#junos brain damage once again causing problems

[echo-goes-mmm]

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Juno Collection Masterpost

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Companion Piece by Chai (takes place before this)

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Warnings: catatonic depression, implied misuse of medication, mentions of throwing up

Juno woke up, and immediately wished he was back asleep. But he was out of medication; had been for a few days.

Hunger gnawed at his insides, but he ignored it. It would fade into the background and be forgotten in about an hour, and then he could doze away the day. It was better. Easier not to try than to be bitterly disappointed with himself.

Juno rolled onto his side, the open curtains of his canopy bed offering him a perfect view of an empty spot on the wall.

“Good morning, Master.”

Panic speared through him. His heart pounded.

He jolted upright, adrenaline pumping through him.

There was a man, a stranger in his rooms-

The man was tall and could hurt him and was poking around in his fireplace-

“W-who are you?” his voice shook. He clutched his blankets, but knew the fabric wouldn’t save him.

The man frowned. “Master? It’s me; Thallos. We met yesterday.”

“A- a maid?” Please just be a maid.

Thallos stepped forward, and Juno shrank away. No, he was supposed to be safe here- it’s supposed to be safe.

“No, Master. I was brought here last afternoon, by your uncle. I am supposed to watch over you,” the man said, his voice soft and calm. “To serve your needs.”

It didn’t make sense. Yesterday was the same as the day before, a gray blur in memory, there was nothing about a-

“Master?”

Juno choked out a sob. “Stay away,” he pleaded. “I don’t- I don’t want-”

Thallos held up his hands. “I ran a bath for you yesterday,” he coaxed. “I washed your hair for you. Do you not remember?”

A flicker of something. Was- was it real?

He brought a hand to his hair, doubting. There was no evidence of grease or dirt or-

Oh. 

Yesterday came flooding back to him. The bath, the disaster lunch. Uncle visiting that evening.

Through his tears, he nodded. “I-” He swallowed, shame curdling in his gut. “I remember.”

The blurry vision of Thallos relaxed, and Juno’s guilt swelled. How stupid was he to not even remember the day before?

He laid back down, curling onto his side. He wanted to be asleep. It was his only escape. Everything was so much less when he was asleep.

Except for the nightmares, but the sleeping drops didn’t let him dream at all. It was so much more peaceful. And he had run out.

Thallos didn’t seem to know what to do, which was fine. Juno didn’t want to give orders. He wanted everything to go away.

He shivered, cold.

Thallos moved back to the fireplace. The soft noises of wood crackling took getting used to, but soon his breathing evened out again and he could doze again.

Vaguely, he could hear Thallos moving around. Cleaning up, perhaps. Removing dirty clothes and putting them in the basket. Dusting.

Whatever.

He couldn’t care less.

___________________

A soft knock woke him late in the morning.

“Your highness?” a familiar voice called. “It’s Healer Wilson. The Emperor said you were out of sleeping drops? I have more for you.”

Oh. Good. He wasn’t supposed to be going through them so fast, but he needed them. One or two droplets on his tongue wasn’t enough.

Juno twitched, his mind yelling at him to get up, to go get his medicine like a functional human being.

The healer would just have to leave them outside, like usual.

But Thallos passed in front of his vision, and went to the door. The healer spoke to Thallos, the words inaudible.

Juno focused on the empty spot of wall. 

“Where would you like me to put this, Master?”

Thallos held up the small glass vial, with its blue liquid and dropper and prescription directions that he’d been ungratefully ignoring.

Juno glanced at his nightstand, and Thallos set the drops in the drawer.

He wanted some, right now, to sleep away the day. But he didn’t have the willpower to open the drawer, twist open the stopper, to measure out four drops, to feel guilty about using twice as much when the label warned him not to-

“Master?” Juno winced. “Forgive me, but I think you should have breakfast.”

Why bother? He was just going to throw it up again like yesterday. He was weak, and pathetic-

“Perhaps just some soup?”

Soup. He could do soup.

“Okay.” His throat hurt. He hadn’t had any tea yet.

Thallos put the kettle on, as if reading his mind. “I will not be gone long,” he promised. “Only fifteen minutes, most likely less.”

Juno stared at the empty wall. He heard the door open and click closed.

He was alone.

And still, he couldn’t care less.

taglist: @haro-whumps @paintedpigeon1 @phoenixpromptsandstuff @tianablackwell @starsick1979

[thewandererh]

🔄 my other cccc au, ccccycles!

⚠️TW // (coughing up) blood, choking, (mentions of) body dysphoria, rope neck, gnarly head scar, gorey concepts, violence

ccccycles synopsis: heart, mind, and soul are stuck in whole’s empty house. they are forced to live together and get along, but it never goes as well as they hope. arguments often escalate into direct physical fights, and the themed events of cccc play out in every. single. loop (juno event, mind’s apathy, soul’s desperation). permanent damage caused to anyone during these fights results in a reset: everyone painfully changes forms and begin again in their rooms.

heart hates the resets. he desires serenity above all else, but never understands mind’s ravings or mindset enough to proceed.

mind refuses to process the changes emotionally, and comes to wall off his ability to feel entirely by manually changing his mind.

soul cycles and cycles through the stages of grief after every reset. he starts to hate himself for his inability to solve problems.

everyone remembers every loop, but processes it differently. heart buries himself in his mistakes, desperately trying to find the lesson in a long-dead situation, or maybe some reasoning behind mind’s glassy eyes. mind treats the cycles as a new day, misunderstanding resentment and grief, and prioritizing work over play. soul is breaking under all the pressure the cycles bring, and often can’t even look in the mirror to avoid getting attached to his current form.

they go through many forms (all of which are in a different sketchbook i don’t have right now </3), and experience agonies, problems, and surprising bonding experiences. hopefully, these loops don’t end up lasting forever…

the current ccccycles forms: Dyadracide and Eddie. (still designing heart)

Dyadracide, a name he coined meaning “to kill a duo”, starts off shattered and enraged. but with life’s quarrels and a relationship of understanding, he manages his grief and discovers something new for once. he has an extendable rope neck that coils inside his abdomen, a trident splitting his brain hemispheres that shoots out the roof of his mouth for combat (the aftermath of this leaves him coughing up blood), and a misaligned face he learns to like. also he speaks with a lot of ‘h’s. breathy to keep the blood out

Eddie is (mostly) mechanical, and enjoys feeling surrounded by schedules and basic patterns to understand his environment. His unchanging voicecoded smile and judging clock eyes that tick unsymmetrically intimidate with ominous blankness. He doesn’t flinch at violence or raised voices. Besides, both his reflexes and slender figure keep him out of the harm that really matters.