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fallen-in-dreams · 11 months ago

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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

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undead-merman · 1 year ago

Text

Day Four: Zombie Nurse

Male Zombie with GN Reader

Warning this one is pretty rough, Contains grotesque body horror, experimentation on reader, graphic detail of gore, kidnapping,

You shot up with a massive gasp that should have filled your lungs and you with a sense of relief. But there was none. Your eyes quickly darted around the room but it was so bright. You try to shield your eyes, but your arms are stuck. Try and try again you cannot move them, you feel they are bound at the wrist. Panic was already coursing through you, yet the realization that you were bound with no idea where you were set you off. You started screaming, tears welling uncontrollably. It is all you could do.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. If you don’t stop, the doctor will come down.'' The voice sounded like gravel poured into a seventy-year-old smoker’s rotten lungs with a hearty helping of half dried cement.

Try as you might, you could only blubber. Fear had taken a hold on you, and it would not stop even when you tried to ask what was happening. A silhouette in the bright light finally gave your eyes a break, they adjusted and focused on the figure above you. A rotten face full of patchwork flesh, not even the same skin color as the rest. A single eyeball, bloodshot, threatened to fall from the loose eyelid and socket. Matted black hair falling into his skin, with a single strand of blonde peeking through more stitches.

You gasped for air and started thrashing at your bonds. Holy fucking shit, this wasn’t real no way, no how. This was some fucked up stressed out nightmare, one for the damn history books. The leather was digging into your flesh and ripping it in your hysterics.

“You don’t understand, please I-” his voice was strained, fear settling into his tone as he pulled away and looked around. “ I’m going to give you a sedative.” You thrash and try to tell him no, but too many things are jumbled, and you can't get a coherent thought out. A mess of nonsensical vocabulary.

He came back with a needle in hand and pushed the tip into your flesh. You couldn’t even feel it, too worried about everything else and getting the hell out of here, wherever that was. When he withdrew it and took a step back, he fiddled with his gloved fingers. You could feel it settling, but it didn’t do much besides takes those emotions and put them into a small little container and put a slowly winding countdown on it. A panic attack in slow motion.

But with the slowing of your mind and body, it allowed you to gauge everything, take in all the sights much more clearly. That… zombie, was wearing a nurse’s scrubs, dark blue and sterile looking despite his appearance.

You were in a dark room, the headlight above you providing the only source of light. White tile all over without a single splash of color to be seen. Next to the creature was a table, metallic with surgical implements, used implements. And you, you were on a table, a matching blue gown with leather straps around your wrists, forearms, hips, thighs, knees and ankles.

You felt your blood freeze. No, no, no, no. there's no way, right? This isn’t real. This wasn’t reality.

“I know you're scared… but try to keep a level head, okay?” As if you could do that in this scenario. His features twisted, lips pressing into a tight frown as his eye twitched, trying to look away from you. “I’m so sorry.” Every word of that felt heavy, like it was a shot in the gut to him, just as it was to you.

“What’s happening?” you managed to slur through the thick fog.

He tried to pick at his nails through the gloves as his loose eye struggled to look back over. He hesitated, his breathing shaky. “I… I think it's better if I show you. Please… please I’m so sorry.” he walked to the other side of the room and pulled over a device, some screens on wheels with wires all through it, it rattled as he pushed it over. From the side he took out some gel, and the other hand reached over to your gown, pulling it up slowly, as if dreading it himself.

A long freshly stitched Y shape going from your collar bones and down your stomach. Red, inflamed, and far too large to be from anything beneficial to your health. The man rubbed whatever he squeezed onto his palm against the incision, yet it didn’t hurt, even with how fresh it clearly was. After a few ministrations, he pressed something against your chest and directed you to the screen.

It was a mess of black and white. There was a sense of dread in the air. He was examining your insides right? Organs? So why weren’t they there? “The doctor removed your stomach, intestines, kidneys, and liver after injecting you with a compound of his own making.” His hands trembled. “For all intents and purposes, you are dead. But the doctor has brought you back. May God have mercy on your soul.”

Another day, another round of poking and prodding with needles, electrodes, and other things as the ‘good’ doctor Victor left most of the mundane tasks to his nurse. The other unfortunate soul that was living in a dead body. He cleaned up the medical waste and kept an eye on you as doctor Victor ran through your records, dived into every dirty personal detail of your life and ran more tests.

You were undead, those organs removed for study and to prevent hostility from hunger. Can’t be hungry if you can’t eat. But you were left almost completely in the dark, and the doctor kept telling his nurse to ‘keep his mouth shut’. So there you sat, a deep, unsettling silence as the straps continued to dig into your flesh.

You tried another yank, using as much might as you could, only for the room to fill with a loud clanking noise and the nurse to quickly raise his hands like he was the one in danger. “P-please, don’t do that, you’ll only make things worse, not just for you either.”

You hiss out of your teeth. Blaming him for taking the doctor's side. How he was just as bad and his face screwed and scrunched up as if he’d eaten something foul. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen him eat.

“I can’t… I can’t,” he held his shoulders tight enough that his fingers shook from how tightly they were grasping at himself. “Please… just don’t try. If you make him mad, you’ll only suffer more.” his voice was trembling, he turned away from you, quickly hiding his face from sight as you frowned more.

Easy for him to say. He’s the one helping that piece of shit. All he had to do was take out the trash and play fetch with the ‘good doctor’. You ignored him and yanked, pulled and let out a feral roar as you struggled against your restraints. His eyes widened and he raised his hands in a calming gesture. You didn’t even look at him. You didn’t deserve this, to hell with them. To the both of them.

But the light from upstairs shinned down, casting the deep dark room in a cold unforgiving light. His voice was loud, asking what was happening. You went to spit out an answer -but the nurse jumped ahead of you. “I’m sorry- it was my fault I should have medicated them more.”

Despite him being a cowardly shit, he took the fall for your outburst. Your mouth shut tight as you both waited with terrified bated breath. When the doctor Victor told him to come up the stairs for his punishment, his body quaked as if he was experiencing his own personal 9.5 earthquake. He didn’t look back at you. He steeled himself, and headed up those stairs and into the light.

He didn’t come down for a while, days? You aren’t sure how much time has passed due to the impregnable shadows of this godforsaken hellhole. The doctor had come down a few times, running more and more tests without his rotting helper, but without him you felt… alone, so much more vulnerable.

So when he came back after so long, you felt an uncertain wave of relief fill you. Why? Maybe you were just happy not to be the only one tormented. To know the suffering he shared? You don’t really know, nor care to look too much deeper into it. That drooping out eye was now gone, the eyelid ripped away and let to feaster out in the open. Except it wasn’t festering, it looked like loose strands of torn and bloodless flesh just dangling off his face. His expression was dark, and he still didn’t look you in the eye, he didn't speak. Not for a while.

When he did, he finally let you out of your restraints, tending to the split and torn skin. You finally got a good look at his face. He would have been pretty if it wasn’t for the ‘good doctor’ Victor. He looked young too, probably in his early twenties. Had his whole life ahead of him, just like you.

“There. I know we can’t feel pain but looking at your wrists all sliced up doesn’t help the mind. We have to keep our spirits up as much as we can. That’s all we have left.” His last remaining eye finally looked up at you through the knots in his hair, a delicate smile that didn’t belong in here.

You asked him why he covered for you, and his gaze fell back to your treated wrist. “We have to look out for each other. We’re all we have in this place.” he doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he rubs circles into your palm. Try as you may, you can’t help but feel some kind of comfort in that. The feeling of someone else's hands not attempting to probe, dissect, or hurt. His hands were soft, free of those gloves he always wore. A sob wracked your body, you're not sure why you were crying when he was the one that took whatever punishment should have been yours, but you were. Thick globs of room temperature tears fell down your face and his in turn screwed up. He took your wrist and pulled them close.

And so you cried, hushed but heavy as to not attract the doctor's eye, and your partner in this hellscape was there, holding you so tenderly.

The two of you grew closer still as the experiments on you continued. Getting more and more brutal each time, tissue sliced open, removed, placed back in and sealed once more, terrible things done to your eyes with needles and now the doctor mentioned something about brain removal. Those words sent terror through you, and you couldn’t stop the shakes that it caused. But the doctor ignored them and instructed your nurse friend to sedate you once again.

You looked at him, begged him, don’t let this happen. Please… please. His fingers twitched as he took the syringe and filled it up, measuring it out, but his shaking hands were evident even to Doctor Victor himself. He held a lax stance, as if he was a god standing in a room of ants, asking if there was something wrong. Your friend didn’t answer, his body shivering more at the attention.

So the doctor asked again, sterner. The needle snaps inside the little jar as your friend stiffens from the tone of the ‘good doctor’. A sigh rattled from Doctor Victor before he adjusted his coat before walking off, not a glance back. Back to the light he came from, he called out to his nurse, telling him to pull himself together. Research won’t wait for him.

The door slammed, and he tossed the broken syringe back onto the tray, causing a loud clambering as he quickly dashed to you and released you from your bindings. His babbling was incomprehensible as he held onto your gown, tears in his good eye. Something about losing, you could only assume was about you.

Your heart was pounding so loud that it was making it hard to hear the rest of his ranting. A mantra played in your head of what you must do. Run. Run. Run. It would be your end if you didn’t. You weren’t going to die down here in this place that seemed worse than the seven hells, not after every grueling test, not after all the terror and dread you faced.

“Then let's leave…” your voice came out more hollow than you thought it would, more whispered, crestfallen really. But it got the attention of your nurse friend.

He gaped, quickly whipped his head around to see if the doctor was listening, and started biting his fingers. “N-no… there’s no way… Do you know what will happen if we even talk about this?”

“So you're just going to let him kill me, yeah? Then what’s next for you? Who knows, he might get tired of you, and you’ll end up just like me right now.” You spat it out, but your expression didn’t change, the venom didn’t reach your eyes. No, you were planning on doing this with or without his help.

“N-no…” he took a step closer and pulled you into a tight hug. “Please don’t leave me alone. I’m begging you.” his head pressed against your chest, and you could feel him shaking like a chihuahua.

“Then help me.” A demand, you looked right at him, unwavering as you held him close as well. He nodded against your sternum. There had to be a way. No, you’ll make a fucking way.

#unnamed oc #zombie reader #tw: gore #tw: death #tw: experimentation #tw: abuse #tw: body horror

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archerinspace · 2 years ago

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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

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waitingformyfavoritesongs · 2 years ago

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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

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theinsanecrayonbox · 2 years ago

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Xmen Unlimited Infinity Comics #62-#67 “A World Without X” (aka Age of Apocalypse island of stupid edition)

heyhey, look who found a way to finally read this! so when this was announced, i was intrigued; AoA is my favorite Xmen story/setting, and to be fair the House of Stupid 90s edition wasn’t *that* terrible and it was fun to see how they could creatively mimic the island of stupid using only the 90s animated stock. so can the same be said for AoA?

this is long because i’m covering the whole story, so lets save some dash space with a cut huh

#62

so...Chuckie boy is annoyed that he’s over worked...or that no one cares about him/are too busy to care about him...idk, i have no sympathy for him to start with so i probably am missing the point. Logan tells him to suck it up while beating him up in a sparring match, so that’s nice. then him and Rachel are on the Astral Plane building something?? (why is the Astral PLANE now a physical dimension??) and Nightmare shows up to throw Chuck into AoA.

so ok, this isn’t “what if Xavier had been killed off and Apocalypse rose to power” but “What a Wonderful Life”. i guess that can work, plus this is a short format so yeah that’s fine.

#63

Sinister just had Xavier clones...mk, and is surprised that this one’s awake because that’s the body Nightmare shoved Chuck into. ok, cool, that works. this Sinister is the more jokey one of the island though and not the AoA one, but alright... Chuck tries to call for Logan but...

uh yeah...Laura wasn’t in AoA. “but KP she didn’t exist when AoA came out so of course blahblahblah” haha i know that, but in the 2000s after she was created, there was an X-23 counterpart introduced in the anniversary stories, and she was not Laura. again, again, semantics i know, but like i said i like AoA. and again, this is the island of stupid doing AoA so they’ll use what pieces they have. plus...

i like how she looks very much like Kyle here

Havok shows up...i could’ve sworn Cannonball was on Gen-Next but maybe i’m misremembering (that was my least favorite part of the story after all)

yay Kyle!

even more yay at this panel!! Kyle, Laura, AND Victor! this was made for me ^^

hurray! it’s the correct AoA and not the terrible Battleworld one! this has just gotten SUPER good ^^

#64

i was going to make a joke about him eyeballing due to you not wearing a shirt, but then the rest of this dialog just slammed me in the feels. it’s official, i love this. also adorable to watch Kyle and Laura go play in the yard.

ok, so our X-team here is Rogue, iceman, and Sunspot as usual, so that’s good. Cypher and Proteus i can give them, because they’re island folks. idk who Tempus is, i thought that was Moira but...

Moira is Magneto???

so the explanation is a little weird but it works well enough i guess; plus it gives the baby Charles vibe without having it be Magneto and Rogue’s kid. anyways, Tempus is part of the Five i guess? and i just now realize that Chuck is Bishop in this, the guy that knows the timeline is wrong and how to fix it. the good guys are then like “cool lets do the island of stupid here to fix everything” however...

Sinister says the same to Apocalypse with the added caveat of “hey let’s make a clone army to invade the multiverse”.

so the good guys are going to raid the pens for the missing Five members, the bad guys are planning to capture their members...

you are leaving Victor and Kyle out of this assault??? (Laura is on the Next panel and got cut off whoops). boo on you. you just lost your SUPER status. also where’s Blink???

#65

so fight time. Darkchylde (who i don’t believe was in the original, but island so hey) summons magic zombies of dead Xmen? fight time. Xavier waxing about being a teacher and how his Xmen are so much better because he taught them. blahblahblah

oh Victor and Kyle are here. good. the Pack is sticking together i guess

Moira gets a good line about not focusing on fixing the past or over thinking the future, just living in the now. so that’s a nice contrast to her murderbot normal self. i say they AoAed her well then.

Laura and Kyle take on Scott! yay!

lookit Victor being so proud of his pups with very fitting caption boxes across TWO panels! (have i finally found the person at marvel who follows me???)

so Chuck decides to take the fight to Apocalypse...and by fight i mean kaiju fight as they super-grow Krakoa into a big boy.

#66

kaiju smash! lol. has Holocaust been Nemesis for a while? or was that just changed for this? i’m not sure if that feels correct or not...

Chuck melts Sinister’s brain after Sinister beats him up. Apocalypse says he’s too smart for that...so Chuck manifests his wife and...blah. why is Genesis such a huge deal? if it was this easy to defeat Apocalypse all these decades, just gotta talk about his wife, why has he been so hard to stop. i know the answer is “magic of retcons” but still.

Chuck complains how mind wiping is totally a bad thing to do...despite the fact that he does that on the regular...the day is saved? Chuck seems to die (in a cliché La Pieta pose), so...happy ending?

#67

ah boo, there’s more. so Nightmare goes “haha that was round one of torture, lookit how evil and cool i am” and Chuck is all “nuuh looser i’m winning”

ok, i’ll give you that part of his argument, even though Moira seemed to have more lines, Victor kinda had more of the emotion even if it wasn’t the focus.

so blahblahblah, Nightmare trips an alarm and all the Grey-Summers ladies come in to save Chuck. Chuck talks about how the Xmen are an idea and will never die, because hope eternal even if he’s not there, blahblahblah.

so Logan takes him hot tubbing to unwind. ok...didn’t see this turning into a gay porno...

is that a nod to the AoA-esque 90s episode “One Man’s Worth”? because Logan was a main character of that

oh, oh great, he’s gonna try to invade other realities and convert them to his hivemind of terribleness. that, that’s just brilliant -.-

so we jump back to the AoA, which i guess is real and not just a vision created by Nightmare, cause their gang sets up an island seed? and is all “welp let’s wait for the real world to find us”. and Victor still refuses to wear a shirt XD

SO how did this stack up overall? you know, actually pretty good. it’s a super short read, and it’s own little pocket world, so it doesn’t affect anything in the grand scheme. it’s the stock Wonderful Life plot, and if it wasn’t done to rise up a character who’s so terrible, it’d’ve hit all the correct notes i’m sure. but it hit enough of the good ones. and it did a good job mimicking it’s inspiration using different pieces. if this story makes it to print like some of the other Xmen Unlimited ones have, i’d be willing to grab it. the art was good (turns out it was the same art team as the House of Stupid 90s edition, which i also really enjoyed the art on too), the writing was good. a very nice and quick one and done.

#kp reads comics

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heterochromicnachos · 2 years ago

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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?

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yanderecandystore · 3 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

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musingsofmyown · 2 years ago

Note

Ship: Johnlock (what else/j)

Trope: John helps Sherlock through his addiction (not exactly a trope but I couldn't think of anything)

Crack or no crack. I couldn't decide.

Rating: M?

Uncle Johnny by the killers kind of reminds me of this.

I can't wait to see what you come up with <3

Oh I count that as a trope!

Also, this song is a vibe, like a lowkey vibeee

(the entire fic will be under the cut due to the nature of the topic surrounding drugs, but it's all under there I promise)

Burning In my Body's Core

“Freak.”

“M’not a freak, you’re just a prick!”

“No, you’re a freak Sherlock! Even your name is freakish!”

“Stop it-”

“Sher-lock the fre-eak,” Their sing-song taunts seemed to get louder with every breath.

He wanted to run home, home to his brother- but… Mycroft had gone to University… he wasn’t home anymore… Sherlock had to get away. He had to. The familiar pierce of a needle and the wave of euphoria, finally, an escape.

Sherlock woke with a start, sweat covering his lithe body; it was just a dream, just a dream. His skin crawled with need, he needed some. He had to.

“Hey, Sherlock, you okay?” A voice called from the hallway, muffled by the door,”You sounded like you were having a nightmare. I was just in the kitchen making tea, want some?”

Clearing the sleep from his mind, he sighed,”Ya, give me a minute." After slipping on a hoodie and joggers, he went out and braved the terrain that was 'worried Dr. John Watson',”Thanks.”

There was a moment of silence, the doctor took a moment to study the unguarded figure before him,”Having cravings again?” He didn’t grace that question with an answer, simply a sip of the warm drink,”You can talk to me about it. I may be a doctor, but I’m also your friend.”

“You are.”

“Let me help, okay? Anything you’d like-”

“I’d like to go out and get some, but seeing as how you’re ready to stop me at any given moment, I cannot do so,” He eyeballed the tenseness in John’s arms and back, he was, in fact, ready to jump up and stop Sherlock from reaching the door,”Also, I would like to pretend this conversation never happened-”

“Well it is, Sherlock, and we’re going to talk about it.”

He sat his cup down, this battle had been lost,”Go on then, tell me how drugs are dangerous and how they’re destroying my mind, how they’re a waste of money and I don’t need them because there are healthier ways of coping-”

“Coping?” John’s entire expression changed from that of annoyance to concern,”Sherlock… you always said that you used because you were bored-”

“Yes, John,” the cool facade was crumbling, this was irritating at the least,”Coping. Ever heard of it?”

“Shut up.”

The taller man furrowed his brows at the interjection,”What-”

“Sherlock, I said shut up.” They were silent for a moment, before John got up and went around the table to his friend and enveloped him into a hug,”You could have told me.”

“You’re… you’re not mad,” his arms snaked around John’s back, accepting the hug.

“I’m not mad at all,” He backed up a little to look at his friend’s face, cupping it gently,”I’ve been there before, Sherlock. Coping in all sorts of ways. Alcohol, sex, and yes, I’ve had drugs before though not the kind you have to shoot up,” John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s, both of them on the edge of tears,”I’ve been there, let me help. We can do it together.”

“Promise?” Sherlock recalled the last person who vowed to stick with him, how broken he felt when that person abandoned him.

“I promise, together.”

-----------------------------

Tagging: @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @emaster875 @whatnext2020 @dinner--starving @loki-lock @kettykika78 @mycrofts-umbrella-in-the-tardis @gaylilsherlock @topsyturvy-turtely @colourfulwatson @safedistancefrombeingsmart @kyramaximoff @psychosociogentleman @peanitbear @astudyin221b @justanobsessedpan @thesherlockandjohnshow @icatee @boldlygowhereitsbiggerinside @ethannexil @sherlockwatsons @totallysilvergirl @forfucksakejohn

#drug tw #addiction tw #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock #Sherlock fanfiction #mini fic #aspen writes #musings masterpiece

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chosenbythecrystal · 2 years ago

Text

thenightmarerealms:

If the Corinthian had eyeballs, he would have rolled them. After all that, it was this that got a rise out of Noctis?

“You really are perfect, aren’t you?” he asked. The nightmare splayed his fingers in a mock gesture of deference. “What are you going to do, Noct? Punch the information out of me?”

“What if I told you that your precious Lord Morpheus was stuck in a cage in the middle of nowhere?” he asked. “That he was trapped by the humans that you love so much?”

He took a step back, keeping his distance from the dream even as his tone turned taunting. “You gonna ride to his rescue, little dream?” he asked. “You think that if you got him out of there, he would stop being an insufferable bastard and actually stop to say thank you?”

His smirk was ugly, unpleasant. “You think staying loyal to him will make him love you?”

What was he going to do?

He could punch him all he wanted, but he didn’t think the Corinthian would tell him anything and it would mean he’d lower himself to the Nightmare’s level. Taking a deep breath, he uncurled his fists and forced himself to calm down.

“Not all humans are the same, just like you and I aren’t the same.” They were both creations of the Dreaming, after all, but they couldn’t be more different. Or at least, that was what Noctis told himself. “Now tell me where he is.”

A cage in the middle of nowhere didn’t exactly narrow it down.

“Yeah. Of course that’s what I’ll do.” The reason he’d left the Dreaming in the first place was to find their Lord and Creator. He’d only started to live life as a human when he couldn’t find him. “He doesn’t need to thank me.”

The next words stung though because they rang true. He’d always wanted Dream’s attention. His approval. Perhaps even his love.

“It’s only natural I’d show loyalty towards the person who created me. Maybe you should do the same.” He paused for a moment, once again forcing himself to calm down. “This is about more than just us. The Dreaming is falling apart. We’re seeing the effects here, too. What do you think will happen to the Waking World when it crumbles completely?”

Noctis didn’t want to think of it. He also didn’t want to think about the fact that Morpheus had been in a cage for almost a hundred years.

#thenightmarerealms #verse; runaway dream

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hansensgirl · 3 years ago

Text

salvatore. | vi.

series summary. | Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, manipulation, gaslighting, arguments, toxic relationships (reader and steve), cheating, nightmares, violent behaviour? (no actual hitting), spying, voyeurism, stalking, use of cameras, angst, fluff, soft!dark!bucky, protectiveness, obsessiveness, creepy bucky, perversion, + more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 2.5k

pairings. | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers.

a/n. | i know i haven’t updated in a while i’m really sorry!! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog!

“Doll, please calm down. You’re scaring me,” Steve begged, sitting on the bed. “How can I calm down, Steve? Huh? You only just came back, and now you’re going away again,” you spat, crossing your arms. Your stance was almost adorable, but Steve knew that if he made a comment, he’d just push you further away. He couldn’t let that happen. “Why can’t you ask for a vacation, Stevie? We haven’t done anything romantic since my birthday, and that was six months ago.” You turned your back to Steve, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Doll, but I have to go save the world,” he solemnly told you. His voice carried a faux sadness that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. “Bullshit, you have so many more people to do it. Sam, Wanda, Tony—don’t lie, Steve. Why are you going to Sydney? There’s no way you have to travel to another continent to mess up some sort of drug deal. Isn’t that what the police are for?” you questioned him.

Tears stung your eyes. They were ones of anger, but you couldn’t lie. In the midst of them, were sad ones ready to leak, too. Steve stayed silent. “For fucks sake, Steve, you can’t even give me an answer?” you asked in disbelief. You gasped as the tears began to fall. “I knew it, I knew it the whole time,” you whispered under your breath. “Knew what?” he asked, walking up to you. You backed up into the corner of the room.

“That you’re cheating on me,” you mumbled quietly. “What? Baby– no, listen.” He paused to take a deep breath, meant to calm his nerves down. “I don’t want to hear anything, Steve. I know about you and Natasha. All those trips? Those text messages? God, the only person I feel bad for is myself. How could I be so blind to it all?” you shook your head as you spoke. You walked around Steve’s strong figure and headed towards the door. “Where are you going?” He called out, following you behind.

“For some fresh air, I can’t handle this,” you yelled back, but Steve only sped his steps up. “You’re not leaving me, Doll,” he growled, stepping in front of you. “I never said I was, but now you’re tempting me,” you snapped back. “You’re not leaving me, Doll. You never can.” Steve gripped your shoulders tightly, and you winced in pain. “Even if you did, I’ll go to the ends of the Earth to get you back.”

Your eyes shot open. Gasping, you struggled to catch your breath. Your heart pumped like no tomorrow. Each time your chest raised to the highest point, you felt like you had a heart attack. You fell back onto your pillow, and you couldn't care enough about the slightly painful thud that came with it. Nightmares were never pleasant. Though they give amazing writing inspiration, they still were not nice.

Unfortunately, your nights seemed to be filled with them. Every time you fell asleep for the past week, you’d wake up in a panicky mode. At that point, you were okay with settling for a weird dream that resembled surrealistic art. Who wouldn’t want to have a Dali-inspired dream? You rubbed your eyes roughly and could feel the exhaustion in your every movement.

Your phone rang loudly. The sound made you jump in shock, and you reached to your bedside table for it. The screen read Bucky’s name, and you sighed. You answered the phone and brought it to your ear. “Hey, Bucky,” you croaked tiredly. He laughed, and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice. But the sound of tiredness differed from yours. “Did I wake you up?” he asked, and you moaned. “No, I just woke up,” you told him. “Why would you wake up at one in the morning, Doll?” he asked.

“Nightmare,” you breathlessly told him. You could swear on the daisy that began to bloom two weeks ago that you started to feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. “Talk to me, Doll. Was it bad?” he questioned. “Yeah, it was worse than the previous ones.” You hadn’t even realized that you just spilled your secret. “You’ve been getting them for the past few nights? Doll– I’m so sorry, but you know you can always talk to me, right?”

His words were more reassuring than anything Steve ever said. “I know, it’s just… The nightmares—they’re very personal. You might not understand how scary they are. Plus, I don’t want to bother you,” you sheepishly admitted to him. He sighed heavily. “I understand, Doll, but you can never bother me, okay? I’m the one who’s supposed to feel that way, not you,” he chuckled, just to ease the tension.

“Now, I’m gonna be there in the next twenty minutes. Do you think you can sort yourself out by then?” he asked, and you started to stutter. “Uhm, sure, yeah, sure,” you agreed obediently. “Good girl, I’ll be there in a few.” And with that, he hung up. Your eyeballs bulged out of their sockets at those two words he uttered. Steve never said anything like that. He’d always just nod, even if you couldn't see it. You simply wrapped yourself in one of your most favourite blankets because changing seemed pointless to you.

There was no way he was not in pyjamas… right?

You turned the lamp on next to you before you could convince yourself that your chair was a monster. Your back was cold but also covered in sweat. You hated that feeling, and your mother always had the best way to describe it. “It’s like heating something in the microwave but failing nonetheless. The outside of it is warm, but the inside is still cold.” She’d tell you as she’d wipe down your back with a towel.

That was before everything went downhill. Before you turned thirteen and before she married him.

You sighed and got out of bed, willing yourself to put the kettle on. Maybe you’ll make some hot chocolate, or perhaps some tea… In your mind, twenty minutes always seemed like a long time. It sounded as though you could get quite a lot done in a third of an hour. The reality always felt like getting ice water poured on you as a method for waking up.

Unless your life was significantly put together, those one thousand and two hundred seconds are equivalent to five minutes. The ceramic lid for the jar clinked as you set it down on the counter. You grabbed two chamomile tea bags and closed the pot with a ‘ping!’. You grabbed two cups from the cupboard and then groaned loudly when you realized that you hadn’t turned the kettle on.

With a flick of your finger, you turned it on and leaned onto the counter. You sighed pretty loudly. Your head fell into the cup that your hands made, and you closed your eyes. You didn’t have a headache, and your eyes didn’t hurt either; you were just exhausted. You sighed once again, and the kettle clicked, telling you the water was done boiling.

Timing was everything, as always. And sometimes “timing” is just a coincidence, just like how Bucky rang the doorbell as soon as the water stopped boiling. You rubbed your eyes and walked to the door slowly, not caring that he may have been standing out there for thirty seconds too long. You opened it—not all the way—but wide enough for him to catch a glimpse of your tired form. “Hi,” he greeted, letting himself in.

Bucky looked around your home as if he was waiting for someone to round the corner with a knife and shotgun. “Nice place,” he said with an awkward smile on his face. “Thanks, even though our homes are formatted the same way,” you chuckled. He nodded, and then a few seconds after, he let out a forced laugh. You looked up at him and gave him a meek grin, and then went back to making the tea.

“I’m so glad I have two bags of chamomile left. It’s like the universe has decided to bless me again,” you breathlessly said. “What was the blessing before?” he curiously asked. “You.” You poured the hot water inside the cups, and then the bags of tea followed. “Honey or sugar?” you asked, and he pointed at the sugar. You passed it to him wordlessly, and the only sounds that filled the room were from your lungs and cups of tea.

“So… Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a few more wordless moments. “S- sure, thank you once again! You’re so kind,” you sighed as you brought the cup of tea to your mouth. Bucky copied your movements, but just a bit slower. “It was about my ex,” you admitted once you set your cup down. Bucky struggled to keep his eyes from popping out of their sockets at your mention of him.

“It was so similar to an argument we had a few months before I broke up with him… The only difference was that he wasn’t as… terrifying. And yet he still scared me,” you solemnly spoke. Bucky stretched a hand across the counter and placed it on your shoulder. He pleasantly squeezed it a bit, and you were tempted to lean into his touch.

But you just can’t, because Steve is in the back of your mind, taunting you.

“What really happened in the dream?” he asked, and you took another sip of tea. “Well… We were fighting. He had to go away for a while, even though he just came back. He’d always do that; it’s what helped destroy our relationship. He valued his job over me, and also, someone else,” you sadly recounted. Bucky listened in carefully, because he wanted to help out his best girl in any way possible.

“I caught him in his lies because his excuses became so… Inexplicable. I always had that nagging feeling that he was cheating on me with his friend, his coworker. That argument confirmed everything. I couldn’t handle it all being true, so I tried to leave for a walk,” you paused to take a shaky breath. “He got angry and stopped me, and then he threatened me,” you bluntly finished.

Bucky was so glad that his hand was no longer resting on your shoulder because Goddamn was his fist clenched tightly. You brought the cup of tea up to your mouth, and Bucky just watched you as you diverted your eyes away from him. Once you set the cup down, Bucky grabbed your hands. In contrast, his were extremely hot, and yet the flesh one was dry. Yours were a bit cold, but they were soft and a bit dewy. You looked up at him, only to lock eyes.

“It’s just a dream, doll, okay? And it’s in the past, it won’t happen again, our minds can be crazy sometimes, so try not to worry about it,” he whispered lowly, bringing both of your hands up to his mouth. He pressed a kiss on both sets of your knuckles. You nodded softly, and you leaned down to press a kiss on his flesh knuckles in return. You smiled against his skin, even though it was bruised and slightly red. You wanted to ignore the weird feeling of his metal arm against your sweaty skin, but you couldn’t help it.

“Can- Can I do the thing to your metal hand?” you asked him, hopeful that he would say yes. Bucky nodded, with a slight smile on his face, of course. You closed your eyes and puckered your lips just a bit, pecking the metal. His breathing hitched, unbearably so. It was something he would always catch himself doing whenever he’d think about you or whenever he was simply just in your presence. You opened up eyes and looked back up at him, and you could see the way his eyes glazed over.

He let go of your hands abruptly, allowing them to fall onto the marble countertop. His fingers slotted themselves against your cheeks, and he grabbed your face gently. Bucky pulled you close to him, and he smashed his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, but it was full of passion. You kept your lips locked against his, and your fingers carded through his long hair. There was no other movement apart from the way Bucky kept trying to pull you closer and closer.

It was almost like he wanted to merge bodies, minds, and souls with you.

A few more seconds passed, and Bucky eventually pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours, and you exhaled a shaky breath. “Steve… His name is Steve, and I hate him,” you admitted to him, and Bucky kissed your nose. “And I hate him too, doll,” Bucky said before parting ways from you. There was a bit of tea left in his cup, but you had finished all of yours. “Get some rest, okay? Or just close your eyes for a bit. You need it,” he advised, and you nodded. “Thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate you being there for me,” you expressed to him.

“Anything for you, doll, now go tuck yourself in,” he urged once again before walking past you to the door. You placed the cups in the sink, and neither of you looked back at each other. You heard the door shut with a loud echo, and you sighed heavily. Maybe you were going to listen to him. Sleeping in isn’t that bad after all.

Bucky always believed that being vulnerable was stupid. He also believed that opening up was stupid. But, to be fair, he believed that anything involving emotions was stupid. But when it comes to you, he felt the opposite. Maybe vulnerability was good. Perhaps it was exactly where you needed to be for him to finally be able to love you.

And it was then when he realized that he hadn’t been loving you properly. He hadn’t been loving you the way he wanted to love Natasha, and that just ended up with her six feet deep with flowers growing above her body. He needed you, but you clearly needed him more than anything else. Bucky was desperate for you at times, of course, but you matter more to him than anything else.

Bucky looked down at his desk, staring at the single plane ticket that would take him all the way across the state of New York. He hadn’t been there in over a year, and that was when he first learned of Natasha’s promiscuity. Philandering around with his best friend, fucking said best friend in the most memorable locations he had taken her.

He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he found out that the reason why Natasha showed up to the wedding venue late was that she was too busy lifting up that poofy white gown for Steve. He thought that by emptying out Pandora’s box when she passed, everything would be okay. That he’d be able to move on without a care, and he wouldn’t have to shed any more tears for her. Bucky won’t. He promised himself he wouldn't.

He just had a few loose ends to wrap up before he made you his. That was all.

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pawpunkao3 · 3 years ago

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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

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

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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

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makeste · 4 years ago

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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

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