly lit, open hallway that connected this are to both the kitchen and the living room; beyond which was the study and front door. She glanced back toward the hallway that retreated to the back of the house, but the banging was coming from in front of her, not behind. The bang in question now sounded more like a thud.

Is there really a difference?

She sighed and moved into the room. Nothing happened. Nothing tangible. Again, the shadows bothered her, but she just ignored them. The sound was clearer now, obviously coming from the front door.

Outside?

The Root shadow?

Sakura decided to check from the window first, pulling a curtain aside and peering into the night. But her field of vision was limited. So, she carefully opened the front door to the Kazekage mansion instead, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head that told her that she was being stupid.

“You are being stupid.”

“Go away.”

The mirage stood in the doorway as though it had been waiting to be let in. The cool air it brought made Sakura shiver, but she was determined to stare it down. It looked more solid now, which was a pain because that meant it was blocking her view.

“Move it,” she snarled.

It grinned stupidly at her, it’s bloodied mouth dry and caked with grime. Sometimes it changed its appearance a little to add a bit of personality. This time it looked more haggard, as though it had been standing in the sun too long, trying to dry the blood that was always on it.

“You’re not ready,” it insisted. “You can’t see what its doing. What it’s been doing. Not yet.”

“It woke me up,” Sakura said, then cursed inwardly that she’d let it draw her into its narrative. “Get out of my way.”

“Go through me.”

Her eyes widened. She couldn’t step through her mirage. She just couldn’t. If she did, Sakura imagined she could feel every one of its wounds, remember all the beatings, the way it had been broken and stabbed. The way it had been tortured. The way she had.

And other things.

She didn’t want to remember all the things she’d forgotten. And it knew it. The mirage was smug as Sakura closed the door in its face.

“Bitch.”

On the plus side, the banging had stopped.

Shivering and suddenly too cold and terrified to do anymore, Sakura ran back up the internal staircase and slammed her bedroom door behind herself. The reality of what she’d just tried to do hit her. She was sure that Gaara had Anbu following the Root, but she also knew from experience that it wouldn’t ever be enough. Root was trained to deal with that. He could slip from their notice, and they wouldn’t even realise. What little of her own training that was still imprinted staunchly in her mind proved that the Anbu guards would not be a hindrance to its movement. Whatever it was planning, the Root shadow would succeed in. They always did.

It’s up to something.

Of course, it was up to something. Banging something at odd hours, flaring his chakra like he was trying to tell someone something. Talking to someone while Sakura stood, talking to herself. The Foundation were insidious.

Sakura let out a deep sigh. All of this night’s activity made her nervous. It meant that whatever the Root was trying to do, he was almost ready to showcase it. She stood and moved over to the window. The Root member had been restless lately. Like a child on a sugar high. She should’ve known its preparation was almost complete.

And here I am, standing like an idiot, still inside Suna.

Still stuck. Still unable to circumvent the gilded cage. Her plans were falling apart, even as she convinced herself that soon, soon she’d be able to leave. She’d flee. Nobody would follow. And she would be alone and with the only person she could ever trust. Herself. Sakura could never trust anyone, no matter their intentions. But that also wasn’t true, because a part of her blamed herself. And a part of her blamed Gaara. The Kazekage. The man who’d asked her on a date but had yet to give a time and place. Like he was just making promises for the sake of promises. Like she was a tiny kitten being drawn in by a string. She laughed of that.

Yes, of course. Let’s lure the insipid Leaf kunoichi into a comfortable ruse where she starts to think she’s actually valued. Then ignore her.

He failed the follow through. Like all men.

Sakura pressed her face against the window, unwilling to open it. The shadows were moving strangely again, this time taking form. She’d wondered again what the Root’s abilities were. Either he could become shadows, or join shadows, or this was a genjutsu. She was good at dispelling jutsu. So, she tried. But nothing changed. No surprise. It had been her weakest theory, anyway.

So, Sakura watched as the Root shadow took form, standing just outside the mansion barrier, staring at her. If only she could see his face and tell what he was thinking. Was he smirking at her? Sneering? Pressing his lips into a tight line of displeasure? Making faces? She wanted to rip the mask off and find out. The memory of when she’d thrown broken wood infused with her chakra at him had kept her happy for a while.

It’s time for more.

But her courage had fled the moment the mirage blocked her view. She didn’t want to rehash that right now. Sakura knew he was coming for her soon. But not now. Not right now. He had a timetable; she was sure of it. Three weeks to infiltrate and map the village. Three weeks to figure out how to slip past the barrier without alerting Gaara. Three weeks of tormenting her with ideas of how he was going to torture and kill her for the betterment of his Master.

Sakura shook her head of those thoughts. It didn’t matter right now. The only thing that mattered was the fact that she couldn’t figure out a way to sneak past him, let alone them. They were watching her too closely. Her ink creatures had, so far, gone unnoticed, but she chalked that up to the nature of them. And the fact that her enemy didn’t know she could make them.

Her repertoire from before her time with Danzo had been impressive if she was being honest about it. But the years had taught her more insidious methods that would shock the Sunagakure council members. All part of her standardised, ruthless Root training. She scoffed.

But that damn shadow knew all her ill-gotten techniques. She could kill a man with shadows. Summon a genjutsu of darkness to swallow him whole. One that he wouldn’t see coming and no-one else could trace. She could dangle that same man over a pit of shadows and kunai while he remained trapped in his mind, terrified and with nowhere else to go. Nothing to say unless to answer her questions. And oh, so many more forms of torture that would go under the radar to someone who didn’t know what to look for. That was the point of them. Death. Pain. Torture.

I miss that.

She wanted to showcase these skills just as much as the Root shadow did. Perhaps more. But, while she might be able to surprise the old buggers in the council, her stalker would be wise to it all. He was going to kill her, she knew it. If she didn’t kill him first. It was part of his plan. His reason for being here. Kill her and then throw the Suna politics into chaos. There was no doubt in her mind about that. So right now, they were in a stalemate of sorts. She wondered which one of them would be the first to break it.

We’ll see.

She smiled to herself.

Sakura held her kunai out where the Root could see, knowing he was looking at it. She tapped the steel against the window, and he inclined his head. In his sick, twisted mind, which was her acknowledging his intent. She almost laughed at how ridiculously macho he probably thought he was. Too much testosterone and not enough common sense.

Why can he suddenly see me?

Sakura pulled away from the window and shut the curtains, heart racing as she suddenly realised. Not all the concealment jutsu were still in place. If that was how they worked.

Or maybe it’s just coincidence that he did that at the same time?

She wasn’t taking any chances. First thing in the morning, she was telling Gaara. Or someone. Her lip curling into a sneer, she peeked at the shadow one last time before pulling the curtain across and blocking herself from his view. With the lights off he couldn’t see into her room. She could only hope, also, that the sealing barrier was more intact than her inner pessimist was presuming.

She pulled away from the window, still holding her kunai, and sat on her bed, eyes darting around. It was still so dark. She was still so wide awake. Sakura took a while to calm down, eventually returning her kunai to the window frame for safe keeping.

I should have been keeping a journal, like I told Kankuro I was.

She pulled out, instead, the list she’d made regarding the missions Danzo had sent her on. Over two weeks after her arrival, she’d sat down and written out all she could remember about her years under Danzo’s thumb. By year, every point that came to mind. She still couldn’t see any pattern to it and was finally accepting that there wasn’t one. She ran her fingers over the ones she remembered most vividly. They were eye openers, each and every single one. They made her who she was today.

Sakura was still no closer to figuring out what Danzo wanted from her, and it was suddenly clear how foolish she’d been to think that listing out her missions would somehow magically reveal everything. Make everything better. She let out a bitter laugh.

Nothing will be better ever again.

The shadow was going to try to kill her soon. And she wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to fail.

I’m so fucked up.

She cocked her head, staring at the wall. “What do you think, am I insane?”

The blank wall remained silent.

.:.

Sakura had a new plan.

She was going to tell Gaara everything.

When the sun finally rose, she stood, discarded the ugly ink blobs she’d brought to life and cleaned the mess she’d made. It was a waste of time trying to use these things for anything useful. Her heart broke a little at the realisation, but she was nothing if not adaptable. So, she bathed and dressed and hummed to herself, feeling energetic about her new idea. The bathroom mirror showed a fuzzy image of herself.

Her mind felt like it was building up barriers to her plans and she tried to hyperfocus on her intent as she dressed, brushed her hair, and ran through the scenario in her head. Would he laugh at her? Would he help? Would he think she was a traitor? Maybe she didn’t have any friends left—

“They’re all dead.”

Sakura turned and glared at the mirage so intensely her eyes began to hurt. “Shut up.”

It just smiled its wicked smile as she walked through it, into the bedroom. She was able to do that this morning but not in the middle of the night. Sakura ignored the implications of this. She stopped at the full-length mirror, noting her reflection was the only one.

“Go away,” she snapped at the mirage.

“I told you already. It doesn’t work that way.”

She needed to get rid of the damn thing. To put her new idea in motion.

“You’ll fail.”

She quirked an eyebrow at it. Fail in getting rid of it or talking to Gaara?

“He doesn’t give a shit about you.”

He didn’t have to.

“You’re useless.”

She pursed her lips, still glaring at the ugly thing. Its appearance shimmered and suddenly it was the proud owner of a deep gash across its stomach; the clothing ripped with it, audibly. This was happening more readily lately. And its words were gut wrenching, but she knew it was true.

This was a repeated mistake of hers, trying to engage with it. She needed to be stronger than this.

Sakura forced her face to relax into a neutral expression and turned away from the mirage. She could imagine its face twisting into bitter rage as she silently decided to ignore it. Spitting and hissing sounds filled the air, and she couldn’t stop the tremble that wracked her body. Sakura pushed her nerves down and giving the mirage one last scathing sneer, then turned and left her room. It was a bold move. It was nerve-wracking. But she wasn’t useless. She wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to fail.

She closed her door softly.

“Bitch!”

Its voice was muffled through the door. Sakura didn’t want to unpack the absurdity that implied. She walked without thought, but full of determination. She knocked on Gaara’s door. Her hand had trembled and hesitated, but she did it.

It was only after she’d been standing there for a few minutes and waiting for the loud rushing sound in her ears to fade out that Sakura realised he had to be in the shower. Maybe. Likely.

Her face warmed at that thought.

Okay…

She didn’t want to leave, though. She had to finish what she started. Counting would probably help. Then she could legitimately open the door and not be called a pervert. Okay.

One.

The door was simple, with no scratches.

Two.

The frame didn’t even wobble when she pushed it lightly.

Three.

She always figured a Kazekage’s bedroom door would have bells and whistles.

Four.

Danzo had certainly gone overboard.

Five.

From what she heard, anyway.

Hm. No response?

Not that anything else mattered.

She was standing at his door, wondering if she really wanted to do what she was about to do, when she felt a shift in the air around her.

Am I getting more sensitive to the chakra in this place?

That or the sand siblings made a habit out of flexing their chakra (all the time).

Kankuro was leaving his room and Temari was just beginning to open her door; just around the corner and out of sight, they hadn’t seen her yet. Sakura’s habit was to push down her chakra signature, from so long on the front lines. It was second nature to her now. If she hadn’t learned to do it, she’d have died a long time ago.

Does Temari ever do this?

Sakura didn’t have long to wonder before the brother and sister duo closed their respective doors and verbally greeted each other. They would be on her in a few seconds, and she would have to pass by them to return to her own room.

Damn it.

Panicking, Sakura quickly and quietly opened Gaara’s door and closed it behind her, pressing her back against it just in time as Temari and Kankuro walked past. She closed her eyes, holding her breath painfully even though she had no reason to avoid them. Nothing rooted in logic, anyway.

Do they know I snuck in here?

They couldn’t. Kankuro, for one, wouldn’t be able to stop himself from knocking on the door and teasing her about it. And then teasing Gaara for an inordinate amount of time. What Temari would do she didn’t know, but maybe she’d join in too. It was immature, after all. Sakura had no idea what siblings were like, but the way Kankuro and Gaara bantered at their dinnertime meals made her wonder.

They’re gone.

Sakura waited for a minute before stepping over to the bathroom. She lifted her hand to knock on it before pausing, wondering if she should even be here now.

Seriously? She asked herself, shaking her head. Giving up now?

A groan. Coming from the shower. From Gaara.

Sakura didn’t want to know what that groan meant. The idea struck her hard because she was such a pervert. No longer closeted. She had never thought of the Kazekage as a sexual being prior to her arrival in Suna almost a month ago. Before she’d even met Gaara, she was already obsessed with Sasuke, and she hadn’t even sexualised her former teammate. Not really. Well, she didn’t see it as sexualising. It was just stupid, teenage… hormones. No, a crush. A crush based on hormones. Yeah. Well, that’s the story she was going with.

Sakura almost groaned out loud at that. It would’ve been a soft groan and not at all as loud and erotic as Gaara’s.

I should go back to my room.

But no. She needed to prove her mirage wrong. And get a handle on this recent bout of self-flagellation. She’d been in this position before. But this time she needed to walk away from her conversation with Gaara with something substantial. So, she knocked. The sharp, rapping sound seemed to echo through Gaara’s bedroom. Nothing. The groaning had stopped, anyway.

She knocked again.

This time, Gaara’s gravelly voice, muffled by the sound of running water rang out. “One minute.”

Plus, eternity.

This is ridiculous.

Sakura backed away from the bathroom and to the bedroom door, grabbing the handle. She was about to twist it violently open when the water from Gaara’s shower shut off. Such a strange thing to stop her in her tracks.

Damn it.

She was such a fuck up. He’d know by now who was in his room. She couldn’t flee. She reluctantly let go of the door and turned to lean against it. This wasn’t going well. Sakura was losing focus. She couldn’t even remember why she’d come here.

The Root member.

Right. He was acting suspicious. She snorted. When wasn’t he? It was such a suss reason to bother him at this time of day. Perhaps she should talk about their agreement to date, instead. Nothing had happened on that front yet. Maybe…

Gaara’s taking his time.

Bored, she looked around the room and spotted some scrolls on a desk. They looked like correspondence. She hesitated for only a moment before walking over to them. Sakura fingered the edge of the scrolls, not daring anything more than that. Official insignias sealed the rolled-up missives. She was just looking. It wouldn’t hurt to look. Some of the letters were simply folded and had been written on in great detail. She recognised Naruto’s name on one and Sakura swallowed heavily. She traced a finger over the seal that had been placed on top of it. It was old, of course, clearly dating back at least a few years. But for some reason, instead of filing it away, Gaara had it out on top of his reading desk.

Curious.

There were similar letters with more recent dates and seals on them. These were official looking but still used the folded paper style missive. Sakura frowned at that. The only people she’d seen send this kind of correspondence were those with high ranks in the leaf before Danzo’s takeover. She was positive the old mummy had reverted the system back to the rolls of out-dated versions of the well-known rolls because they’d become cheaper to mass produce. But this… these ones were the standard for Konoha shinobi that Sakura had grown up with.

What are you up to, Gaara?

And how long had he been up to it?

When Gaara finally emerged from the bathroom, he was mostly dressed. His hair was still very damp and messy, and she admired the way it stuck up in different directions. Messy and very attractive. She gazed at it for a moment. But his stern expression brought her down to reality. He paused in his stride when his eyes fell on the missives next to her. A question was forming in his head, she could tell by the way his expression was faltering. In the end he decided to ignore it and continued past her toward his wardrobe.

“Good morning,” he said. His voice was calm, but his eyes belied his confusion. “Are you well, Sakura?”

It was so standoffish. His voice, despite the concerned word choice. She was surprised. But Sakura’s mind was whirring about something else entirely. He had Leaf sealed letters on his desk that weren’t Danzo’s. She stared at the partition that Gaara had moved behind, imagining he was dressing. But she couldn’t think about that. The particulars of him undressing and dressing six feet away from her.

When he emerged, Gaara was dressed in his Kazekage work robes.

Right, another day at the office.

Sakura knew what to say now. Everything was clicking into place.

“Everything was so different,” she said, probably confusing him. “Like a sudden spike from hot to cold. Like from night to day. The shift of power to Danzo,” she added, when he raised his pale eyebrows in question.

He nodded in understanding. She had a captive audience.

Sakura had no idea why she was building this tangent instead of getting to the heart of what she really wanted to say, but the words flowed out organically, as though she’d practised and perfected them. If nothing else, they felt important. She kept eye contact with him.

“Everyone who fled the village that night were cowards and weren’t seen or heard from again,” she said. “Or so Danzo’s propaganda would have everyone believe.”

He watched her more closely now, the calm on his face contrasting with the growing intensity in his eyes. Did he realise where she was going with this?

“I was sent on so many missions. After the new interrogation unit was done with me. When I’d finished my Root training.”

He looked surprised. Why was he surprised? Did he think Danzo would be satisfied with her abilities as they were? She’d been weak. Strong according to Tsunade. Weak according to Danzo. And his opinion was the only one that mattered. The bastard.

Sakura looked away from him, a little self-conscious.

“Almost two years,” she said. “I was on field for two out of the three years. I was so lonely. My other friends had been ordered to stay away from me, to focus on their own missions. They kept us all apart. My friends were gone, either way, dead or alive. I had no-one.”

She looked back at him in time to watch Gaara’s Adam’s apple bob and she got a sick sort of pleasure in his sudden discomfort. He was clearly nervous about this line of storytelling. But he waited, and like an attentive student, enrapt by their sensei, as she continued. They both knew where she was going with this now.

“It’s important to have connections. If you don’t…”

You go mental.

Sakura had certainly lost the plot, herself. She was an extrovert, despite her awkward shyness as a child. She needed human companionship. She needed threads binding her to loved ones. Otherwise, she couldn’t survive. One could argue she had survived. But that one would not be her. And it was her weakness. This desire to be valued. She even went as far as needing someone like Gaara to pay attention to her. It went against the narrative that had kept her alive for three years. Everything from before Danzo’s reign might as well have been a dream. Now she was stuck in this dark void of neediness and Sakura hated it.

“I feel… like there’s so much more we could understand about each other. Learn from each other. Tell each other. Like, how are your friends, Sakura?” She didn’t move from her spot in the middle of the room and Gaara cocked his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I know you know who I’m talking about.”

Despite the scathing tone of her voice, Gaara clearly did not consider her a threat, as his stance was so relaxed. Maybe deceptively so, but he was not tense or preparing for a fight. Not physically. And his sand was nowhere to be seen. She had no idea what was going through his mind, let alone how he was really feeling.

Why do I always seem to gravitate to guys who don’t express themselves well?

She cleared her throat. “Did you know that Danzo oversaw a lot of interrogation of Lady Tsunade’s allies after he killed her?”

Gaara shook his head. It would be naïve of him to not have presumed it happened, though.

“The Foundation operates in the dark for a reason. Their methods are barbaric.”

His features softened but she found his pity insulting. “I still have scars I was not allowed to heal.”

She was tired of dragging this out. “Have you been communicating with them?”

There was no doubt who she was talking about. She’d seen the missives and had heard the rumours.

Her people, the ones who escaped and weren’t ultimately killed in the following years, were still alive. They were still out there.

Gaara swallowed heavily. He broke their staring contest, glancing at the communiques in question. But whatever shame he felt didn’t last. A few seconds later, he was staring back at her, nodding slowly.

She took a few slow and tentative steps toward him. Sakura suddenly spotted his sand gourd nearby, not sure how she’d missed it. But it didn’t stir. He wasn’t on alert. He wasn’t gauging her for a threat assessment. She could punch him right now. She could rip him apart in an instant. She was fast. Faster than he knew. And he hadn’t uncorked the gourd yet. She had the advantage. And even if he had his sand armour on, she was stronger than he remembered.

Sakura couldn’t tell if he had his sand armour on.

“You helped them, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“Tell me where they are.”

“I can’t,” he said, speaking for the first time.

“Why?”

“I have no idea where they are, Sakura.”

“Liar!”

The sudden change in her demeanour coupled with the force of her anger shocked him. His eyes widened, but not in fear. Never in fear. She imagined that Sabaku no Gaara had not been truly afraid of many things in this life. His shock, however, might very well scare the crap out of her. But she wasn’t in control of herself. And insatiable pit of despair and fury rolled over her and she found herself storming toward him, every muscle in her body now itching for a fight.

“How dare you keep that from me? I deserve to know, damn you!”

His sand reacted now. It rushed her quickly. Quicker than she remembered it ever doing so in her memories. She hadn’t even seen the gourd move. The rushing sound of the sand brought back memories. But this attack wasn’t meant to hurt her. As she pulled back to avoid it, the granules stilled. It was just defensive. Sakura had lost her advantage when she chose to scream at him over taking that first shot at him. He would see her coming now.

This was a strange sensation. Sakura felt herself grow hot with desire. And not the kind she’d been expecting. It was a surge of adrenaline, directed at Gaara specifically. Yes. She wanted to hit him.

Why am I not surprised?

Without waiting to see if she was surprising him, Sakura channelled chakra to her fists. Her enhanced punch broke through to a wave of sand that came up behind Gaara’s initial defensive barrier. His eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion, and she didn’t blame him. But her desire to hit him faltered at the sight of his face twisted like that. It only took a second for a lasso of sand to twirl itself around her ankle, like it was trying to trip her. She stumbled backward with the momentum and Gaara spun her around, using only his sand, to push her against the wall and face him.

Another sensation of heat flushed through her. Shame. Embarrassment. Humiliation. A conduit to rage. She pulled more chakra into her hands and fisted both hands. She’d never tried to break free from a defence as strong as his. She yelled at him, pulling her hands free and shoving at his chest. Hard enough to knock him off balance but not enough to do any actual damage. He groaned and wound his sand around her once more. Whatever he was doing to it now, she’d have to break through him to free herself. It would do actual damage.

Sakura snorted at that, and he winced. Gaara opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted when she started struggling furiously. She tried to push more chakra to her hands while screaming internally at herself. How was she going to break this without breaking him?

I can’t.

A part of her wanted to. But she couldn’t bring herself to. He saw the moment she gave up. The instant she made the decision to not rip him in half. Gaara grabbed her wrists to stall any further attack and Sakura faltered for the last time. They were both panting and avoiding eye contact.

But no-one was hurt during the making of Sakura Haruno’s mental breakdown.

She started laughing, stuttering as the noise tumbled out of her mouth. Head bowed and body limp. She had lost because she didn’t want to break him. He might have lost because he didn’t want to hurt her. They were weak, the both of them. Pathetic. Where was the monster within?

Dead. Like the rest of us.

“I didn’t know,” he said, breaking the silence. She looked up at him sharply and at her confused frown, he added, “where you were. That you were alive. That you were in Konoha. I don’t know where they are. I promise you,” he said when she scoffed. “The Resistance communicates on their terms. I get times and dates for drop offs for supplies and missives regarding border patrols and any other movement I’m privy to as a kage. I feed them what information I can.”

He sighed, loosening his grip on her without letting go as he continued.

“I’ve known their general location only a few times: when they’ve directly told me. And they’ve always moved on shortly after. We are working toward joint strikes but it’s taking so long, and I am always on standby. I don’t know where they are right now,” he repeated. “I haven’t for months. And it’s safer for them that way.”

Sakura wriggled under his hold, and he gently moved his hands along her arms to grip her shoulders. Was it an offer to let her break free or something else? Her back against the wall, the closed door to her left, she didn’t know. He was so careful with her, despite the strength of his hold.

“And now?” She asked, going still.

“Now? Now, I don’t know.”

Sakura scoffed. His eyes bore into hers and realised with startling clarity that their lips were inches apart, but he didn’t seem to notice. This close, she could see the whites of his eyes, the flecks of darker green in his pale green. She was acutely aware of her breathing. She licked her lips, fighting the urge to tilt her head closer to him.

Gods.

Of all the times for her libido to kick in! She squirmed against the wall. Her anger had simmered, and she was now fighting a blush instead of her emotions. He seemed to realise; his lips parted, his breath hitched, and eyes wide. When he gently extricated himself from her, she almost cried. But whether it was from relief or disappointment, she didn’t know. They had been so close; close enough to kiss. His body had been inches from hers. All she’d had to do was move toward him to scratch this itch of hers. It had started as shivers along her arms, then somehow teleported itself to her hips, travelling down her legs, and then finally skimmed along the sensitive flesh between her thighs.

An ache began to form.

Fuck.

She remained flat against the wall, unwilling to move. The myriad of emotions that raged through her, from anger to sadness to deep seeded need to release her sexual to relief; they terrified her. Sakura was surprised her eyes were still dry. She felt like crying at the sheer absurdity of it all. But she had to force herself to calm down. Gaara was looking at her funny.

Almost like we didn’t almost just pummel each other.

“We can talk,” he said slowly. “I think we need to.”

“On our date,” Sakura added emotionlessly. If it ever happens. Now she just wanted to bang her head against the wall.

“I need you to understand… I’m so sorry.”

She turned her head away as Gaara stepped close to her once more, her eyes tracing the scrolls on his desk that had started this whole thing before falling to the floor.

“It will get better. I will make it better. I promise.”

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as her heart started to race. She felt a light sensation along her arm as though he was hovering a hand over her skin. She looked up at him and stared back into those fathomless eyes. The emotion in his voice almost broke her. “So, you are up to something?”

He stepped away again, making her head spin. “We’ll talk later.”

Sakura nodded dumbly as he left her in his bedroom. The day was just starting, and she was suddenly exhausted. She felt like she’d just run a marathon. Like she’d been running all day nonstop and it was finally sundown. Now she could rest her tired muscles. All the energy had left her. Like her body barely had the energy to tremble in exhaustion. She shuddered and slowly made her way back to her room.

What else am I going to do?

She’d been back to the hospital, to volunteer, once. It hadn’t lasted long, and she didn’t do much. It seemed that Councillor Sajō was determined to make her stay as painfully boring as possible. She didn’t want to go running to Gaara to tell on him for berating her in front of the entire staff. For having her followed home and not bothering to hide that he was responsible for it. She was weak enough as it was.

At least she had the Kazekage training grounds to retreat to. Her katas were getting better, almost like she’d forgotten how to do them, which was crazy. Sakura hadn’t taken her kunai down to the grounds yet, but she was already planning on making a mess of one of the dummies down there. It reminded her of Yamato. She smiled at that. And perhaps she could name it Tenzo just to annoy the image of him in her head.

But right now, there was nothing to do but to wonder how to entertain herself. And Sakura had now completely forgotten what she’d gone to Gaara’s room to do in the first place.

Can’t have been important.

She sat on her bed and debated what to do as her vision blurred. Her body was already exhausted and, realising what was happening, Sakura shifted on the bed. Cracks formed along the edges of her vision. Her eyes stung as a headache rapidly formed behind them and she couldn’t close her eyelids. Everything blurred and she lost herself in time.

.:.

The cracks in her vision eased as her awareness returned. The blurring lessened to her peripherals and the pounding in the back of her eye sockets faded to a dull throb. Sakura blinked heavily. Slowly. She felt like she was coming to from some weird vision. She sniffed, wiping at dry tears that she didn’t remember crying, then sighed shakily. She looked up at the clock and groaned; her stomach twisted as she realised that she’d been sitting there for the whole day. She’d dissociated.

Haven’t done that in a while.

As far as she could recall. She didn’t care anymore. There was no energy in her for that anymore.

Sakura stood up then threw her clothes off, not bothering to grab new clothes, and walked into the bathroom completely naked. Nobody was here to see her finally lose it, anyway. Or be perverted.

Like anyone would, ever.

Sakura set up a washcloth and cleaning products then stepped under the shower head. The water was too hot, and she remembered that scalding showers were more harmful than not. She didn’t care. She let it burn.

She sighed, resting her head against the tiles. An image of Gaara popped into her head. The groans he’d been making in his morning shower. How close they’d stood during their argument. How tantalising he’d smelled. How tempting he’d been. She could’ve just leaned forward and taken his lips in hers. Pushed on him and pushed all inhibition to the back of her mind. Her fantasy played out in her head, sending a trickle of heat into to her core.

“Hmm.”

She smiled, now parting her legs. It was just harmless fun, right? Just lust. Just something to do.

She slid two fingers down her slit, running her thumb along her clit as she went, moaning. She still felt a slight buzz from the reaction she’d had to Gaara earlier, even after all those hours of dissociating.

Her mind drifted a few times as she tried to focus on why that would be, but she pushed it aside. The only thing that mattered was the pleasure she was invoking in her body. Nobody else was in the building yet, given it was almost sundown. No-one would be able to hear her. Sakura wanted to let loose and fuck herself like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

She imagined another set of hands trailing down her body, gently brushing along her erogenous zones, one after the other. Large, calloused, shinobi hands. She gasped as her hips spasmed. She knew those hands. Familiar, tired, but powerful. Her lover squeezed her nipples as she bucked into her own hands.

“Mm…”

Sakura rode her fingers as the ghost-like touch of her lover played with her body. His hair tickled her face as he pressed their cheeks together, whispering all the things he wanted to do to her, in that deep, husky voice of his. She caught a glimpse of red hair in her vision as her grew in volume; gasping turned to moaning, culminating in a half-cry as a violent orgasm tore through her. She unconsciously pushed chakra to her feet to keep from slipping along the wet tiles as she convulsed uncontrollably. A few more times. She was determined to keep at it. Her fantasy seemed to take on a life of its own.

“Fuck!”

The person in her daydream had started to take shape. As though it thought she didn’t know who it was. Sakura would have been surprised if it didn’t take on Gaara’s appearance. The hair had already turned that distinct shade of red of his. Every physical aspect she attributed to him was blossoming in front of her. Naked Gaara, standing with her in the shower, wet, hard body pressed against hers. Driving home her final release.

Fuck.

She was done.

Sakura looked up at the shower head, smiling lightly. It was detachable and she’d used it before. But it was over, and she was done. She quickly cleaned herself and stepped out of the shower on jelly legs, holding onto the wall to keep from falling over. She’d always been the cause of her own orgasm but they’d never, never this intense before. She could appreciate the who and how without attaching her fanciful emotions to it.

Her heart had frozen over long ago. At least, that’s what she told herself. Sakura needed to accept that nobody was ever going to crawl into her heart ever again. Not like she wanted them to. Needed them to.

I won’t be that useless again.

Emerging from the bathroom still towel drying her hair, Sakura breathed in deeply. Walking naked through her room felt so suddenly freeing. The flush from her orgasm and the heat of the shower made her almost giddy at the idea of never putting clothes on again.

She hummed, moving toward the bed when something caught her eye. She frowned.

The full-length mirror.

Sakura hadn’t been looking in the stupid thing every day. The years under Danzo’s thumb had hardened her appearance along with so many other things. But while the person that looked back at her was indeed Sakura Haruno, it also wasn’t. She knew that full course meals in the Kazekage mansion had started putting healthy weight back on her. And she knew this was a good thing. But her self-deprecating view of herself was not so easily fixed.

She wouldn’t be winning any beauty pageants but that hardly mattered anyway.

I used to be pretty.

And now?

I’m still pretty.

What Gaara must think of me.

I’m an idiot for worrying about that. And so is he if he does care.

Thoughts from less than a month ago that felt like years.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura turned the mirror around to look at herself. She held her breath, prepared to be disgusted by what she saw. She’d put on a thin layer of muscle; still lean and taut but different. Her ego was alive and kicking as her eyes roamed over her body, taking in the feminine curves on her petite but soft and well-shaped body. All the little parts that men cared about but she was most self-conscious about; her smaller than average sized breasts, the soft hair between her legs that she’d only recently been diligent about keeping trimmed. She frowned at that. Was it possible to be a pervert on yourself? It had to be her inherent vanity. Nothing Danzo or any of his lackeys had succeeded in completely removing her ego. She’d always had body issues (who didn’t?) but they didn’t stop her from admiring what she had.

Let’s make this more clinical.

Sakura perused the contours of her ligaments. She observed the muscle tone and was satisfied that it was appropriate for her age, sex, weight, and diet. On her arrival to Suna, she’d been slightly malnourished but the nightly dinners with Gaara and his siblings had helped with that, even if she did eat like a bird during the day. So, she still had the body of a lean, fit kunoichi.

Okay.

That wasn’t the problem, though.

Instead of trailing her fingers over the actual scars, Sakura ran them along the mirror, tracing the reflection versions of her scars instead. War wounds. Stab wounds. Things she hadn’t had enough chakra to full heal at the time. Now they were just reminders of what she’d been through. What she’d done to survive. Of all she’d lost. They were the ugliness marring her body, not the shallow concerns she’d had once about her over sized forehead or the fact that her breasts were never going to be huge like young Sakura Haruno had daydreamed about.

It was a good thing this engagement was fake; that Gaara was never going to see these scars. (Her raging libido aside.) They were hideous; an ugly reminder of the meat grinder she’d been living in before.

Nobody wants to play with a broken doll.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Sakura was sure there was a kink for that out there, somewhere.

She sighed. Despite still being flushed from her time in the shower, her skin was dry and could use some moisturiser. She hadn’t used anything like that in so long. It did a number on the skin, being so mission orientated for so long. But really, if she was trying to be optimistic, Sakura didn’t think any of her actual problems weren’t fixable. She was still young. Still soft and pleasing to look at, to some degree.

Still vain.

She sighed again and turned away. It did not do anything for her to dwell on such things.

Maybe I should just throw the mirror out the window.

“Sakura!” Temari’s voice startled Sakura, her voice carrying up, through the floorboards. “Dinner’s ready!”

Right. In all her musings she hadn’t been paying attention to the fact that she was no longer alone. And maybe she’d dissociated a little.

Time flies.

Her thoughts went to the achingly familiar redhead whose image had gotten her off in the shower. To the man who’d promised so many things. A date. A talk. Answers.

How am I supposed to face him now?

.:.

#GaaSaku #fanfiction #my fanfiction #A Beautiful Lie

7 notes · View notes

theskybetween · 5 months ago

Text

Pynch and the nightmare mask (from The Dream Thieves to Greywaren)

I recently revived this long-abandoned tumblr simply to create the following post so I could have an easy way to share this content with some discord friends. I keep coming back to tumblr lately just to lurk in the TRC tags and keep up with my fave fan artists and fic authors, so I've decided wtf, let's just get more active here. Gonna add some tags to this post now and see if anyone else cares about this particular motif Maggie wove through the entire arc of the Raven Cycle and the Dreamer Trilogy. Read on for some excerpts from The Dream Thieves and Greywaren that make me insane. Major spoilers ahead, so tread carefully if you haven't read Greywaren.

Ronan's nightmare of the mask and what it does to Adam:

The mask was his father’s. Even in his dreams, Ronan could not go back to the Barns, but here was something from the Barns coming to him. In reality, the mask hung on his parents’ dining room wall, well out of reach of curious hands. But in his dream, it hung at eye-level on the wall of Adam’s shabby apartment. It was carved of smooth, dark wood and looked like a cheap tourist souvenir. The eyeholes were round and surprised, the mouth parted in an easy smile big enough for lots of teeth.

[...] “Far away isn’t the same thing as gone.” This was Adam. He stood at Ronan’s shoulder. He wore his Aglionby uniform, but his fingers were black with oil. He pressed his greasy hands to the mask. He didn’t ask permission, but Ronan didn’t stop him. After the briefest of pauses, Adam took the mask from the wall and held it up to his eyes.

Shrieking a terrified warning, Orphan Girl dove behind Ronan.

But Adam was already becoming something else. The mask was gone, or it had become Adam’s face, or Adam was carved from wood. Every tooth behind the smile was hungry; Adam’s elegant jaw was starving. His eyes were desperate and incensed. A long, fat vein stood out in his neck.

[...] Because Adam was the horror now. The teeth were something else, Adam was something else, he was a creature, close enough to touch. To think about it was to become immobilized with the horror of watching Adam be consumed from the inside out. Ronan couldn’t even tell where the mask was now; there was only Adam, the monster, a toothful king. [...] Even as he went for Ronan, one of his hands still tugged at the now-invisible mask, trying to free himself. There was none of his face left.

[...] Ronan [...] seized the mask. The only way he could find the edge was to snatch Adam’s hand where it still doggedly clawed at the slender mask. Bracing himself for the effort, Ronan wrenched. But the mask came away as easily as a petal from a flower. It was only for Adam that it had been a prison.

Adam staggered back.

[...] Adam was making peculiar, dreadful sounds. When Ronan lifted his eyes, he saw that the mask had been all that was left of Adam’s face. When he’d pulled it from Adam, he’d revealed muscle and bone, teeth and eyeball. Adam’s pulse pumped a globule of blood from every place a muscle met another muscle.

Adam slumped against the wall, life leaking from him.

Ronan gripped the mask, his limbs awash with adrenaline. “I’ll put it back on.”

Please work.

—The Dream Thieves

Ronan and Adam seeing the nightmare mask at the Barns:

In the pale gray dining room, Adam was taking a wooden mask from a hook on the wall.

It was carved of a smooth, dark wood and looked like a cheap tourist souvenir. The eyeholes were round and surprised, the mouth parted in an easy smile big enough for lots of teeth.

Ronan hurled himself through the air.

“No.”

The mask clattered to the floor. Adam, startled, stared at where Ronan’s hand gripped his wrist. Ronan could feel his own heart pounding and, in Adam’s wrist, Adam’s.

At once, he released him and fell back. He snatched up the mask instead. He hung it back on the wall, but his pulse didn’t calm. He didn’t look at Adam.

“Don’t,” he said. But he didn’t know what he was telling Adam not to do.

—The Dream Thieves

Calla calling out the mask:

“I’m not a magician,” Calla said. Blue gave her a spin. Calla laughed all the way around, a filthy, pleased sound. She pointed to Ronan as he headed out the door. “But he is. Also, get rid of that mask. It’s a nasty bit of work.”

—The Dream Thieves

Ronan remembering the nightmare mask when Adam breaks up with him:

Gently, out of the view of Declan, Adam subtly traced his fingers over Ronan’s scarred wrist, the back of his hand. He swallowed. This was goodbye.

Ronan felt a new emotion: misery.

Adam, no.

Adam suddenly leaned in very close to Ronan’s slumped body. His lips were right on Ronan’s ear. In this close space, even a whisper was audible to Declan, but his words were just for Ronan.

“Post tenebras lux,” he whispered.

Light follows darkness.

Adam added, “Tamquam …”

Alter idem, Ronan thought. But he had no voice. The body lying slumped in this corridor was the one who had a voice, and it couldn’t wake up to say anything.

So Adam drew back uncontested. He gave Declan the key.

For some reason, a clear memory, unattached to anything else, returned to Ronan. A plain wooden mask, with round eye holes and gaping mouth. It was not a horrific mask, but it felt horrific to look at nonetheless.

—Greywaren

Adam confessing to the masks he's been wearing, and how miserable it's made him:

“There’s a real version of me that stayed with you, I guess, that went out to Lindenmere every day and just learned everything he could about the ley line, about the something else. Or maybe who went with Gansey and Blue. Or who went to school in DC and came home every weekend. But this Adam killed those Adams so this one could win, this one who came to Harvard to go to class and write papers and buy waffles with the Crying Club and pretend like nothing bad ever happened to him and like he has all the answers.”

“I lie to all of them. I lie to Gansey. I lie to Blue. I lie to my professors. It’s like I can’t stop. It’s like I, it’s like … I don’t want this version to have anything the other version had, good or bad. So any time I need a past, I just make something up. New parents, new house, new memories, new reasons for how I lost my hearing, new me. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Shit. You were, like, the place I stored all the reality in. Then I had to start lying about you, too, and it just all, it just all …”

He stopped then for a long time, looking off into the darkness.

[...] Now Adam’s hands were fretting in each other again, prominent knuckles white and red as he squeezed them fervently. “I don’t know if I hate it here or if I hate that I don’t love it. I was supposed to love it. But I want to go—I think about it every day, just getting on the bike and going, and going, but where?”

He wasn’t crying, but he quickly rubbed the back of his hand against one eye. “Anyhow, so I can’t blame you that you lied to yourself about dreaming Bryde. ’Cause I made this fake version of me, right, and I was wide awake when I did it. We’re both liars. I don’t know what to do. I miss …” He closed his eyes. “I miss knowing where I was going.”

—Greywaren IN CONCLUSION, THIS IS ALL SO MUCH: The toothful, hungry mask as a symbol of Adam’s limitless self-destructive ambition, from the beginning. Ronan fearing what it will do to Adam, but helpless to take it away from him because it is absolutely intrinsic to who Adam is right now. Adam finally realizing he has done this to himself. Adam throwing the mask away at the end of the series, leaving Harvard and allowing himself to be happy in the present.

#the raven cycle #trc #the dreamer trilogy #greywaren #pynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish

0 notes

waitingformyfavoritesongs · 2 years ago

Text

12 April 2023 Wednesday 6:41 pmpdt

6:42 pmpdt what’s going on with NPR????? Something about Twitter. I to listened 👂 to npr years ago. It’s how I got some news 📰 . 😫😖😭😤🥵😤🥵

In 2015 I remembered still being h*run a lot and was still in relatively good shape, and looked in the mirror 🪞 b4 showering 🚿 and getting turned on, and m*sturbating for 2 hours at once. Pain tongue 👅 6:48 pmpdt it’s those hills man 👨. If you want results you have to be disciplined you can’t fake it. Right shin bone pain. I wish I did it for more than 1.5 years. I probably would have loooked more like the rock 🪨? 6:49 pmpdt I probably wouldn’t be crying 😭 like I am now. 6:50 pmpdt

7:14 pmpdt brain 🧠 storming ideas 💡 had a few days ago: if someone has been buried for at least 2 months, should quarterly exhume? Definition? Dig up all the cemeteries to recycle ♻️. Cemeteries are probably Bcz of Christianity ✝️ belief of the dead ☠️ rising coming back to life. If the body is decomposed... we should give up on that idea 💡 for that individual that was buried. 7:17 pmpdt if it isn’t already done ✅.

9:17 pmpdt when Arnold was governor of California I think 💭 I remember he wanted zero landfills. That would probably help a lot now. But we might find victims of murder in those landfills if we were to completely go through those. I tweeted 🐥 a Georgia murder case from Perez Hilton and the police 👮‍♂️ suspected the missing toddler would be found there. I think 💭 if you have something old, you should be able to take it to the store 🏬 and get credit for it towards a new item But I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ how to make something like that work. Bcz of the incubus everything and everyone looks weirder and weirder to me. 9:24 pmpdt

9:28 pmpdt Crystal Geyser and sprite? Make their own bottles so it probably would not be difficult to accomplish? But most stuff is made in India 🇮🇳 or China 🇨🇳? I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️. 9:30 🕤 pmpdt 9:31 pmpdt I think 💭 no one cares if I die. There were a lot of people who could have spoken up 🆙 for me but didn’t. So the voice is a dead ☠️ case. Ursula the sea 🌊 witch 🧙. Witchy. 9:33 pmpdt 🪝🎣 it’s ironic. Bcz there were signs 🪧 that he was going to let me win. But it looks like he’s going to kill me. Bustles. Don’t matter anymore. 9:34 pmpdt don’t even think 💭 about it. It’s a trap 🪤. I’ve been warned a lot but I wasn’t sure what was truth and not. It’s a trap 🪤 for me. Crying like a cow 🐮 mooooooo. 9:35 pmpdt (min ago digging into chest bones 🦴 again. Every time I say/think something along the lines of self pity they do that. 9:36 pmpdt since 2017. The pain was unbearable since 2017. I woke up everyday feeling like it was a nightmare. I couldn’t do much Bcz of the pain. And now I have difficulty breathing most of the time that I’m awake. Everyday since the end of April 2019. It progressed. 9:39 pmpdt life is very short. I was slow to get stuff done ✅ and time went by fast 💨. There were other stuff in my life that made me believe in the incubus but it was probably only to trick me. So I should forget about it. 9:41 pmpdt Bcz those things probably don’t matter (anus sharp pain 9:42 pmpdt) I would only be kidding (spine pain 9:43 pmpdt) myself if I believed any of it. 9:43 pmpdt

10:08 pmpdt it’s clear to me now that it’s a trap 🪤 for anyone to go after the voice. Simon cowell barely said anything clearly and he got torn down for it. And I’m dying 😵. The king 🤴 of kings made the spinning chairs 🪑 his throne. The incubus. No one can go after the voice. Don’t count on it after I lose my bones 🦴. Don’t count on it after I die. Joe’s probably too scared 😱 too. He already had a hard time too. 10:13 pmpdt

10:22 pmpdt my sister was a social butterfly 🦋. She probably dated a lot more guys than I did and has a lot of friends. 10:24 pmpdt and she pushed me away a lot so she didn’t really know me that well I guess (acid pain left eyeball 👁 10:25 pmpdt).

1:35 am pdt 13 April 2023 Thursday incubus changed words again! Diarrhea 1:36 am pdt from 1996-2000 I had a neighbor next door 🚪 who never let me see inside her apartment. Right hip bone 🦴 pain 😫😖😭☹️🥺😞 she told me she had boxes 📦 of old toys for toy 🧸 faires. 1:38 am pdt but the incubus got my imagination 💭 going. 1:38 am pdt

2 am pdt brain 🧠 storming: I don’t have enough education in this but (autocorrect: bubble by but: bit. Keyboard ⌨️ : butterfly button 2:02 am pdt) I think 🤔 he doesn’t want me to write ✍️ this:hypothesis: fires 🔥 are bad Bcz when elements are heated up 🆙 into gas Phase/states 💨... maybe 🤔 I got this wrong 😑 maybe it doesn’t stay hot enough to escape through the hole 🕳 in the ozone? But if it does. .. autocorrect says: doesn’t. Ok . So we are not losing stuff to outer space 🪐? 2:06 am pdt

3:43 pmpdt I’m so scared 😱 what the incubus is going to do next. Left shoulder pain 3:44 pmpdt more acid attacks in brain 🧠 today and missed my doctor 👩‍⚕️ appointment. It would be nice if my doctor 👩‍⚕️ would automatically call ☎️ me to at least check on me by telephone ☎️ instead of acting 🎭 like I don’t exist. 3:46 pmpdt It’s getting more difficult 😞 for me to get to the appointments with my situation. 3:47 pmpdt tired 😓 a lot.

big white truck 🛻 left with human bucket 🪣 with big arm was only here for a minute I think 💭. 11:14 pmpdt

11:36 pmpdt that’s probably a sign 🪧 I’m going to kick 🦵 the bucket 🪣 soon 🔜 . Have fun with Scott and Nick Carter! Incubus let’s them do what they want all their lives. Must be fun 🤩 to be them. Everyone who is not me, I bet they feel great 👍! No one appreciates the sacrificial lamb 🐑/cow 🐄 11:39 pmpdt

0 notes

heterochromicnachos · 2 years ago

Text

Reblogs were yeeted into the pit because I speedran fact checking and went “OH SHIT”

And Ima be real here, as a very not anylitical person, I’m trying my hardest. My only possible explination is that cross’ mental state is just. Broken.

He was revived, saw his friends get revived with NO EFFORT, watched dream get attacked by killer and nightmare, and then started having five existential crisies in the omega timeline.

For all we know, the time that went from cross getting classic’s soul half to being killed could have been hours. That’s. A lot to process in a short amount of time.

Something I like to point our when discussing the bad sanses is that they all had time to cope with what happened. Horror really didn’t have as much, but still.

Killer, dust, horror, and nightmare had plenty of time to process what happened. Even 500 years in nightmare’s case.

Cross didn’t. He just woke up one morning after being attacked by his friend, having been possessed to attack his friend, and having been manipulated to be guilty about something that happened nearly 20 years ago by x-gaster for most of his life. Then, he’s attacked by his friends, and almost killed by his brother. Running in adrenaline, he does what he thinks is best on the short amount of time he has left before he dusts. He kills his friends and takes frisk’s soul to try to gain the overwrite ability.

When it doesn’t work, everything comes crashing down on him. He’s haunted by what he did, terrified. He sees blood on his hands, ghosts of his fellow monsters cursing him for his sins. And he barely has any time to process THAT before ink shows up. And from what I can tell, ink didn’t do much other than keep him company because of his deal with x-gaster. The whole time ink is there, x-Chara is berating him for his sins. Being constantly reminded does not help you recover.

Then, he takes classic’s soul, and gathers up the underswap residents and underfell’s snowdin. He takes a nap, and gets POSSESSED. he has no time to think, he just stabs himself in the eyeball.

Then he’s killed, revived, and all of the previously mentioned stuff happens.

Cross is confused. He’s a soldier, not a general. He doesn’t give orders, he takes them. And for all of our headcanons that he’s a good strategist, we never see this backed up. Cross is a doer, not a thinker. all of a sudden he’s taking orders from no one but himself, and it’s confusing.

Honestly, in his position, I couldn’t have done much better.

Just discovered a massive fucking plot hole that completely ruins 0.6 and Cross’s arc as a whole.

Being: What the fuck caused Cross to suddenly not trust Nightmare in the first place?

And you can’t point to the season one credits as those don’t actually provide any dialogue or context. Cross interfered with an altercation, sure, but he didn’t even get any time to talk to Nightmare about that, consider anything, hear anything, he just did that and got dragged to the Omega Timeline.

There is absolutely no fucking reason for Cross to no longer trust Nightmare. There is no reason for him to suddenly be going “I was used for his own benefit” when Night never did anything that Cross wouldn’t have expected from him.

Nightmare explicitly said “hey but you’ve gotta help me in return” WHEN THEY MET. Cross KNOWS Nightmare is evil and bad news and he DID NOT CARE. Nightmare kept to his word the whole time and never did anything that would have caused a sway in loyalty from Cross (aside from the obvious threats). He genuinely helped him out how he said he would and encouraged him through his struggles in his own dark, twisted way.

SO WHY IN 0.6 IS NIGHTMARE SUDDENLY THE EMBODIMENT OF CROSS’S INNER DEMONS AND HURTING HIM? Don’t get me wrong, Nightmare is possessive, Nightmare is reckless, Nightmare would 100% do something stupid in the name of regaining a follower, but why is he suddenly Cross’s enemy when he NEVER WRONGED HIM!?

You can point to what he said to X!Chara, but that’s X!CHARA, not Cross. Cross probably wouldn’t know about that and besides, once again, it’s nothing that Cross hasn’t seen before from Nightmare.

But all of a sudden Cross regrets being on Night’s team, Nightmare is a big baddie, and we’re supposed to just trust Dream for no good reason??? Jakei, I love your work, Underverse is one of my favorite things ever, so it is with a fan’s concern that I say that THIS IS BAD WRITING. Underverse does way more telling and not nearly enough showing.

This disgrace of a plot hole has completely ruined Cross’s arc and Nightmare’s character as a whole, and all in the name of shoehorning in a “redemption arc” for Cross when he never needed one and pushing useless Cream propaganda(though the latter may just be my own suspicion).

As someone who cares a lot about this series and wants to see it absolutely shine, what the actual fuck?

31 notes · View notes

yanderecandystore · 4 years ago

Note

Could you please do a fanfic for a male version of Yandere! Lady Dimitrescu (from Resident Evil Village game) with the reader.

I really like the Resident Evil franchise but I'm too lazy to know what the hell is happening in the older games XD I'm so sorry about that-

I loved watching playthroughs of Resident Evil Village (can't buy the game ;-;), but I felt like it was a bit empty, idk- I felt like the lords weren't really explored enough.

Also the Duke is the best husbando in the whole game- Fight me! >:3

TW/Tags: GN = Gender Neutral, I normally forget to properly name it when it's gender neutral, most of the time I just say "reader" // maybe ooc // lazy genderbent, I'm terrible with names // size difference // servant reader // mentions of gore/cuts/bruises/blood and deaths (and torture- I'm so sorry-) // reader gets hurt // mentions of vomiting

It's Dinner Already [Yandere!M!Dimitrescu x GN!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

It's dinner time already, unfortunately for you, of course.

It feels almost like a routine at this point- Which in a way, it is! You always take care of your tasks during the day, while dreading the inevitable time for dinner to arrive again.

Everyday, at this exact same hour, you and the other servants would prepare a meal for Lord Dimitrescu and his lovely… Sons…

As someone who has started "working" for their family only a month ago, you can positively say: Starving in the cold woods next to your village would have probably been a more merciful death than the ones you have witnessed at this place. You weren't as accustomed to such brutal executions at your village, actually you hardly even witnessed so much death, at least not so up close.

When you came here, you didn't expect to be instantly comforted and treated with respect- You were a commoner looking for an possibility to thrive in a noble's house, you were basically an easy target for any entitled selfish lord to easily belittle you and make you work for them until your hands would turn to dust. Yet nothing could have prepared you for such an odd situation.

Vampires. Monsters. Fiends if you were bold enough to insult them. You weren't exactly welcomed as much as you were snatched in and now forever trapped inside this castle. You can still hear their laughter… Their insane expressions of pure glee, the way they have bursted into maliciously laughing at your pain as you screamed for help trying to open up their door again and be free from that nightmare.

The chase didn't last even a second, they stabbed your legs with their scythes and brought you deeper inside this hellhole, as you cried your eyeballs out. The sons had brought you back inside so their father could take a look at the "intruder".

An absolute titan amongst the mortals. His height was only a sick reminder of how much power he had over the castle, over his sons, and now- Over you.

He may not have been as massive as he was threatening as you remind him to be, but at the time you were just in awe of his height considering you have never seen someone as tall and as mighty.

Then again- You have never seen vampires as well. Were they the same vampires as the books you've read as a kid? You weren't so sure of it…

You were hoping that if you begged for life and for forgiveness for having disturbed their peace, that they could spare you and let you go back to your village. Sadly enough, you commented on how you were only trying to look for a job as a servant.

You probably shouldn't have given them ideas, but it's too late to think about your mistakes now, however.

The sons begged to see your blood spilled, yet Lord Dimitrescu was merciful enough to grant you your "wish", as he said.

It has been a month ever since you were trapped inside and forced to work as a miserable little servant, and even if you didn't suffer the worst forms of punishments that they had in-store for you, you couldn't help but fantasize about just running away and never turning back.

You're so tired of this castle, of the smell of carnage, of the undeserved and over the top punishments, and especially of the people who would subjugate you to such things.

But at last, it's dinner time already, and you can't keep them waiting.

You feel your hands shaking as you walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the masters of the castle were so graciously waiting for you. You know what they're waiting for- But you can't let them distract you, for those that commit accidents are faced with fates worse than death.

Although you would rather do this process quickly, you can't afford mistakes to happen, so you take your time to set not only their meal in front of each one but to also pour "wine" into their glasses. You do all of this without looking directly into their eyes, only bowing down to each one and saying "excuse me"s in what they would call a "decent tone", as the smell of their disgusting beverage starts to irritate your nostrils. If you didn't know the main ingredient to Sanguis Virgins is, you probably wouldn't have this immense disgust over it, but right now just the thought of it makes you want to gag.

Only villains could so easily drink blood, and still make a living out of it.

Your internal thoughts of pure hatred against this whole situation almost completely blinded you to the fact that they were eerily, very quiet.

….

On most nights they would be talking with each other while occasionally making comments about you or your presence. Obviously they were all pretty nasty comments that they somehow expected you to back it up in some way or another, it's when they try to insert you into their conversation that makes you hate this occasion so badly, but it normally ends as quickly as it begins.

But as you are pouring wine to Lord's Dimitrescu, you notice that they haven't said a single thing while you were there. You stop what you're doing as you realize that they were silently observing you this whole time, and as you look into their expressions you come to think that maybe you have messed up-

Somehow, in some way or form, you may have messed up- And the fact this mistake could cost your head only agitates your already very worried mind.

….

A small moment of silence continues before the middle son, Cassandro, starts to chuckle in an almost innocent way- As if he was a kid who just said a bad word for the first time- And as he bursts into sudden laughter, Daniel leans towards Bello and loudly whispers:

"- I told you, they do this every time." To which Bello only replied with:

"- It's almost like hypnosis in a way."

The three sons were mesmerized by your ability to trap yourself in your own mind. They're probably aware that you do this as a defensive mechanism but they still find it comical in a weird way. You feel yourself get more tense as you look up at Lord Dimitrescu and see him staring back at you, with an unreadable expression across his face.

Before you could come up with an excuse to whatever you may have caused to disturb their dinner, the Lord himself spoke.

"- How inappropriate. As my sons, you three should know better than to laugh at our servant's airheaded mind-"

And as he said that, their smiles begin to disappear and be replaced with frowns and a bit of shame as they become stiff at their father's words.

"- And how inappropriate of you, too. To be so distracted in the presence of your masters, that's quite rude don't you think?"

But as he continued their bodies begin to relax once again as they realize he wasn't focusing on them- He was focusing on you.

Words have completely disappeared from your vocabulary as you start to think that maybe you won't be able to see another day after their meal is over. You try to mumble some possible responses before getting interrupted by him once again.

"- It's very rude, so very rude in fact that I think we deserve some answers. What were you so distracted about? What were you thinking that could have possibly taken over your small little head?"

Right now, he was sounding a bit condescending, thankfully not as angry as he would have been with the other servants right about now. Every little mistake was used as excuses for punishments- And if you were walking on thin ice before, right now you are one-step closer to breaking this entire lake and getting yourself killed by the freezing temperatures of the water below you.

Thanks to your luck (or maybe lack thereof, depending on how you see this) Daniel came to "your rescue" by coming up with an excuse for you.

"- Maybe they were hungry." He said without any indications of it being a joke or a lie- As the youngest yet craziest of the bunch, he always had that weird "naive yet dangerous" energy coming from him. He was naive enough to make that statement when it's very clear that you actually despise being near them, but he still was a son of Dimitrescu.

You know better than to underestimate any of these people.

The Lord didn't seem completely convinced as he side eyed Daniel who was blissfully eating his meal without acknowledging his dad's glance or his brother's looks of disapproval.

Without a warning you were pulled closer by your wrist and forced into sitting next to the Lord, who made a sign for another servant to bring you your food. This… Doesn't feel right at all, you're waiting for the worst to come yet you don't feel like you can ever prepare yourself enough for what they have in store.

"- M-My Lord- This isn't needed, I'm fine. I'll just continue my duties, if you can excuse me-" You plead, while trying to get up from your chair.

"- Oh but what host would I be if I didn't take better care of my guests? Poor thing, you must be starving if you can barely serve us wine-" And as his tone gets progressively more sarcastic and a bit louder, you can hear his sons snickering from the other side of the table, but you can't see them since you can't take your eyes away from him.

You're worried that if you look away for just one second, that you may not be able to see ever again.

"- It's so sad when one of our guests feels hungry- What's worse is when we are also very, very hungry."

"- Thirsty, even!"

"- Oh, I can feel my throat drying just at the thought of such misery!- Our dinner seems to be ruined."

You hear their whispers, you hear how they are clearly joking about this- How overly dramatic they're being over something so miniscule as you just- Ignoring them.

Let me remind you this is all because you refuse to look them in the eyes, that you refuse to give them any satisfaction for the heinous things they have done! You've seen so many people get hurt inside this castle only for their sick and twisted thirst and entertainment.

"- Indeed, my boys. My appetite is ruined, though dinner is not over yet-" Lord Dimitrescu spoke as he looked at his sons clearly enjoying your inevitable pain, but before he could continue he turns himself to you again, putting a hand on your arm and saying:

"- Wouldn't you agree?" Loud enough so that his sons could hear it, but soft enough to send the tiniest shivers down your spine.

"- …!"

"- No, no- Please, not again!-" He wouldn't dare do this, would he??

But before you could react he had already done it, you barely noticed how fast he had grabbed that knife to slice your wrist- His hand firmly gripping your arm as he made a deep enough cut so that your blood could be easier to access.

It somehow hurts just as badly as the first time his sons have stabbed your ankles and dragged you across the floor- At least you're not bumping into things like before, and even if it's a deep cut it's not as big as it could be if he used his claws to actually do this.

Oh, oh those claws- You almost thought he would use them on you… Those were something else. You can't remember exactly what happened, and why it happened, but you remember seeing him use those on another servant who may have crossed the line at some point.

Well "crossed the line"- More like "casually inconvenienced him". Lord Alcino may act like an incredibly high noble but he acts so childishly and in such an egotistical manner that you are surprised he can even have a castle like this in the first place! You don't remember what the servant has done to be so cruelly dismantled, but you don't doubt that it was for a stupid reason!

You miss that servant actually- Probably the only person who you actually talked with, and the first one to actually taught you how to do your job… You two could have been friends if he didn't intervene.

You briefly remember those moments before getting to experience the most weird sensation of all- Having your bloody cut be licked and sucked on. It hurts and it stings in a way that not only makes you want to cry but to also gag at the thought of you feeding this monster.

You refuse to look at him even in this scenario, you refuse to see him feeding off your blood… Sometimes you wish you were just as poisonous as some species of frogs, poisonous enough to make his mouth burn so he can experience a fraction of the pain he causes to others.

You tried fleeting away, you tried getting up and moving away but his grip on your arm only helped you in getting closer to him- You have your eyes closed as your only option is to cry and muffle your agony.

But as always, he is not satisfied with you just ignoring him. This was supposed to be a lesson, yet you're clearly avoiding your teacher as best as you can- But not today, little flower, you're not getting out of this so easily.

This is the first time he ever got to really taste your blood, as normally you would be behind the other servants while trying to learn how to please him, the only moments where he gets to see you is when it's dinner time, but oh- You're just so cruel!

Escaping inside your own little head while he has to content himself with just your image. Your presence is very much appreciated around this hour, little one-

He has noticed this before, of course, but it was only when he noticed his son's curiosity over the way you behave around them that made him organize this little trap. He didn't have everything planned actually, his plan only involved getting to this moment no matter what- And oh boy, has luck been on his side!

Your blood tastes better than expected of a commoner, your delicate and fearful whines of pain are just as delightful but what really gets him is this tough persona you try to convince everyone you have- You despise him, and it's clear to see why- But he knows his charms will probably work on you one way or the other.

He gripped your face trying to make sure you'll get to him in the eyes as he has a taste of you. Absolutely delicious, especially after you so gracefully "ruined" their dinner.

His sons were just watching as they continued to drink from their crimson glasses. They were just enjoying the show, as everything seems to easily amuse them- Their father was just showcasing how they were so much better than the common folk, and they have no other option but to take notes and to remember what they have to do if they ever feel ignored by the servants in the castle: Show who are the true masters of this place.

None of them were really interested in drinking from you, considering how all three seemed to recognize how their father has taken a liking towards you. No one would dare mess with their father's prey.

If you had enough strength in you, you would start vomiting as soon as this has started, but the more he takes from you the more you feel like you can barely stay conscious.

He wasn't supposed to take so much, at least not so soon- He wanted to just take a sip but he can't deny the fact he would rather drown himself in your blood than to let go.

He sighs, as he notices that you're slowly getting less and less aggressive, getting more and more tired as he drains you from this cut.

You're not unconscious yet, just barely stable enough to understand what's going on.

"- Sigh… Now that was a decent enough meal." He can't praise you for being tasty, can't have you being cocky around him.

"- Here, since I'm done here I'll take you to the servant's living quarters- And because I'm so kind I'll make sure that wound is safely secured and cleaned, so here- Come along now."

And as he stood up he offered you his hand so you could get up yourself, but you don't have enough energy to walk yourself to your room, thankfully you're already ready to go to bed and wish to never wake up again.

And as the nightmare never ends, he decides that if you are going to be difficult then you leave him no choice but to carry you there. How much has he taken from you?? Jesus, he should learn some self-control before doing this again- The absolute brute that he is.

Your vision may be a little screwed over because of the lack of red cells running through your body at the moment- But you have a weird feeling that you two aren't heading towards the servant's living quarters, as you feel like you two are quite literally going in the opposite direction.

Oh but it's fine- Right?

It'll be fine. Surely. After all, he already took what he wanted from you, and he doesn't seem to need more so- You probably won't have to worry about anything right now, dinner time is already over, you can finally relax now….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

So I'm sick again- Sorry y'all, I just have a horrible immune system and I really don't understand what is wrong with me-

I'm sorry if you didn't like this boo :(

#sheep's stuff #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere vampire x reader #yandere lady dimitrescu #yandere lord dimitrescu #yandere lord dimitrescu x reader #gn!reader #yandere fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere short fanfiction #special delivery request #special delivery short fanfiction #m!lady dimitrescu #male lady dimitrescu

650 notes · View notes

archerinspace · 2 years ago

Text

Meeting In-laws [Brikila fanfic]

I haven’t written fanfic in five thousand years but here’s the product of absolute brainrot.

Context: They are now about 20/21 yrs old and this is basically a good end where they actually find out how to activate the tablets and set everything right again and Cleo has gone home to her proper time/place. Brian and Akila have now put time into actually working out a romantic relationship though they’re still kind of nervous about it.

A vevosian, cyborg and one of the last xerx bots, at least in body, stood at the door of a yellow orange house covered in vines and other vegetation. It was connected to the Savior Institute, a place run by Theoda and Pothena Theoris. Surrounding it were more giant plants and behind it a forest known to be filled with Brian's worst nightmare so he didn't even dare turn around to think about it.

The doorbell rang to the Theoris household as the two mothers were greeted with their daughter, her now serious boyfriend Brian and their beloved robot son. Akila had somehow convinced said boyfriend to not wear such formal clothes and helped him pick out some more casual ones for everyday instead of wearing a lab coat all the time. He had compromised on a blue sweater properly adapted to still access his back panels and more common clothes like it. He still wore shorts, and shoes much similar to those he had before. Other compromises included a thin long sleeved shirt and hoodie over it to keep his arms covered. Akila herself was in more casual clothes similar to her uniform with leggings and a short sleeved dress like shirt. Her hair was a bit shorter but still fluffy and put up in a large ponytail. Only Brian and Eyeball could really describe the twenty minutes it took to calm her down and convince her everyday clothes were fine to meet her parents in, her cyborg partner reminding her of how overdressed she was for their first date. Naturally that earned him a good angry pout he honestly didn't take seriously finding her more adorable than threatening. In that moment she swore she saw his face display a minute look of admiration.

Brian had met Akila's parent's before over finter break multiple times when he was 'invited' and not allowed to stay at P.Y.R.A.M.I.D. They were fond of having both him and Cleo stay for the celebrations. It came at the cost of both hearing Akila's nickname "Kiki" and seeing her various baby pictures but that was small compared to what they faced now. The first time was most memorable as both of the fish girl's parents were enthusiastic about her bringing a new friend and gladly shared everything to almost an absurd degree. The Savior Institute they ran equally fascinated Brian and he enjoyed hearing about everything. Over the week the three had an enjoyable time just having some time off and not worrying about any problems.

Years later, after the galaxy had been saved it was no different. Brian was welcomed with open arms and offered everything they had in terms of hospitality. The only difference this time was now he was unexpectedly accepted not as a family friend but as a potential family member.

Over time the two had helped win a war and come to realize once it was all over they had time to fully act on their feelings and it showed not only through their constant ability to work well together but obvious signs that affection was no problem at least when they didn't think about it. At this point they had been openly dating for some time and more openly very parental over their adopted robot son Eyeball. He was now about equivalent to being 7-10 and enjoyed seeing what was also essentially his family and taught vevosian ways as well. Him and Brian learned both for Akila's sake and it only made sense the potential in-law understood his partner's world. The in-laws in question, much like Akila when first acting on her feelings, jumped in with no questions about accepting the cyborg as part of their little family. He was practically family already being a close friend but now it would be documented the last of the Bell family would be accepted by the Theoris household.

Immediately the three were greeted with big hugs and ten times more doting than usual. "Brian! Welcome! Welcome! We're so glad to have you join us and the family!" Theoda wasted no time in addressing the relationship and supporting it wholeheartedly. "Out of all her achievements, saving the galaxy and finding you are the best!" The tight hug lasted a bit too long and immediate mention successfully embarrassed the cyborg. 'Kiki' was equally embarrassed as Pothena hugged her and continued the praise. "Kiki! We're so glad you're back and with company. Your little family is so precious!" Eyeball’s parents shared a look of knowing and relief that Cleo wasn’t here to add to all of this.

It seemed to run in the family to assume everything was seriously set in stone despite the two galaxy saviors barely coming to terms on how to communicate and compromise as a couple. Now they were being assumed engaged, not that either were against the idea but they weren't ready for that. Eyeball immediately hugged all four of them a little too tightly with a smile on his face. Pothena chuckled, patting his broad chest. "You've grown! And you're strong as ever!" She praised despite the fact his body had not changed but was appropriately updated and maintained by Brian to keep up with natural aging.

Once they were set down, Brian's in-laws regrouped next to each other and waved their hands to motion the three to the living room. They were followed by the young parents and their robot child, taking a seat. Pothena left for the kitchen as the rest sat and waited. "We can't wait to get back home once it's rebuilt properly. Won't you be glad to see home again Kiki? You two can set up there too if you want!" Theoda looked towards her daughter with a smile that was equally shared. A nod was given in response along with a light blush, "Not that I don't like Chios, but I'll be glad to live where I grew up again! And we can show Eyeball everything! It won't be entirely the same but it'll be new and not taken over by a tyrannical bad guy!" The robot who had taken a seat and looked towards his mother. "This isn't your real home momma?" He was aware of the situation and heard 'the blight' mentioned a few times neither parent had explained to him yet the full extent of what had truly happened and how many planets were taken over.

"No, Octavian took over Vevosan and we had to move here, along with the Savior Institute. Then my moms could study it and soon we could save the galaxy and move back home." She furrowed her brow trying to remember if this had been told before but since Eyeball's creation she had put so much effort into explaining things so simply and not giving him dire information at such a young age. The only danger he experienced was when things got really bad and everyone had truly banded together just to survive. "You'll learn all that soon enough, right now we're here to enjoy the holiday."

“It looks like you took care of the galaxy while we stood around trying to translate a bunch of old pictures.” Theoda joked.

“Well it wasn’t just us, it was everyone at the academy.” Brian softly responded. The two looked away nervously. Everyone at P.Y.R.A.M.I.D deserved the praise, not just the two that happened to befriend Cleopatra. Both even praised their frenemy Callie for having expert commanding skills and now training under her mother to become the next top general. They would be working alongside her when they returned to start new positions of tech study and linguistics and history.

Brian softly chuckled under his breath, "At least you'll have a home to go to, I couldn't imagine returning to mine." The cyborg after a few visits had trusted them to open up and explain his lack of a proper home until being accepted into PYRAMID and being then raised by basically the school and a cat deemed too insane he was temporarily sent to an ice planet. "Well you'll just have to make Vevosan your home! A home doesn't have to be where you came from, but where you feel safe." Pothena returned with a tray of cups filled with hot chundridge. His pupils expanded to a round shape for a second, causing Akila to find it a bit amusing. She was glad to see him so welcomed that they remembered his favorite food.

"You included his favorite food too?" She gestured to Brian, softly laughing. Her parents answered warmly, "Of course dear, we couldn't leave out what he liked. You must be a bit hungry after such long travel anyways." Theoda grabbed a cup for herself. "Dinner will be later with all your favorites, after some scrapbooking and organizing receipts!"

Eyeball had been part of these activities before, softly clapping his hands in excitement. "Time for scrapbooking! I can show you all the new pictures! Momma and Momma-daddy showed me all kinds of new things we can travel to now. And you can see my friends!" The robot's favorite activity was more than clear as he now had a lot of new photos to add to the ever growing collection of enjoying time with his parents and other peers of his age range.

That earned a chuckle from Brian as he finished his soup. "We do have time now to enjoy more things, and now our scrapbooks will be filled with alot more fun pictures." The cyborg smiled. "Receipts remind me of lab inventory. I enjoy the numbers but a few people have taught me that living life can also happen outside of a lab."

"Brian, no work talk. We haven’t even started! We’re here to relax first." His partner interrupted.

A smug cat smile came across his face, "Interesting words coming from someone who was in every social group she could join. Besides, one of my achievements is fixing this big boy's processors to run smoother." The robot's head was patted once or twice as his father teasingly baby talked. In return the robot looked a bit grumpy and swayed a little. "DAAAAAAD, I'm not five!"

"They're running great, buddy!" More pats were given and the robot's protests ignored as it only further caused more grumpiness. Brian was rather proud of how well he kept his son maintained and how fast he learned things on his own. His grandmothers smiled watching this happen. "We should get on with it then, I'll get everything we need. You three wait here." With that both left the room and quickly returned with all of them. Brian and Akila scooted closer to the table that had been cleared and started working on organizing and decorating photos. Eyeball did as well starting on a few of his own. As they did so, everyone chatted about things and caught up until it was dinner time. Much to Akila's joy and fear Brian had passed on his love of Mistress Punchfire which led to Eyeball talking for quite some time about his favorite issues, panels and decorating a few pages with appropriate stickers and cards given to him by Brian.

The conversation at dinner quickly changed from everyday life to touchier subjects. Immediately they were very open about the idea of Brian already being part of the family again, "It took you long enough to say anything, though I don't blame you that Octavian was important to get rid of first." Pothena started. This caused the cyborg to choke for a second as it caught him off guard. It had been some months since it was all over and everyone at P.Y.R.A.M.I.D witnessed Brian making a giant romantic gesture out of excitement.

In the moment he used all his strength to pick up his longtime crush by the waist and with visibly large round pupils only seen when he was truly happy asked "Now can we go on that planetarium date?" She returned his affection with an immediate kiss that caused him to step back a bit to stop from stumbling from surprise before responding "We'll need to find a babysitter." Her own fins visibly tinted slightly red. Around them everyone cheered and after a moment surrounded them to celebrate everyone's freedom including the freedom to finally enjoy life. Zaid grabbed both of their shoulders, chuckling. "It's about time you asked that."

The cyborg visibly and audibly blushed at the sudden mention, remembering that moment and their first actual mature date like it was yesterday. It was one of the things he cherished and backed up in every way possible. "It was hard to--it really is easier now to--we have known each other for a while--" He stammered, failing to make any coherent sentence let alone respond with composure. A blue hand was placed over his in reassurance as she answered "What he means is, it had to be the right time." Akila also remembered that moment and the more it was on her mind, the more it was apparent by red tinted fins. Pothena continued, "It really is adorable, you two are already usually holding hands half the time." She pointed to them, "I think that's an excellent sign."

The two looked at their hands and then at each other lovingly and a bit nervously. It was true they liked each other's company and as Cleo once said 'lost track of everything half the time' when focused on something together. Their daughter had the confidence to speak up first. "Mom, it's only been a short time and we're just taking our time to finally understand this better. We already work well together anyways, this isn't any different. Well it kind of is but it's basically the same." Brian kept his mouth shut by eating, while also trying to hide in his own collar from the topic at hand.

Her mothers only nodded in unison, softly chuckling at his reaction. "You're new to this but working together well is a headstart! Now you have to work together on being a couple!" Theoda praised. They meant well but it was very sudden to both to be assumed and treated as if there was a ring given. Brian regained some courage to speak as he still had a lot of anxiety especially in confrontations. While Cleo made him a little braver it didn't change that he was a shut in half the time. "I don't think that will be an issue, we've been through worse and was top of the class in most every subject including diplomacy and compromise." His head turned to Akila who had squeezed his hand a little, a small look of admiration on her face knowing that in his worry had turned to something assured like his own knowledge. In turn it helped him a little, by now knowing as odd as he was to others she appreciated every bit of it.

Dinner continued like this, the experienced couple doting on the new one with no end. Stammering continued, Akila thought her implied husband was going to lose his own head at some point before it was over. Every answer was met with understanding though and as smothering as both were it was well intentioned. Both saw the sometimes literal sparkle in each other's eyes when together or talking about the other. During scrapbooking, it seemed one of Brian's favorite things to highlight was his little family including Dr. Queed.

The rest of the week was about the same as previous holidays, everyone had a wonderful time. After the first day they made themselves more at home. Nobody said anything but it was more than noticed Brian had warmed up to them by forgetting his insecurities of covering up his arms. Cleo and Akila were somewhat used to it as he trusted them with no doubt but in secret the two mothers shared some excitement that the cyborg was more comfortable even in their home away from home.

After a week of being smothered morning, noon, and night it was time to return. It was enough to leave everyone with the similar feeling of not wanting to go back. Goodbyes were tearful and hugs were twice as long as they should’ve been. Akila and Eyeball were packing up final luggage bags outside while Brian made sure nothing was left behind. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned only his head around to see, turning around properly when he saw it was Theoda and Pothena. "Ma'am, is there something you need?" He asked very politely.

"There is, Brian." Theoda took her wife's hand. "You truly make Kiki happy and that's all we want for her. We apologize if it was awkward but if you ever want to ask, you have our complete approval." Confusion was on his face for a second before realizing what they were talking about. Before he could shrink into his collar again both embraced him a bit calmer than usual for a short hug. "Thank you Ms. and Ms. Theoris--I don't think that'll be happening yet, I have considered--not right now though because--" His stammering was cut off by Pothena.

"The only thing you need to worry about is that you'll see us next year. You might have lost a home but ours will always be open, and our family too."

"Thank you, ma'am." His pupils once again momentarily changed from their usual rectangles to round with some shine. They could see why Akila found it so endearing.

Akila opened the front door to announce their departure. "C'mon Brian! Khensu is going to start orientation without us, and your dad said something about immediately training you. He has a gift for you too! Love you moms!"

Trying to hold back even holographic tears he promised, "We will come back again, hopefully most will be rebuilt by then and Eyeball and I could finally see her proper home." Brian followed her outside excitedly chatting about their new lives. The two women watched their daughter and future son in-law leave for Mayet to prepare for very successful and important roles in education.

#cleopatra in space #akila theoris #brian bell #fanfic #writing #melmas art #hello cleo in space community

6 notes · View notes

pawpunkao3 · 3 years ago

Text

ASO Nightmare Headcanons :)

Barry, obviously, has the most frequent nightmares (and the only ones mentioned in canon). Most of them follow the same format- Barry is with someone he loves, he leaves for some reason, and when he returns they’re dead, usually of something he could have prevented if he was only physically there. The exact variations change. Before he joined the Gunner Channel, it was usually his clone brothers. Now, he sees his friends or the Galactic Girl Guides- people he’s obligated to protect. A few dreams shake it up, and instead place him in a position where he has to watch his friends be hurt while they beg him for help, ask him why he’s not helping, doesn’t he love them? He thinks he prefers seeing his family die over and over, actually.

Gunnie also has a lot of nightmares, when he does manage to sleep. Most of them are a lot less focused than Barry’s- winding, empty tunnels, someone nebulous chasing him through them, intense panic. Others involve having money that he’s quickly losing, and being unable to stop it from slipping through his fingers, or bits of his body malfunctioning or rusting.

Before she was part of the Gunner Channel, Margaret dreamed of Lucienne. Lucienne loving someone else, Lucienne finding some dark secret even Margaret didn’t know and leaving her in disgust, Lucienne dying and Margaret not even realizing for nargons because she’s a terrible friend. After Lucienne actually split off from her, the dreams kinda lost their weight. Now she mostly dreams about Plinth.

Cerebroslugs don’t have REM sleep, but they can detect their hosts’ dreams- and since Norman is permanently asleep while Skip is piloting him, that means Skip has a constant background radiation of people cheering for him coupled with intense fear, disgust, and guilt with no explainable origin, and the image of an eyeball floating in a glass of red champagne. Following the prison break, a new dream got thrown into the mix- the Gunner Channel, warped into twisted demons of their real selves, forcing Skip back inside Norman’s body. That’s. Harder to ignore than the other dreams.

Sid doesn’t sleep, so she doesn’t dream. She has things like Barry’s night terrors when she’s alone, sometimes- she calls them the shakes. She becomes convinced that her friends are gonna replace her, and can’t logic her way out of it. Usually someone has to snap her out of it- it’s not easy to drag her own way out, especially when Norman was captain, and well, who knows what he’d do to her if given the chance?

Since Riva is always half asleep, half awake, they don’t really dream. But they were curious about what dreaming was like. Aguatunisians have an ability to “go halfsies” with someone else’s emotions- they psychically bond with them, and take about half of the experiences, making it lighter on the person experiencing them. They didn’t quite realize what they were getting into when they offered to go halfsies with Barry, but after sticking one night terror out they decided they would only do it when Barry or Gunnie REALLY needed a good night’s rest.

#d20 aso #d20 starstruck #a starstruck odyssey #dimension 20: a starstruck odyssey #big barry syx #gunnie miggles rashbax #margaret encino #skip aso #norman takamori #norman skipper takamori #norman skip takamori #sundry sidney #riva a starstruck odyssey

42 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Time Apart

CW: Trauma survivor, referenced noncon and assault, heavy internalized victim-blaming and self-loathing/anti-asexuality (Chris has serious issues from his conditioning around this)

(references events from this small series)

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

When Chris picks up his phone, it's not at all the message from Laken he expected to see. Not the kind of thing they've ever sent before.

He has to read it two times, then three. The letters swim and shake along with a dull pounding inside his head, but no matter how he tries to make them into other words - tell himself he must have misunderstood, must be missing something - they come back together the same in the end.

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

Each letter is as crisp and clean as a sterilized blade between each rib, one by one by one by one.

The words are a body blow. They're a hundred blows, beating him into a barely recognizable shattered shell of himself. It wasn't supposed to happen this way - it's been a bad few days, yeah, a bad week really, but until yesterday's fight it had never occurred to him that Laken might give up on him.

The fight was his fault, anyway.

He meant to apologize last night, but then Nova had come into his room, and he'd lost the rest of the night to lying next to Jake, trying to remember how to stop living inside his head again, how to stop being still.

He'd woke up this morning with his stomach doing butterfly flips inside him, nervous, but he'd really wanted to say he was sorry, for the fight, for all the weirdness lately. He'd wanted to apologize for being difficult.

Instead... he'd woken up to find a missed text from the night before, sent after he'd shoved Nova away but before he could stand to look at anything again.

I think you should spend time apart, not with me.

There it sits.

He hasn't unlocked his phone yet. Instead, he keeps tapping the button to light up the screen, looking at the message preview that has all he needs to see. Lets it go dark again. As if one of these times he'll click and it'll say something else.

But it doesn't,

It just says the same damn thing.

I think you should spend time apart.

Not with me.

He's still staring at it when another one comes in. He feels the soft pulse of his phone in his hand, and the screen lights on its own.

LAKEN - NOW Did you see my message?

He thinks maybe Kauri had it easier when he was the age Chris is now. Back when Kauri carried on entire conversations in emoji form, letting the nuance and ambiguity take over, the recipient working through the meaning on their own. With this, each letter is merciless, each word is unmistakable. He can’t misunderstand it.

Can he?

He opens the phone with shaking fingers, types back yes, presses send, and turns his phone off.

Then he throws it at the wall.

He’s grateful for the heavy plastic case that makes it bounce off and drop to the floor without breaking. There's a strip on the back, textured and a soft purple, gray, white, and black. He rubs his fingers over it sometimes in class to keep himself from rocking and being distracting.

Now he just... stares at it.

Laken bought that for him. They bought the shirt he's wearing right now-

He yanks it off his head before he can think, balls up the soft fabric and throws it as well. It just sort of drifts pointlessly to the floor, a single eyeball from the print of a band he likes staring back at him.

Laken has ranted before about people who break up by text message, and Chris has to breathe through a physical ache in his chest that tightens every muscle at how awful he must be that they're not doing this face to face. How awful, how used-up, how shredded apart, how fucking pretty he is.

After all, he and Laken have been together for more than a year, and he still held perfectly still for Nova to touch him before he remembered how to move. After all, he’s a grown man who still cried and fell apart when Jake was hurt. After all, after all, after all...

He scrambles across the floor for his phone again, turns it back on. Part of him hopes he’ll see a new text saying they take it back, they didn’t mean it. Or just asking him to apologize for what he’d said that night before, for how he’d thrown their confusion over his reaction to something back at them, echoing out the way Kauri fights sometimes, talking about himself the way he thinks everyone else might be thinking about him, so he says the insult first and no one else gets to surprise him with it.

But there’s nothing new.

He manages to open the texts again, barely, and breathes in gasps, nearly pants, as he types out, you don’t want me at your place?

Not right now.

Is it because of what I can’t do?

It takes them a minute to answer. Every single second ticks by with a slowness Chris hasn’t felt since his days in the cold white room, tied down to stillness, forced to endure every minute that passed in perfect silence or to the soundtrack of his own tears and pleading for it to stop.

When they do respond, it’s just, it’s because of what you won’t do.

His breath catches in his throat. The ache in his head starts to pound harder, and he has to close his eyes against a sharp stab behind them.

What he won’t do.

They’ve never cared before. How-... how could they suddenly care now? The fight had only a little bit been about that, it’d really been about something else. About his nightmares, how he’s not sleeping, not seeing his friends, skipping therapy. It hadn’t even been about... that. About what Chris can do and what he can’t, in bed.

But that was the thing - the fight had started when Chris had flinched back from Laken’s touch to his back, and snapped at them, and accused them of wanting too much, and...

And now this.

It’s like they knew about Nova. Knew that he could be good just fine - better than fine, Handler Petrus said he was one of the best he’d ever worked with once - he just... wouldn’t. Won’t. Doesn’t want to. Never wanted to.

Can’t do it without tearing himself to pieces all over again.

It was always a scream inside his mind, but should he have pushed it down and tried harder to be more like everyone else? Is he losing Laken because of it? Did Nova pick up on something Chris himself doesn’t know?

Should he have... tried?

Even if it hurt?

He drops the phone again, then kicks it viciously under his bed, listening to the scrape of it sliding across the floor, the thump as it hits the wall. He hears it vibrate again, but this time he doesn’t care what Laken has to say.

They’ve said enough.

He understands.

Part of him expected this eventually.

He leaves the room, doesn’t bother to pull on his compression shirt, even. He lets his skin prickle bare and exposed to the air. He accepts the discomfort, the uneasy feeling of being too seen, too felt.

The house is quiet, this early.

He makes himself toast with butter, wincing at the scrape of the knife against the crisp bread, the sound boring into his ears. But eventually it’s done, and he slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, willing himself to cry. Somehow, the tears just... don’t happen.

He can hear Jake snoring softly from the living room. He’d been up with Chris until nearly 4 am, then Chris was awake again at 6:30, looking at that text, looking over and over and over again. Two hours of sleep leave him weirdly euphoric alongside his despair. Like he’s floating in some nightmare place that isn’t awake and isn’t sleeping, either.

He’s probably slept nine hours in three days at this point. He keeps seeing Jake with a knife sticking out of him every time he closes his eyes. Jake, screaming as Antoni pushed cloth into his wound to stop up the bleeding. Jake with a bullet wound, sitting up against the wall, staring at him with wide eyes whispering, It’s okay, Tristan, I love you, it’s okay as he dies.

He can’t sleep. He can’t leave for long. He can’t breathe. He can’t think.

Him being what he is, it’s the reason Jake is hurt. If he hadn’t been his brother, he wouldn’t have decided to run a house for Romantics, and he wouldn’t have ended up dealing with all the dangerous bits about them.

Jake said it himself, didn’t he? It’s a mistake, running a house for Romantics. Not his best idea. A mistake.

Chris is a mistake.

Him being weak, and cowardly... it’s hurting Jake, making his life harder.

He makes everyone’s life harder.

There’s a soft sound of footsteps behind him, and he turns to find Nova in the doorway, staring back. She’s in a sleeveless gray dress and has her long dark hair pulled back from her temples, spilling in a waterfall down her back. Her eyes are dark and fathomless, and she gives him a faint, slight smile.

She had smiled like that with one hand down his pants.

Chris turns around, too fast, his head spinning a little, and hunches over his toast. “Good... good, um, good morning,” He mumbles.

She clears her throat. “Morning. Chris, about-... about last night...”

“Don’t, um, don’t-... don’t don’t don’t worry about it.” He takes a breath. He doesn’t want his toast any longer.

“I’m sorry,” She says, simply. “I spoke to Sarita about it, and... and she said this happens with us, and I should apologize, but, um. So I am. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-... I thought I was helping.”

“I... know you did.” His words are slowing down. Chris can’t hold on to his thoughts, they want to drift away somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere darker.

“When I was with-... with my Miss, she would always say, if you are sad the best way to fix it is to make your body forget that feeling, replace it with something else. And that was what we replaced my sadness with. So, you were sad and upset, and I thought I could fix it that way.” She pauses, flushing a little, looking down and to the side as she moves with effortless grace to get a glass and fill it with water, take a small sip.

“Kauri used to... to do that,” Chris says after a pause, thinking about it. Kauri, who would show up in the small hours of the morning reeking of liquor and someone else’s cologne, or just didn’t show up at all. Kauri, who would laugh instead of crying, and laugh with someone’s arms around him, a guy whose name he didn’t know.

Kauri, who ran and ran and ran and can do things and be things that Chris can’t.

Or... won’t.

What if he’s been hurting Laken this whole time and didn’t know it, because he was already hurt himself?

His foot starts to tap tap tap on the floor until he stops it.

“Did he? Did it-... work for him?” Nova asks it with genuine curiosity, and her eyes are so pretty. He looks up at her, and then down again, pushing the plate of toast away from himself.

“I don’t know,” Chris whispers. “I, I don’t know. He’s happy now, but...”

“Was he happy then?”

“No. But, but, but... maybe we aren’t supposed to be. At least... not with, with anyone... who isn’t like us.”

“Jake isn’t like us,” Nova points out. Her presence in the room feels heavy, like a weight pushing down on him. But what does it matter? He’s not with Laken anymore, anyway. If he wanted to, he could stand right up and kiss Nova right now, press her back into the counter, and learn what it’s like to be the one doing things and not just having them done to him.

But his body doesn’t stir at the thought. It never has.

“He is,” Chris answers. “A, a little bit. I’m, I’m, I’m sorry, too, Nova. Sorry that I-I can’t.”

“No, I know. You have a partner, and I shouldn’t have-”

“I don’t have... I, I, I I don’t have a partner anymore.” Chris stands up, leaving her there with his plate of untouched toast. The sky outside is bright as the sun rises, as if mocking the way he feels like a stormcloud inside.

Nova watches him leave, and whispers to herself, “No partner?”

Chris goes outside, pulling a sweatshirt that hangs on the coatrack on over his head to protect his skin, curling up on the porch swing and watching cars pulling out of driveways as the neighborhood starts to head to work in ones and twos.

He doesn’t cry.

He sits very, very still, and he is silent.

Upstairs, under the bed, his phone vibrates, again and again, unnoticed.

Just go talk to Nat, Chris. That’s all I said. Just go see Nat and get a night or three away from the house. Being there all the time is overwhelming you. Are you even looking at these? Chris you can’t just ignore me every time I say something you don’t like Chris answer me ... ... Oh shit, Chris, my phone autocorrected earlier and I didn’t notice I meant “some time at Nat’s”, not apart Chris? Are you seeing my messages? Baby? Chris, please check your phone and answer me. Please.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

172 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

#bnha 299 #takami keigo #hawks (bnha)#best jeanist #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I found peace in your violence #can't tell me there's no point in trying #I'm at one #and I've been quiet for too long

564 notes · View notes

crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years ago

Text

Let The Years Die

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

After a few weeks of 3k to 4k words fics, this one is 7100 words. I have returned to my long fic roots. This is an Anti-focused chapter, and a lot of shit goes down. Sam shows up again, trying to reach out to Anti. Then Anti gets a visit from everyone’s favorite distortion man, and afterwards, gets another visit from Sam and Jack as well. Also, Anti opens up about his past for the first time ever. Also, I think I need a warning for this chapter. So, warning for strong intrusive thoughts and implied suicide. Stay safe while reading, friends.

More of this AU found here

Anti woke up in the middle of the night, unsure why, exactly, he was awake. Was it the dream he just had? No, he already couldn’t remember it. Something else must’ve woken him up.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes to clear them, and looked around the room. There were a lot of weird shapes and shadows in the darkness, but he was used to that. Maybe he’d heard Will make a noise in his bedroom? Should he go check on him? No, he shouldn’t. But...just a few days ago, Will had told him about the nightmares he’d had. Nightmares about Distorter. Anxious worry started to gnaw at his chest. It couldn’t hurt to just open the door and peek inside really quick.

The pull-out sofa creaked loudly as Anti pushed aside the blankets and stood up. Great, if Will wasn’t already awake, he probably woke him up. And it was a school night, too. He was supposed to care about his kid getting sleep, but apparently not. As he shook his head to clear away the spiraling thoughts, Anti realized something. The room was a bit lighter than it usually was in the middle of the night. Something was glowing...glowing green.

Anti spun around. Right outside the window was a floating green eyeball. “Sam?” he said.

Sam bobbed in midair, banging against the glass. It was surprisingly loud. Now Anti knew what had woken him up. He glanced over towards Will’s bedroom door, hesitated, then hurried over to the window. It took a bit of effort to slide open, but the moment there was enough space Sam squeezed inside. Irritation flared. Did they think they could just come in whenever? Anti took a deep breath, and asked, “What is it? Why are you here now?”

In answer, Sam flicked their optic nerve. The tail-like nerve was curled around a piece of paper, which had been folded up into a small palm-size square. Anti held his hand out, and they dropped the paper into it.

He looked down at it. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a sheet of plain lined note paper, torn along one edge like it had been ripped out of a book. “Is this...from Jack?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Sam hesitated, then slowly bobbed up and down, mimicking a nod. They inched closer to Anti, nudging his hand with their nerve-tail.

Anti continued to stare at the folded bit of paper. He’d blocked Jack’s phone number. So Jack had resorted to sending a letter with his little eyeball friend. How...How dare he? Did he think anything he could say could help? After what he did?! After how he made Anti feel?! How dare he?!

His hand curled into a fist around the paper. “No thanks,” he growled.

Sam backed up, twisting the same way a human might tilt their head to the side. They flew closer to Anti’s head—That thing should stay away from him! It was only going to insist he make up with Jack! Well, he didn’t have to! He was never going to!

Anti took a step back. Quickly, he unfolded the paper, and without even looking at it, tore it in half. Sam stopped in midair, shocked. He tore the paper again and again, then threw the pieces out of the open window.

Sam shrank, their glow dimming. Immediately, shame sank into Anti’s chest. He didn’t have to do that. He could have just thrown the note away after Sam left. Doing it in front of them was just mean.

But he was a mean person. Why did he think he was anything else?

“Just...go,” Anti said quietly, reaching over to open the window farther. “It’s late, this isn’t the time for any of that.”

Sam didn’t move. After a few moments of staring at him, they floated forward, bumping against his forehead. Then they went out the window, flying away. Anti leaned his head out the window to watch their glow fade into the distance.

Jump out the window.

Suddenly feeling sick, Anti leaned back and closed the window as fast as he could. He rested his forehead against the cool glass and took a few deep breaths. It was fine. He didn’t want to talk to Jack anyway. Even the thought of it made his stomach squirm. This was just...making sure Jack wouldn’t want to talk to him, either.

Still, he liked Sam. He regretted being so rude to them the last couple times he’d seen them. It would be fine. They were better off without him anyway.

He rubbed his eyes again—a headache was beginning to develop behind them. He should just...go back to sleep. And sleep forever.

———————

Has anything happened today? To either of you.

Anti glanced down at the message right as it popped up on his phone screen. That was JJ asking, in the group chat. Sighing, he saved his project and spun away from the computer. He wasn’t getting anywhere right now, might as well give it a break...though he suspected this conversation was going to be just as stressful as any bit of code. No, nothing, he replied, deliberately not mentioning Sam because he was an untrustworthy liar.

That’s good, JJ said. Jackie what about you?

It was a long time before Jackie replied, long enough that Anti considered going back to his project before finally seeing a response: if you mean stuff about distorter no nothing today. All lowercase. Unusual for Jackie, he must’ve been tired or something.

What about you and Marv? Anti asked.

Unfortunately, it happened again this morning, Jameson said.

Anti sat straight up. The trance thing?

Yes, the trance thing. Luckily Marvin shook it off really quickly, I didn’t even need to do much, but it still happened. And he says that there have been “funny feelings” all day.

how is he? Jackie asked.

A pause. I asked him and he says he’s fine, Jameson eventually responded. But...Im still worried. Distorter is trying to get him, I know it. What if his attacks increase?

Do you have any magic shit that can ward him out? Anti asked.

Ive been looking, but there hasn’t been much of any help, Jameson admitted. All the books about mental magick I have are all about learning it or defending against magicians who use it. Nothing about magical creatures who can get into your head. Actually, Jackie, you borrowed my books yesterday. Have you found anything I missed?

Once again, Jackie took a long while to reply. Anti tapped his fingers impatiently on the surface of his desk, spinning slightly in his chair. Clearly, Jackie hated him. And he was right to do so. “What the fuck?” Anti muttered, shaking his head. That train of thought was...new. Or rather...very, very old. Why...?

Before he could think any more about it, Jackie finally sent a message. i dont think ive seen anything that you didnt but its all new to me so i dont know. but im working on it. theyre still very helpful. i can use this.

...Okay? Jameson said.

Jackie wtf? Anti sent. What do you meean by that?

i mean they can help help us, Jackie responded. you know? were gonna figure something out i promise.

You’re being weird today, Anti said. But then he immediately felt guilty. Who was he to say that? Nosy, much? Jackie didn’t care what he thought of him, especially when his thoughts were insulting like that.

im fine just busy rn, Jackie said. hey jj if these books havent been good for you can you get new ones?

Yes, I’m working on that, JJ said. I want to go to the library soon but the thing happening this morning kind of derailed my plans for that today. Marvin and I can go tomorrow. Also Aoife told me about this group of magicians who might be able to help. They’re called the Magic Circle. Were working on getting in touch with them.

and they can protect from distorter? Jackie asked.

Probably. It’s worth asking. Jameson paused, and then sent a second message. On a related note. Anti, how is Will? You said he was having dreams about Distorter, has he had any more since then?

No, but it’s only been two nights since he told me, Anti said. I...guess he COULD have had some and not told me about them when I asked, but i dont think he would do that. At least, he hoped Will wasn’t doing that. He tried to make sure Will knew he was there to confide in, but...that didn’t mean he was doing a good job. Or that Will would want to. In fact, it was more likely that Will just didn’t want to tell him. He wasn’t present enough for that to be an option, spending all his free time in this tiny room with his computers.

Anti was snapped out of his thoughts by a new message. Will’s been what?! Jackie asked.

Oh didn’t I tell you? Anti said. Will told me the day before yesterday that he’s been having dreams with Distorter in them for...a long time. And that recently they started up again. It’s fucking awful.

Oh my god I am so sorry that’s happening, Jackie said. I can’t fucking believe Distorter. It wasnt enough to kidnap a ten year old, he has to haunt his nightmares too?! Fuck this guy. Fuck him so much. Im sick of all this.

Anti raised his eyebrows just reading this. It sounded more like something he would say than Jackie. That really pissed you off hearing it huh? He said. Well I dont blame you. It’s piss-worthy.

Don’t worry, Anti, Jackie immediately responded. I’m going to find some way to protect us.

Marvin and I will help, too, Jameson added. Hopefully by tomorrow we’ll have another lead.

Thanks guys, Anti typed out, but hesitated. He wanted to say more. That it really meant a lot that they were willing to help. That he was really worried about Will but hearing them come to his defense made it seem easier. But...

Nobody cares about your shit. They're only going to laugh at you. And you’ll deserve it for how weak you are.

He just sent the “thanks” by itself.

Smash your phone. Grab the glass shards and squeeze until—

And then he set his phone down and turned away.

———————

The day passed without much news. Anti finished his project—replacing all the spider-like monsters in a game with balls with googly eyes—just in time to go meet Will at the school bus stop. After they walked home, Will went to his room to do homework while Anti recorded some videos. They had dinner, and Will returned to his room, where Anti could hear various game sounds through the door. Clearly, Will had broken out his old DS again.

Anti had just finished cleaning up the dishes when he heard a knock at the door. Just one knock. Which was weird. He walked over and peered through the peephole.

There was a green glow on the other side of the door, coming from somewhere below the peephole’s range of view. Immediately, Anti opened the door, revealing none other than Sam, hovering around chest-height. “You’re here again?!” he whisper-shouted.

Sam bobbed in the air, then floated up to head-height.

“I...I guess it’s...fine that you’re here,” Anti said slowly. In truth, he was surprised to see them after his actions last night. “But, uh, why?”

Sam bobbed again, then used their nerve-tail to point into the distance. They pointed at Anti, then back into the distance again.

“You...want me to go somewhere?”

Another bob.

“Uh...” Anti wasn’t so sure about this. They were probably going to take him to Jack, who was going to keep asking questions about...things. Like Anti. And her—Ciara. He really didn’t want to answer any of those questions. But...wasn’t it the least he could do after ripping up that note? For all he knew, that could have had important information. This could be completely unrelated to any of that stuff. It wasn’t likely, but it was possible. “Ssssure,” he said slowly. “But how far away are we going? I can’t leave Will alone for long.”

Sam hovered for a while, then flicked their nerve-tail.

“Okay, I don’t know what the hell that means. Hang on.” Anti took his phone out. “I’ll just call that Anya girl to come watch him for a little.”

Sam darted forward, bumping hard against his chest. They flew down the hall, then turned around sharply and bumped against Anti again. This repeated a couple more times.

“Jeez, hang on, won’t ye?” Anti held up his hand, and Sam ran into his palm instead of his chest. “This’ll only take ten minutes. She lives two floors down. Granted, she’s not my first choice, but she’s the closest.” Sam swished their nerve-tail nervously. They continued to fly around, but didn’t bump into Anti again.

Twelve minutes later, Anti headed out, explaining to Will that something had come up and he had to head out. Will didn’t mind; he always thought Anya was a “cool uni kid.” He even reassured Anti that it was fine that he didn’t know what time he’d be back. God, he was such a nice kid. Anti hoped he was doing alright. He hoped that Will would tell him if he wasn’t.

Sam led him down the street. They were heading vaguely westward, which Anti knew mostly because he had to shield his eyes from the setting sun half the time. It was fairly busy on the roads this time of day, but Sam didn’t bother to hide from any passerbys, flying right out in the open. That was a bit strange, but Anti figured it was because they were in a hurry. They were constantly flying ahead, then doubling back to make sure Anti was still there. Eventually, they were flying so far ahead that Anti had to break into a jog to keep up.

They’d been going for a while—a solid twenty minutes. By now they were well into the city center, notable for the glass-and-concrete skyscrapers that were clustered in this relatively small area. Anti ran across a crosswalk, glancing at the drivers in the cars to see if anyone had noticed the flying green eyeball he was following. But no, most were staring at him and not Sam.

Once they reached the other side of the street, Sam hesitated, then instead of continuing forward down the sidewalk, darted between two of the taller buildings. Anti hurried after them.

He took two steps into the small alley, eyes locked on the distant green glow, when something landed on his shoulder. “What the shit?!” Anti flailed for a moment, trying to get the thing off. But it stayed there. He stopped, turned to look at his shoulder...

And saw Sam staring up at him.

Anti froze for a solid five seconds. Then he looked up again. Sam was flying down the alleyway. He looked down. Sam was on his shoulder. “What. The actual. Fuck?”

The Sam on his shoulder hopped off, floating in front of him. The Sam down the alley stopped and turned around back towards him. They noticed the newcomer Sam at the same time the newcomer Sam noticed them. And they stared at each other.

Anti stepped back, at a loss for words. “Sam...?” he said quietly.

Both eyeballs turned to look at him. The new Sam swished their nerve-tail frantically, bobbing up and down. The Sam he’d been following remained still.

His skin crawled. Now that he was looking at these two Sams...the old one, the one who’d been leading him somewhere...they weren’t glowing as brightly. Sure, it was the right shade of green. But there was something missing, a certain vibrancy. They also lacked the detail of the new Sam, whose blue iris was made up of various shades and had small red veins in their sclera. The old one...didn’t. It looked less like a real eye and more like a simple model. The new Sam flew straight at the old Sam, trying to push them aside. But they didn’t make contact, flying right past.

Don’t worry so much about the small stuff. This is fine. Keep following.

“Oh fuck no.” Anti took a step back, preparing to turn around. But almost too fast to notice, the old Sam—the fake Sam—dashed at his head. Its fake green glow filled his vision, and then everything went dark.

———————

When Anti opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bumpy texture of a popcorn ceiling. Dimly, he registered this as strange, because his apartment didn’t have ceilings like this. Nor were they in any of his friends’ houses. Then he remembered the fake Sam rushing at him before he fell unconscious, and the dim odd feeling was replaced with sharp urgency.

He lurched into a sitting position, wincing and clutching his head. It was in pain, aching behind his eyes. But no time for that. He looked around, taking in the room he was in. It was...a normal living room. There were chairs, a sofa—which he was lying on—and an old boxy television. The room was lit up by a round ceiling light that wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the corners. There was a window, but it was boarded up from the outside, completely hiding the view. There was also a front door. An attached hallway led into darkness and an archway led into another room.

It was a completely normal room. Except for one thing. It was all in shades of gray. Not gray like it had been made that way. Gray like the color had been drained out of everything.

Anti felt a pit open in his stomach. He recognized this place. He’d only been here once, but he was never going to forget it.

This was the house on Aspen Street.

“I see that look on your face. You’ve realized where you are, haven’t you?”

Anti’s head snapped to the left. It was him. Distorter himself. Leaning casually against the archway into the other room—which Anti now remembered was a dining room and attached kitchen. Distorter’s arms were folded, blackened flesh resting on each other, and the smile was ever-present on his face under his black, bleeding eyes. Anti glared at him, trying hard to make out the man behind the monster. But as always, the details of Distorter’s features slipped away. “What am I doing here?” Anti demanded, standing up.

“What do you mean by that?” Distorter asked, sounding amused.

“You know what the fuck I mean!” Anti immediately reached for his jacket pocket, but found nothing inside. Wait...had he not grabbed a knife before leaving? Impossible. He almost always did that. But this situation was different. “That fake Sam at my door was a trap, wasn’t it? You lured me out! You brought me here! Why? Wanted to show off your interior design?”

“Oh, you mean, ‘what am I doing in your house?’” Distorter laughed to himself. “I thought you meant ‘what am I doing in this world, still alive when I clearly shouldn’t be?’”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Anti glanced at the front door. Then broke into a run.

“Uh, no.”

Anti grabbed the doorknob and ran at the door, expecting it to open. But the knob wouldn’t turn and he ended up slamming into the solid wood of the door. He tried a couple more times, only to be met with resistance.

“Did you really think that would work? You’re even dumber than you look.” Distorter shook his head and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Worth a shot,” Anti muttered. He slowly turned around, pressing his back to the door. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why’d you bring me here? Are you going to tell me?”

“Eventually.” Distorter walked farther into the living room and faced Anti. “But it’s been so long, you know? We should appreciate this time while we have it.”

Anti narrowed his eyes. “What? Like ‘friends’ do? Am I here to be your ‘friend,’ like Jackie and Marvin?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Who’d want to be friends with you?”

“At least four people,” Anti laughed. “You’ll have to try harder. There’s already proof against that statement.”

“Oh, they don’t count,” Distorter said casually. “They’re only doing it out of fear and pity.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Anti’s eyes scanned the room, looking for some other way out. The window was an option. If he was remembering properly, there was also a glass door in the dining room that could work. But that was boarded up like the window. “I get it, you hate me. Let’s move on.”

“No, let’s not. Let’s keep talking about how much I hate you.” Distorter snapped his fingers. In an instant, the door, the window, the hallway, and the archway all disappeared, leaving only dead gray wallpaper where they once were.

Anti jumped. He hadn’t expected that. But it was just an illusion...wasn’t it? But if it was an illusion, how come he couldn’t feel the doorknob? It should still be there, even if he can’t see it. Yet as his hand ran along the wallpaper, it found nothing.

Distorter walked over to a chair and sat down, leaning back in the gray upholstery as if there was nothing strange about any of this. “Do you know why everyone hates you, Anti? Because you deserve to be hated.”

Anti quickly hid the anxiety that was building inside him, replacing it with a sneer and folded arms. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like, I don’t know, actually dying instead of continuing to exist as some weird mind zombie?”

Distorter’s grin widened. “You’re deflecting. You’re deflecting because you know I’m right.” His nails drummed a pattern on the chair’s arm. “I mean, how could you not know? With the way you act. Scowling, stomping around, swearing and shouting at anyone who annoys you...you don’t even tell your ‘friends’ your first name. Who does that?”

“I don’t have to stand here and listen to this,” Anti said to himself, looking away from Distorter. Surely there was some way to break this illusion. He inched across the wall, trying to reach the spot where the window was supposed to be.

“Pay attention!”

Suddenly, all of his muscles locked up, freezing Anti where he was. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move his limbs. It was hard to even feel them. They hadn’t gone numb, they just weren’t...registering. Like they weren’t there at all. Against his will, Anti’s head turned to look at Distorter, who had stood up again.

“This is important,” Distorter hissed, angry even while he still smiled. “Don’t turn away from me.”

“You’re just going to keep spouting the same shit you always do,” Anti said through gritted teeth. “I’ve heard all your tricks before. I’m used to them.”

“Hmm.” Distorter tapped his chin, thinking. “Then I guess I need some new material. Or...some old material.” His grin widened. “Old like...Clonavan?”

Anti stiffened. “I-I don’t know what you—”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, it’s embarassing. That town is in your brain, and that means I can see it.” Distorter pressed the tip of his finger to the side of his head. The faint sound of blood dripping echoed in the silent room. “Or maybe you’d prefer another location? Like Feldeck? Or Sieghfern? Or—”

“Shut up!” Anti instinctively tried to back up, but he still couldn’t move. “I—so what? You know some of the places I’ve lived. It—it doesn’t mean anything!”

“Your thoughts say otherwise, McLoughlin. The panic that you felt when you heard me say those names, and the rush of memories they brought up...You don’t like those memories, do you?” The walls seemed to shift. They were still gray, but now images danced across their surfaces. City streets, people wandering past, all projected across the room. Distorter laughed. “No, of course you don’t. I mean, if those people you call friends knew about the things you did in these other towns, if they knew why you were really so secretive, they’d leave in a heartbeat. Not to mention if these secrets got out online! There goes your whole life! I can see the headlines now: ‘Online Gaming YouTuber Revealed to Have—’”

“I said shut up!” Anti shouted. But it was hard to muster up his usual fire when he couldn’t make his arms or legs move. “It’s all—It doesn’t matter! You’re just trying to get to me!”

“And it’s working.” Distorter walked closer, slowly approaching Anti, trapped against the wall. In only seconds, he was right in front of him. “But you know all this already. You know why you deserve to be abandoned. Why you should curl up and die. After all, those thoughts were in your head even before I showed up.” He raised his hand. “There’s proof of it.”

Anti’s eyes widened. He struggled against whatever paralysis was holding him in place, but it was no use. Distorter reached for his neck. Anti leaned his head back to try and avoid this, only for his head to hit the wall. He breathed heavily, throat rising and falling as Distorter’s nail scraped along his skin, going underneath the black choker he always wore. And Distorter began to pull. Anti choked for a moment as the choker strangled him, but then it snapped. The choker fell to the floor, revealing a long, raised scar that ran right across Anti’s neck.

“You’ve never explained this to anybody,” Distorter said quietly, pushing two fingers against the scar. “Not even Jackie, who saw the bandages. Do you think he figured it out? Do you think he knows why a nameless man showed up in the hospital that day, minutes from bleeding out? Does your son know that you—”

“I didn’t...” Even at a whisper, Anti’s words came out strangled against the pressure on his throat. “I didn’t...want to die.”

“No. But you wanted to hurt. And you didn’t care what would come after.” Distorter’s other hand pressed against the side of his own head. “You targeted the subject of your misery.” His hand made the shape of a gun, and for a split second, Distorter stopped smiling. Anti barely had time to notice the smile’s absence before it returned. “I know. I know it all. And that’s why I chose you.”

“...what?” Anti breathed.

Distorter stepped backwards, allowing Anti some breathing room but still remaining within arm’s reach. “Do you remember? In November. When the son you supposedly love and the girl he calls his cousin disappeared. Do you remember how you got them back?”

Anti’s thoughts ran through his head. “You...wanted...an exchange,” he said, haltingly, as he recalled the memory.

“And...do you remember what you agreed to?”

Slowly, Anti shook his head.

“Good.” Distorter laughed. “You weren’t supposed to. But it’s been some time now, and I want to collect on what you promised.”

“What I promised?” Anti swallowed thickly. “I would never promise you any—” But he stopped. Partially because he knew exactly under what circumstances he would agree to exchange something with Distorter...But also partially because the walls were looking less gray. There was a bit of color to them, and to the furniture. Green, to be exact.

“True, you wouldn’t promise anything for yourself,” Distorter said. “But for them? You would promise the world. And you—” But he also stopped. His head tilted to the side and he spun around. The room was becoming more and more green by the second. Lighter as well, the walls producing a green glow that was overwhelming the colorless room. “No.” Distorter whispered. “No no no no no NO!” He shrieked and spun around, grabbing Anti by the front of the shirt. “You aren’t going anywhere! Not yet!”

A crooked grin crossed Anti’s face. “It looks like I am.” By now, the room was almost too bright to look at, green light shining from every surface. Somehow, Anti felt himself slipping away...

Distorter screamed. He lunged for Anti’s throat, but before his hand made contact, the green light engulfed Anti’s vision.

———————

Anti’s eyes flew open as he abruptly sat up, sending a softball-sized green thing flying. His head was splitting open, sharp pain piercing his temples and aching behind his eyes. He couldn’t help but let out a whine as he pushed his hands against his forehead. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, adding to the wetness already on his face. He pulled one hand away to see blood on his fingers. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt his breath in his neck as it pushed against the choker he wore.

“A-are you—are you okay?”

The voice caused him to look around. His headache faded as he took in the details of the room. He was sitting on a bed: queen-sized, with white blankets. The walls were painted pale green and there was a TV on a stand, as well as a desk and an armchair. A half-open door showed a bathroom beyond. Everything was clean and pale. This was definitely a hotel room. And, judging by the computer and various cords spread across the desk, as well as the clothes thrown onto the armchair, it had been occupied for a whole.

A bright green light peeked into the corner of his vision. Anti looked down at it. “Sam,” he muttered, remembering the green thing that went soaring when he sat up. “Were you...on top of me? Uh...also, where the fuck am I?”

“You’re, uh...in my room.”

Anti turned around. Standing awkwardly nearby was a man with faded green-dyed hair and glasses. He’d know that face anywhere. “Jack,” he said simply. “Okay. Okay. Ummm...why am I here? And how did I get here?”

Sam flew over to Jack, landing on the top of his head and bouncing a couple times. “No, Sam, this isn’t the time for jokes,” Jack muttered, responding to something Sam said to him through their mental link. “This is serious.” He sighed, and looked right at Anti. “I’ll start from the beginning. About an hour ago, Sam told me that they had a bad feeling and we needed to go somewhere. So we headed out into the city, I followed them, but after a while they went on ahead and I lost track of them. Until they shouted for me to come quick, telling me where they were. I followed their directions and found...uh, you. Passed out on the sidewalk right in front of this alleyway. Sam was flying around, they said you were in danger. So I...uh, decided I should take you here where it was safe.”

“You...found me passed out,” Anti repeated. “In front of an alleyway.”

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “Sorry if you...don’t want to be here. But...it’s safer than being on the street. Sam said there was also a...fake version of them in the alley? It flew at you and went inside your head. Your eyes were...they were bleeding. Once we got you here, Sam curled up on your forehead and started, uh, doing what they do. Took about ten minutes for you to wake up.”

Anti stared at Jack for a while longer. Then, suddenly, broke into laughter. “Oh my god, it wasn’t real! It—it was all a dream! Or a hallucination, or—or some fucked-up message! Oh my god.”

“Uh...” Jack glanced around the room awkwardly. Sam leapt off his head and he stared at them for a while. “Oh. Okay. Uh, if you say so. It’s not just...? No? Well, shit, then.”

Anti calmed down, pressing a hand to his chest. He sighed. “I’m fine now, by the way. If you were going to ask.”

“Alright.” Jack cleared his throat. “Do you...just want to go? Because—because you can. Or if you need, like, water or anything, I can...but you can also go.”

Silence filled the hotel room, broken only by the sound of someone passing by in the hallway outside. Anti stared at Jack. A harsh comment was already forming, but it was caught in his throat. He should say it. Why do these two deserve anything more?

But...but what just happened...the conversation with Distorter. It left him shaken, down to his heart in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. Vulnerable. Exposed. His inner thoughts seized by that mental monster. And he knew, unconsciously, that he couldn’t continue to hide it. He couldn’t let Distorter continue to use these secrets. But the fear was still there. Telling the others—his friends—that was too much. Jack, though...he and Sam deserved answers. He could see now that they never really meant any harm. He sighed, and turned around to fully face Jack. “I know you have questions. I’ll...I’ll answer a few. Not all of them. But I’ll give you the basic picture.”

Jack was speechless. His mouth hung half-open in a comical expression of shock, and he glanced at Sam as if asking them to confirm what Anti just said. They bobbed once, and he looked back at Anti. “A-are you sure? I was probably a bit too pushy before, you don’t have to—”

“Look Highlighter Hair, this mood isn’t going to last long, take the opportunity while it’s here,” Anti snapped.

“Alright, alright, I...thanks,” Jack said quietly. He walked over to the desk, grabbing a box of tissues and holding them out to Anti. He took them and started cleaning the blood off his face. “My hair’s not a highlighter anymore,” Jack muttered.

“Grass Hair. Whatever, just—just start asking.” Anti put the tissue box down on the bedside table. He fidgeted, digging at the beds of his nails. He wished he had a knife to mess with. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t create the most...welcoming impression for Jack.

“Heh. I...well, I don’t know where to start now.” Jack went over to the armchair, knocked all the clothes off, and sat down. Sam settled down on the back of the chair. “I think I told you about how I asked my dad about his sister. Ciara.” Anti stiffened a bit. Jack paused, but he gestured for him to continue, so he kept going. “And...he showed me that photograph. It was from her house.”

“I remember all this, just get to the point,” Anti said tiredly.

“Right. Uh...I know you knew her,” Jack said. “So...that was you in the photo, right?”

Anti nodded. “I think I was eight years old. I remember that wall, it was near the house, one of those from ages ago. I don’t remember the photo itself.”

“Okay. So, with that in mind.” Jack struggled to come up with the right way to phrase his next question. “How...did you...know her?”

“Are you serious?” Anti laughed a little. “You’re probably smart, Jack, you must’ve put the pieces together by now.”

Jack hesitated. Then nodded slowly. “She...she was your mom, wasn’t she?”

And even though he wanted this, Anti still had a knot in his chest holding him back. His breath was caught in his throat, his hands shaking slightly. He couldn’t say it. So, instead, he just nodded.

“And that makes you...my cousin. Who I never knew existed.”

“Yeah,” Anti said, his voice choked.

Jack shook his head. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I—I mean I hardly really knew Ciara, she only showed up a few times when I was younger, but you’d think something like having a husband and kid would’ve come up, wouldn’t y—”

“Oh she didn’t have a husband,” Anti interrupted. “Not a wife, either. Just her.”

“...oh.” Jack blinked. “But...I mean.” He gestured at Anti. “You’re here, so something happened.”

“Yeah, well, she happened to be dating someone at the time,” Anti said vaguely. “I don’t know who. She stopped dating people before I could remember.”

“Oh,” Jack said again. He was at a loss for a moment. “You, uh...I remember that you didn’t know she died. But that was...a long time ago. I must’ve been around seventeen at the time, and we’re the same age, so...what happened? Did you move out as soon as you could?”

“You know, I don’t really want to talk about that part.” Anti folded his arms. “But I will say, she probably died not too long after the last time I saw her. What did you say the cause was, again?”

“Car crash.” Jack looked visibly nervous talking about someone’s death. “I don’t know the details.”

“Right.” He could see how that could’ve happened.

“Um...” Jack cleared his throat. “You know that photograph I showed you? There was writing on the back. A name. ------ McLoughlin.”

Anti’s hands instinctively curled into fists, balling up the fabric of his jacket sleeves. “Yeah. That’s what I was. I mean, still am, technically. I haven’t changed it. I probably should.”

“It’s a nice name,” Jack said, giving him a small smile. “I don’t think anyone would mind calling you that. What is it, that you think it’s too common? I don’t see it spelled that way often. At least, not out here. That would help.”

“It’s not about other people,” Anti emphasized. “It’s about me. I don’t—” The ache behind his eyes was back. He sighed, rubbing them. “I don’t talk about any of this shit, and if people went around calling me ------, that’s all I’d be able to think about.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said softly. “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I know I’m asking you questions, but...I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. Which I did when I showed you the photo. And I’m sorry about that, too. I would’ve apologized sooner, but I wanted to give you space. You don’t have to do anything. Hell, you can completely ignore me after all this if you’d prefer.”

“Right,” Anti muttered. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with Jack and Sam after all this. Maybe he’ll figure it out later, once he’d given it more thought.

“I...I’m sorry it was so...bad,” Jack said slowly.

Anti looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re probably imagining a lot right now. Look, I can almost guarantee that you’re wrong. Ciara wasn’t a bad mother. She...wasn’t a mother at all. Just a person I lived with.”

“That’s still bad.” Jack’s voice was quiet. “And I’m still sorry that’s what happened. If only my parents knew—”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know about them or you or any other family members you’re thinking about, so it’s not their fault,” Anti said. “It’s all on Ciara for never fucking telling anyone a goddamn thing. So don’t go blaming your parents or yourself.”

Jack chuckled a little. “Alright. But you shouldn’t blame yourself, either.”

Anti made an odd strangled sound. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“So...just to get this straight,” Jack said. “You don’t like going by ------ because it reminds you of all this?”

“I guess in a way,” Anti said slowly. “I—I got to be upfront with you, Jack. I’ve done some shitty things. Sure, I’ve lived in a bunch of shitty places with shitty people, but I was also a shitty fucking person. I came here, to this city, to Mirygale, with no expectations to stop being like that. But then...shit happened, and I met...I met some really nice people. Who...made me want to be better. And I met a nice kid who also grew up around a bunch of shitty people, and I...I had to be better for him, too. Because kids like that...they deserve more. And I had to just fucking abandon everything from before all that. All those things that ------ did and all the things that happened to him...I had to let it die. So I came up with something new. Anti sprung up one day six years ago. There’s nothing before that, because nothing before that matters.”

Jack was quiet for a long, long time. Anti was fine with that, it gave him time to settle in with everything he just said. He’d never put it into words before. But now that he had, it felt right. “I think I get it,” Jack finally said, nodding. “I understand.”

“Good.” Anti let out a long breath. “Because I’m never saying any of this ever again.”

Jack laughed a little. “You know...I don’t want to be nosy, but...you have a lot going on, Anti. I-I’m happy to listen whenever you need me, but if you ever need more...you’ll probably need someone else.”

“You mean therapy,” Anti stated.

“Well, I can’t tell you what to—”

“Look, I just can’t right now, okay?” Anti interrupted. “I just—there’s a lot of shit happening right now, and I can’t.”

“Stuff related to you passing out on the sidewalk and bleeding from the eyes?” Jack asked.

Anti’s silence was confirmation. “Well...thank you,” he mumbled, standing up. “But I’ve got to get home now. I left Will with a babysitter who didn’t expect to stay this long.”

“Right, right.” Jack nodded, also standing. “Do you...Can I walk you home? Or to the bus stop?”

“...no,” Anti said quietly. “But thanks.”

“Okay.” Jack hesitated. “But...I’ll admit, I’m worried. What with the whole bleeding-eyes-passing-out thing. How about Sam go with you? For a little while, at least. They can help.”

“Help? They’re a floating eyeball.” Anti snorted, trying to seem dismissive. But it fell somewhat short. “Sure, though. They can come with me back to the flat.”

“Flat? I t’ought you were Irish,” Jack joked, thickening his accent. “You’ve been livin’ with t’English for too long.”

“How fockin’ dare you, I’ll have you know I only say t’at because me very own child does,” Anti said, thickening in return.

The two of them laughed. Perhaps too long and too heartily for a small joke like that, but they both felt the moment needed it. After he recovered his breath, Anti turned and headed towards the room’s door. Sam hopped off the armchair and flew after him, landing on his shoulder. He reached up and patted them, then turned back to face Jack. “Well...I’ll see you around,” he said.

“I’ll see you when you see me,” Jack said. “And...hey. This might be weird to say, but...I’m proud of you. This must’ve been hard to talk about.”

Anti blinked. His eyes were starting to grow wet again. “Right,” he said quietly. “...Goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye.” Jack gave him a gentle smile and waved as Anti left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos au #programmer anti #distorter #septic eye sam #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

13 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

mango, m | jjk | 2

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of parental abuse and suicide; suggestive words/actions; alcohol consumption; mentions of nightmares plaguing the reader; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok and friendly!Namjoon

Your head leaned against the wall of the library. Too many books around you, research paper already outlined for you seminar class. That was good. You only needed a partial outline next week and you would finish tweaking the outline tomorrow. You phone was open beside your papers, screen blaring at you.

Jungkook’s text, asking where you were. Your reply.

Library.

No further information. A guy like that probably never stepped foot in a library his entire life.

You closed your eyes. Placed your arms over your papers, sighing softly. You were in one of the study rooms in the upper floors of the library, where all the scientific journals were.

Why had you given him your phone number like that?

Self-destruction.

You turned your head the other way, eyeballs shifting under your closed lids.

Guys like that only cause self-destruction.

Your thumb ran over your glossy nails. You wondered if he would be mad at you for associating yourself with someone who looked dangerous and wild. Maybe he would tell you it was a bad idea. Maybe he could make you see reason. All you had to do was call him and ask for his opinion.

I’m sorry, Hoseok.

You ran your other thumb over the nails on your other hand. The little stickers caused raised bumps, but none of them had peeled off yet. You pressed your thumb down on one of them. At least he was still there, with you in this way.

A soft blackness swallowed you up, taking you into deep slumber.

Then, a coated sweetness pressed against your lips. A familiar taste. You opened your mouth and the thin, flat piece of dried fruit slid partway in. Your teeth stopped it. Spun it slowly with your tongue. Then it went into your mouth. Chewed.

Opened your eyes.

Jeon Jungkook, standing over you.

Holding a pack of dried mango. Eating a piece, his straight white teeth gnawing at it. Pink lips closing around the orange fruit. The mole under his lip danced with movement. His brown eyes were darker due to the harsh fluorescent overhead light. Tan skin glowing, black hair slicked back with too much gel, revealing his clean undercut. Leather blazer over a low-cut black t-shirt. Black jeans. Black backpack far too deflated to be holding much.

“Don’t know how you eat this stuff,” Jungkook said absentmindedly. He sat down on the chair next to you. Scooted closer. You could smell his cologne. Something sharp, but clean. “It’s not bad, but I couldn’t eat packs and packs of it like you.”

You lifted your head. “Habit.”

He nodded. “I noticed you do it whenever I talk to you.”

You chewed slowly.

“I don’t talk to people.”

“Hmm.”

He looked you over. Black turtleneck. Maroon oversized hoodie. Black flared miniskirt. Black opaque tights. Black boots with a ten-centimeter platform.

“What do you do for fun?”

You reached over and stuck your hand into the pack of dried mango. Picked a piece and placed it in your mouth. Sat back in your chair as you chewed on it.

“I don’t have fun.”

Jungkook sucked his teeth. It seemed like he was trying to unstick some candied fruit from them. “You seem like the creative type though. Moody and artistic.”

You shifted your eyes, staring into the bookshelves. “Creation is meaningless without an audience.”

Jungkook scratched his nose. “Maybe you just don’t want anyone to know what you’re thinking.”

You stopped chewing.

You turned your head to face Jungkook. He frowned at the packet of dried mango and placed it on the desk, sliding it to you. Then he noticed you staring at him. His lips curved into a slow, sly smile.

“You doing anything tonight?”

You didn’t go to parties.

Never. In your entire life. Not even a birthday party. You didn’t have birthday parties yourself either.

You only remembered beatings on your birthday.

You stood at the edge of the lawn, looking up at the large house. Too many people. Too much drinking. Too much danger. You reached into the center pocket of your maroon hoodie, pulling out a piece of dried mango. Slowly placing it in between your teeth. Spinning it. A couple was making out on the porch, pressed against the wall. Sucking the dried mango in your mouth. On the other side of the porch, a girl was slapping another guy and tossing the contents of a red plastic cup at him.

Chewed.

You shouldn’t have come. This wasn’t where you belonged.

A strong hand gripped your upper left arm. Familiar fingers. Long, strong ones, with small tattoos.

“How long you been standing out here?”

Alcohol on his breath.

“How much mango you consumed in that time?”

You held out an empty cellophane bag.

“Wow. Impressive.”

You chewed. The fingers let you go. They danced up your shoulder.

“You don’t seem to be bothered when I touch you.”

You swallowed.

“That’s because it’s obvious what you want.”

Jeon Jungkook chuckled. Deep and amused.

“But talking bothers you?”

You exhaled. Took out another piece.

“Words, intentional or not, leave everlasting scars far longer than a meaningless fuck.”

You placed it in between your teeth.

“Do you think it will be meaningless?” His voice was low, treacherous.

You paused. His fingertips balanced on the shoulder of your hoodie. A gust was wind made your black skirt flutter against your thighs. You felt nothing. Not cold, not hot. Nothing but those fingertips balanced on your shoulder. You sucked in the piece of mango and chewed. You could walk away. Not provoke him anymore and not try to walk through that fire.

You could back away and continue on your tightrope, high above.

But if you were already standing on this street, in front of this house, didn’t that mean your feet were already on the asphalt? Weren’t you already on the ground, wandering down that lost highway?

“There is no meaning in the arms of a stranger.”

You reached for your hoodie pocket again but his fingers wrapped around yours. Stopping you. Pulling you to him. Face shining in the moonlight, brows furrowed as he looked down at your face. Thick silver chain glinting at his throat. Dark hair slicked back but falling apart due to the events of the night. Eyes like the dark side of the moon.

He leaned down.

You could feel his breath against yours. Alcoholic, but somehow not unpleasant. It mixed with his sharp, clean cologne and the leather of his jacket. You saw his eyes flicker. He was really staring deeply into your eyes. He was as handsome as everyone said he was. You tilted your head at him.

Guys like him were always looking for a target. A puzzle to solve. The harder and more difficult it was, the better the thrill. That’s how it was and that’s how Jeon Jungkook was. So, you stood there. Waiting for him to do it.

Thing was, Jungkook wasn’t doing anything.

He finally backed off; expression unreadable. You pulled your hand out of his.

“Let’s go on a walk. I have to sober up.”

You looked from the house to him. He cocked his head. You two began to walk, stepping into the moonlight. Not touching each other, but walking side by side. The silence was deafening. He wasn’t speaking to you. Not even looking at you. You placed your earbuds into your ear and put on some violin music.

“What are you listening to?”

You jumped, surprised he noticed. Jungkook tilted his head at you. You handed him one of the Samsung buds. He placed it in his ear, tucking his hair back. Profile illuminated by the moon, nodded slowly at he listened.

And then you two walked, serenaded by violins.

Jungkook texted you and showed up in the library again. You were in the middle of writing your seminar research paper. To be honest, he was a welcome distraction. The scientific articles were giving you a headache.

He handed you a piece of dried mango before speaking.

“Let’s date.”

You blinked at him. Jungkook grabbed a seat and sat down, taking out a slice himself. You placed the piece of dried mango in your mouth and chewed slowly. He watched you the entire time, chewing with you, staring at your lips. You swallowed, sighing.

"Jungkook, you don't want to date me."

He nibbled at another piece of dried mango. "Pretty sure I do."

You took in a deep breath, feeling the annoyance rise in your chest. "Your body is the literal reincarnation of Adonis himself and you radiate bad boy vibes like nobody's business. You would ruin your image by dating the strange girl with a dried mango obsession."

Jungkook chewed slowly. "That's the first time your tone has changed with me."

You froze, realizing that too. Realizing that, for once, you were actually irate instead of being objective or apathetic about it. You were not making an ambiguous comment or philosophizing humanity. You were just stating what you were thinking straight up.

"And, anyway, you're the literal reincarnation of sex goddess Aphrodite herself, so there should be no problem if you're worried about looks."

"That's not..." You cut yourself off, not bothering to correct him. "You can barely see my body."

Jungkook's eyes traveled down to your legs. Your black pantyhose-covered legs, with your short red skirt and black hoodie. He reached out and grabbed your hand. You tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron.

"True, your skin is always covered," he mumbled.

Then Jungkook pressed your hand into his crotch.

Your eyes widened, feeling his semi-hard length in his jeans. He let go of your hand and you recoiled as if burned. Did he really just–?

He gnawed thoughtfully. "And yet every time I hear your voice, that happens to me."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sexual attraction is not a solid foundation to a relationship."

"It's not," Jungkook agreed, grabbing another piece of dried mango. Then his eyes flickered to you, dark and serious. "I just didn't like how you dismissed my physical attraction to you so easily." He went back to nibbling.

You looked away; ears hot. "In the end, all you want is to boast that you fucked me."

"That was my original intent, yes." You snapped your head back, furrowing your brows. Jungkook inspected the dried fruit, licking some sugar off. Your stomach flipped a little as you watched his pink tongue. "But now I want to take you on dates, hold your hand, and make you eat real meals that aren't only composed of candied mango."

You looked down at your lap. "I'm not a hand-holding kind of girl."

"Then I'll hold your ass."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. You glared at him, but he was smiling, popping the mango in his mouth.

"One date. And then we'll see how it goes."

You closed your eyes. Inhaled deeply. You could say no. You could refuse and tell him to leave you alone and never speak to him again. You could and maybe you should. Because once he knew... he would know. You chewed on your lip. Fear was an understatement. And you were afraid because you knew the truth. If there was a flame between you two, the truth would likely snuff it out.

Was that better or worse than you smothering it yourself?

"Before we go on a date," you said quietly but firmly. "I need to show you something."

“Okay. What is it that you have to show me?”

You were standing in Jeon Jungkook’s apartment. Different day, different clothes. He was wearing a loose leather jacket, white shirt, and distressed acid-wash jeans. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Black hair slicked back as usual, sculpted dark brows framing intense brown eyes. Even though he was dressed like a delinquent, his apartment was well-kept and clean. It was one of the student apartment complexes, decently expensive, segregated for men and women. Not that it mattered, since you were obviously standing there right now.

You were wearing your black turtleneck and flared black miniskirt. But instead of your usual opaque pantyhose, you were wearing black thigh-high socks. They made you very uncomfortable and not because Jungkook was staring at the sliver of exposed flesh. To be honest, you couldn’t care less if he was staring or not.

You chewed on you lip, clutching your messenger bag.

You really wondered if you should show Jungkook. Your thumb ran over your nails. Painted royal blue with raindrop crystals. You asked Hoseok to do them for you this time. He was excited to pick a design and style for you. Asked you what it was for and you said you just felt like it.

Hoseok was very happy to hear that.

Jungkook seemed to sense your unease.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. “Do you want a piece of man–”

You shook your head furiously. Just do it. Do it and maybe he’ll leave you alone. Do it and he’ll understand this is a bad, bad idea.

You took a deep breath and bent at the waist. Then you yanked down both your thigh-highs, all the way to your ankles.

Jungkook gasped sharply.

You stared down at your legs. At the knife scars, mostly on your calves. Some white and thin, but there were a few big dark ones, knotted and twisted from the skin trying to grow back evenly but failing. Your legs were quite pale too. They never saw the sun.

You hated looking at them. They reminded you of why you had nightmares.

“What… happened?”

You didn’t look at him. His normally smooth, suave voice was trembling. Confused.

You sucked in your lips and clicked your tongue.

“My father was not a nice man. I was an only daughter and he was not happy about it. Perhaps he was never happy about life to begin with. He reminded my mother and me about it constantly.” You straightened, still not looking at Jungkook, but no longer wanting to look at yourself either. “He beat us up a lot. At the time, I really thought that was how it was. Men lost their temper sometimes. Happens. What else am I supposed to think?” You shrugged. “But it was always slapping around, the occasional punch. Not that bad, perhaps.”

You had to remember to breathe. Breathe.

“But when I was twelve, thirteen, it got worse. I don’t know if it was because my mom was slowly fighting back or if work became more stressful and he acted out, but the reason doesn’t matter. He simply got worse. Things thrown at us. Years of insults made them cut deeper, harder. He pulled a knife on me, when I was home alone and my mom was at work.”

You had to swallow hard, trying not to go back there. Trying not to get too detailed, because the nightmares already did that for you. You pulled up your sleeves. There were a few unpleasant scars there too, but nowhere near as bad to your legs.

“Anyway,” you continued. “I think he thought I was bleeding out or dead. My mom, feeling that something was off, decided to come home early. I don’t think I would be alive if she hadn’t thought to do that.” You inhaled deeply, pausing for a moment before continuing. “My father took his car and drove to the other side of town. Drove to a deserted area and ended his own life with the knife he cut me up with. I don’t know if it was guilt or fear of being exposed. But it doesn’t matter. I went to the hospital and stayed there for a long, long time. Not because of the cuts or almost bleeding out, but because I had to talk to a lot of psychologists. A lot of counselors.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out the pack of dried mango. “My mom would buy me these. She couldn’t visit often. She had to sell the house and work overseas to pay all the medical bills. Maybe she has a hard time seeing me too.”

You chewed on your lip, shoving it back into your bag.

“I look more like my father, unfortunately. And, even though I understand what has happened to me, I can’t escape it. I see it every day in the mirror. I am reminded all the time. I can’t talk to people unless I’m eating dried mango. It’s a stupid tick, but my therapist told me once that it was better than cocaine, so, whatever, right?”

You chuckled darkly, feeling empty.

“And I have nightmares. They don’t go away. When I take medication, it gets worse, so I don’t try anymore.”

You kept your eyes on the wall, still not looking at him.

“You’re handsome, Jungkook. Handsome, decently smart, could clean up well,” you said, still gnawing on your lip. “I’m not pretty like the other girls you hang around with. I don’t get to wear what I want because I don’t want to be asked what is wrong with my skin. Sometimes, I wake up screaming, remembering everything that happened that night. I eat way too much dried mango and speak like a fucking robot.” You closed your eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath. “I spend a lot of time trying to not feel anything. I’m not okay. You shouldn’t date someone like me.”

Silence.

Ten seconds past.

Then, the creak of leather. You suddenly felt his presence right in front of you. Strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. The sharp, clean scent of his cologne, the thinness of the white shirt revealing his toned torso. Well, the reaction wasn’t disgust. Maybe it was pity and that was worse. You did not want a pity fuck.

“At the risk of something insensitive,” Jungkook murmured quietly into your hair. “Your battle scars are really fucking cool.”

… What?

You laughed.

You laughed, because, what? That wasn’t a reaction you expected. Your laugh was raspy and kind of gross, considering you hadn’t laughed like that in years. But you laughed into Jungkook’s chest, laughed because it was ridiculous, laughed because it was a little insensitive, laughed because you didn’t care. No one who knew about your scars ever said anything like that. Everyone else was very serious and solemn, pity in their eyes as you explained.

Jungkook buried his face into your hair. You could feel his smile.

“Your laugh is cute.”

You wheezed, shaking your head a little. “It isn’t. I didn’t even know I could laugh,” you choked out weakly, breathless.

You felt him kiss the top of your head. You froze, a shiver running through you.

“You know,” Jungkook murmured. “I was really nervous in the library when I was asking you out.”

You didn’t reply. Couldn’t breathe, really.

“I found myself continuously eating that mango. I think you rubbed off on me.”

You remembered. And then you realized.

“You only ate one piece though,” he muttered. “It made me even more nervous, honestly. I just kept eating to keep my mind off it.”

Was this… was this the first time you had an entire conversation with Jeon Jungkook without eating mango at one point?

The only person you weren’t like that with was Hoseok, and that was because he was your oldest friend. The only friend who knew it all, who witnessed your bruises and tear-stained cheeks. The only friend who saw you in hospital gowns and did his best to cheer you up. Drawing pictures with you, making bracelets. Telling you that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be your daily dose of sunshine, your hope, never getting discouraged. There weren’t romantic feelings between you two, but there was love, and you were eternally grateful that Hoseok never gave up on you.

Jeon Jungkook?

He was just the annoying kid who kept trying to copy your Chemistry homework.

“You’re… not that bad at Chemistry, are you?”

Jungkook chuckled. “Nah. I always do the homework. I just wanted to annoy you.”

“You are, indeed, very annoying.”

You two stood there, Jungkook hugging you, your thigh-highs at your ankles, clutching your bag. To be honest, you thought it would have been a lot weirder. But somehow, it was kind of nice. You were okay with it.

“Where do you want to go on our date?” Jungkook suddenly piped up.

You spoke into his chest. “We’re still going on a date?”

He hugged you tighter. “Yeah, of course.”

You were pressed against his body, held so close that your ribs felt like they were being crushed.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Something is poking me.”

“… Please ignore him. He doesn’t know time and place.”

A few silent seconds passed.

“I mean, maybe you needed some reassurance that I still think you’re fine as hell.”

“He’s getting bigger.”

“I told you to ignore him.”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

564 notes · View notes

itsnotwierditsart13 · 4 years ago

Text

Holy Shit (ronance fanfic)

A small little fic about Robin and Nancy getting together:)

It was a thankfully slow day at Family Video as Robin and Steve worked their shift together. Robin was building a new cardboard display case for a shipment that was supposed to have arrived hours ago. Everything was always moving in slow motion at this job, though, and Robin enjoyed it thoroughly. Meanwhile, Steve couldn’t even bother to look busy as he slumped in the one old raggedy chair that Keith allowed them to have. It was pouring rain outside, the windows rattling from thunder every so often. There were probably going to be at least 2 more customers coming in before they closed in four hours. Mostly just older ladies who shouldn’t be driving a car, let alone in the poor weather conditions. Ms. Matheson, a store regular, never rewound her tapes fully, always halfway. It drove Steve crazy, even though he expected it.

“We should have Nancy come by, since it’s so dead,” Steve stated casually as if he didn’t have ulterior motives. He was slumped in his chair, eyeballing Robin for any type of reaction. It was clear that she had feelings for Nancy. After everything that had happened at Starcourt the four of them had formed a bond. Hanging out together most days, sometimes including the kids.

“Don’t start,” Robin replied while flinging a piece of cardboard at him. It narrowly missed his head and landed on the dirty carpet behind him. “She’s my friend and straight, if you’ve forgotten. I’m not gonna indulge in whatever you’ve cooked up in that head of yours.” There was another boom of thunder, drowning out Steve’s exasperated sigh. It was the same conversation they’ve had about twenty times since Steve had picked up on Robin’s feelings.

“It’s just...sometimes when she’s looking at you. She’s looking at you. Ya know?” Steve explained. He was entirely convinced that Nancy felt at least something more than friendly for Robin. The two acted differently around each other. “And she knows you’re a lady lover. Maybe you’re like her gay awakening or something,” he finished, causing Robin to raise an eyebrow at him from across the counter.

“Whatever you say, Dingus.” It was clear that Robin didn’t believe a word he said. “Now, can you make yourself useful and hand me the duct tape,” she gestured to the roll that was out of her reach. He rolled his eyes as he passed it over to her.

He didn’t have the heart to mention that she was building it upside down.

_______________________________________________________________

Robin was beginning to lose her mind at a rapid rate. It was clear Steve was going to be no help in the situation as he sat on the far end of the couch, minding his business.

The three of them, minus Johnathan, had decided to have a casual Friday night movie marathon. That was nothing out of the ordinary, except the minute Steve flicked the lights off and started ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ Robin’s brain almost short circuited. Nancy, who was previously sitting a good distance away, curled into Robin’s side like it was the most casual thing in the world. She wiggled around enough that Robin had no choice but to wrap an arm around her small shoulders. They were now fifteen minutes into the film and Robin couldn’t process anything that was happening. She knew that her body was rigid and stiff, almost like a statue, but it was impossible to relax. What was Nancy doing? Sure, they had hugged before and the occasional times they’ve had to sit closely. Nothing like this had ever occurred, though.

Nancy seemed relaxed and engrossed in the movie. Robin had been side-eyeing her. Meanwhile, Steve continued to act like nothing strange was happening. Although Robin knew that he was fully aware of the situation at hand. The asshole was probably feeling pretty smug currently. Robin would’ve thrown popcorn at his stupid hair if her arm wasn’t already occupied. Despite the growing anxiety, it felt good to have Nancy against her. The girl was warm and small enough that she fit perfectly under her arm. Nancy’s arm that wasn’t wedged between them was laying gently across Robin’s stomach. It was all so...intimate. Robin had no idea what to think of it. This was the closest she had ever been to another girl before. On top of the fact that she had feelings for said girl.

That thought alone filled her with guilt almost immediately. Nancy was probably used to cuddling up to her girl friends like this, why should Robin be any different. The fact that Robin was a lesbian probably wasn’t even a thought in Nancy’s mind. The girl had taken the news in stride when Robin had slipped up and came out accidentally a month ago. Here Robin was, though, catching feelings for an innocent straight girl. A straight girl who was currently happily tucked into her side. Shit.

Robin stood up abruptly, dislodging Nancy and causing Steve to startle slightly. “Um, I have to pee,” she mumbled out unconvincingly before taking off down the short hallway. When she was finally locked in Steve’s small bathroom she let out a sigh of frustration. It was times like these that she wished she could just be normal. It took another few minutes to calm herself down enough but she knew she had to return to the couch eventually. It would look suspicious if she hid in the bathroom all night.

When she walked back out into the darkened room, Nancy glanced over at her with an unreadable expression. She quietly sat back down and did her best to avoid the two pairs of eyes that she could feel on her every so often.

Nancy kept her distance for the rest of the night.

________________________________________________________________

A week had passed since the ‘Movie Night incident’, as Steve had dubbed it, and things had only gotten stranger. To Robin’s horror, Nancy had been touchy feely with her every chance she got. Such as, entwining their hands while walking or resting her legs over Robin’s in the car. It was causing Robin to be in constant gay panic mode, which was exhausting to say the least. The more it occurred, the more Steve found it entirely amusing, though. Also, Nancy was always hanging around with them at the Video store. She’d stop in and bring them lunch, even if it was just for a few minutes. It was as if Nancy was doing everything in her power to give Robin a heart attack.

Despite everything, Robin could only feel herself falling harder for the other girl. It pissed her off. She could barely focus when the other girl was around. Currently, she was trying not to stare as Nancy walked into the store with all the kids trailing behind her. Dustin immediately made a beeline for Steve, who was stocking shelves. The others all screamed over each other about which movie to rent. Will, with his sweetheart face, gave a small wave to Robin as he passed. He would always be her favorite of the bunch.

“Hey Robin,” Nancy greeted casually, a small smirk on her face. She wore that expression a lot now and Robin couldn’t decipher it to save her life. “Sorry for the midday child tornado. I’m dropping them off at the Byers house but they wanted to stop for movies,” she joked. Robin had to swallow around the lump that had formed in her throat and waved her arm dismissively.

“Please, it’s been bleak around here anyway. The only person I’ve had to talk to was Dingus,” Robin responded, gesturing over to Steve, who was now surrounded by all the kids. He was probably getting ready to hand them over a movie that they shouldn't be watching at their age. Nancy let out a laugh and stepped forward until she was standing directly in front of Robin.

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Especially when I’m stuck watching Mike while our parents are out,” she spoke and then paused, leaning in a bit more. “Although, I am pretty jealous that he gets to hangout with you all day. Even if you have to deal with customer service.” Robin held her breath as Nancy just kind of stared at her with that same unreadable smirk. Before anything else could transpire between them, Max sprinted through them towards the register. The others followed behind soon after, all yelling about her movie choice. Nancy just rolled her eyes while Robin finally let air into her lungs again. The spell was broken after that as they both made their way over to the, still arguing, group.

Robin didn’t miss Steve making kissy faces at her from behind Nancy’s back. He’d seen the whole exchange.

________________________________________________________________

Another week passed by in much the same fashion. It all came crashing to a sudden halt when Nancy had stopped by the store on a Sunday afternoon. Steve wasn’t scheduled and it was just Robin watching the counter by herself. Nancy had only been there an hour before flustering Robin to her breaking point.

“Okay!” Robin shouted, causing Nancy to startle and take a step back. They had just finished their coffees that Nancy had gotten them while talking easily. When there was a moment of silence Nancy got that smirk on her face again. The one she’d been sporting constantly the last two weeks. Out of the blue, as if it wasn’t a huge deal, Nancy leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You can’t do that! You’re gonna kill me!” Robin continued to rant. She could feel the heat rushing to her face as Nancy just stared at her with wide eyes.

“Do you…um? Do you not have feelings for me?” Nancy asked hesitantly with confusion in her voice.

Robin sucked in a breath of air so forcefully that it made her cough a little. “What!” she wheezed out, grabbing ahold of the counter. Nancy had the decency to look sheepish as she shrugged her shoulders gently.

“I sort of overheard you and Steve talking about me. More specifically that you...liked me. But now I’m realizing I’m an idiot and probably misinterpreted the conversation,” she finished, taking another hesitant step back from Robin. “Oh god, you probably think I’m a freak now.” Robin just continued to stare at the other girl in shock. “You were just trying to be my friend and I was touching you constantly. I am so sorry,” Nancy ranted while waving her hands around anxiously. It was clear she was working herself up into an all out panic attack.

“Wait,” Robin startled, holding her hand up suddenly. “You were flirting with me?” The statement caused Nancy to stop her pacing and look at Robin.

“Well...yeah. Obviously,” she gritted out aggressively and crossed her arms over herself.

“Do you have feelings for me?” Robin yelped back. Nancy just scoffed and let out a bitter laugh.

“Jesus Christ, Robin, you’re really gonna make me say it? Yes...I like you, a lot. You’re funny and caring and I just feel comfortable around you,” Nancy’s words were mumbled out but Robin caught the whole thing.

“Holy shit, Nance,” Robin breathed out in disbelief. The other girl just looked up and glared back at her. With that look, Robin realized what a dumbass she’d been and smiled widely. Before Nancy could comment on it, Robin gathered all her courage and leaned forward to connect their lips. It took a few seconds for Nancy, who was probably confused, to kiss back. They stood there kissing gently while everything else around them faded away. Robin wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, pulling them as close as possible. She could feel Nancy smiling into the kiss.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later the sound of the door chiming broke them apart. Luckily, they were behind a shelf so the visitor couldn’t have seen what they were doing. Robin just rolled her eyes as Steve came strolling around the corner, though. Of course he’d make an appearance even on his day off. When he spotted the two of them he stopped dead in his tracks. It only took a moment for him to take note of Nancy’s blush before he smiled widely.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” he stated. In the next second he had to dodge Nancy’s swatting hands. Robin couldn’t keep the smile off her face even if she tried.

#ronance #ronance fanfic #robin/nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things

62 notes · View notes