Stereotyped
A fanfiction by Sequ3stered
[[ Summary ]] Adjectives describe people, and others use their own labels. But personality is in the eye of the beholder. Here, the beholders are themselves. Spoilers. [Repost]
[[ Author's Note ]] I got flamed before with this fic, but I think this will work better, although I didn't change this much (as a repost). This fic will be short; three chapters. The first one is about Sasuke, the second about Sakura, and the third about Naruto. This is about the way that they think. The chapters will be short. This is not a bashing of anyone.
[[ Disclaimer ]] I do not own Naruto in any way.
Chapter One: Cold
First Mind: Sasuke
Many suspect that beneath my exterior, there is a warm heart. I would love to laugh in their smug faces and spit on their thoughts. I have no love. Only a ruthless desire to become powerful. I want to see the looks on their faces when I crush their loved ones before their eyes.
Why would I do such a thing?
They've tried to connect with me, feel my pain, and try to understand. But the only way one can do so is if they've felt the same sensation of loneliness, helplessness, weakness, and fury. Rage at the entire realm that seems to be so damned cheerful without my quota of joy.
So I'll kill those close to them. Murder them. Slaughter them. Blood will pour. Life will cry. Death will relish in the fear and misery that he has condemned them to. Then they will be able to share my yearning to inflict horror upon everyone else.
So they'd understand.
They call me uncaring. But I used to care for people. Look what it did to me. I protected my team only because they had not tried to get beneath and take a peek at what was truly inside. But then they did. Sakura wanted to.
I don't care for them anymore. I'm not like them.
Naruto may believe that he is like me, but he cannot hate whoever made others detest him. Still, he was the closest I ever had to anything that resembled a friend. Which is why I must murder him.
The ones who attempt to pry into my thoughts are the ones that will be my first victims when I ascend to power. When I slit Itachi's throat. When I insert a kunai deep into his heart. When he feels the agony of vulnerability and sorrow. When he regrets ever allowing me to live and pursue the special Sharingan technique. When I triumphantly burn his remains and scatter them over the graves of my parents.
I will then take Orochimaru and force his blood out until he dies. I will betray him. And everyone else. That is what I wish to experience---that I am the most powerful.
Grieving. Grieving. Grieving. I spent my life being a pitiful little boy who mourned the loss of his parents and snubbed everyone who tried to get close and heal him. But I never wanted to be healed. I had made up my mind that as long as I had the wound, I could never allow it to close and it would spur me on. It is a constant reminder to back away whenever someone invades my personal space.
I constantly told myself I was an avenger. And I am.
And yet, they say that I am simply antisocial and scarred by my past.
To have scars, I would have to have a closed injury.
Rebuilding my clan will take years, but I can wait. I am different from everyone else. I am only willing to degrade myself to have offspring to have the Uchiha Clan restored to its prior power and numbers. The banner of the Uchiha will be imprinted in every mind; all will fear, all will respect.
There are stickers in the minds of all. There are those who peel one off and paste it to a person at first sight, branding them without knowing. Judging without caring. They are the ones that may later tear the stickers off painfully and reevaluate the victim. There are those who scrutinize others and finally press the sticker on them, never to be removed, even when proved wrong. There are also those who dump the stickers in the garbage and use permanent ink.
I have labels and writing all over my skin that others have pasted on me or scribbled. They all generally say the same thing. That I'm cold.
However, I'm not cold. I'm frozen solid, with no chance of sunlight.
But they call me cold.
---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----
A writer's best inspiration is a great review.
(Coming soon) Chapter Two: Girly and Ordinary (Second Mind(s): Sakura)
A fanfiction by Sequ3stered
[[ Summary ]] Adjectives describe people, and others use their own labels. But personality is in the eye of the beholder. Here, the beholders are themselves. Spoilers. [Repost]
[[ Author's Note ]] I got flamed before with this fic, but I think this will work better, although I didn't change this much (as a repost). This fic will be short; three chapters. The first one is about Sasuke, the second about Sakura, and the third about Naruto. This is about the way that they think. The chapters will be short. This is not a bashing of anyone.
[[ Disclaimer ]] I do not own Naruto in any way.
Chapter One: Cold
First Mind: Sasuke
Many suspect that beneath my exterior, there is a warm heart. I would love to laugh in their smug faces and spit on their thoughts. I have no love. Only a ruthless desire to become powerful. I want to see the looks on their faces when I crush their loved ones before their eyes.
Why would I do such a thing?
They've tried to connect with me, feel my pain, and try to understand. But the only way one can do so is if they've felt the same sensation of loneliness, helplessness, weakness, and fury. Rage at the entire realm that seems to be so damned cheerful without my quota of joy.
So I'll kill those close to them. Murder them. Slaughter them. Blood will pour. Life will cry. Death will relish in the fear and misery that he has condemned them to. Then they will be able to share my yearning to inflict horror upon everyone else.
So they'd understand.
They call me uncaring. But I used to care for people. Look what it did to me. I protected my team only because they had not tried to get beneath and take a peek at what was truly inside. But then they did. Sakura wanted to.
I don't care for them anymore. I'm not like them.
Naruto may believe that he is like me, but he cannot hate whoever made others detest him. Still, he was the closest I ever had to anything that resembled a friend. Which is why I must murder him.
The ones who attempt to pry into my thoughts are the ones that will be my first victims when I ascend to power. When I slit Itachi's throat. When I insert a kunai deep into his heart. When he feels the agony of vulnerability and sorrow. When he regrets ever allowing me to live and pursue the special Sharingan technique. When I triumphantly burn his remains and scatter them over the graves of my parents.
I will then take Orochimaru and force his blood out until he dies. I will betray him. And everyone else. That is what I wish to experience---that I am the most powerful.
Grieving. Grieving. Grieving. I spent my life being a pitiful little boy who mourned the loss of his parents and snubbed everyone who tried to get close and heal him. But I never wanted to be healed. I had made up my mind that as long as I had the wound, I could never allow it to close and it would spur me on. It is a constant reminder to back away whenever someone invades my personal space.
I constantly told myself I was an avenger. And I am.
And yet, they say that I am simply antisocial and scarred by my past.
To have scars, I would have to have a closed injury.
Rebuilding my clan will take years, but I can wait. I am different from everyone else. I am only willing to degrade myself to have offspring to have the Uchiha Clan restored to its prior power and numbers. The banner of the Uchiha will be imprinted in every mind; all will fear, all will respect.
There are stickers in the minds of all. There are those who peel one off and paste it to a person at first sight, branding them without knowing. Judging without caring. They are the ones that may later tear the stickers off painfully and reevaluate the victim. There are those who scrutinize others and finally press the sticker on them, never to be removed, even when proved wrong. There are also those who dump the stickers in the garbage and use permanent ink.
I have labels and writing all over my skin that others have pasted on me or scribbled. They all generally say the same thing. That I'm cold.
However, I'm not cold. I'm frozen solid, with no chance of sunlight.
But they call me cold.
---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----
A writer's best inspiration is a great review.
(Coming soon) Chapter Two: Girly and Ordinary (Second Mind(s): Sakura)