#also I like digging in dirt and finding bone :3c

[the-strange-creature]

OUUGHHH THIS IS MAKING ME THINK SO MANY THINGS OH MY GOD/POS

@lilywithcatears you should read this pls pls pls

I found myself thinking of Jekyll today and wondering if it causes him physical pain to have to fake a smile. To what extent is Henry Jekyll, pleasant doctor and sophisticated upperclass gentleman a painful mask he has to wear and does the discomfort ever feel physical?

I was at the local aquarium today (this is the perfect time of year to go because it's open but there are no tourists so it's never crowded and admission is cheap) hanging out and doodling on one of the benches while I watched the fish. I had on headphones to listen to an audio book and to provide a buffer between myself and anyone who might try to talk to me and I had been looking forward to relaxing for a couple of hours when a family walked up and the father waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention. The minute they started asking me questions about what I was drawing I was filled with what I can only describe as intense dismay.

Obviously the family being present isn't in of itself an issue, it's a public aquarium, it's aimed at families and parts of the aquarium are geared specifically at children, but the family noticed me drawing and stopped to talk to me.

I reiterate that this was not something they did wrong, they were just being friendly, but I was really not prepared to have a conversation and I found the whole ordeal to be...well an ordeal. They were interested in what I was drawing (a sketch of Henry Jekyll because he's been on my mind off and on) and just the thought of having to explain who this character was, hoping they got it, and having to potentially explain why I was drawing him felt overwhelming.

And it was, they did not know who Henry Jekyll was, they were vaguely aware of Jekyll and Hyde but weren't the type of people to read classic literature and had never heard of the musical or actually seen for themselves any movies featuring the character. The mom commented that he looks like "a Disney villain from back in the 90s" which...fair assessment, I can't pretend I don't see why she would have thought that. The older kid was probably the most interested and wanted to see more of my drawings which made me really uncomfortable but I let him look through my sketchbook anyway because his parents kept saying he was interested in drawing and he loves art and I felt too anxious to say no.

I made small talk with the parents for a while, all the usual, "what's your name, where you from, what's your job?" (I hate those questions, they are usually the least interesting things about any people, myself included) and I wondered if this is what Henry does on a regular day. Has ordinary conversations with reasonably nice people and feel completely like a fish out of water the whole time. I felt pretty terrible about it too, I didn't have any hard feelings or resentment but the whole time I was thinking "Stop touching my things, go away, please fucking leave so I can get back to my audio book and my drawing. I just wanted to sit with the fish for a few hours because it's supposed to be quiet here this time of year."

No one ever seems to catch on that physically talking to people is an effort for me. I've gone my whole life and no one has ever noticed that I'm anxious or uncomfortable in situations where I have to speak out loud because I've gotten good at faking small talk and I know how to make my voice sound pleasant.

It's strange because I express myself easily enough in writing and I like messaging with people over text but the minute I have to be verbal with people I don't know I feel like I'm putting on an immense effort. I have to consciously choose a tone, figure out what words I want to say, be ready with an explanation in case I'm asked questions and I have to do all of it in real time on the spot. It feels like improve, like I'm constantly doing an improve routine and I know most people would say "Just be yourself!" But myself doesn't want to be doing this at all. Myself wants to be drawing and looking at fish. Even as a child I was never very social, I liked to doodle or daydream or build with my lego sets. I got reprimanded a lot for being too quiet. So I made myself more talkative and learned how to hold conversations. I learned to blend in but it's so tiring at times and I can swear when it's at its worst it feels almost physical. The discomfort becomes a suffocating "texture" on my skin and in my brain and I have to keep pretending like I don't notice it because every time I try to articulate how I feel people don't understand it. It's just not a thing they experience.

So I just keep "acting normal," and wonder if there's something wrong with me, like I'm operating on a different frequency from the people around me and I'm the only one on that frequency so other people don't even know it exists. It's...incredibly isolating at times. Even my partner doesn't seem to hear the world as loud as I do or experience the "texture" it's just a strange THING that I'm stuck with by myself. I wonder if it was the same for Henry Jekyll? Except instead being of too quiet he was too loud, too boisterous, threw tantrums, didn't know when to stop rambling about anatomy and weird gross medical facts. So he learned how to cover it and move through life pretending to be interested in everyone else but keenly aware they could never share his interests because his favorite subjects were too grisly and if he started talking about diseases he'd put everyone off. I head-canon Jekyll loves what he does, but he doesn't love it for reasons a doctor should, he doesn't care that much about healing the sick, he cares about conquering illnesses, he likes to learn about symptoms, he enjoys the disgusting viscera of his work. But he can't let on that this is what he enjoys about his work because that's not noble or heroic, it's something most people would find creepy of him. So he buries it and pretends he cares about curing the sick. He pretends he enjoys talking to people who don't know anything about who he is or what he does but they think they do because they are aware of doctors and understand that medicine exists. All the time he loathes it, it exhausts him and he can't even indulge in activities he enjoys to blow of steam because he enjoys things like brawling, doing drugs, and fucking. All things a man of his status shouldn't be seen doing. There's an image people associate with Henry Jekyll and it's an image he can't afford to tarnish...

but it's not really HIS image, it's just a buffer he keeps up to make himself more palatable. I wonder if that ever hurts him physically, if the mask ever feels like a "texture" muffling him.

there are times when I feel like it's no wonder he wasn't repulsed by Hyde when he first saw his reflection. Because I can only imagine by the time Hyde showed up he was already completely burnt out on being Jekyll.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Eighty-Four: Pick Oneself Up ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, gore ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

She can feel the ache in every muscle: from strain, from blunt force, from rock digging into her skin every time she hits the ground. But no matter how many times he throws her, beats her, grinds her against the earth...Hinata gets back up again.

Like a faraway echo, she can hear Naruto’s voice: screaming, ordering, pleading for her to run.

But she’s done running.

Once again she picks herself up, arms shaking violently with effort. Shards of stone - unburied after Pein crushed and decimated her village - pierce through her palms. Those gentle yet deadly palms that just can’t quite seem to reach her target. He’s too fast, too strong...but she’s made more progress than she honestly expected. A few rods are gone, a few chipped, a few -

Her body is screaming, telling her to let go: lay in the dirt, don’t invite more suffering! But her mind argues: she loves him, she does, she loves -

Weightlessness, a giddy feeling in her organs as they float freely in her abdomen. Is this where it ends? She’s not afraid to die - she hasn’t been since she accepted Neji’s beating. There are causes, people, feelings worth dying for.

And he, she’s sure, is all of them wrapped into one. He inspires everyone like he inspired her. The world needs him.

It doesn’t need her.

And she...she loves him...she loves him…

...doesn’t she?

Another blunt impact, and her body jolts, eyes closed. This time...there’s no getting up. She knows this. She’s seen it a hundred times, a thousand times, over and over and over again in her head -

There’s that strange grating sound as he summons another rod. Her heart pounds, flutters weakly, every part of her screams to run before it plunges into her side just under her ribs, and -

Sitting up with a gasp of breath as though she nearly drowned, Hinata’s pale eyes are wide, but still stuck halfway between dream and reality. It felt so real...it always feels so real…

It was real...once upon a time.

Unconsciously, a hand grips her side as her chest pumps with breath, feeling through the thin fabric of her nightgown the ropey, knotted scar where that...thing impaled her. She can still remember the pain, of course...but also that strange pulsing, that...unnatural feeling of chakra that wasn’t hers coursing through her body.

Even now, it makes her skin crawl…

Too unsettled to sleep, she abandons her bed and dresses - it’s about four in the morning, sky still dark and Konoha quiet. Straight to the point, Hinata simply flees through her window, chakra muted and taking silently to the rooftops until she leaves the Hyūga clan compound behind.

There’s hardly a soul on the streets - mostly just patrolling shinobi that look to her curiously, but don’t bother to stop her. A few pass her on their ways home after a late-ending mission, talking quietly in the still night air.

Distractions...but not enough.

She can’t quite decide what she wants. Something to keep her mind busy, or simple silence and solitude. While the latter would mean brooding, it also means not being seen in such a state. Most wouldn’t guess it, but Hinata has her own measure of pride...though it’s mostly born out of a want not to inconvenience anyone. If someone sees her upset, they’ll take the time to comfort her.

She doesn't want that...not really. Sure, it’s nice...but it’s also selfish. Friends might argue against it - they have far more than once - but there’s just no changing her mind.

Then, before she realizes it, Hinata looks up and finds herself at a growingly-familiar section of the village. As of yet, there’s still no wall...part of her is curious if they’ll ever put one back up. For now, it’s still a very stark contrast. While this part of the village is tucked in a rear corner, the once-full Uchiha district is now almost completely grass. With Sasuke out of the village at the time of Pein’s attack, there’d been no need to rebuild anything. Not until his and his brother’s and his cousin’s returns. Now three homes are all stand within the open expanse, near the rear corner. A gravel path is all that breaks the monotony of green.

It’s...peaceful, in a way...but also a somber reminder of how empty it is, in more than one respect.

And just visible in the distance, confirmed with a sweep of her Byakugan, a figure sits atop one roof.

Seems she’s not the only one still awake.

Without thinking, she turns onto the path and starts walking again, branching left toward the youngest Uchiha’s house. It’s not as grand as the new manor for the ‘heir’ and his family, but...something tells her he prefers it that way. Besides, given her rather frequent visits to Itachi’s wife, it seems when he’s home, he’s typically in the manor, anyway. As is Shisui.

The lot of them stick together. And quite closely, too.

Of course, she understands why.

“Evening,” she greets softly, looking up to the spine of an eave Sasuke’s perched on. One leg dangles down, the other bent at the knee and supporting a forearm as he stares out at...well, who knows what, honestly. For a time, he doesn’t return her gaze or greeting. He knew well enough she was there before she even crossed into clan land.

“...is it? Or would one consider this morning?”

Before she can stop it, Hinata looses a gentle snort. “You sound like Itachi-san, musing like that,” she can’t help but tease.

Though barely visible, she still catches a twitch of his lips.

“...I suppose it depends on whether or not you’ve yet to sleep, doesn’t it? If you have...it’s morning. If not...still evening. Right?”

Finally, he turns his head to look at her. “...guess that’s one way to look at it, sure. So...which is it for you?”

“...morning.”

“Evening.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Too awake. You?”

“Bad dream…”

“War?”

“No, when Pein attacked. I intervened when Naruto-kun was nearly captured...I almost died. Still gets into my d-dreams sometimes. It’s been a while. Guess I’m...a little shaken.” She keeps the explanation bare bones. “...I was hoping it had stopped bothering me.”

“Fear and trauma aren’t so easy to set aside. There’s plenty of things I saw or felt that make their way into mine.”

The admission shocks her a bit, earning a surprised glance. “...I guess you have a point…” Maybe that’s why he hasn’t tried sleeping yet.

“Walk help you feel better?”

“...a little. Not sure I’ll try to get back to sleep, though...might just rest a bit later today.”

“Hn.”

“...is it too late for you to try?”

Silence, for a time. “...still thinking. I’ll nap later. I’m used to missing sleep.”

“...well, I hope you get some rest, Sasuke-kun. I better get back before someone sees I’m missing and sounds an alarm…”

Sasuke can’t help a small, humored scoff. “How old are you and you still have a curfew?”

She gives him a look. “People are still paranoid...I was kidnapped when I was three.”

“I remember...our clan was pretty shook up too, fearing someone’d try that on us. But you’re not a kid now: you’re full grown, and one of your clan’s strongest. They should have a little faith in you.”

In spite of herself, Hinata smiles softly at his blunt, yet complementary reply. “...it’s better than it was. People just...still worry. Just like your brother looking out the window at you on his way back to bed.”

Looking surprised, Sasuke glances to the manor, then to her.

“...I saw him on my way in. Sorry.” She knows well enough people often feel spied upon when she uses her kekkei genkai.

“...nothing to apologize for.” A thoughtful look overcomes his face. “...well, you best head back then. Maybe I’ll try turning in for a few hours.”

“All right. Goodnight, Sasuke-kun.”

“Night, Hyūga.”

Leaving him to his devices, Hinata wanders back out, finally thinking back over her dream. Though it was largely the same as its always been, some of it felt a little...different. After all, with the war’s end, it’s been all but confirmed Naruto doesn’t return those feelings she so ardently gave him before offering her life for his.

Usually that old flame feels just as vibrant as it did that day when the vision revisits. A little awkward, really - she’s doing her best to move on, after all.

This time, though...it felt...muted. Questioned. Like her past self wasn’t sure anymore. Like she had a reason to doubt. Maybe she’s making progress in reining in her feelings?

...maybe…

...well, it’s too late - early? - to be contemplating such things. For now...she needs to get home.

It’ll be a long day on so little sleep.

     Done before midnight again, woo!      This...didn't go quite as I thought it would when I started, but I guess it works? Not too much focus on the theme, but...it's still technically in there, it counts xD      Hinata's been trying to forget Naruto, and...it's a little slow-going. But it also appears something's helping them move along...hmm...I wonder what it could be... :3c      ANYWAY, I've got more to work on, but here's today's piece! As always, thanks so much for reading!