Clocktheatre || Don’t Like, Don’t Read
tw: blood, exsanguination, stomach trauma, public humiliation/bullying, self-deprecative themes
Commencing execution…
【 Don’t Like, Don’t Read 】
The monitor screen flickers to life once more. There’s no image at first, merely a black background. A small, white, flashing line appears in the top left corner, flashing a few times before a trail of letters, words, formed behind it, as if typing.
(A/N: HI!!!11!! thx 4 all teh gr8 reviews!! sory this took me 4ever but i hope u like it!!!1!)
That’s reassuring.
The scene faded in, a shot of a monochromatic school hallway, not too dissimilar to the one present during the late Kuukai’s execution. It may strike most as odd, but folks like Fuchsia certainly recognize it and its purpose - for stories taking place outside of high school, alternate universes of that story’s characters attending high school were very, very commonplace.
Speaking of Fucshia and characters, the writer is incredibly easy to spot among the crowd, consisting entirely of… you’re not sure if you can call them people. They’re featureless figures, humanoid in shape, clothed in what you can only guess to be school uniforms of sorts, close to what Fuchsia herself normally wears. Aside from that, they’re blank figures, silhouettes at best, with generic clothes and the smallest of vile grins present on the face of each.
But there’s something different about Fuchsia, as well -- her headband is missing. She had it when she got dragged off, no one saw it fall off, so where did it go?
Footsteps, loud footsteps, echo through the halls. Everyone else turns their head in the direction of the noise, and while the other figures utter incoherent noises of… greeting? It’s hard to tell, but with how they’re smiling…-- Fuchsia looks positively baffled. The screen cuts to who can only be assumed to be the figure everyone else heard.
...Fuchsia? With headband and everything.
The Fuchsia the others were familiar with stares in confusion at the impostor for a good while, before speaking up…
“What are you doing here? Get out, no one wants to see you!”
...but she looks even more baffled when the words actually come out. It didn’t appear she had control over her own words -- hell, the way her mouth moved didn’t even match the words that (supposedly) came out, and her voice didn’t sound anything like that.
(becoming someone she wasn’t, out of her control -- how ironic.)
The screen freezes. A small, black box appears at the bottom of the screen, the flashing white line and text trailing behind it popping up once more.
(A/N: idk why u keep flamming meh 4 this bc this is TOTALLY in character!! sakuya’s totally evil - why do u think she killed sum 1 nyways????)
It was almost comical, had the situation not been what it was.
(...Sakuya? Was that…)
After a few seconds, the box vanishes, and everything continues to play out. The imposter simply smiles, the way Fuchsia was known to do.
“Wahaha!! That’s kinda rude, don’tcha think?”
The figures shout suddenly, cheering as if the conversation before them was like a sports game or concert. Fuchsia blinks a few times, glancing around at the figures, them having dissipated into a crowd around the writer and her double, her imposter. Fuchsia spends a few seconds, contemplating her words, but to no avail--
“But it’s true, isn’t it?! What the hell are you still doing here -- get out, or I’ll make you!”
--for when she opened her mouth, more of what she hadn’t intended to say at all came out. Fuchsia looked confused again, before shaking her head. The imposter laughed, hands on her hips.
“Make me?? Geez, you’re so mean, Uehara-kun!! Wahaha!!”
The other figures laughed along with the false Fuchsia, and the real one huffed slightly. This was frustrating -- maybe she should just try and not talk, she decided. That way, this fake narrator couldn’t put words in her mouth -- words that didn’t look or sound remotely like her or anything she was saying!
Except with a sudden jerk of the arm, the writer’s fist flinging forward and barely missing the copy, it didn’t seem that was a viable option, either.
“...Ehe! You don’t get it, do you?”
Nonetheless, the imposter simply smiles, albeit… patronizingly, this time. Her tone is… too cheery, almost threateningly so.
“You don’t get what’s going on? What’s happening?”
She reaches into her pocket, slowly approaching Fuchsia. The writer smiles nervously, and it’s clear if she could run, she would have.
“Y’know how it goes, right? Don’t like? Don’t read!”
The fake’s voice twists into something far more sinister, the figures surrounding them chuckling maniacally. She shoves Fuchsia into the wall--
“Don’t wanna die? Don’t kill anyone.”
--whips a knife out, and rams it into the writer’s stomach.
“They were right, you know? This game has changed you into something you’re not. Princess Fuchsia was the hero, the one who believed in everyone, the one who thought we’d all get out ok if we all just clapped our hands and believed!”
The knife is pulled out, only to be shoved in again. And again. And again.
“You? You’re just a murderer, a liar, a hypocrite, a coward! Someone who let this place get to her -- so much for believing in the best of this situation, so much for believing the cycle of death would stop, huh??”
Again. Again. Again. Again.
“Giving up? So soon? Figures -- I’m the hero who never gives up, not you. Not anymore.”
By the time it’s over, several wounds are present in the girl’s abdomen, blood oozing quickly from each and staining her clothes. Fuchsia falls forward into her assailant, only to be shoved back into the wall. The imposter’s hands rest on her shoulders, the only thing propping her up.
“Such a shame you had to go and kill someone, too -- way to let everyone down when they needed you the most, huh?”
The writer’s in tears, the occasional pained gasp escaping her lips. It was so… so much more genuine than her previous behavior. Fuchsia started slipping out of the fake’s grasp, and finally opened her mouth to speak once more, one last time.
“...I’m… sorry…”
And she drops, slides down the wall, and hits the floor, bleeding out and unmoving.
Just like that, the screen fades to black. The white flashing line appears one last time, and types out another message, but it’s… much more coherent than the last two.
You’re almost certain the words could have, would have, come from Fuchsia herself.
(A/N: thank you so much for reading!! sorry it had to end like this!! i’ll try harder next time, i promise!!)
But you’re just as certain that, unfortunately, there wouldn’t be a next time.
Princess Fuchsia Sakuya Uehara, the Super High-School Level Fanfiction Author, has been executed.
[art by émi! thank you!]