Darkness snarled softly and turned away from the family, wings giving
a little flair. “I can’t be kind anymore,” he said flatly. “I’ve been
pushing it as it is.”
“You call what you’ve been doing kind?” Pacifica asked incredulously.
Darkness turned back in a flash, in her face less than a second
later. “I am Dipper’s Darkness,” he hissed, and Pacifica stiffened,
keeping herself in place through willpower and pride even as every
instinct screamed to get away from the demon. “I am the liar, the
conman, the part that enjoys revenge and being cruel. I should have been
demanding something in exchange for what I’ve done so far. Yes, I have
been being kind. I am still enough Dipper to keep from demanding
anything of you, but it is a close thing, Pacifica. A very, very close
thing.”
Pacifica took a long, deep, shaky breath as the aspect backed away,
watching her with flat, blank eyes. Apparently satisfied, he darted up
to the top of the fridge and perched there, watching them all sharply,
legs crossed and one hand tapping out a rhythm on his knee.
“I think that’s all we’re getting out of him for awhile,” Ford said
quietly, he and his brother finally standing from where they had still
been talking in low voices on the couch to join the rest of the family
looking into the kitchen. “I was…with him for a bit. Your brother can
be rather vicious when he puts his mind to it.”
Mabel glanced at Ford out of the corner of her eye, cautiously hopeful.
The smile Ford gave her in return was a little shaky, steadying as
Stan puts a hand on his twin’s shoulder. “I’ve spent too long avoiding
all of you out of…of misguided guilt and fear,” he said, touching his
brother’s hand. “Can any of you tell us why this happened? How this
happened?” he asked louder, directing it towards the aspects.
“You mean, wondering if it was your over-reaction with the holy water
that did it?” Darkness called from the top of the fridge, grinning at
Ford’s wince. Darkness leaned back on one hand, legs still crossed.
“Nah, that was just the last straw.”
The rest of the aspects began to talk again, going quiet when Mabel
held up a hand. The demon outside slammed against the shield in the
silence, making everything hung on the walls jump and the house sound
like it was about to collapse, but it stood firm.
a safer way to overshare: project onto a fictional character so hard that sharing your headcanons is basically exposing your deepest secrets, but it’s fine, because no one has to Know
Acacia usually smiles when someone tells her that. It’s a smile that she’s had to practice with, take time to learn (like her patience in general)
Why yes that is funny isn’t it? Yes she does remember the time she punched out a grown man. No, not Mr. Sanders. Or Mr. Franklin. Or Terry. The other other other other one. Or the time with the goat on the roof of the school. Or hotwiring a school bus at age 7. Or-
No, Acacia enjoys her nice quiet life. She loves her wife and her children, her trailer and her ever growing sword collection, and come on, she’s living the dream, she’s able to support her family with her art. (well, her art annnnnd Reina’s dank tax wizardry.)
Acacia is nice and normal and chill now, and if she spends her nights painting canvases that will utterly shock her children when they find them after her passing, well, that’s no one’s business but hers.
(Acacia knows what lies inside of her. And the older she is, the more she’s concerned about letting it out.)
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