Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Truth be told, you had never enjoyed sex, in fact you were just kind of eh about the whole thing. But seemingly that changed a month or so ago when a mysterious stranger sent magic sunglasses to your door. Suddenly the objects in your house were coming to life and you had managed to amass quite the polycule in a short amount of time. But truth be told you didn’t suddenly develop the libido of a rabbit, and sure the objects were hot like ludicrously so in some cases but that wasn’t it either.

You magically liked sex because it hurt, it made you sore, exhausted, and depending on who you were with actual pain was part of it. It wasn’t like you had suddenly developed a pain kink though, it was more just simply that you needed to find a new way to quiet your mind now that there were eyes on you. Your self destructive behaviors had been a constant up until you got the dateviators, you wondered at first if they knew, if they saw, you quickly realized they did.

Hector was blowing out any candles you got too close to, Stefan wouldn’t let you even get too close to the stove, Penelope hid the safety pins, Daiskue would always insist on you not using his knives, hell you couldn’t even stub your toe on purpose because Wallace somehow made the impact fell like nothing. It was like your whole house was baby proofed and you hated it.

But when you had sex with Ben-Hwa for the first time you realized just what the answer to your problems was. The best part? No one batted an eye! Because no one wanted to even consider the idea that they were helping you harm yourself, that your consent was faked, that you didn’t want it. Admittedly you felt a little guilty having to make others be part of it, but you told yourself it was fine. It wasn’t like they’d figure it out anyways right?

Then you went a week without it, people’s schedules just happened to be so horribly aligned that simply no one had any time. Of course you weren’t going to force them, but suddenly things started to be too much again. The world was too vibrant and too dull at the same time and it was nauseating. You needed a distraction, something, anything to stop your thoughts for just 5 minutes.

Luckily for you, even the objects in a house have to sleep at some point. So one night you waited in bed until you were sure everyone was asleep and you very silently made your way to the bathroom. You glanced around for something you could use, of course your razor was currently downstairs because Johnny wanted to shave his legs for his performance at the breaker box last night. You didn’t question why, although you do vaguely remember him mentioning people “seeing those signature Splash thighs glisten” which frankly was too much context for your taste, but nonetheless you really wished you didn’t give it to him now.

Then, you saw it, the metal nail file you had just bought a few days ago. You picked it up, it wasn’t ideal but it was sharp enough. Time seemed to slow as you watched the first few drops of blood drip down your leg. It was enough to give you goosebumps as the warm blood ran down your cold leg.

But then you paused, why were you cold? You glanced over at the vent and immediately your heart sank as you saw it had turned on all on its own and was blasting cold air.

“Hector, Hector please don’t” you glanced around the room as you whispered yelled at him not even sure if he could hear you. You knew what he was doing, he was making sure you knew he saw you as well as making the house far too cold for most people to stay asleep. You quickly closed the doors and locked them having a moment of relief when suddenly both doors unlocked on their own.

“Dorian not you too, please I’ll stop ok I won’t do it again just please let me lock the damn doors” as you spoke the door to the bedroom kept creaking open, each time opening a little faster as you frantically closed it. Closing it quickly turned into yanking the door shut, and then practically slamming it. Your frustration grew and grew until suddenly the door stopped opening on its own.

You at first felt relieved until you suddenly froze as you realized that the door had cracked and one of the hinges was halfway off. “Dorian I…” you stumbled backwards as the air vent turned off and the world went silent for a moment. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted peace and quiet, only you were supposed to get hurt…

You couldn’t breathe, you could swear the walls were closing in on you as you looked down at your now shaking hands. The nail file laid on the floor forgotten. If you closed your eyes you could practically see the blood on your hands. The world around you swirled into one unholy sea of sensory input that got drowned out by the tidal wave that was your own thoughts.

‘You hurt him’
‘You might’ve even killed him’
‘He’d been nothing but nice to you’
‘He just wanted to help’
‘They all just wanted to help’
‘Now look what you’ve done’
‘Monster’

‘Monster’, that last one echoed and bounced around in your head like a dvd logo. The edges of your vision started to fade to black as you realized that you had seemingly forgotten how to breathe. You don’t even remember falling but somehow you were on the floor. You forced yourself to your feet, looking at the door one last time before swiftly exiting the bathroom and heading downstairs.

You ignored how the floor underneath you felt like it was trying to stop you from moving, how the shelves seemed just a little wider as if trying to block you, how the lights flickered and spasmed, you ignored everything. Finally you got to the minibar and grabbed a bottle, not caring what it was. You tried to open it, but it just wouldn’t budge. You wanted to cry and scream at Beverly but you just didn’t have the energy to.

You fell to the floor once more, it was comfortable almost like a hug. You wanted to tell Florence to get away, to warn her that you were a monster, but you were just so so tired and couldn’t stay awake any longer as you started to drift off to sleep on your kitchen floor. Distantly you could make out faint voices, familiar ones, the voices of the residents of the kitchen telling you that you were going to be ok, that everything was going to be ok. You wrote them off as hallucinations as you fell into a restless, dreamless, sleep.

Chapter Text

Betty was the first one to notice the homeowner was awake, how could she not? Their warm delightful presence all cozy under her sheet was the only thing keeping her asleep at night really. But at first she thought nothing of it, the homeowner had a habit of getting up at night after all. Whether it be due to a nightmare, for a bathroom break, or to sneak off and rendezvous with another for just a little while. Those were all disturbances that Betty was used to. Which was why when the homeowner didn’t behave as they normally would, rub their eyes, stretch a little, maybe if it was a nightmare they’d instead jolt awake, no matter Betty knew every pattern they had when waking up in the night.

But this? Silently slinking out of bed, tiptoeing across the floorboard, opening the door at just the right speed so it wouldn’t make a peep? This was new, unexpected, and frankly unnerving. Betty found comfort and solace in her beloved homeowner’s sleep patterns, they were predictable when little else was.

Perhaps that’s why she woke up Hector, maybe something deep down inside her knew something was deeply wrong. To her credit she was right, the homeowner apparently slipped back into their old habits from a much much darker time in their life before the dateviators. Before any of them were able to intervene. Back then they were all powerless for the most part, sure Hector could sort of fluctuate his temperature on his own, maybe once in a while Parker would knock a game piece down, Lux could flicker just barely enough to be noticeable with the help of Eddie and Volt, and… well Nightmare always had free reign she supposed but that’s an exception not the rule. Point was back then, before the homeowner knew about them, they couldn’t help in any meaningful way beyond their intended use as objects.

Ever since the dateviators came into play though, things changed. As the homeowner met each of them, they gained just a little more leniency in the way they could move and manipulate themselves even when the dateviators were off. The more an object’s presence was acknowledged and the more the homeowner got to know them, whether as friends, lovers, or enemies, the more personified they became. At the time it seemed like a blessing, everyone’s greatest wish come true.

As Betty watched Farya treat a heavily bruised and knocked out Dorian however, she realized that maybe it could also be a curse.

The residents of the house quickly split up. Some such as Farya, Tyrell, Holly, and Hank 3 (who had been studying neuroscience lately) took to caring for Dorian. A small group composed of Mateo, Florence, and Cabrizzio took to caring for the homeowner who had apparently fallen asleep on the kitchen floor. More still took it upon themselves to go tell the others what had transpired, namely Lux, Curt, and Rod. Everyone else had formed groups of their own to talk about and process what happened and to also provide some reassurance that things will be alright.

No one but the human slept that night, and when mayor Celia called an optional meeting to discuss what had happened and what will happen everyone who could show up, did show up. In fact there were so many of them in one room that the meeting had to move outside into the back yard to accommodate everyone. The only ones not in attendance were Mateo and Florence who were with the still sleeping homeowner, as well as Farya and the Dorians who were requested to all stay inside to ensure that the injury did not affect all of them.

“I’m sure you’re all well aware of the *ehem* events that transpired last night. Both in regards to the homeowner as well as Dorian” she began. For the first time for many of the residents of the house this was their first time seeing the mayor truly shaken up about something.

“In regards to Dorian, Farya has assured me that he will be able to make a full recovery once the door is properly repaired. In the meantime I would like to ask each of you to please keep an eye on the other Dorian’s, especially front and back Dorian as they guard the two main entry points of the house. Something like this has yet to happen and it is still unsure if the injury sustained by the upstairs bathroom Dorian will impact all of them.” The sigh of relief that swept throughout the crowd was short lived as Celia regathered everyone’s attention for the next topic that needed to be discussed.

“As to the situation regarding the homeowner” she hesitated on the word ‘situation’ as if unsure what the right term to use would be. “According to Mateo and Florence the wound stopped bleeding not too long after it was made. However, given the events that transpired last night it is reasonable to assume that the homeowner may still be in a state of distress. I understand we’re all worried for Dorian but please do not pester the homeowner to call a repairman, I am sure they will do so in due time”

Celia took a shaky sigh, the nerves she was feeling regarding the situation peeking through her mayoral demeanor “That being said there is evidence to suggest that the human may still be a danger to themselves, I advise you all to be diligent whenever possible however” you could tell by the slight shift in her expression that she didn’t entirely agree with what she was about to say. Still, she knew it was what was best for the homeowner right now so she carried on “I believe it would be best if we keep to the homeowner’s wishes of leaving them be when they ask-” Celia tried to continue her speech but was interrupted by voices of protest from the crowd.

“Leave them be? How the hell are we just meant to ‘leave them be’?” One in particular stood out from the back of the crowd as he started to make his way closer to the front, “Eddie…” Volt cautioned the way one might speak to a kid or pet right before they’re about to do something stupud. He quickly caught up to his companion and put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, to no avail. “With all due respect ma’am, you of all people should know just why that’s a shitty fucking idea. I know some of us are relatively new but almost all of us know damn well that Live Wire tries to isolate themselves when they get like this” he grit his teeth, a few sparks flying off his body, “and you’re suggesting that what? We just fucking let them? Bullshit!”

“If you would just let me speak Eddison” you could hear the frustration in Celia’s voice for just a moment before she calmed herself. “We all are well aware of the homeowner’s tendency to isolate after stressful events, and I by no means believe that we should facilitate that habit. However, that does not mean they’re not entitled to the space they might need right now. If it gets to the point where we need to intervene than we will but for now none of you are to force the homeowner to interact with you nor are you to try and push the homeowner’s boundaries once they establish them am I clear?” The resigned silence was the closest to a yes she was going to get it would seem.

“I urge you all to be looking out for not just the homeowner and Dorian in these difficult times but to be looking out for each other and yourselves as well. I’m sure we are all feeling the effects of the situation at hand so please, do not shy away from reaching out to any other object in this house if you feel the need to do so. You’re all free now to do what you like just please keep in mind what I said about giving the homeowner some space.” With one final sigh the meeting was over as people meandered back to where they were supposed to be, or in a few cases where they would rather be right now.

The air was tense with a fog of uncertainty but the undeniable feeling that, like a bruise, this whole situation was going to get far worse before it’s gonna get better.

Chapter Text

The day after it all was quite, so incredibly quiet. It was almost deafening in a way. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the floor, and you were sure the blanket draped over you wasn’t there previously. With shaky and tired legs you stood up, feeling the phantom touch of someone holding you up and stopping you from falling. You didn’t know who it was, but you still muttered out a soft “thank you” on reflex.

You stumbled your way up the stairs, feeling eyes on you. They didn’t feel like judging eyes, nor hateful ones either. They didn’t feel like the scorn and disdain you expected. They felt like the gaze of a friend who heard you make one too many jokes, the watchful eyes of a parent who’s itching for a kid to just come talk to them for once, the eyes of someone who’s concerned but unable to help. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for it.

They were worried, so incredibly worried, and you had caused that worry. You could only see it in the twisted light of you having caused pain to those you cared for and it hurt, it sliced deeper than any cut and left your heart sorer than sex could ever do to your body. This wasn’t the kind of pain you wanted, the kind you sought for relief, it was the sort of pain that makes you feel like Atlas himself.

You made your way to your bedroom and hesitated before opening the door. Did they want to see you after last night? Did you want to see them? Did what you want even matter? Has it ever mattered? Before more questions could swirl around your head you gently opened the door, treating it as if it was more fragile than glass and more precious than gold.

Your legs practically moved on their own as you walked over to the broken door and sat down next to it, you didn’t know if the injured Dorian was even there right now. You hoped he was, a stronger part of you hoped he wasn’t. You took a shaky breath, and then began to speak before you even properly understood what you wanted to say, much less what you were saying.

“I’m sorry…” You paused as if expecting a reply, even if you knew no reply would come without your dateviators on. Your eyes glanced to them for a second, but you look back at the door before thinking too hard about putting them on.

“I didn’t… I never meant to…” Each sentence you tried to start died as soon as it left your mouth. What could you even say? You couldn’t make this better.

“I’ll call a repairman today” Was the sentiment you finally settled on. No fumbled words or pathetic apologies, just a promise. A promise to fix the issue you caused, a promise to make things better.

As your eyes lingered on the door you found yourself filled with so many words that you were at a loss for which ones to pick. You still had so much you wanted to say, so much you felt you had to say. But then again, saying was one thing and doing was another. So you forced yourself to your feet and gently picked up the dateviators.

“You don’t deserve this” You muttered quietly. You were talking to Dorian, who didn’t deserve to be hurt. To Hector, who didn’t deserve to have to wake the others. To those who comforted you last night, who didn’t deserve to worry. To those who witnessed everything, who didn’t deserve to see that. But most of all you were talking to yourself, who didn’t deserve the dateviators.

Gently, you put them in the drawer with Ben-Hwa and shut it. “I’m sorry” as opposed to your previous statement, this time you didn’t know who you were talking to at all. Maybe it was everyone, maybe it was no one, maybe it didn’t even matter. You wanted to say something else, but the sounds mixed together in your throat and came out as just a singular strangled sob.

Like you promised, you called the repairman that same day. The damage done turned out to not be that severe, and you breathed out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding at the news. By the next day the door was fixed. Everything should be fine, right? But yet the dateviators still remained tucked away in your drawer to not be touched.

You told yourself that you just needed time, that maybe tomorrow you’d put them back on and have the conversations that you needed to have. But tomorrow seemed to always get postponed. You always found an excuse to not touch them. Dorian needs more time, you need more time, they’re probably busy, you have other things to do, the list went on and on and on.

But you knew the truth, the real reason you refused to even touch the glasses. It was your punishment, plain and simple. You didn’t feel like you deserved closure, a shoulder to lean on, reassurance, companionship, company, basic human interaction. So you chose to deprive yourself of it.

After the first week, life seemed duller than before. Your house had always felt so alive since the arrival of the dateviators. Objects moved on their own even when the glasses were off and you were constantly reminded of the presence of the not-quite-people around you. But now? It had all gone lifeless again. Even your growing sense of existential dread felt less alive.

You slept less and less, your bed just didn’t feel that comfortable anymore. It used to feel like a warm embrace and now? Now it just felt like… well a mattress underneath you. Your food felt blander, your lights seemed duller, your hangers swung less when hanging up clothes, everything was just so dead.

A part of you enjoyed it, a part of you hated it, but none of you realized just quite what was happening. You had isolated yourself before, it was admittedly a habit of yours. It just felt nice in some sick way, to be all alone and by yourself. Sure you never felt this quite this alone before but maybe that was just because you had gotten too used to being with so many people that the isolation felt stronger this time.

You found yourself going about the motions everyday, you could barely even recognize your own reflection anymore. The isolation had created such a strong sense of detachment from everything that you didn’t even feel the urge to hurt yourself anymore. In fact, you didn’t feel the urge to do well, anything anymore. You’d wake up, maybe eat, maybe drink water, on occasion do some chores, and then you’d just fall back into yet another dreamless sleep.

In no time, you were as lifeless as your house. Just a husk of a human barely surviving let alone actually living. Messes started to pile up, dishes in the sink went unwashed, the floors unvacuumed, spills were just left till they evaporated.

The days started blurring together, until time became one meaningless mess to you. As the days ticked on you barely even left your bed. Some days your mind would wander to the objects, and your gaze would drift to the locked drawer where the dateviators stayed waiting for you to don them once more. But you never unlocked the drawer, never put them back on. You couldn’t even really remember why you were holding back, why you were doing this, you just were.

You could barely feel a thing besides the unshakable feeling that something was off, but you just couldn’t care enough to wonder what.

Chapter Text

The objects didn’t know what to do. They had listened to the mayor’s advice at first, not intervening and giving the homeowner space to breathe, but it slowly became evident that things weren’t going to just be as simple as waiting for the homeowner to be ready to talk. They all realized that as soon as the dateviators were locked away in a drawer.

The decline was gradual, but to the objects it was like watching the world’s slowest train wreck in motion. They tried everything they could, messing with the lights, the temperature, the clocks, they all did whatever they could to get the homeowner to even acknowledge them and nothing. It was Johnny Splash who first realized how bad things truly were.

He had been trying to head upstairs to the Breaker Box, everyone needed a distraction from things and what better distraction than the melodic voice of yours truly right? Except something was off, as Johnny left the bathroom each step felt harder and harder to take. It felt like gravity was pushing down on him more and more the further away he got from where he was “supposed to be”. He tried to push through but eventually he collapsed onto the ground hardly able to move a muscle.

He was lucky that the office door was open and Chance had been watching as Dasha was sent to retrieve him. He could see the same strain on her normally incredibly strong physique as she struggled to hoist him over her shoulder and carry him back down to the bathroom. Once he was close enough he felt normal again but he couldn’t shake the feeling of what just happened to him.

Over the next few days they’d all discover that Johnny wasn’t the only one. Every object in the house was becoming less and less alive, for lack of a better word. It was like they were suddenly back before the dateviators even existed, only far far worse. Communication became a struggle, those who had multiple placements around the house started to become the only forms of communication amongst residents of different rooms. It was frankly horrifying to experience.

Updates came in from the bedroom daily about the homeowner, about how the light was gone from their eyes, about how they were sleeping but barely resting, about just how far they’d fallen. The objects still tried their best to reach out to them, to show them some sense of comfort or some plea for attention but nothing worked. They couldn’t move on their own really at all anymore.

Occasionally the homeowner would say one of their names, or acknowledge their existence, and give them a burst of life for a fleeting moment but it never lasted. What’s more is that the homeowner’s mental state seemed to get more and more concerning. It had reached a point where discussions were being had about if this was it, if this was the end for someone they all knew and held so dear.

It certainly felt like they were building up to it. They all knew something had to be done, and with the lack of communication across the house they knew they had to figure something out. They had to get the homeowner to put the Dateviators back on, but how?

They needed the homeowner to know they cared, that they always cared, but who could convince them of that in the state you were in? How could they show them how much they hurt and how scared they were for them when they had no way of reaching them?

It was Betty who realized that they did have a way, that there was one person who could still make contact with the homeowner. It was her who reached out and who made the plan.

Everyone just had to hope that Nightmare was strong enough to get through to the homeowner and maybe just maybe get them to put the Dateviators back on.