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choptop-sawyer · 3 years

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Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

#tcm #texas chainsaw #chop top #chop top sawyer #chop top sawyer x reader #tcm 2 #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers #slasher x reader #my writing #chop top x reader #choptop sawyer

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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the amount of angst in the post-prison writing you did just gave me massive post-prison dream brainrot and i'm just. sitting here thinking about how sam dealt with the curious looks and glances and having to face what's he's done as a warden. and everyone else's reaction to everything because hey, maybe the prison WAS a torture chamber that nobody deserves to be locked in to be treated like utter trash.

(btw i love your writing and analysis! they give me so much life :DD)

thank you anon!! this universe is ,, Fun ,, im ngl -> have this continuation of it, w/ sapnap and sam!! it’s a bit messy but oh well

(edit: i added these two asks as well bc they fit and i thought it’d be a bit redundant to rewrite this scene lmao -> the implication that dream’s admissions abt exile mightve been the result of ,, torture is. uh. yikes.)

(This one is DARK, please heed the warnings)

TW: PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE (heavy warning for this one), starvation, toxic relationship, manipulation, references to the prison and exile, c!sam/warden!sam critical, violence, blood, dark themes, emotional distress, child abuse, torture

“Be honest,” Sapnap starts, quiet. “What did you do?”

Sam opens his mouth - hesitates, looks away. He should’ve known that his vague words and half-explanations that had been enough to push away most of the crowd - or at least, postpone the conversation for later - wouldn’t have been nearly enough to convince the man standing in front of him, but a part of him must’ve hoped, anyway. He’s not ready to speak, not ready to admit anything to himself, never mind someone else entirely - but ‘ready’ doesn’t matter, not when Sapnap is right here, waiting.

(He ignores how ‘ready’ didn’t matter for Dream when Sam had gone in, that first time, pick in hand and nothing but questions and rage spinning in an endless cycle in his mind, whirling together into something incomprehensible, insatiable, vicious - he’s not thinking about it.

He can’t think about it.)

“Well?” Sapnap’s voice raises, impatience coloring his tone, and it’s almost enough to draw a chuckle to Sam’s lips - he’d always been a little overeager, not doing well with silence, waiting, even as a kid. It’s part of the reason why he got along with Dream so well, Dream jumping at the chance to spend time with someone that didn’t shut him down for rambling and Sapnap simply excited at the chance to have someone that would join him on his hare-brained schemes instead of dismissing him as a dumb kid- and oh. Right.

The scrunch of his face is the same, Sam realizes, absently, as the expression Sapnap had when he was little; it’s the same crease between his eyebrows, the same slight jut to his bottom lip. Even with a new scar decorating his left jaw and the shadows under his eyes and collection of faint wrinkles belying his stress, he doesn’t look all that different - still looks young, a kid playing dress up in armor too big and too war-torn to belong to him. It’s easy to forget, but even after all the wars they’ve fought, even with all of the combat experience he’s had, Sapnap’s still barely twenty - only a few weeks out of being a teenager.

(He crushes the thought of what that makes Dream - he’s not. Thinking. About. It.)

“Hello? Earth to Sam?” Sapnap snaps his fingers in front of his face, and Sam blinks away the memories, the guilt, boxing it up and filing it neatly away to deal with - later. Never, ideally.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Only later is now, there’s no escaping this conversation, and Sam. Really doesn’t want to be talking about this, right now. Sapnap fidgets, leaning on his right foot and then his left and then rocking back again - the feeling is mutual, then, but he knows the look in the younger’s eye well enough to know that neither of them are leaving without an explanation leaving Sam’s lips.

(Netherite and iron and smoke, bloodstained pickaxe tipping up a gaunt face, hand reaching around a too-prominent jawline with bruising force - are you going to answer my question, prisoner? Or are we going to have to do this again?

He’s not-

He can’t-)

“I-,” guilt, thick and heavy, circles his throat, chokes the words rising in his mouth. What can he even say? Can words really capture the sweat-slick desperation, the bubbling lava and heat and smoke stealing away all breath and thought, leaving nothing but a humming buzz of rage burning, hissing, begging for release? Can he really describe the endless darkness and weight settling on his shoulders, the hard edges and jagged fear taking anything soft, anything kind? Words swim in the back of his throat, try to reach his teeth, fall short; bloodstained memories haunt the back of his eyelids every time he blinks; there is so much, too much, to say, and yet nothing at all.

How does he even start?

There is no sympathy on Sapnap’s face when Sam looks, but there isn’t any cruelty either, just dark, watching eyes, lips thin and pressed together, jaw clamped shut, tense. Indifference, or a pale imitation of it, meant to hide the mess of his hair, the tremble in his hands, the helpless, desperate thing growing in his pupils. Sam understands and wishes he doesn’t; regrets, and wonders if he has the right, anymore.

“It- started, as an interrogation,” Sam stumbles over his words, stares at his hands because looking at Sapnap’s face will be too much, is too much. “I was angry. The prisoner- Dream- was desperate. That cell-” he shakes his head, remembers obsidian in his hands, remembers tearing away carpet, paintings, plants, remembers leaving the box bareboned, desolate, a cage and nothing more, “It messes with you. Screws with your head. I knew it, he knew it, but I guess we didn’t realize- I guess I didn’t realize-”

(Blood and crunching bone and shrill screams - tell me what you did to him-)

“I needed information. He wasn’t talking. I got- heated, and he laughed, and something- snapped, I guess.”

(I’ll tell you I’m sorry please please sam stop please)

“All I had on me was a pickaxe. He wasn’t talking, I was desperate - angry - I needed to know. I didn’t-”

(I just knew I needed to drag him away, he was ruining everything, he was destroying everything, I just needed him to leave before he brought down the whole damn server with him - the tnt was supposed to be a one time thing)

“It was supposed to be- one time. Was never supposed to happen, at all. But I guess I got mad - for me? For Tommy? I don’t- I don’t know, and it was- easy, you know? Take away the clock, one day. Give him less potatoes the next.”

(It was easy to do it again, I guess, mess with his invitations a little, take some of his stuff. There was nobody around but me and him and he’d ruined so much, he’d messed everything up - I thought that maybe if I took away his armor enough, he wouldn’t be able to go back. He wouldn’t ruin everything.)

“He’d done- so much. He was so awful to Tommy, to everyone- I thought I could prevent that. I thought maybe if I broke him enough, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again. I renamed the pickaxe Will Breaker, to remind me, to remind him, I don’t know. I-”

Sam laughs, tired, poisonous, ignoring the way Sapnap whispers, stricken, looking at his hands and seeing nothing but red. Dream’s face, bruised, bloody, but glimmering with something almost like satisfaction comes to mind - and oh. Oh.

(Bloodstained teeth twisted in a bitter smile - Sam, I thought I had to.)

He gets it now. He wishes he didn't.

“I thought- ha-” His hand comes up to his face - he’s crying. When did he start crying? ”I thought I had to.”

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villainscomplex · 3 years

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First Love / Late Spring

now who let me get away with falling three days behind on asanoya week yike

anyway @asanoyaweek21 day 2, mythology, made my own myth abt the seasons, pretend i'm not sleep deprived and this is the most eloquent a/n you've ever read ty

(no but fr this tested how well I REALLY knew how the hell seasons worked)

Also on:

AO3

Wattpad

FFNet

Quotev

----------------------------------------------------------- In the beginning, the story goes, there is nothingness. The world is empty and lifeless, composed only of dirt and rock and fire and ice. There’s no history in this world because there’s no one there to record it, and maybe there never was. At first, there’s only the world and the silence.

The universe takes some sort of interest in this world. It’s inhabitable, suitable to become something greater than what it was made to be. It sends a being made of a thousand suns and starlight, and when that being touches down, grass sprouts beneath his feet. He is made of warmth and brilliance, of all the light the universe thought to offer him. When he walks, life blooms around him, taking the form of arching trees and brilliant flowers.

He is called Summer, and he is the beginning of everything.

In the beginning, it’s only Summer, a being barely held together at the seams with no vessel to contain him. He’s merely a concept, a breath of air racing across the earth and leaving beauty in its wake. But even a being as infinitely existing as Summer was not all-powerful, and his warmth couldn’t reach all recesses of the world.

On the other side of the world, a being was born from the earth. He is made of ice and all of the cold the dirt has to offer, composed of darkness and a promise. Winter is born from the ground, and where he walks, the world dies. Their worlds collide, and on the border of that balance, two more beings come to be.

One appears in a spark of brilliant, golden light, wreathed in warmth gentler than Summer’s. His laughter brings new beginnings, and with him come young animals, deer, foxes, and birds sprouting from the enormity of his being. He is Spring, and his arrival sparks a new cycle of life in the world.

The other being is slower, more hesitant. He doesn’t appear as quickly as the others, as if he’s already prepared to leave the world he’s only just come into. He unfolds himself slowly, not warm like Summer or Spring, but not quite cold like Winter. He brings hesitance with him, curiosity, and melancholy. His arrival is the beginning of endings, and they call him Autumn.

The four of them create a cycle; Summer flows into Autumn into Winter into Spring. Summer never meets Winter and Autumn never meets Spring, for the fear of any disastrous consequences for the meeting of the opposite. From this cycle comes balance, and from balance comes life.

Humanity is a gift from the universe. Summer looks upon them like his young siblings, though they know little of him, they relish in his warmth. He gives them laughter and fun, heat and nourishment. He finds enjoyment in watching them, even as they grow and change.

But all things came to an end, and like their cycles, humans grew and changed and eventually died. Sometimes, Summer is there to witness it. He watches them go beneath the sun, and he is silent when their loved ones mourn. Sometimes, he’s sleeping, in the wake of Autumn taking what half had been his for the quarter of the year.

It’s Spring who comes up with the idea to take their form.

When Summer awakens to take Spring’s place, Spring swirls around him.

“We could take the form of humans and take their names! That way, we can walk among them and teach them to care for themselves and our world. I know they aren’t endless like us, but I’ve heard them tell stories. They’ll pass everything on and we can admire them up close!”

Summer thinks it’s brilliant. Spring is naive, but he was the one to create the animals and humans had taken to them. He watches before his eyes as Spring shrinks and condenses, his unperceivable form wavering and adjusting until it settles into a short, humanoid shape. When the light sinks away, Spring stands before him as a boy with wild orange hair, eyes as warm and brown as the freshly melted earth. He holds his arms out wide, and light flows from his very being, coating him in luminance.

“I haven’t decided on a name,” Spring tells him, “but when I do, I’ll tell you! I’ll talk to Winter, too, but you’ll have to handle Autumn. I’ve heard he’s elusive, isn’t he?”

Spring knows little about Autumn, just as Summer knows little about Winter. They never meet, and the cycles will never allow them to, but Spring seems content either way. He’s curious about Autumn, so he’s heard from Summer and Winter, but even they know little about the elusive season of endings.

Summer nods. “I haven’t met him properly,” he admits. “He always creeps in when I’ve already gone to rest.”

“Weird,” Spring huffs, more expressive now with his human features. “Well, I’ll tell Winter then when I go to take his place next cycle. See you next time!”

Spring bounds away with flowers in his wake, leaving Summer to wonder about Autumn as his warmth fills the world.

It doesn’t matter now. Winter is taking Autumn’s place, and Summer won’t see anything of him until it’s his turn on this side of the world. Perhaps he’ll have the chance to run into Autumn for once, but he gets the feeling Autumn doesn’t want to be found. Summer doesn’t understand why, but the fourth season is quiet and withdrawn, seldom interacting with them more than he needs to.

Summer stops thinking about Autumn when he begins to cross his half of the world, bringing the earth into full bloom. As he runs, he begins to shape and change, a broad grin coming to his features as he takes on a human form. Summer takes the stardust and light he’s made of and compresses it into an impossibly small form, shorter even than Spring’s new form, and his amber eyes streak with golden light.

Summer takes the form of a dark-haired boy, electric gold streaked through the front of his bangs. He’s small and unassuming for someone as infinite as him, radiating warmth and energy and life. Everything within him buzzes to go, and so he does, spending his time among the people, bringing them joy and life.

Though he looks like one of them now, there’s still something otherworldly about him, and some people call him a god. They’re not sure of what, but they know he brings only good for them, and the sunlight itself is drawn to every fiber of his being. It dapples his hair and flares off of his skin like a golden glow.

Summer knows nothing of names, and so when they ask, he only smiles.

Though regretful, his time on this side comes to an end. He feels the slow chill creep in as Autumn awakes, though he doesn’t know from where. His warmth wants to combat it, and Summer is eager to try, but for now, he withdraws it into himself. He can’t linger long, but perhaps a little extra time wouldn’t hurt. He’s painfully curious, and Summer is nothing if not stubborn.

Autumn is quiet when he comes. Summer watches the leaves brown and wither with his arrival, and the life around them grows lethargic and somber. This is the beginning of endings for some. He hasn’t seen Autumn all the way through, but he’s heard enough from the humans to understand what happens.

Autumn startles when he realizes Summer hasn’t departed yet. He withdraws immediately, fleeing into the trees. The leaves begin to turn colorful shades of browns and reds and golds, and Summer almost wants to stop to admire them, but he’s hot on Autumn’s heels.

The other entity swirls into the trees, and Summer forgoes his human form to catch up.

“Wait!” He gasps out, crash landing in a clearing and rolling onto the forest floor, condensed back into his human shape.

Autumn hesitates, just behind the treeline. He doesn’t emerge, but Summer knows he’s there.

“You always run from us,” Summer frowns. “But I don’t know why. Do you not want to know us?”

“It’s for the best,” Autumn speaks up, voice soft.

“Huh?” Summer frowns. “That’s stupid. Shouldn’t we talk sometimes if you’re always taking my place?”

Autumn withdraws a bit. “...Why do you look like a human?” He finally asks.

Summer grins. “Spring thought of it. He thinks we’ll be able to help better this way. It’s hard to maintain this form, but I like it. I haven’t thought of a human name yet. What do you think?”

Autumn creeps along the trees. Summer watches the one he touches lose its leaves. He seems reluctant.

“I’m okay this way,” he finally says. “They wouldn’t like me. Everything starts to die when I come around and I see the way it makes them unhappy. I’m different from you.”

“That’s stupid,” Summer frowns, moving forward.

Autumn starts. Before Summer can think to follow, he’s vanished into the distance. Summer frowns after the other season, but it’s time for him to move on. Autumn is strange to him, fickle and hesitant. Summer doesn’t understand him, but perhaps he isn’t meant to.

Either way, it’s time for him to move on. For now, he’ll rest. Soon, he’ll go to take Spring’s place in their never-ending cycle. He glances back in the wake of Autumn, and then turns his gaze forward and moves on.

The next time he sees Spring, his appearance has changed a bit. He’s still the small, orange-haired boy, but now freckles blossom across his face and he’s filled his form. He beams when he sees Summer.

“I talked to Winter,” he tells him, “and he said he’d think about it. I’ll convince him next time I see him, for sure!”

“Better than me,” Summer sighs, “I got two words in towards Autumn before he ran away. It’s so strange.”

Spring reaches out, patting him on the back. It’s a strange feeling. They’re capable of touch in their natural forms, but it’s so abstract that Summer has never given much thought to it. It’s different in these forms, more physical and grounding. He doesn’t hate it.

“I thought of a name,” Spring tells him. “Or, well. Winter thought of it, but I like it!”

“Yeah?” Summer tips his head. “What is it?”

“Shoyo!” Spring announces, throwing his arms up. “It fits, I think!”

“Shoyo,” Summer echoes.

He’s right; it does fit. It sounds right for Spring, fitting in a way that only self-picked titles are. Summer voices his agreement, and Spring - Shoyo - bids him farewell, speeding off into the distance. Now it’s Summer’s turn on this side of the world, the issue of a name weighing heavily on his mind. He doesn’t see Autumn again this cycle.

The other season comes late to avoid him, and by then, Summer is long gone.

(On the other side of the world, Winter takes the form of a tall boy with hair like night and eyes as blue as ice. Spring takes Winter’s red-tipped fingers into his hands and fills them with warmth before the taller one goes.

Shoyo tells Summer about Winter’s new form before he too, goes.)

Summer waits, this time. Autumn is startled to find him there, visibly freezing when he spots him as if he’s let down his guard and expected Summer to be gone. It’s sunset when Autumn arrives, the end of one day into another. There’s something final about it, though Summer knows the sun will always rise on a new day. There’s a half-formed thought in the back of his mind, but he turns his attention to Autumn, instead.

Sure enough, Autumn hasn’t taken a human form. Summer is sure it will take more convincing, but he’s determined to bring Autumn into their circle more than he’s been thus far. They’ve been here for cycles and cycles already, but Summer is astounded by how little they know about their last member.

“Why do you keep waiting for me?” Autumn asks, hanging back away from where Summer sits in the grass, watching the sun sink.

“You know,” Summer starts, “in the beginning, it was just me. The universe put me here because it thought something could be made of it. Winter came because I can’t cover the whole world. You two came for balance. This world isn’t like us; it needs the balance of all of us to survive and thrive.”

Autumn hesitates. Slowly, he joins Summer in the grass, settling beside him like a blanket.

Summer grins over at him. “Do you watch the sunset a lot? It’s sort of like an ending too. The end of a day, a month, a cycle… Humans come up with some interesting things. Even though it signifies an end, it’s not permanent. That’d be like saying nighttime is bad, but some things flourish then, too.”

“Are you trying to change my mind by comparing me to the day cycle?” Autumn asks.

Summer laughs, loud and free. “Maybe. Is it working?”

Autumn stays quiet for a long moment, watching the sun sink. It isn’t until darkness sweeps across the world that he rises.

“Maybe,” he murmurs.

Summer watches him vanish over the crest of the hill.

(The next time Summer sees Shoyo, he’s decided on a name.

“Winter did too,” Shoyo laughs. “He’s Tobio. What’s yours?”

“Sorry, Shoyo,” Summer grins, “I’ve got someone else I have to tell first.”)

Summer doesn’t see Autumn again for an entire cycle. The first time, Summer decides to give him space, but by the time he needs to leave the other side, it’s a little more upsetting. He goes through a human’s year without seeing Autumn, and then another. The name waits in his chest.

Autumn comes early the next year. It’s the middle of the night, and a moment later, Summer might not have recognized him. He changes as he descends, all the hesitance and endings pressing itself into the shape of a tall man. When he unfolds, his brown hair falls past his shoulders in gentle waves and his dark eyes are careful, scanning the world around him like he’s seeing it for the first time.

Summer shrieks so loudly that he sees Autumn’s new form physically flinch in reaction. He pays it little mind, sprinting the short distance and flinging himself at the taller man so aggressively that they both go down in a whirl of leaves and dispensed forms. Autumn reforms slowly beneath him, still not accustomed to piecing his human form together as quickly as Summer.

“Ow,” he gets out.

“Where have you been?” Summer demands.

“Sorry,” Autumn frowns, “I’ve been… thinking. I lost track of time.”

Summer frowns down at him, and then disperses his human form, condensing again into it a bit away. He watches Autumn stumble back to his feet, still hesitant and unsure in this more solid form. It’s a good look, Summer will admit. It fits Autumn.

“Sorry,” Autumn says again.

“You apologize too much,” Summer tells him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Just don’t do it again or I’ll wait even longer next time.”

Autumn smiles a hesitant little smile. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

He needs to go soon, but since Autumn is here early, he has a little bit of time. He gestures to the other season.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s watch the sunrise. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Autumn looks a little scared, but his curiosity visibly wins out. He follows Summer through the trees. Summer leads him on and on until they finally come to an overlook where the view of the dark sky is clear. The sun isn’t quite rising yet, but he can see the light getting ready to come up over the horizon.

“I’m glad you decided to try,” Summer tells him, sitting down and stretching his legs out. “Human forms are strange and different from what we’re used to, but it’s a good difference. I like it. I think you will, too.”

Autumn slowly sits beside him. Summer watches him run his fingers through the grass, lips parted in surprise at the sensation.

“Have you thought of a name?” Summer asks him, laughing.

“No,” Autumn admits, shaking his head. “I don’t know where to start.”

“I decided on mine,” Summer tells him. “Do you wanna know?”

Autumn’s expression gives him away before he can even reply. Summer laughs, leaning back on his palms as the sky streaks with reds and golds.

“I decided on Yuu.”

“Yuu,” Autumn echoes softly.

Something about the way the other season says it cements it in Yuu’s chest. He doesn’t have a heart like humans, but if he did, he’s sure it would be racing. Autumn brings his knees up and leans against them, watching the golden light peek over the horizon. It’s warm when it washes across the horizon; after all, summer hasn’t quite passed yet.

“I like it,” Autumn says.

“What about Asahi?” Yuu asks abruptly.

The birds flee from the nearby trees. Autumn visibly starts.

“Huh?” He asks. “I thought you were going with Yuu?”

“Not for me,” Yuu turns to him. “For you.”

“Asahi,” Autumn echoes, and then again, “Asahi.”

He seems to genuinely ponder it for a moment. Yuu watches the expressions cross his face rapidly. The suggestion had been a spur of the moment, and he doesn’t remember where the name had come from, but something about it just fits Autumn.

“Okay,” Autumn murmurs, finally, “Asahi it is.”

The sun crests over the horizon and lights Yuu’s entire face in a brilliant glow. His smile shines even brighter.

Yuu leaves later that day. Asahi sees him off, and he seems hesitant like there’s something he wants to say but he can’t bring himself to. Yuu doesn’t push it. He doesn’t know what they’re building, but it’s still tentative now, and they’ve got all the time to do it. Yuu isn’t patient or subtle, but he doesn’t want to chase Asahi away again.

“See you next time,” he says.

He streaks away into the day, leaving light behind where his footsteps had been.

Time goes on, and people make up new tales. Sometimes, winter lasts longer than it should, and some say the groundhog saw its shadow. Others will say that spring came along, and winter stayed behind to spend a few extra days by his side.

Sometimes, at the end of summer, the last few days are hotter than the rest. Someone might say it’s because the earth is growing hotter every year and humanity is pushing it. A mother might tell her child that it’s because the summer is happy to finally greet the fall.

And maybe two men might overhear her on the sidewalk, hand in hand, a mysterious twinkle in their eyes and something strange and otherworldly about them. But if anyone knew the truth, they seemed none the wiser.

In the end, autumn comes, leaves fall, and life changes in a burst of color.

#asanoya #asanoyaweek21 #azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#marimo writes #fuck shit i'm so far behind AHAHAHAH #shrieks #oh yeah #kagehina #kageyama tobio #hinata shoyo #i forgot abt them again sigh

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g00by3 · 3 years

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i am genuinely such a bad person. down to my absolute core, i am absolutely awful. im so toxic and manipulative and always searching for attention. i need other ppls validation to feel good abt myself, otherwise i feel like nothing but a fraud. thats why i overshare so much, i need ppl to validate that what i went thru was bad otherwise what happened was nothing. im convinced im lying abt everything, i dont know whats real or not anymore. i could just be typing this into the void and just be tricking myself into thinking ppl care. any one of my countless attempts couldve worked, n i wouldnt necessarily know. anything i did before my death didnt matter, and whatever im doing now after my death doesnt matter either. i hold no meaning in life at this point. im just good to be hurt and hurt others. i do my best not to turn into any of the abusers, but deep down ik im just as rotten as them. i say things w/o thinking and w no second thought, i hurt others. i tell myself what im doing is bad n do everything in my power to change but it never lasts.

i keep filling my life w relationships (platonic, romantic/sexual, stronger familial bonds) and self-harm thru any number of means just to not feel as empty. but i still always feel empty. i make pathetic attempts at relapses and addictions and its the only time i feel alright abt myself. the only time i dont hate myself is when im hurting myself. i force myself into bad situations bc ik its what would make someone else happy, and act so impulsively. im constantly on the brink of cutting off all relationships and isolating myself from ppl i consider loved ones. ik it would be better for everyone but then who would give me that validation i so terribly need? i mute messages and chats bc i know ill snap at ppl one of these times. im constantly getting annoyed and irritated at other ppl showing me that they care for me or checking on me or claiming to love me. i dont know if any of these ppl mean anything to me honestly. i dont know if im actually capable of caring for another person and loving them unconditionally. someone says one thing that i cant process healthily, and suddenly im on edge around them and feel like i cant trust them. everyone is lying to me. they cant possibly care for me, im too bad of a person.

i deserve to hurt. i deserve all the pain ive received, i deserve even more. i wish it could just be an endless cycle of abuse so that way i actually have a meaning and a purpose. im nothing but a sick child right now, but ppl just love to hurt sick children like me. i have no value to myself, but maybe if im able to please someone else i wont hate myself so much. just maybe. i dont know what its like to love myself. there are times ill love one or two things abt myself but in the end, theres more things i despise than like even the slightest. im nothing but bitter and broken, i shouldnt hurt ppl like i do but all ive known is that hurting makes ppl feel valuable. is that how i show my love?

i cant get myself to care when ik i should. im either way too empathetic or show no empathy at all. as soon as someone else is struggling, i have to do everything i can to help. otherwise, whats the point? if i cant help others, why do i exist? but once their venting gets too repetitive or they dont listen to anything i say, i snap. i say things i shouldnt say to a struggling person. then i go and vent abt the same exhausting things, day in and day out, and always expect them to help me. i struggle and blame it on everyone but myself. im a god, and can do no wrong. i cant get better as long as someone else i love is struggling. i cant possibly be the "okay" one, i dont know what thats like. i dont know what being "okay" is like. i have to be the worst one, have the worst struggles and receive the most sympathy. ik its bad but i cant change it, no matter how hard ive tried.

ive done everything i can to get help. ive tried everything and nothing works. the only time i felt "alright" was during the times i was being hurt bc at least then i was pleasuring someone, making someone feel good. theres no hope anymore, im done trying. why do i even bother? i might as well give in, do every bad thing, cut everyone off, ruin any relationships i have, and damage myself even further. in the end it doesnt matter. ill die tragically at a young age (assuming i havent already died) due to myself but at least then it will be over. beyond my death it doesnt matter. i give up. once ppl know abt the things ill be doing, theyll leave me too. then i have freedom to hurt. hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt. hurting is all ik n i might as well reclaim it and do everything to myself. then ill have all the power. ill be the powerful one, not any of them. ill be god.

whats wrong w me?

#finch #tw abuse #tw vent #sorry this is heavy im just struggle #tw suicide #i nearly jumped in front of the train today #n also off the overpass #but i didnt?#n i went home n continued living normally as if nothing happened #im so empty

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gayspock · 4 years

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dont rb, dont rply

like . im just really fucking tired of how hopeless it is ... u kno wht i mean... like im sick of it im sick of just having to settle with it im sick of it never being anything more im sick of just having to fucking sit there and suck it all up wait for it to get fucking better when its just worse and worse and worse and worse.. like im more alone i hate myself more thats the only thing time ever does is solidify the fact that im so fucking stupid and i was right thats the one thing i ever seem to have gotten right is that no ones ever going to want me that no ones ever going to love me that i fucking suck at everyything that i cant do anything right that im never going to have a home because thats it . just. constant fucking running from place to place praying that something might be right next time andnext time and triyng really hard but its always worthless your times worthless your patience is worthless and its just because youre fucking worthless do you know wht i mean i think abt how i fuckingg. all the shit tht used to comfort me as a child, how hollow it all was- this belief that someday i might find a place and people that love me and maybe i will feel safe and maybe i will this that and whatever and its all fucking horseshit that just keeps. crumbling over and over and over again and unironically i cannot fucking take it any more i cannnot fucking take this fucking endless fucking cycle of watching something i never even had just rot and rot in front of me anbd fucking. just . wishingg i was dead on and on and on because it all just hruts and theres no. fucking . anythingnever anything but that theres just fucking . horseshite back to back to back of just everything turning away failing everywhere you go at everything you tey no matter how hard you try and feeling alone and alienated from everywhere you go because youre just a fucking freak as you always were an you cant manage any ofit any more fucking cannot fucking stand it i just want to talk to someone right now not even to fucking feel like i can but just to fucking scream at them and make them scream at me so i dont have to fucking do it any more do you know what i mean but i cant even. that any more i cant its just been years of fucking in rooms alone in the dark for hours and hours and hours crying because i dont have fucking friends and because im bad at everything and its jjust pathetic its just fucking stupid i fucking wish i was dead so fucking badly and again i jsut-0sdjf90spgjs you know when u just think about how right every abd fucking thing ever wa show every insecurity youve ever had its always been right how your fucking parents were right to beat you because thats the most youve ever meant to fucking anyone ever and the most purpose youre ever going to fucking have because now what youre just nothing just hollow and fcuking stupid a08sdhdgosdgosgjg . bro.... im sick of it <3

#egg.txt #okay. last ventim sorry kings

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nierly-amazing · 6 years

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yo talk to me abt 2b and 9s. i need friends 😭

You want me to talk about 2B and 9S? YOU WANT ME TO TALK ABOUT 2B AND 9S????? ARE YOU SURE?!?

OKAY FRIEND

THEY ARE BOTH SO GOOD I LOVE THEM.

THEY ARE SAD BROKEN IMPERFECT CHILDREN WHO NEED LOTS OF TLC.

And there are people out there who are too hard on one or the other and it makes me S A L T Y because they’re shoving their moral purity bullshit on two deeply broken characters and expect them to make the right decisions all the time.

Of course they’re gonna make mistakes, of course they’re going to choose the wrong options. They may be androids, but they are pretty damn human.

2B’s trapped in a cycle of killing the one she loves over and over and erasing his memories of her and everything.

Defecting isn’t really an option in her mind. She’s an E unit so she knows how successful they are; she probably wouldn’t think they’d last very long out there with no way to maintain and repair themselves. She doesn’t know of any successful defectors; command never tells them about A2 when she kills them, obviously, because they wouldn’t want to give anyone any ideas if they found out there was someone who’s survived years on her own out there (albeit falling apart and only surviving out of spite).

Plus, A2′s much less of a threat than an E-model and their best scanner model who is powerful enough to hack into the Bunkers defenses to dig out classified information. A2′s just some prototype who found out she was sent down to die yet continued to survive out of spite. 2B and 9S had the potential to cause a LOT of problems for YoRHa, since 9S found out one of the biggest secrets kept from all androids and other info that could possibly be very dangerous if the enemy got their hands on them. So it’s pretty likely they’d put a lot more effort into killing them than they did with A2.

A2′s circumstances are different than 2B and 9S’ anyway. Her only order was to die at the end of her mission. So for her it’s either let yorha kill her, or go on the run until she eventually gets killed by them or a machine. There are no other options for her. She has no one left to protect or worry about losing, nothing to tie her back.

And she was in a similar situation to 2B; they all did find out they were programmed to die after the mission but chose to see it through anyway instead of defecting.

So if command ordered her to kill 9S again and said they wouldn't reinstate a new one, who says she wouldn't take him and gtfo?

2B hates her job so much that she once chose death over killing him again, and the only reason she survived because he killed himself instead and made her promise to keep killing him. He wouldn't let her take the 'easy' way out because he knew that wouldn't solve anything.

That promise kinda complicates things too. Since it kinda invalidates what the next 9Ss might be feeling so now she’s even more stuck since she has orders from command AND orders from the 2+ 9S that made her promise.

Like, her job hurts her to the point where her own data corrupts in a way that’s ‘physically’ painful to the ‘touch’ (aka memory thorns).

She’s tried what she could to try to stop 9S from coming to the same conclusions as last time. She’s even tried to get command to retract their orders before but to no avail.

She’s cold and strict with him, but never outright cruel and mean. And, heck, maybe she could have been gentler on him, maybe she could have been herself more to make life easier on him. But like at what expense to her? The closer she gets to each of them the harder it is on her to kill him. Remember the whole “as close as possible yet eternally distant” thing?

So like, she could have made some better choices, but she was pretty stuck in what she was doing. She was stuck walking down a path where any decision she made could have bad consequences, so geez, give her a break for choosing the ones that had less terrible consequences (at least in her mind).

AND NOW FOR THE BOY

I already gushed about the poor boy at length [Here]

BUT I can still gush a bit more anyway.

Some people are too hard on him too. Like do yall really expect someone who was:

A: Thrown into an endless war from the day he was born with no ability to quit.

B: Given all the emotions and wants and needs of a human and then prohibited from expressing or trying to get those needs met.

C: Paired up with someone who’s emotionally distant to him and he doesn’t know why, falls in love with her anyway, only to find out she has to kill him over and over and is falling apart at the seams because of it.

D: Has his memories wiped but some remaining something still draws him to her to the point where he’s willing to sacrifice himself for her after only ‘knowing’ her for an hour or so.

E: Programed to be incredibly curious then punished when directing that curiosity in a way YoRHa didn’t like.

F: Tortured and violated by some creepy humanoid machine and forced to face his complicated feelings about her and the world in a definitely not healthy way.

G: Thrown into traumatic battle after battle the moment after she starts reciprocating feelings for him.

H: Watched almost everyone he knows and cares about die in the span of an hour, many of whom he had to kill himself.

I: Watches the most important person to him get stabbed right in front of him, just when they were finally free of their cycle.

J: Wakes up thinking she was murdered in cold blood and fucking nobody thinks to tell him it was a mercy kill. Anemone knew, the pods knew, the weapons dude knew, A2 obviously knew and had multiple ways to take 5 minutes of her day and safely let him know 2B was infected, but didn’t.

K: Intentionally tortured by the machine network because the Red Girls had some weird fascination with him.

L: Had no real support network because androids in the middle of a 6000 year war likely dont have any grief counselors.

M: The only time he’s had contact with A2 she said some cryptic bullshit that could be easily interpreted as taunting or something by him.

N: I could probably think of more to get all the way to Z but I want to do something else now.

Like yall really think someone who has gone through that much trauma with little to no support would be expected to behave like some morally pure uwu angel and make all the right decisions? Could he have acted better and made better decisions? Probably. But give the poor guy a break. He’s an endlessly fascinating character to study and relate to despite his flaws and mistakes.

Anyway I love them both so much despite their flaws and mistakes and they are an amazing pair because of the potential to grow and heal with each other after they wake up after [E]. They’re finally free to be as emotional and supportive of each other as they want and finally get t-shirts.

And i just love who they are too. 2B is a gentle and kind person when she’s not forced to be cold and strict. 9S is just a curious ball of energy and is super sweet and respectful to 2B. He can be kinda snarky but he always backs off and respects her boundaries.

And just, I love the role reversal in this pairing. 2B’s the strong stoic one, where 9S is the bubbly support. It wouldn’t have half it’s charm if the genders were reversed.

There’s just SO MUCH POTENTIAL with these two. Like before I had no real intention of reading or writing fanfiction but then I played nier and I probably have written nierly (heh) 200k words over all my fics but now like, I just want to explore so much with them and their complex and unique relationship and uguh just

JUST

LOVE

THESE

LOUSY

GOTH

ANDROID

BABS

#nier #nier automata #nier: automata #nier spoilers #nier automata spoilers #you wanted me to talk about 2B and 9S #SO ILL FUCKIN TAlk ABOUT 2B AND 9S I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #my shitposts #long post #Anonymous

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