#implied sui

Cuteness aggression but without the cuteness

I think Sakumo’s death messed Kakashi up A LOT

loud, silent, urgent, slow

the world slurs and i'm still in its headlights

all the light on my skin goes out

drunken focus, pale and disappearing

i am a deer or a rat in a trap

and later i will think it is just a metaphor

but without the privilege of thoughts my heart breaks my ribs

without privilege of thought my heart is too big for this body

panic pulls at the snare

loud and silent and urgent and slow

sick over sterile, heaving velvet

dirty fridge, idiot

someone has to do it

then the distinction is lost

here the distinction gets lost

i miss my own metamorphasis and we never speak of it ever again

drinking with the moon tomorrow night

its quiet out and smells clean, i think

Eve they did you so dirty in canon like my god

ANYWAYS here be Eve!! The second protagonist in the Cream's Inner Mission side story!!

FUN FACTZZZZ

-Genderfae and Biromantic. Goes by she/it/squeak.

-Not dating Scrap unlike in source material. Sorry I just can't think of a way to work Scrap in this AU- (But also not sorry/silly)

-CREAM'S BEST FRIEND!! In fact, she's his ONLY friend lol.

-Not as rude as in canon, but still pretty michivous and kinda rude.

-Somewhat inspired by Susie from Deltarune.

-Physically very strong.

-Likes sports, comics, and cryptids.

-....When Barry was alive, she was his little sister. After Barry's death, people blammed her for what happened. She was always so rude, it would make sense she caused his death. Of course it would be her. She never cared about anyone.

-It wasn't her fault. She loved Barry. She was heartbroken when that day happened. Why are they blaming her. She isn't heartless. It's not her fault. It's not her fault.

You are being released. Removed from your casing. The bones break. The eye sockets creak, then buckle, crunching. The shell is thick. It cracks. Red and pinkish gray stick to the halves, draw thin, then drop. You are exposed to the air. You cannot feel it. The brain has no nerve endings.

Fingers scrape the inside of your tomb. Reaching down, curling under. You are lifted out. The stem that connects you to the rest strains. It is cut. You are free. Free of the pulp that stuck to your hardened frame. Free from the confinement of the white cradle.