Draft #33: Pimping My Hide (AcrossNightError)
"My rage was seething, very obvious even to Cross without magical emotional sensing ablilties, and I was ready to go into a full-blown rant on Nightmare. "Error", he breathed, shoulders slouched more than usual and he looked scared because of something. He closed his eyes, and I opened my mouth to start berating him for how irresponsible he was before finally he spoke, all my thoughts interrupted when the negative skeleton said something I thought I'd never hear.
"Guys, I'm a prostitute."
He... what?"
Hcs: There's no multiverse, on the surface, but Error, Nightmare and Cross are still framed criminals. (Semi-BM headcanons but there's no werewolves and it could be anywhere, not just California)
~~~
Out of food again.
I sighed and rubbed my forehead, closing the pantry door and it clicked in place before I walked to the fridge, opening it up, but it was quite similar. I shouldn't be surprised, as this happens at least three times a week, but it made me nervous.
It wasn't like we could walk into a store and buy a jug of milk, five things of snickers and fifty cans of various fruits and vegetables. Our names and faces are fucking plastered everywhere. Billboards, trees, police offices, hell, even fucking gas station doors. We couldn't make money being wanted as well.
"Cross!"
"Yes?!"
"We're out of food!"
I heard a more muffled "for fucks sake" coming from his room before a door opened.
---
Draft #34: Death and Despair (AcrossNightError)
"But why is it that I am feeling this way? So sad to feel bad about things I do wrong, too stubborn to do anything right."
"Even the most silken, sorrowful words are not like true sadness. For death and despair is silent, empty and cold like a new moon night at the darkest hour."
TW: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, r*pe.
~~~
Just... disconnect. Like nothing is happening right now. Nothing to react to. Don't feel a thing, even if there is pain, in both body and soul. Bare it. Bury it.
His eyes morphed in shape and color. The lucky bastard couldn't feel. No emotions, no pain, nothing, while I lied here, feeling everything.
I fucking hate the night. Sleep used to be a relief.
((Have you ever felt you were so low, you thought you couldn't hit any lower? I sure have, far too many times then I probably should. It was my fault for those lows.
Some days I woke up surprised I hadn't died overnight. Like this morning.))
(((I stared at Nightmare in surprise as he slaps me, quick, not very painful and his heart not into it, before suddenly he wraps his arms around me and weeps. I blink, questioning what to do before hesitantly hugging him back. I could feel the sleeve of my coat get soaked as his tears wet the fabric, but I didn't mind. I look at Cross, who avoids my gaze. He's keeping his distance, knowing of my haphephobia and also knowing that, unlike with Nightmare, I'm not exactly comfortable touching him yet. I silently thank him for his consideration.
