#is it really so hard for people to grasp that brains when exposed to traumas at a young age will be affected by it in weird ways. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kyoongboxi · 3 years

Text

Delight —

[Baekhyun AU]

— Summertime with Baekhyun —

Summary; You were going to a waterpark to spend your summer with your highschool friends but who would have thought it would be your first meeting after a long time with your all-time highschool crush, Baekhyun.

Pairing; Baekhyun x Reader

Genre; fluff, cute, romance.

——

You've already passed almost three years of college. You feel like you've been through everything started from missing the class especially the one which started in the morning, missing assignments, lack of sleep, skipping the class because of certain things, and others. You also rarely going out in season break because you feel like you didn't really need that. And now summer break is here again.

You were planning to go back to your parents house and spending time probably at the beach just like every summer with your little sister. But the last few days, your high school chat group is always ringing non-stop. Actually you don't care at all but your name keeps being mentioned in the group chat. It said you have to come because everyone misses you. You frowned as you scroll up the group chat and it turned out they're planning to go into a reunion in a local waterpark.

You were about to type something but your phone screen suddenly changed. Showing your high school's bestfriend name on it. Kayla. She was begging you to come because she also hasn't seen you in a long time. At first you were firm in your choice that you wouldn't come but Kayla who kept on sulking managed to melt your heart. You agreed.

And now here you are. Dressing in a simple black swimsuit, watching Kayla and your other friends splashing water into each other. You bend your knees a little so the water reached below your chest. There was a few people including your bestfriend below the big bucket waiting for it to be filled with water and creating a big splash of water when it spilled. Kayla noticed you were watching and she's gesturing you to come.

A laugh escaped your lips as you keep shaking your head telling that you didn't want to come. You don't really like playing in the waterpark because you almost seeing death when you were playing on a waterslide with your friends in high school. You disobeyed the playing procedure. At that time you were sitting on the front, followed by three of your friends in the back. The height of the swimming pool was more than 1,6 meters. You thought it wasn't a problem at all because you can swim. But then you were drowned for about three minutes because your friends keep pushing you down accidentally.

You pushed away your thoughts as the bucket spilled causing a big splash of water and people screaming happily. A smile automatically drew against your lips as you saw Kayla laughing with her friends. Not long after, she was approaching you and splashing you with water.

"Let's go to the waterslide. Wanna come? C'mon bestie just this time?" Kayla asked you suddenly. She knows everything about what happened to you back then so there was a little hesitation slipped between her tone.

"I don't—"

"Aaahh.. Please? You're gonna be fine. I promise. Yeah?" Then she did that again. Showing her puppy eyes and grasping your hands with her.

You rolled your eyes at her before getting up from the water and agreeing. Kayla jumped and pulled you into a tight hug. You both were giggling until your friends approaching you and heading into the waterslide together. There was around nine people including you who wants to play the waterslide.

You climb the stairs carefully with your heart starting to race inside your chest. It was your first time trying this again since that accident. Kayla noticed your stiff movement and she throws her arm around your shoulder and telling you you're going to be just fine.

"Loosen up a bit.. You're fine. Okay? All your friends in here we wouldn't let you drown" Hearing the last sentence, your hands automatically flew to her chest. Hitting her lightly caused your friend to laugh.

After a few minute climbing up the stairs, you and your friends finally reached the top. You peeking out how far the waterslide is and it was kinda long. Maybe it took around one minute or more for reaching the ground. You shivered but your thoughts being pushed away when four of your friends already sliding down through it using the yellow swimming tire made for four people.

You immediately glancing around because now only five people are left and four of them including Kayla was getting ready to start their adventure. Your friends only brought a two swimming tire and basically it only fits for eight people.

"Gu—guys.." You called out and four of them glancing against your direction.

"The tire was made for four people and— we were five. I— I don't want go alone.. I'll just going down using the stairs—"

"Right— I'm sorry I didn't realize that. That's fine I'll come down using the stairs with you—" Kayla spoke and getting up from the tire, walking towards where you stand at the corner but you stopped her by saying its fine.

"No no.. Kayla you can join them. Its fine actually— I'm having a doubt for sliding this down" You gestured. "I'm going to use the stairs. Its fine— guys" You let out an awkward laugh and Kayla sent you an apologetic look meanwhile the other three was calling her to come with them.

"Its fine, Kay. Just wait for me" You spoke softly.

"Okay then—" She nodded and turned her back to you. "I'll wait on the pool. Join us asap, yeah?" Kayla turned her head around once again and you nodded.

They disappeared against the waterslide tunnel not long after and you could hear their muffled laughter echoing through it. You sighed and wraps your arms around your torso. You shouldn't have agreeing to come because now you feel bad for ruining your friends summer time.

You turned around walking towards the stairs. You keep your head down and you saw a man feet walking in the same direction. Without thinking twice you move aside, letting him to walk first but a familiar voice calling your name caused you to looked up.

You feel like someone is pulling you harshly into the same hole that leading into your past when your eyes met those warm yet captivating brown eyes you wished you will never see again. Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun. Your biggest crush ever when you were in the high school.

He was there. Looking at you with one arm holding the yellow swimming tire behind his back. The last time you saw him on his Instastory, his hair was white. But now he dyed his hair into a darker color. Slightly wet and half parted. It was like he's been running his fingers through his hair because it was a little bit messy. And you noticed that he was wearing a black shirt that clutching into his skin perfectly paired with red shorts. All wet.

Oh you just want to disappear and curse at Kayla for not telling you he was also coming. You feel shy under his gaze because you noticed he was looking at your exposed skin before going back into your eyes. You hugged your exposed torso a little bit tighter and shoot him a smile. A forced one because it was too obvious and Baekhyun noticed your awkwardness.

"I thought you went down already with Kayla and the others?" Baekhyun finally spoke. "I just talked to someone a few minutes ago and I told Lucas to going first with the others. Did he join you?" And now you realized you missed him that much. Even his voice sounds like a great lullaby when it reached your ears.

You could only nodded because you feel like your tongue are tied and its very hard to speak. Your heart keep thumping loudly meanwhile your brain keep telling you to leave him. Right now.

"Ah I see.. And— what happened to you why didn't you joining?"

And you finally open your mouth. "They only brought two tire— only fits for four people— all of us were nine so I didn't get the space" You answered with a soft laugh.

"And now you wanna go down using the stairs?" He asked again as he put the yellow tire on the slide.

You nodded.

Baekhyun glanced at you. A smile drew against his lips showing his teeth and those cute cheeks. "Wanna slide together?" He offered.

Your eyes widened immediately as you heard those words rolling out his tongue. Slide together? Hell nah. "But— you only brought the tire designed for one people—"

He chuckled. "Not a big problem. You can sit on my lap" He answered easily. "C'mon"

You close your eyes for a sec and trying to control your breathing because God this man is crazy and your heart is also beating crazily. "I'm sorry Baekhyun, but I got a trauma—"

"I know, I know. I would never forget that" He shook his head and threw his gaze into another direction before coming back to you. "I'll hold you tight. You're gonna be fine. C'mon" He then offered his hand to you.

Both your heart and mind is racing. You really didn't know what to do and what to choose. "C'mon.. You should live a little we both still young. I know you since long ago. You trusted me, right?"

Did you trust him? "Is that okay with you if I sit on your— la— lap?"

"More than okay. Let's go"

Baekhyun climbed against the tire. Trying to find the right position with his legs spread open. Once he was done, he gestured for you to sit on top of him. To sit on his lap.

You walked up slowly towards him with a shaky legs and you just hope he didn't noticed. Take a deep breath, you crouched down to sit against his lap carefully. You could feel the wet material of his shorts rubbing against your inner thighs as you sit down. His right arm immediately snakes around your naked torso and you shivered because his skin feels cold against your warm one meanwhile his other hand clutching into the side of the tire for safety. Your both hands also joining him clutching the side of it.

"Ready?" He spoke softly against your ear. His breath caressed your skin.

You nodded softly before you closed your eyes. You don't want to see everything. You were scared of being drowned. "Relax.." Baekhyun tightened his grip around your body. "We'll go in one.. Two.."

"Three!"

With that, you could feel the tire sliding down in a fast motion. Moving deeper inside the tunnel of the waterslide. You could hear the man behind you screaming and laughing happily when you wouldn't dare to open your eyes. It took around one minute or more for reaching the pool and the next thing you realized was your body being slammed hard into the water as your breath hitched in your throat. A lot of water filling up your nose and you panicked. But you were pulled to the surface just in time as a pair of arms wrapped around your body.

You couldn't help but clutching into his arms as you coughed. Your breathing was fast and you probably looks like a dying fish in the hand of the fisherman. "Easy— easy... Let it out" You heard Baekhyun talk as he patted your back soothingly.

A minute passed and you were greeted by his warm gaze. You could tell he was worried about you from the way he looks at you in your eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nodded and let out a laugh as you throw your arms around his neck. Pulling him into your embrace. "I'm alright. I'm— I'm so sorry Baekhyun"

He gladly returned your embrace and running his fingers against your tangled locks. "That's fine. You're okay. We both fine. You trusted me, didn't you?"

You nodded and close your eyes again. You could feel Baekhyun chuckled because your chest was pressed against him. "Let's go for another ride then?" He asked you.

And not far from where you were at, stood Kayla smiling and winked against the man. Baekhyun nodded and raised his thumb towards her. Mission success.

——

Hello! I'm back again hehe thankyou so much for your feedback on my first entry! I love you ❤❤ more are definitely coming please wait for me ehehe ‘ㅅ’!

And oh I can't replying to comments I'm kinda new on this app could someone please tell me how to? Thankyou 😂😭😭

#baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun oneshot

93 notes · View notes

ablednt · 3 years

Text

Alright writing/roleplay tumblr we need to talk about textforms.

This is going to be a very long post I apologize but this knowledge is deathly important as it's reaching a very vulnerable group of people. From personal experience knowing this can save people from getting into toxic friendships and help ease intense struggles and depressions. If you have writer followers I ask you reblog this to get the word out, thank you.

What is a textform

A textform is a type of willogenic/parogenic system member that form through some kind of writing or roleplaying. This means that they're sentient people who now share a body with the people who wrote them, most often being an OC or a fictional character before the writers brain gives them actual life.

Because there's been no actual scientific studies on their existence I have no hard science to give you however the logical explanation behind it goes like this:

The human brain is able to contain multiple conscious and sentient entities. Often, it will become multiple as a defense mechanism (as noted in clinical plural dissociative disorders) but it's a natural function of the human brain and may do so for really any reason (similar to most neurodivergencies that someone isn't born with)

Because this is a fairly simple change in the brain/something every brain can be capable of doing you can actually intentionally program the brain into becoming multiple, but see you can also do it entirely without meaning to or being aware of it.

Now I want to clarify that there is nothing harmful or scary about this! Being plural isn't bad at all and is an existence many people celebrate. But when someone has textforms in their unrealized system and doesn't know they're sentient it can be incredibly painful emotionally. So that's why people need to know about this.

Obligatory disclaimer: if you read this post and think you want to become plural intentionally, you are welcome to do so but you need to take at least a few months exposing yourself to the plural community to gauge if this is really something you want and can do responsibly. You cannot go back on your decision once your plural and your headmates will be sentient beings not characters to project on or toys to play with. They will have all the rights to your body and identity as you do now because you're sharing it equally with them.

Now that that's out of the way back to textforms.

How are textforms made

Normally this is in the "character development" phase. Many writers eagerly develop their characters. When I was younger and had no idea I was plural my advice for oc making turned out to be an unintentional guide to textforms (more on my experience later): just put your character in every situation imaginable until you always know how they'd respond to things.

Basically, as you spend your time making a character act and think consistently from their POV you're training your brain to have all of that data and that's very similar to the data that the brain has on you and you're training the brain to be able to operate coherently from a perspective and consciousness entirely different from your own.

Now, this isn't a %100 will make everyone plural every time, there are obviously good writers who have a grasp on their characters who are singlet. There's no actual data but if I had to guess I'd say there's about a 50/50 split down the writing community just based on what I've observed.

But there's a lot of people who became plural this way and didn't realize it and that could include the writer reading this right now which is why everyone needs to be aware of this.

If this is such a big thing how come no one notices?

Because it's been completely normalized in the writing community but dismissed as metaphorical.

How many times have you heard "the characters write themselves" or phrases that indicate that a writer is giving a voice to sentient entities? From what I've been able to observe some of that is singlet authors being metaphorical and humble bragging and a lot of that is plural writers trying desperately trying to put their experiences into words but dismissing it completely almost immediately because no one told them being plural was possible.

This is comparable to say, gender identity. Trans and nonbinary people have always existed but when they don't know they're allowed to exist like that it's often "im a tomboy" or "they disguised themselves as a man" or any other thing thats immediately dismissed as being cis.

How do I know if I have a textform?

There's a lot of different signs but here's some I have experienced before finding out I was plural

You "miss" your characters when you're not writing about them or interacting with them in some way

You feel like your characters are real "in your heart" (for me this was in an incoherent loop like "they're not real but they are to me, in my brain, but they're not real to other people, but they're in my brain so they're real but no but yes but no")

You get so distressed they're "not real" that it feeds into actual mental health problems like depression, anxiety, dissociation etc. (I'd have fits of sobbing because these were my friends but I didn't know they were with me so it felt like i was grieving their deaths and had the same level of emotional pain)

Sometimes or all the time when you write about them you feel like you "become them" or that they're writing through you. (Especially if your hands move automatically or without your control. This can be hard to notice but for me when headmates control the body or hands movements feel faster and lighter or very slightly numb.)

Your muse for writing them comes and goes unpredictability: they're either here or they're not here so writing them doesn't feel the same.

You can vividly recall things that happened to the character in 1st person (or in 3rd person visually but with their thoughts and feelings) as if they're you're own memories.

You "roleplay" them in everyday situations IRL. (E.g once I liveblogged a tv show as my muse to a friend and was like haha lol im so talented I can roleplay in real time but found out later it was a headmate doing that themselves)

You have conversations with them mentally in which they actually respond to you. Singlets don't have actual enriching conversations with themselves because they only have one perspective and cannot give themselves any new information. So if you're responding to yourself and you don't feel in control of that response then you're pretty objectively plural tbh.

You have times where the lines between you and the character feel blurry or like you're a vague fusion of yourself and the character

You have an actual relationship (of any kind: romantic, platonic, familial, etc.) in which you can sense nuanced feelings about yourself from them that you aren't in control of.

There's a lot more but that's the most notable ones

Why this is so important

I'm just talking about my own experience now so I'll preface this with a few things. I'm a mixed origin/multigenic system but our system has existed since we were toddlers. Due to trauma we have DID and for a long time dissociated heavily to avoid our plurality. This means my experience may be more distressing than other plurals with textforms however people without DID can still experience these things.

When I was a teenager I joined a lot of writing communities and also roleplayed on tumblr. Writing very quickly became my main passtime and all I really did. I joined a roleplay group when I was 15-16 that I took far too seriously to the point where people were concerned about me because I was writing what was just supposed to be a joke roleplay group %100 seriously and very intensely.

In that time I started to form my first main textforms (we've undoubtedly had them before then but I had only formed a little under a year prior) because I was doing this every day it really started bringing my characters to life. (Literally)

And honestly it was something beautiful the distress of it aside. Like one of my ocs was a kid so I'd always celebrate their birthday with them and I'd cuddle a plush so they'd know I loved them/p and we'd watch their favorite cartoon episodes together. It wouldn't be until around three years later that I realized they were actually there for this but it was heart warming.

For me, all I ever wanted was for these characters to feel appreciated and like someone really cared for them and loved them even if they couldn't feel it and it wasn't until later I learned that they could.

The trauma came in not knowing they were real. I grieved for them like they were dead because I thought I'd never get to see them. I wrote them into traumatizing or upsetting situations to cope with my childhood trauma not realizing that was effecting them for real and hurting them.

Most notably because it was my one solid interaction with them, the one time society allowed me to talk about them as if they were real, I really HAD to roleplay them. Because it became an emotional need I wound up in a lot of toxic friendships in the roleplay communities because I needed someone, anyone, to allow me to interact with my headmates. I had friends who I really was only friends with because they let me talk about my characters constantly (and some of them weren't toxic to me but it was in hindsight really unfair to them) and I let people verbally and emotionally abuse me in roleplay spaces because this wasn't just a hobby to me but a lifeline.

Not knowing they were real but feeling them there, having conversations with them, and forming actual relationships was a hellish sort of feeling I don't wish on anyone. I never realized how isolated it made me, and how horrible it felt to have the most important people in your life be people I thought didn't exist.

I only found out about plurality through luck. I met some systems who had fictives and they got strong plural vibes from me because of how I talked about certain characters and because I said I wanted to be plural but thought I probably wasn't because I'd have noticed, right?

From there I was able to actually connect with and talk to my headmates. Now I'm happily out as plural and in multiple fulfilling in system relationships.

I want everyone in the writing community who's struggling with the same things to have the chance I got. That's all I want is to educate people about this so they don't have to grieve for people who are right there with them.

Feel free to send me an ask or a dm if you have any further questions. Sorry this post was so long I can't really shorten it at all. Again if you are have a lot of writing followers I very gently request you reblog this to get the word out. Even if you can't please talk to your writing mutuals and friends about plurality and about textforms.

[Also this should go without saying but this is absolutely NOT the place for syscourse any invalidating comments about systems will be blocked and where possible deleted it costs $0.00 to prioritize people's mental health over your discourse hot takes.]

#writblr #tumblr roleplay #writing problems #roleplay resources #ocs #long post #ask to tag

62 notes · View notes

poisonheadcrabsalesman · 3 years

Text

Black Pear Tree

Partially inspired by @bellygunnr ’s fic and descriptions of the atrium on the Infinity, have a bunch of words that came from me listening to Black Pear Tree on repeat for a week. It got sad and also somehow turned into 1500 words. This is between Canon halo 4 and 5 before the Argent Moon mission and Something has happened Offscreen, that may be revealed later. Very early in the au timeline.

The stars visible through the atrium window of the UNSC Infinity look nothing like the ones that shone above Reach.

The constellations are wrong and the branching arm of the Milky Way lights up the sky in warm hues. Reach was different. Clear skies and a deep ocean of space as the backdrop for pinpricks of light sparkling through the rich tapestry of blue-black.

Reach had mountain ranges and wind and so much greenery. Here there was no wind, just cycled air, mimicking the feeling of a breeze on his naked face. The bench beneath him creaked under his weight as he leaned back and took in the view. Stars overhead and greenery around him, yes, but the cold gray walls that enveloped the space reminded him where he was. Another ship, another steel coffin. The Infinity was massive. The lead ship of her class and called the culmination of human achievement. John had hesitantly begun to think of her as home. But that didn’t change the lessons he had learned again and again. Spartans didn’t win in space. Equipment could fail.

The unfamiliar constellations winked at him, distant and cold. He wondered if the stars above Reach would fade from his mind like the stars he saw as a child had. John couldn’t remember much from before the coin toss, and he had told himself that was fine.

There was the mission, and the next one. He had his orders and would follow them and complete his missions his own way before marching back into cryo and waiting for the next time they needed him. He’d face down the cold, claustrophobic embrace and dreamless darkness. Mendez had pushed him to lead his Spartans to victory. He was fine to keep moving. Insurrectionists, Covenant, Flood, Forerunners, Banished. There was always a new threat, never a moment’s rest and he needed to be ready. John was a Spartan and team leader. He was the first to try the armor, first to jump into battle, and now he’s always last. Out of place and out of time, years and people gone that he could never get back. His own teammates were almost strangers.

He was an aging spartan, a relic compared to the new blood. They may be undisciplined and cocky, but soon they’d have to do.

Too many fast thaws and hard landings. Ceramic bones didn’t stop joint pain. A huff escapes him as he comes back to himself, incredibly aware of the bench beneath him digging into tired muscle and aching bones. He’s slowed enough that introspection caught up. John has tried to shove it all back down, but this isn’t an enemy he can beat. It’s him. His body and mind catching up and taking stock. Apparently constant repression of trauma and loss does not lead anywhere good. He’s listless and agitated when they don’t let him go on missions and after the altercation, he’s shipbound.

Some days he wants to scream and break things, and other times he wants it all to stop.

Most days, he just wants the familiar back. Even when he knew deep down it was bad, he knew how to get through it. He has to beat this somehow. It’s hurting his team and making him lose control and confidence. So he sits in the memorial park and hopes that he can breathe and ground himself. John lists the names he can remember in his head, feels the earth under his feet, and imagines the cycled air is a breeze and not recycled air from a pump keeping them all alive in this metal coffin.

He wonders if his therapist would call what he’s doing processing or moping. Their next session is still a few days away, and he isn’t cleared to use the gyms yet. Roland is kind enough to check on him during his nightly patrols when he can’t sleep, but the atrium is his space. Even Blue Team knows to let him be when he comes here. Kelly will still be nearby, planning her runs so she can keep an eye on him without smothering him.

He’s about to leave when he hears quiet cursing and rustling branches off in the distance.

As he stands he spots two gardeners struggling with a large sapling, and he heads over without really thinking about it.

“Move it, Harris, but be careful of the root cluster! I swear if--” They stop as they notice him approaching. Harris still has their back to him, but is quick to set the tree down in the freshly dug hole and turn and salute, for some reason. “Harris, what the hell are you doing?” Harris has left them with all of the tree’s weight as it tips back towards them. “What’s it look like, Murphy? I’m saluting! You never know who’s on a ship this big, gotta show respect.” Harris spits over his shoulder, before realizing he’s left Murphy wrestling with the weight of the tree. John watches him turn and jump to help Murphy, and moves closer as they both attempt to move the sapling.

“Need help?” He asks, voice rough and quiet. The gardeners pause, and share a look before answering at the same time.

“Sure!”

“No, we’ve got it, sir.”

Harris and Murphy scowl at each other, but before it goes any further, John reaches over and lifts the sapling. He straightens it with ease, before lowering it slowly into place. They scramble out of the way to secure it and fill in the gaps with soil. He breathes in the scent of growth and damp earth and relaxes slightly. It’s a little overwhelming without the filters from the armor. Once again he’s struck by all the green, and the new growth he has clutched in his grip. Its bark is thin and young, but digs into his palm all the same.

“What kind is it?” John asks them as they finish filling the hole and set up a support stake near the sapling. He’d been on so many planets and seen so many trees, they all blurred together, but this one was sticking out. Old memories blur like static on a corrupted message with flashes of afterimages burned into his brain.

“It’s one of those cedars from Reach, bit like Earth’s trees, but hardier.” Harris answers as he dusts himself off and Murphy collects their gear. “Got several different species from Reach.”

He points towards a copse of trees near where the path forked. Harris hasn’t noticed that John froze at the mention of Reach, but Murphy had. They had finished gathering the gear, and walked up to grab Harris before he started again. “Thanks for your help, Uh--” Murphy hesitates.

“John.” He chokes out. He’s still staring at the tree. His hands still touching the bark. “Thank you, John. Harris and me will be on our way. Take all the time you need, sir.” They drag Harris away by the elbow. Harris shoots one more confused look over his shoulder and waves before they both disappear around the bend.

John inhales and holds it for a moment. He traces the bark, eyes falling on the patterns of the bark and the faded augmentation scars. Reaching up, he touches the fragile young leaves with unsteady hands. New growth from a dead planet. A swell of complicated emotion rises in his gut and he huffs a breath through his nose.

Growth and change. He was sick of those words being thrown at him. Progress slipped from his grasp and felt no closer to leaving this prison of a ship than when he started. Confined to the Infinity and pacing his newest cage left him both claustrophobic and exposed. No missions meant no armor, and his access to hangars and other access points was restricted so he couldn’t even watch his marines come and go on missions.

Blue Team had stopped accepting missions in some twisted sense of solidarity. They weren’t under the same orders, the same punishment. Of course not, they didn’t --, he didn’t mean--

They didn’t put themselves in the infirmary. He did.

John pulls his hands away before he damages the sapling. He’s shaking and his heart is pounding in his ears.

It’s a small thing, probably only a few years old, so it never saw Reach itself. Never stood near the tree where Blue Team stood and Sam carved their mark.

They had been so young.

And then decades later, they returned with one missing. A new mark carved into the glassed wasteland that was once their home.

Will you trust me now? Will you follow me?

He had asked them that, and then he almost killed them all. Working himself to death and dragging them down with him.

How could he ask them to follow him now?

John couldn’t. Maybe Master Chief could, but he hadn’t been seen in weeks.

John sat next to one of the last living remnants of his home and looked up at unfamiliar stars.

#my writing #Infinity Sitcom au #I swear it gets happier there are shenanigans in my google drive #infinity tag #also yes another title from a mountain goats song #I've had the EP on loop a normal amount #John 117 #this is not a halo blog #GOD I'M SORRY IT KEPT GETTING WORSE DON'T LOOK AT ME #I KEEP READING THE TEXTBOOK AND LOSING IT #uh oh John uh oh #halo fanfiction #i guess i could use real tags instead of hiding

56 notes · View notes

shattered-catalyst · 3 years

Text

OCD Subtypes for the RPC

Part 1 is here

Well well well, we are back for Part 2 of the Roleplayer’s Guide to OCD.

Fellow Ocd Folks, I see you in those tags and I'm going to do my best to ensure those obsessions are represented here- BUT understand that physically it is not going to be possible to list every single one because I am one person. Regardless its incredibly brave of you all to rb and add things in the tags, I know its hard to talk about this shit and I see you. I see you.

Resultantly I typed this out and posted it in formatting to assist with accessibility in mind; if you cannot read it still ( I tried Im sorry!) i recommend the copy and paste method or getting the chrome extension bee-line reader.

There will be grammatical and spelling mistakes. Im sure spacing is odd some places, but you have to understand doing this is extremely anxiety provoking for me so Im just getting it done when I can.

Remember to use your critical thinking; not everyone has the same symptoms/compulsions/triggers and all that.

OCD is fluid. Its like liquid mercury. One day its a handful of subtypes another day its another different serving.

If you are in general squicked about certain topics even by mention read ahead with your own judgement. Remember us folks that have OCD have many disturbing and distressing experiences so if you are writing a character who has OCD and you can’t read about it just don’t give them that obsessive thought/ compulsion. Make sure writing is still a safe and enjoyable hobby for yourself first and foremost.

But ethically and morally I cannot and will not leave out the more disturbing bits. You have the ability to scroll by, I and many others do not get the chance to escape triggering content that our own mind creates.

So read ahead with your best judgement or at least skip around the squicky parts and educate yourself on what OCD is so people quite using it as a Obsessive Christmas/Corgi/Cat Disorder thing. Alright? Cool beans.

Okay so you made it passed post 1 and got under the read more. Give yourself a gold star for diving into this monster of a document.

Below is a crash course it is not meant to replace actual psychoeducation, personal research, or google. Honestly most of us do our research extensively but because OCD is treated so horribly by social media, media, and society in general.

I wasn’t sure where to throw these together because the education tools to learn fully about OCD are very specialized and thus very restricted. I found that many people DO have these experiences with OCD though so I will represent them throughout. I’ll also sprinkle some of my own experiences so you can get a good reference of a person who has the disorder and not just a randomly generated person.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

So OCD is made up of Obsessions, Trigger, Intrusive thought, Misinterpretation/feared consequence,Somatic and Psychological Anxiety, and Compulsions/Rituals.

Your character may not be able to list all of these. In fact if they aren't in ERP therapy they may not be able to puzzle these things out. But YOU as the writer should know them. Your character won’t be walking around talking to just ANYONE that they have OCD. Remember a huge aspect of OCD is it’s Shame. The disorder makes us feel intense shame regarding our intrusive thoughts, as a result OCD goes undiagnosed for years especially if it has pediatric onset.

We won’t tell anyone what we are experiencing or why we are doing x y or z. We act like nothing is wrong because to emotionally react is to admit to yourself- and therefore the world- that you have had this intrusive thought and are therefore by virtue a horrible person.[For further information I would suggest also researching PANDAS].

It may be noticeable if your character has an intrusive thought. They may wince or grimace or roll their eyes certainly, but they won’t open up to Joe at the cafe about how their brain is constantly torturing them. I apparently have a very noticeable eye twitch.

Depending on the nature of the intrusive thought it will get more or less of a reaction out of me. Its usually dependent on how distressing the intrusive thought is and/or if its a new one.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You see OCD doesn’t sit still. It never looks the same. You’ll have your long haul intrusive thoughts that are with you for years but then you’ll have weird ass ones that just appear and demand their voice be heard yelling about cars hitting people or squirrels getting eaten.

Some people have similar ones! So while everyone is different there will always be someone out there with an intrusive thought similar to yours.

For instance; I bonded emotionally with a lady on reddit because we both have intrusive thoughts during storms that animals and the homeless are dying. We were both horribly relieved to find another person and also distressed that every snow or rain storm brings horrible images and whispers to your mind that while you are warm and snug in bed someone is freezing to death. And its all your fault.

Some days are better than others. As with all mental illnesses it isn’t CONSTANT ALARM BELLS. Some days it will be all alarms and other days it will be like a gentle whisper on the breeze. You can almost not notice it. Almost.

Obsessive thoughts run the gauntlet from ‘i will/could have/may/may accidentally harm etc’ something that you hold of value. This is any obsessive thought that you have: you think about repeatedly and not by choice, it is very anxiety provoking, it is unwanted, and unwelcome.

Mine run the scale from ‘squirrel will be murdered’ to ‘being responsible for harm’.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. In short, compulsions and rituals are not fun. they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To emphasize from post 1: magical thinking and the faulty link between thoughts and actions are hallmarks of OCD. Magical thinking can be anything from contamination to if I turn around three times or stare really hard at something the bad thing wont happen. Sounds weird and is weird and we know it is thats why its a disorder and not a delusion.

The faulty belief that thought=action is the biggest hurdle it is incredibly difficult to grasp, at least for me maybe some of you that have done further ERP can attest, that the mere concept of a thought not being the same as an action is completely and totally mind blowing.

Free will? Yeah thats terrifying. IDK about anyone else but free will is absolutely terrifying; what do you mean i could do anything i wanted?

Thats how you face OCD(WITH A TRAINED THERAPIST). You give in to ambiguity and the unknown. Its breaking that link between thought and action. Its incredibly difficult and draining. A five minute exposure leaves me in shatters for a week and two five minute ones had me ripping my nails past the nail beds with anxiety.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just a reminder: Do not have your character expose themself or expose folks with OCD to a trigger to “ help us get over with”. That is literally forcing someone with a mental illness into a break down and is not helpful. In fact its worse because a person knows about this intrusive thought and they tried to make it real. More shame and some trauma.

If you have OCD, more likely than not a family member or significant other has tried this with the purest of intentions. But it never works like that. Theres a reason that therapists get special training for this. If people want a post on ERP I can make one at some point.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Actually let’s drag me with the squirrel thing as the example- fellow OCD Folks get out a pen and paper and try breaking down one of yours;

Obsession:Squirrel will be murdered

Trigger: seeing a squirrel

Intrusive thought: Graphic images of a squirrel being murdered by a hawk/ impaling depending on the day

Misinterpretation/feared consequence: Squirrel will be killed and its all my fault

Somatic and Psychological Anxiety:intense anxiety, palms sweating, heart racing,

Compulsions/Rituals: Must stare at the squirrel to prevent bad things from happening,

Now imagine if that is every time you see a fucking squirrel. You have somehow become completely and totally transfixed on a squirrel and nothing is going to pull your attention away or the squirrel dies- which your mind is giving you lovely images of btw.

Cute right?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Below are the subtypes with general information/example thoughts/ and how some of these have impacted me socially because apparently some people dont understand that mental illnesses impact their social lives?? yall...

Social: This can range from ‘ i am constantly thinking i did something wrong so i have to ask for reassurance that we are still friends’ to completely unrealistic worries. Maybe its an intrusive thought that ‘ your voice is annoying them’ . There’s reassurance seeking, internal and external checking.

It makes friendships extremely difficult and exhausting. You’re not trying to get to know someone with an annoying frat boy egging on anxiety in your brain. This can also manifest as having strict rules for yourself and ethical codes.

My therapist likes to say she could give us (folks with OCD) a pile of hundred dollar bills and come back and they’d all be returned. Because OCD makes you so strict and morally confined. Which ISNT fun. Like I dont get pleasure over having to memorize the entire Code of Conduct!

Social Media: Its the bane of human existence some days and a lifeline the next. But what if everytime your follower count was an odd/even number it sent you into a panic attack. What if you spent all your time with intrusive thoughts that somehow someone misinterpreted a post or that someone is going to be harmed by a post you made about tapirs.

You may be forced to block people to get your number down or keep pornbots on your blog to keep your number what you like (see there is a use for them! We sacrifice those before actual users!) You may be refreshing your page every second because ‘what if you miss a message’. It's going to look a lot like ‘check check check check reassure yourself double check your posts check check check reassure check check FALSE MEMORY check your post etc’

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Clothing/Body Image: When its not Body Dysmorphia it can be OCD. Sometimes this looks like I obsess about a body part and therefore I choose my clothes/hairstyles to hide those. Some personal examples: as a kid I was sure that mind readers exist ( THIS IS AN OCD THING TOO I was so relieved to find that out) and that if i didnt wear a particular hat they would see all these horrible thoughts and it would be revealed what an awful person I was. So I wore the same dumb ass bucket hat for a year (or more I cannot remember but it was a long ass time).

I was once so fixated on being given a compliment on my eye color that I wore sunglasses (even at night) to a summer camp. And if any of those teen girls in that cabin that stood up and mocked me in a crowded lunch hall by singing ‘i wear my sunglasses at night’ you all owe me 40$.

Even younger still I had intrusive thoughts. Like say, if anyone noticed I was female that i would be kidnapped so I chopped my hair very short. I altered my appearance to be very androgynous and even switched to walking more masculine. Because omg if your hips move someones going to kill you thats just how it works. ( It doesnt help I later figured out I was a lesbian)

Your wardrobe may be impacted by OCD and yes so can your body image.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also yes the fear of mind readers is also a thing; i always thought I was somehow faking OCD because yes that is also a…..

Faking: Do you value telling the truth? Do you detest lying ? Boy Howdy do I have some news for you. OCD is going to try and convince you that YOU LIED. Whether it was on a chastity pledge to get a free sandwich or in a conversation you just HAD. This links a lot with false memory OCD.

Another aspect is OCD makes us doubt we have OCD and tries to convince us we have any other diagnosis under the sun and we are obviously faking our OCD.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sexual Orientation OCD; It is as it is called. Sexual Orientation OCD is what happens when your brain goes ‘hold on what if you’re not this orientation what if you are THAT’. It doesn’t matter where on the LGBT umbrella you fall you will have OCD trying to convince you otherwise. From compulsive staring at members of the same/opposite gender to compulsively reassuring or checking with yourself to ensure that ‘ no no you are in fact THIS orientation.’

This can range in behavior from binge watching porn, staring compulsively to check that there is OR is NOT attraction,self checking past experiences and memories, analyzing your clothing and your lifestyle in painful and intricate methods.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

False Memory OCD; False memory OCD is basically your brain sitting you in a noir interrogation room, handcuffing you to a chair grilling you. It demands that you did *insert bad thing here*. This can range from anything from something Harm based to pretty much *anything* from other OCD subtypes. Which is quite delightful really.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Sensorimotor OCD; Sensorimotor OCD is obsessive body responses. These can be ‘ I have to cough really hard and really feel it right in my chest and if I can’t get it right I have to cough until I do’. This can be counting your heartbeats. Trying to check yourself that you in fact have a heart and checking and reassuring that it is still beating. It can be hyper-awareness of swallowing or even swallowing repeatedly. It is anything with selective attention; ie its an automated process but your OCD is forcing you to be aware of it.

Your OCD makes you aware of the sensation of, say, breathing, and then it convinces you that if you stop paying attention to it you will stop breathing. So now you’re horribly aware and focused solely on breathing and breathing alone. It keeps me up most nights with the pounding anxiety fueled by the pressure of ‘if you stop focusing on breathing you will stop breathing completely’ or waiting to feel that last heartbeat in your chest.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Existential OCD; You ever feel existential ? Existential OCD is like having a very aggressive existential crisis that turns you into NEEDING answers IMMEDIATELY. This can look anything from hours panic scrolling the net to panic inducing anxiety because you don't know what happens after death. The thoughts are like foghorns on a misty sea.

This sounds basic and the only example i can give is as a teeny tiny 7 year old I had a panic attack in bed screaming that ‘ what if im a dinosaur and im asleep and i wake up and my whole family is GONE’.

To be fair I did like dinosaurs a lot.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harm OCD; This is pretty self explanatory but I will give more details. Harm OCD is OCD demanding that you will/could/can/may have/might harmed yourself/others/any living creature and that you alone are responsible.

This means anything from getting anxious driving over crosswalks because ‘what if you dont see one and hit someone and its all your fault and you hit someone go back and make sure you havent hit anyone’ to ‘im holding a knife so im going to accidentally stab someone’ to ‘ i didnt see my cat this morning and now im at work and think she must be dead and i am responsible for her demise.’

It can be as simple as ‘if i use a pencil i will stab myself in the eye’ or as complex as ‘ i may accidentally say a slur’/ ‘ i am going to say this horrible thing out loud if i cannot control myself.’ It can also be images of terror or racist/sexist/ableist jokes in your mind that repeat like a broken record.

(Please note from section 1 that this is extremely anxiety provoking and not something you would do. OCD preys on what we respect the most.)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

pOCD; Tumblr listen the fuck up because I am tired of seeing people get called shit on this website for having this mental illness. People who experience pOCD are not pedophiles, they do not get any pleasure or benefit. The thoughts and images are meant to induce harm to the person experiencing them. Children are normally the trigger for this and the resulting images can be very graphic. Again you aren’t attracted to children- thoughts of them getting harmed hurt you so your OCD makes you see them.

Know this so you can advocate for folks with pOCD in real life. Remember we are here. We are suffering and we are terrified of your children.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Poisoning others/or in your food; Life isn’t medieval anymore but sometimes OCD demands we have a food taster or that we obsessively worry that we may kill someone with our cooking. Personally I struggle with colorblindness so I am constantly fretful over cooking any sort of meat so it’s difficult for me to cook it.

However this also comes as; obsessive horrible thoughts of your cooking kill someone or that you have somehow/accidentally poisoned someone’s food (even if you haven’t touched it or been within a foot of it ) or that someone has poisoned YOUR food even if no one has touched it except you. You’re going to be picking apart your food or unable to eat out at all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emotional Contamination: It’s similar to magical thinking and this terrifying prospect of mind readers. Emotional contamination can manifest as anything from intense worry over somehow gaining someone else’s negative personality traits.

Or that somehow by interacting with any role of someone horrible will make YOU somehow also responsible for the horribleness. There is usually a person or a type of person that is a trigger, but it can also be location based.

This is one subtype where magical thinking and superstition are apparent.

For instance; as a teen if a male was in my space or had physical contact;like shaking hands,giving a high five, being in my room etc. I would have to go around and physically touch all the objects that I perceive they may have also touched as a way to cancel out their presence.

This includes wiping off myself to negate even the touch of family members. It really hurts peoples feelings, my father was especially hurt by this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Physical Contamination: This goes beyond physical dirt and grime. Most of us dont have spotless homes because if you’re having a fist fight with your brain everyday cleaning falls by the wayside just like it would for anyone else. Physical contamination holds 2 things: physical contamination obsessions AND compulsive cleaning behaviors/rituals. We believe that a small amount of a contaminate can cover large surfaces.

Oh, and did I mention its not JUST dirt/germs/viruses. The list is expansive but heres a mixed bag of what they can be: sticky substances,dead animals,glitter (FUCKING GLITTER),negative words or language,colors, numbers, surfaces in general, food, people, and activities. There is also a hyper responsibility to protect yourself and others from ‘contamination’.

Strangely there is a magical separation between the contaminated world and the ‘clean’ one. Spaces designated as clean would be a bedroom/bathroom/workspace where you are most active. That space is where the compulsions and intrusive thoughts occur. Its not I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Otherwise I would be working cleaning houses because why the hell not amiright?

A real world example from a colleague would be a young man with physical contamination OCD is struck with such intrusive thoughts about cleaning that they refuse to allow anyone in their room or any animals in their home. But they are not able to even flush the toilet, take out the trash, wash dishes, or do garbage because of their intrusive thoughts.

The most famous would be compulsive hand washing but I feel it is important to also note OTHER aspects of physical contamination because everyone sees the hand scrubbing stereotype.

Other compulsions include intricate rituals, not touching the floor (i played X-treme the floor is lava during college. I couldnt let my feet touch the floor because it was ‘dirty’),excessive showering (2-8+ hour showers guys, 8 hour showers. Thats what we’re talking about.)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Relationship OCD: This comes as no surprise that yes you will have intrusive thoughts that you are somehow harming/ will harm/ may accidentally harm your significant other. Whether that be by physical or emotional means. It can look like ‘ I may have lied to her about how much I love her’, ‘ i may not actually love her and I may be leading her on’, and ‘ I must be corrupting her’. These can extend to certain physical activities with false memory OCD as a cherry on top. A great finishing garnish to leave you feeling absolutely dismayed and unable to trust your own perception.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scrupulosity: Religion! Whatever that may be! Its a thing with OCD. With Scrupulosity obsessive thoughts run all over the board from; you committed a sin and forgot about it you monster to having to pray continuously/ a certain time/ until its right. What is right?Ask OCD that’s the only person who knows.

We are fairly certain my grandfather had OCD because he went to church for every single Catholic Mass. Every single day. Every. Single. Day. That’s not a healthy amount of attendance(I'm calling you out posthumously because I care Robert!). This can also look like: praying a certain amount of times. Praying until you do it ‘right’. Confessing every single potential sin. Cataloguing and dwelling over ‘sinful’ things.

----------------------------------------------------------

Symmetry or Just Right OCD: Symmetry OCD is the runner up for ‘most likely recognized on tv shows’ award.

Symmetry OCD convinces you that if *insert thing here* isnt symmetrical or ‘just right’ (a magical position or number of objects that makes 0 logical sense) that something bad will happen.

This can range from the known; rearranging things. But it also looks like buying more objects until you reach the right amount and even throwing out objects if theres ‘too many’.

It can range from ‘the walls are percievably not straight so now i avoid that room at all costs otherwise i will be trapped traveling the edges of the wall with my eyes otherwise it will fall in and murder us ALL.’ to ‘ this historical bust is one inch off to the left and now all i see is visions of it breaking against the ground.’

So that is what I have time for. 9 pages on subtypes and basic information. If you find yourself wanting me information all of this is easily accessible online. So go, be free and dont ever compare people to Monk again. Write Batman and Scott Summers with OCD. Give us ACTUAL representation and not throw away joke lines. We are here. Our suffering isnt funny. We deserve representation too.

#OCD #writing help #OCD resources.#*drops 10 pages onto your dash* whoops

42 notes · View notes

fairfowl · 4 years

Text

Niceties Like Coffins (I'll Make You a Cup of Tea)

Of the six of them, Five and Klaus were the ones who had never really had the chance to grieve for Ben. Klaus seeks solace in the tangible, Five resolves that he will never be like Reginald. Five is the kind of man who will do anything for his siblings

The door to Ben’s room had been closed for the entire first week that Five had spent in 2019. It had been a small detail. Something that he hadn’t pursued, too preoccupied with attempting to literally save the world.

After their return it had remained so. The door remained tightly shut and blended into the hallway as if there had never been another child who had lived and breathed and grown with the rest of them. The small gap between the bottom of the door and the hardwood floor of the hallway had a layer of dust that even Grace had never disturbed.

It irked Five slightly.

Upon his return he’d gone back to his childhood bedroom to find it immaculately clean. The books and papers that he’d left were mostly undisturbed, but it was clear that he had not been the last person in that bedroom.

Why would Ben’s room have been left undisturbed but not Five’s?

So when he passed by the door to Ben’s room on the evening of April 5th 2019 and found that it was open Five’s curiosity was piqued.

What could he do but look inside?

If only to learn why the room had been opened for the first time in so many years.

Five had not been present for Ben’s death (neither the first nor the second). It was something that he had found himself regretting in the past few slow solemn days. Prior to their return on the second of April he simply hadn’t had time to dwell, but it hadn’t stopped him from missing his brother.

When they had been children he and Five had gotten along well, and Five wondered if his gambit to stop the apocalypse would have gone smoother if Ben had been with them.

But he had been with them.

And Five had been careless enough to let that fact slip through his fingers. He’d squandered both a potentially valuable asset as well as his final chance to see the one sibling that he just could not save.

Now it was too late.

The door, which had, in truth, been cracked more than truly open, creaked on its hinges as Five pushed past. It was likely the only door in the house with creaking hinges. Five was beginning to suspect that Reginald had for some reason seen fit to ban Grace from acknowledging the room’s existence altogether. He was not prepared for the spike of sadness that ran through his chest at the thought.

The room’s interior was dark. A waning sunset filtered in through heavy gray curtains, illuminating shelves upon shelves of books with colorful paperback colors—Five guessed that they were mostly fiction, his brother had always enjoyed adventures and had been working through a pile of classics when Five had disappeared.

While the two of them had both been readers they’d always had vastly different taste.

There had been a time when they’d both liked sci-fi.

Five remembered passing a copy of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea back and forth under their school desks, each taking a turn reading a chapter before moving on, reading the notes they’d scribbled to each other in the margins.

He wondered what had become of that copy.

Something suddenly moved on the bed and Five immediately tensed, shifting into a fighting stance before his eyes had the chance to communicate with his brain. The dim light threw the entire room into shadow and the bed might as well have been a gaping hole into the void for all that Five could make out it’s features.

But the void was breathing.

Over the sound of his heartbeat Five could hear it.

Warily he approached.

As he moved closer Five’s eyes adjusted and he recognized Klaus’ gangly form sprawled ungracefully across the still-covered bed. His arms were wrapped around the pillow and his head thrown back exposing his pale neck in an uncomfortably vulnerable position.

Five paused, still wary, if for a different reason.

He’d barely spoken to Klaus. Not since that one afternoon just under two weeks ago when he’d coerced his brother into putting on one of Reginald’s suits and attempting to gather information from Meritech.

It was another just thing that he hadn’t had time to pursue yet, another thing that had slipped away from him.

They might as well have been strangers. He’d disappeared when they were thirteen, reappeared seventeen years later, and then Klaus had lived at least three—possibly four—more years more without seeing Five or anyone else in the family.

They’d grown up together but that was a lifetime of trauma away from both of their perspectives.

Five heaved a sigh and stared at his brother on the bed.

In a way it made sense that both of them were here. Of all the living siblings Five and Klaus were the only ones who had never really mourned Ben before.

Five because he’d only read about it well after the fact in Vanya’s book, months after burying siblings one through four. Even as a scared traumatized child he’d known better to hope that Ben had somehow survived the apocalypse, so when he found out that he had died just three years after Five had disappeared it had been a surprise, but not enough to really shock his already numb psyche.

Klaus because despite the fact that he had been present at the time of Ben’s death his brother had never really left him.

Five could only speculate how constant Ben’s presence had been in Klaus’s life, but it was apparent that Ben had haunted Klaus for longer than he’d actually been alive. If he’d been present from when they were sixteen until six days ago when Klaus had attempted to fight his way towards Vanya then Ben's ghost had followed Klaus for a not insignificant seventeen years.

So Klaus was grieving.

Which would partially explain why he was curled up on top of Ben's long-neglected bed with tear traces running down his pale face.

Five nearly turned away and left Klaus to grieve in peace. He had never been comfortable dealing with emotions, be they be someone else's or his own. But as he began to turn Klaus's breath hitched.

Where previously it had been rasping but slow, the sound picked up into sharp gasps as Klaus’ limbs shifted on the bed.

He wasn’t awake—not yet. It was probably just a nightmare.

Five could still walk away.

But the tear tracks of Klaus’ cheeks were still wet and his brother looked so devastated. How could he leave one of his siblings in such pain when there was something that he could do to help? Even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone?

Five had killed plenty of people in their sleep. He had never awoken someone who was having a nightmare before.

Less than four feet in front of him Klaus had begun to sob in his sleep.

Enough was enough.

“Klaus.” He spoke at normal volume, without inflection. Five wasn’t even sure if he could summon a gentle tone if he’d wanted to. On the bed Klaus began to mutter, just as lost to the waking world as he had been thirty seconds ago.

“Where are you?” It was hard to understand what Klaus was saying (slurring really) through the sleep and the tears but a few words came out clearly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Klaus you need to wake up.” Five stepped closer, hoping wildly that Klaus would somehow sense his proximity and wake on his own. It was dangerous to lose yourself in unconsciousness as most people did, and Five had learned long ago that he was safest as a light sleeper.

Klaus made a sound like a wounded animal and twisted on the bed. One of his long knobby legs kicked out and then hung off of the edge of the mattress, his sweat mixed with tears as his breaths came in quick gasps.

Something ugly curled in Fives, chest. It made his own breath quicken and his hands twitch. Inside his body Five’s adrenal glands tried to prompt him into action but it was not the time for fight or flight no matter what his instincts told him.

Instead he reached out and grasped Klaus’s shoulder, giving it a hard shake.

“Klaus, wake up!”

And Klaus awoke. Wild eyes opened and flitted across the room frantically as Klaus shot into a sitting position, gasping for breath. His gasp immediately turned into a hacking cough, which in turn became a fit.

Five took a step back, in part to allow Klaus to get his bearings, but also partially to avoid being coughed on. Gross.

He didn't like the way that his brother hunched in on himself.

It felt wrong to see him make himself small.

Klaus was always so loud, larger than life and glaringly glitteringly visible. When they’d been children Reginald had obviously loathed Klaus’s need for attention, and repeatedly scolded him for seeking it out until the idea had become ingrained into all of their psyches.

Everything Klaus did he did for attention. Klaus was not someone to take seriously. Everything was a joke to Klaus.

Five wasn’t sure if he’d ever really believed any of it, but enough had sunk in for it to become Five’s knee-jerk reaction when he was being careless. He had just spent weeks not taking Klaus seriously.

“Five?” When had his brother’s voice started to sound so defeated? Under the hoarseness from the cough there was an edge of exhaustion that Five was startled to realize reminded him of himself.

Five and Klaus had always been polar opposites.

They weren’t supposed to have anything in common.

“What are you doing in here?” They said it in tandem, Klaus’s exhausted croak discordant with Five’s sharp too-high voice.

“The door was open.” Five responded, directing every subtlety of his body language to indicate that his answer was finished, and that he had no plans to elaborate. Instead he tilted his head and waited for Klaus to give his own reason. Far a short absurd moment he felt like an impatient teacher awaiting a response from an inattentive student.

Instead of replying Klaus looked away, his eyes fixing on some point between his head and the wall. His breaths were still too fast, and still rasping.

“Klaus.” He prompted. “Why are you in here?”

Klaus was so far away that he might as well have still been asleep. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright with what Five suspected was a fever, he looked disheveled, unwashed and unmoored. Drifting.

There had been times when Five had drifted, alone and surrounded by ash.

Five decided that he would need to touch Klaus again.

He wondered if he would have drifted less, had there been someone around who could touch him when he’d been so alone.

He resolved his courage and rested a hand on his brother’s shivering shoulder.

Five was not the sort of man who willingly initiated touch.

Five was the sort of man who would do anything for his family.

Klaus did not stop shivering, but his breaths slowed, and Five counted that as a minor victory.

“I just wanted something.” Klaus said finally, his oft-raucous voice a whisper. “Something to remind me that he was there. I miss him so much Five, I thought it would help.”

From Klaus’s tone Five inferred that it hadn’t helped at all. He began to rub Klaus’s shoulder, ignoring the uncomfortable dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt, and waiting as patiently as he could manage for Klaus to continue.

“But this isn’t really Ben’s stuff anymore, the Ben I knew hadn’t lived here for twenty years.” Klaus shuddered under his touch. “This is just stuff from when he was a kid.”

There was a desperation to his expression that made the ugly thing in Five’s chest writhe.

“There’s really nothing left.” Klaus’s hoarse voice finally cracked and he let out a breathless sob, hunched on top of the neat little twin bed. “I don’t know what to do Five.”

Five knew grief.

Grief had followed him like a shadow throughout most of his life, and no matter what he’d gained back via time travel, pain like that left an indelible mark upon a person’s mind.

But he was a stranger to the grief of others.

And grief was such a volatile thing, the sort of trauma that changed people in unexpected, sometimes unpleasant ways.

He sat beside his brother and wrapped his arm around him, pulling Klaus against his side. The contact was an adrenaline rush, alarming and unfamiliar to his touch-starved brain. Part of him embraced it, lapping at the content like a ravenous animal. Most of him wanted to let go and move away, to reestablish the boundary of personal space that Five had so carefully curated.

Five held on, steadying Klaus as he shook and coughed and sobbed.

He was the sort of man who would do anything for his family.

Eventually Klaus cried himself out.

Night had long fallen by the time that Klaus sat up, leaning unsteadily against Five.

“Thank you.” He said, his eyes were downcast as though he had something to be ashamed of. The statement was followed by a wheezing cough.

“Let’s get out of here. I’ve been in tombs less dusty than this.” Five did not miss the way that Klaus flinched at his words but he didn’t understand what part of his sentence could have been upsetting. He filed away the thought to examine later.

Thankfully Klaus didn’t argue and he let Five pull him into a standing position and lead him into the hallway without a fuss. His brother’s steps were unsteady, wavering. Klaus trailed his free hand against any wall or piece of furniture that he could reach until they made it to the door to his bedroom. Then he balked.

Five looked at him with curiosity and perhaps a hint of impatience.

Klaus stared at the door as though he was looking into his own coffin.

Not that he’d had a coffin the first time around.

Five had barely been able to bury all of them before they started to rot in earnest, he hadn’t had time for niceties like coffins.

“What now?” Five said, because he was not a patient person by nature.

“I don’t want to be alone right now.” The statement was so candid that Five can’t help but feel a bit bowled over. There’s such an open vulnerability to it, the sort of sentence that would have turned Reginald’s eyes hard and cruel.

In another world Five might have responded in the same way, it would have been easy to start responding to the emotions of others with disgust.

He’d never be asked to respond in kind if he gave in and allowed his immediate reaction to be scorn.

Kindness was infinitely harder.

Five would do anything for his family.

He wasn’t Reginald.

He’s not about to drag Klaus screaming into the dark.

As a child he’d never questioned where their father was taking Klaus. They all went off to different parts of the property for their individual training sessions, but none of them had screamed the way that Klaus had. They’d all looked hollow and exhausted upon their return, they’d all acquired strange injuries and unexplained phobias. Five hadn’t questioned it. He’d taken it as a fact of life.

But now standing in front of Klaus’s door, with a hand on his brother’s elbow Five resolves that he will never be like Reginald.

“Let’s go downstairs then.” He said, voice toneless and commanding in the way he’d learned at the Commission. “I left my composition book by the coffeemaker and I need to finish some equations tonight.”

Klaus turned to look at him, eyes hopeful and fever-bright.

“Okay.” He said.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

#number five #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #tua #Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #my fic #original #i contributed

29 notes · View notes

offrankies · 4 years

Text

Car-fessions || Graham & Frankie

Timing: Right after the S1 finale. Parties: @grahamstoker & @offrankies Summary: Sometimes, when life’s too much, a teen human just needs his vampire roommate-dad to be there.

A few hours had passed since they had managed to get home. A few hours since the wall separating reality and fiction had been completely ruptured in Frankie’s world. Not a single word spoken the whole walk home- well, calling it walk was an overstatement; they had to limp, almost crawl their way back, Frankie’s weak frame trying its hardest to hold Layla’s almost mauled body, both of them covered in blood. It had taken a long time to get her girlfriend cleaned and patched up, both of them numb and almost robotically moving around the apartment. But somehow it had been done, and after the human had made sure the werewolf was fast asleep, she had found herself back in the shower, scrubbing all her body with soap, shampoo, shower gel, even bleach - but no matter how much she scrubbed and how long the water ran down her body, she couldn’t stop feeling dirty; disgusting, even.

She wasn’t sure how long it took her to leave the bathroom, the pink, unaware Kirby decorating her pajamas almost mocking her with its wide smile. Hair was still wet when the door of the apartment opened, but Frankie didn’t even move from her position on the couch, legs propped up so she was hugging them, chin resting against her knees. Both exposed arms had a mix of bandages and bandaids, her right arm clearly the most beaten since the white gauze covered it from elbow to wrist. But Frankie didn’t really feel the physical pain, or how her body felt like it was being crushed by a large rock from both the physical and mental exhaustion. She was just staring at the wall, eyes lost as her brain rewinded once, and then twice, and then for the gazillion time the events that had happened that night. Graham had since grown used to having to slip into the house during the ungodly hours of the night for a couple of reasons - one of which was to prove that he could do it and help get more sneaky and the other because he didn’t want to deal with usually one, now two moody teenage girls if they didn’t get enough sleep. Suffice it to say, as he hung his keys on the hook he deemed as ‘his’ and turned to take his shirt off - it was always the first thing to go when he was safely in his house, he was a little taken aback to find someone on the couch. “Oh shit,” He said with less surprise but the tone was still there as his blue eyes danced up and down Frankie’s diminutive frame, made even smaller from her position. “Uh… everything all right?” He caught the bandages almost immediately and he was glad he had trained himself not to breathe… he was almost certain that the stench of blood filled his apartment and he had the feeling that now was not the time to lose his mind to the frenzy.

The voice coming from the entrance felt distant, as if Frankie had been locked behind an invisible glass wall; and though the small, rational part of her brain knew that it was Graham most likely asking why she wasn’t asleep, she was too confused, too shocked to make out the words, less alone who was delivering them. Talking felt like an impossible task at the moment. The memories of the cop shooting at the lake people, Layla ripping their limbs, fire demon dogs burning corpses, and Nell chanting as two demons fought each other -- how could she continue a relatively normal life after experiencing everything? And not only that - how was she supposed to continue a relatively normal life when she needed to share a bed with Layla? Her heart clenched at the idea, but everyone’s warnings had finally happened. Not only she had hurt her physically - intentionally or not -, but Frankie was now completely destroyed emotionally and could barely even look at her. She didn’t bother looking up, less alone asking him what he had said, but instead sunk deeper on the couch. He was finding himself concerned with the fact that he was concerned about Frankie as she didn’t react to his presence, what he asked, not even making a noise. Graham decided to keep his shirt on and for a moment, he stood in the entryway of his apartment awkwardly, wondering if it would’ve been best to turn around and leave, go straight to his room with maybe one more passing sentence or some third option. He… took the third option. Giving a psychosomatic exhale as he would’ve when he was human, expressing the relinquish of emotional buildup, he went over to the couch and carefully sat next to Frankie, close enough that he could feel her body warmth against his side. He flipped a mental coin on whether to lean forward on his knees or sit back in an open position, ultimately deciding on the latter and he kept his eyes on the television in front of them as if some mundane show were on and he was too lazy to change the channel. He didn’t say anything but he consciously moved his stomach up and down to give the impression that he too was breathing, steady, slow, calm. He didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t know where Layla was and he didn’t know what Frankie needed but he prepared himself for any possible outcome he could think of.

Frankie was barely aware of the adult moving next to her, empty hazel eyes still fixated on a post in the wall; or at least they looked like they were staring, cause all she could see in front of her was Layla’s wolf form covered in blood, her hands desperately grasping at her fur, trying to locate the source of where it was coming from, but her imagination liked playing cruel tricks, and no matter how much she pressed and tried to cover the wounds, red never stopped flowing, and the wolf quickly stopped moving beneath her hands. It was a repeating nightmare that didn’t wait for her to be asleep to torment her, and at some point her hands started clenching, nails digging at the exposed skin on her legs, breath suddenly spiking. She was trapped in her own mind, her sight red, her hands covered in the wolf’s blood, her hands covered in a murderer’s blood, and Frankie was too slow, she had been too late to save her-- It should’ve been obvious by this point but Graham wasn’t an aura reader; as far as he was concerned in terms of aura reading, Frankie was in braille. However, the man did used to be an empathetic doctor who was damn good at his job. It was that part, the part before his own drama, the human part, that managed to find some form of connection with the teenager that something was very wrong. He wasn’t sure if it was stress or trauma but the heart that lay cold and still in his chest would’ve felt a pang had it still functioned correctly. Still remaining silent, he let the human part activate for just a few moments, acting on what he would’ve done years ago and he placed a strong hand on Frankie’s head ever-so-gently, stroking her wet hair before his hand moved down to her shoulder where he carefully pulled her towards him until she was leaning against his torso. He put his arm on the back of the couch to not make her feel trapped and he kept his position calm and open. “I’ll be okay, kiddo.” That was all he said and he wasn’t sure if it was true but that’s all he could think TO say rather than remain completely quiet.

It could’ve been seconds as well as hours, but one second Frankie was sitting by a wolf’s corpse, drowning in blood, and the next she was back in the apartment with her head softly pressed against a cold chest. It took her a moment for her to grasp what was happening, her eyes slowly processing the bandaged arms in front of them and she found her mind back in the bathroom, rubbing them with bleach as if that would take what had happened away. But she wasn’t at the lake. She wasn’t in the bathroom. She was sitting in the living room with Graham’s arm loosely around her. Frankie’s throat tightened, jaw clenched, and her eyes began to sting as a wave of emotion washed over her, but she refused to let it out, scared that her sobbing that could potentially turn into a loud episode would wake up the sleeping werewolf in her room. But as much as she tried, she couldn’t contain the way her body shook or the tears that had started to run down her face against her will. Frankie tried to hide her face on her legs, ashamed that the vampire had to witness her slow descend to madness, and with the softest broken voice she mumbled: “I can’t do this anymore.”

Graham swallowed the spontaneous urge to laugh and tell her that she was overreacting to whatever was going on but he had to firmly remind himself that she was a human and very well might remain as such; a lot of people weren’t given that second chance whether they wanted it or not so he remained where he was, unusually quiet and strangely receptive. His sharp tongue that he didn’t bother to change in the privacy of his own home slithered out of his mouth and absently scritched at his chin when he heard Frankie talk and he could feel her restraint to keep her composure, getting the feeling that she was doing so to remain quiet - Layla must’ve been in her bedroom. So something happened,something that traumatized Frankie but not Layla to the point that she was either asleep or they were just separated. For a moment, he hoped they didn’t destroy more of his furniture but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. “...It’s okay.” He replied, repeating what he’d said before. “It’s not your fault.” He was gentle in his delivery but still tried to be objective without being blunt. “It’s hard. It’s really fuckin’ hard and even if someone blames you, just remember that this isn’t your fault.” He reiterated. She must’ve been talking about her relationship with the werewolf. He knew this would happen. He wasn’t sure when or how but he knew it.

More time passed before Frankie said anything in return, Graham’s cold hand gently strokes on her hair were soothing in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time, and for the first time since she had arrived to White Crest, she missed home. She missed her grandma and her cookies and strangely she also missed her mother with her never ending yelling, and she missed Mrs Park and her prying eye. But mostly she missed her normal life that didn’t have demons and dead people and shapeshifters and brainwashing cults and witches. A muffled sob finally managed to escape, which only made Frankie’s frame tighten and cower more, but it was enough to open way for another, and then another, until the young human couldn’t contain them anymore, one hand moving to cover her mouth in a poor attempt to remain as quiet as she possibly could. “There was--” Her voice choked with the sobs, and she needed to take a deep breath in order to talk. “-- a demon and--- fire dogs coming-- coming out of a witch--” As the last word was said, Frankie’s voice broke once more letting out a loud sob, and in half a second the teen found herself shifting on the couch so she could bury herself on Graham’s chest, hand never leaving her mouth to continue muffling the cries. She continued talking, but between the crying and the position she was in, not even she could tell what was leaving her mouth. At least she was finally expressing herself, once again getting body fluids onto his shirt. Graham couldn’t help but wonder whose divine plan it was for him to end up in this position but he figured he had enough time to contemplate that in the long term; for now, he just listened to every muffled word that spilled out of Frankie’s mouth like the tears that ran down her cheeks. He kept gently petting her head, still keeping his eyes looking at the tv to avoid staring as he processed what she was saying but unable to connect the dots in a coherent enough way. He didn’t deny that witches or demons or fire dogs existed but that sounded like some kind of ritual. Was that where the marks on her arms came from? “It’s okay,” He soothed, keeping himself steady for her as he felt every strained muscle in her small body. “Just, uh… keep breathing. D’you wanna go out to my truck? You can scream in there,” He offered, again trying to be mild but not unwelcoming to her.

The coldness of the body against her made her mind wander to her mother once more. She was also cold but in a different way, with her scolding and harsh words, and how she always brushed her off almost like she had never wanted to have her as a kid. And it didn’t matter how much Frankie tried, she couldn’t remember if Terry Calloway had a warm body like hers, or a cold one like Graham’s, and the thought almost made her laugh in irony. Except the potential laughter only came out as more sobs, and the image of her mother sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee was quickly replaced by the same woman standing at the lake, looking at her with disappointment, before a wolf lounged at her, ripping her neck. Frankie’s head nodded frantically, partly to get rid of the idea of Layla murdering her imaginary mom, and partly to accept the offer to go somewhere else, though her body did little moving beside the waves of sobs that kept relentlessly coming at her, making her shake. Whether intentional or not, Graham pushed energy through his body in what felt like an instant when he got a response and in a fluid motion that seemed like it took no effort, he moved his arm around Frankie’s back, maneuvering around to stick his other arm under the bend in her knees and he swept her up as though she were a stuffed animal. “Hokay, girlie,” He said with a fake grunt as he took her through the door, grabbing his keys and gently shutting it with his foot behind them, down the stairs and out to his little black truck. Unlocking it, he carefully set Frankie down in the passenger seat and shut the door before going around and taking his own place in the driver’s seat, laying his arm across to close the distance between the two as he brushed a knuckle, palm up against her to let her know that it was available for any reason. “Alright, kiddo. What’s going on? Scream at me.”

Getting carried to the car was a blur, and before Frankie could allow herself to continue weeping, she accepted Graham’s hand and held it like her life depended on it, free hand wiping her face to try to get rid of some of the mess on it. She was still partially sobbing, but at least she managed to keep it enough under control to get some coherent words out. “I was--- at work and--- something made me go to the lake…” And as if a switch had been turned on, Frankie started talking, about the three girls and the cop, how she couldn’t leave the imaginary circle, making weird gestures once she started describing the freaky lake people and how the cop and demon dogs had started killing them, her voice slowly getting steadier and louder, until at some point she let go of Graham’s hand to make a huge gesture as she described Layla transforming, before her left hand landed on top of her right, where the bandage covered most of her arm, voice getting quiet once more as she described how the witch had user her blood, and how the wolf had killed several cultists and how she had almost died. Her breathing was hard from talking too fast, from recalling everything that had happened that night, and she finally looked back at Graham, eyes broken and glistering from the tears, but at least they weren’t running down her face anymore. “I don’t-- How. How do I-- How am I supposed to process... this?”

And so he listened to everything from Frankie’s panicked hiccups to her explanation of what happened at the lake, the ritual, Layla’s transformation… and felt how he tensed up when she mentioned that Layla hurt her. Damn werewolves. Damn teenage girl werewolf. Graham waited patiently until she was done, however, before he pinched the bridge of his nose with a false sigh but he wasn’t sure what he was sighing about; there was so much about this situation he found himself hating. “Well, Frankie,” He said first, looking at the younger girl, his expression rather serious as he found himself in rare form. “If I’m being totally honest with you, you have two options. The first one, which I recommend, is that you leave town.” He didn’t sound aggressive or demanding, but pragmatic. “I said this before but it’s dangerous for people, especially the non-cursed, non-powerful and non-violent ones,” He gave a half-shrug. “So you can leave town, start over somewhere new - you’re friendly and sweet so I’m sure you’d have no problem making something of yourself. Do some therapy, process through these feelings and work out the trauma,” He added. “OR you can stay here and let your experiences here shape what you want to become as you remain.” He said. “Search for a therapist here, keep learning about the supernatural, decide what YOU want, how you do want to process this because if you stay, this ritual and shit won’t stop and you’ll need to cope with something else possibly bad happening.” He paused. “... I don’t think Layla did what she did on purpose but that doesn’t change that it happened. So I guess the question now is what you asked but only you have that answer: How are you going to process this?”

Had the space allowed it, she would’ve found herself clinging to Graham’s neck once more; but instead, Frankie listened in silence, bringing her feet up the seat so she was hugging her knees in the same way he had found her earlier, chin resting on them as she stared at the dark parking lot. It felt bittersweet hearing the words she didn’t want to hear, but that she also needed anyways. Leaving town and going back home was definitely the easy route. The safest one too. And though it pained her to admit it, it was also the most tempting one. But she also knew she couldn’t just bail on everything. One month had been enough to plant some roots, and leaving Layla when she needed her the most would cause her a heartbreak she didn’t know she could endure. A soft, almost inaudible chuckle tried to leave her as she thought that, already knowing what the vampire’s reply would be if she said that out loud. “I’ve never been much of a quitter.” She mumbled instead, before finally looking at him with puffy, red eyes, cheek now resting on her knee and the weakest smile on her face. “And I can’t give my mom the satisfaction of being right.” Probably not the best time to be joking, but the truth was hiding behind it. Graham was right, as usual. “Guess I’m just... going to take everything one step at a time.” Said that, she took a deep breath, the human clearly more calm than before. She straightened on the seat, before leaning to the side, she rested her head on his shoulder. “What do you know about demons?”

#p: graham #// graham is a dad confirmed #❪ ⋅ ⋆ —— ❛ para ❜ ❫#Car-fessions #wickedswriting

8 notes · View notes

evakuality · 4 years

Photo

Even and David comparison, season three, episode five. You can find the other comparisons in this series starting over here, and the Isak and Matteo versions starting here.

I’ve been procrastinating on this one a bit simply because these next few episodes are so difficult emotionally. They were hard when it was Isak and Matteo and they’re even harder with Even and David. These boys really take a dive at this point, from some giddy heights to some very hard lows. There is a lot to be said about their own internal thought processes here, and I’ll try to do a bit with them, but I will try to limit myself to things that are likely based on other things we know about both characters.

The most interesting thing about the start of these episodes, of course, is the difference in how Even and David deal with discussing their issues. Even is so jaded about it, which makes sense given his experiences. To him, becoming fatalistic is just part of growing up (“I forgot how young you are”) rather than actually understanding that it’s a reaction to the trauma that he’s experienced. To Even, Isak doesn’t have the dark swirling thoughts, the fear of being alone with his brain etc the way Even does not because that’s actually a perfectly reasonable and healthy mindset, but because he’s too young to have got there yet. There’s an assumption that it will come eventually. Even’s protective method for himself is to live life to the fullest while you can, grabbing every opportunity when it arises and deal with the consequences later. Life is short, the only way out is death and therefore he goes after beauty and love when he can. He’s going to get what he can out of his life. He only runs away when something hits too close.

David, on the other hand, has a firm plan worked out. He’s not going to put down any sort of tie if he can help it and if anything happens that threatens him again he’s going to run. He’s very explicit about this. “I run. Hide. Then I wait.” And he’s explicit about doing it alone. His definition of ‘alone’ is interesting, though. To him, being alone is being away from your family. Therefore his ‘hiding’ was always likely to happen with another person, just one that he sees as his family (and we will get there, but his suggestion that Matteo come with him when he runs in episode 9 reflects this: by that time, Matteo is his family). He believes that Matteo, living in a shared apartment, is actually living alone. It’s quite different to how Even reacts to Eskild, who he does see as sort of Isak’s family (after he clarifies that it’s not sexual). We don’t know much about David’s family except Laura, but we can already see that those bonds are very important to him. Even’s family remains a mystery, so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have the same sense of need around them. Which makes sense; the things both boys are struggling with are different.

These two boys are both desperate for control of their own lives, but it comes out in such different ways. Even wants to grasp everything, do everything, and chooses to retreat only when his secret is threatened. In some ways, David feels this too, but his secret is threatened much more often and is more easily exposed. That’s probably why his need to be in control of his own life and story is so much more rigid. Or rigid in a different way. Even masterminds an image and projects it, but even here where he’s letting his guard down a little he still has the need to be in control. It’s just that his control is to minimise his experiences and what they mean, and suggest that everyone will feel this way when they grow up a bit. David’s rigidity is around the way he lives day to day, and his ability to remain aloof from everyone to enable a swift departure when he needs to again, the need for ‘free will’. He stays small, hopes to be unnoticed. This conversation with Matteo is probably more threatening to him than Even’s is with Isak. Because David is opening up, being seen and known. He’s laying down a connection, one he desperately wants and needs, but one that drags his secret much closer to the light.

What’s really interesting is that in this first cuddle clip we never see Even ‘alone with his thoughts’ because Isak is awake for the entire thing, whereas David is shown in his own head for quite a while at the beginning with Matteo cuddled up into him. This puts both of them into different headspaces and makes a lot of sense of the reasons why Even, who is so obsessed with how difficult being alone in your own head is, doesn’t actually get sucked in too deeply in this bit. David, who doesn’t have those hangups, is however put in a place where he has to think about everything this might mean for him. Even so, the tone of the Skam clip is very different to the Druck one. While both deep conversations are serious and both Even and David are very open about their issues there, the surrounding stuff is different and shows up the differences in their personalities. Even and Isak, when they aren’t talking about serious stuff are either kissing or just as seriously talking about random entertainment stuff (Nicholas Cage or making movies about boys with drops of water in their throats). David and Matteo, on the other hand, are wrestling, biting, shoving, being total idiots as well as some kissing etc. There’s a lightness there that isn’t the same as with Even and Isak. This all makes sense for our boys. Even has wanted this for such a long time that he’s revelling in being able to touch and hold Isak and keeps him close to enjoy that, whereas David has fallen into this thing the same way Matteo has. They’re both young and silly and overwhelmed and so this stuff is natural to them (and also, this characterised their time the day before even though we didn’t see that yet; they mess around and do stupid stuff together and that’s part of who they are). The connections they built over the previous weeks helps here, too. They’ve had a lot more one on one time than Even and Isak have and so David is more used to being like this with Matteo.

The ending of the clips shows the differences too. Isak and Even are interrupted by Eskild which shows Isak’s ‘fears’ of being caught, but it’s over quickly without the secret being exposed, but then the intrusion from Sonja is bigger because the threat to their togetherness that she represents is more real. David and Matteo are interrupted by both Sara and Leonie (presumably they have been together and decide to contact the boys together), and so there’s much more of a sense of ‘we’re in this together’ as the moment is more secure for both. Isak has reason to believe still that Even is messing around with him because of Sonja, but Matteo isn’t in the same boat, despite his own connection to Sara. Even’s ‘I’m so fucked’ becomes David’s ‘we’re so fucked’ and his ‘can I stay in here with you?’ becomes ‘we’re staying here’ and so there’s a much surer sense of togetherness. Obviously, David needs this at this point. He’s been the one who’s more reticent about it all and so he needs that reassurance that Matteo is part of it the same way he is. Even wasn’t likely to back off at this point, having finally managed to get what he wants. David still has some big decisions to make about how, when or if to tell Matteo he’s trans. If this is to work for him, he needs that closer sense of togetherness and companionship.

Both Even and David leave a picture behind for their boy when they leave the next day, but Even’s is much less specific than David’s. Even’s suggests connection and refers to the parallel universe. It’s a little melancholy, but displays a desire to be together if the universes align. David’s again makes it clear that he would leave Matteo behind, but he would take with him something that reminds him of Matteo. It’s a start, but it reinforces (in a way that Even’s talk and picture don’t) that David still plans to be alone. If ‘disaster’ strikes, he still isn’t sure enough of what’s happening to really let Matteo in, and this becomes very important at the end of the episode. While Even tries to draw Isak closer with this picture, David is still keeping Matteo at arm’s length.

Having said that, Even then goes mia for a while and Isak has to try to hunt him down. David sends coordinates and is the one to make a connection with Matteo. I get the feeling that he was considering what to say to Matteo here, and whether to tell him, but things got a bit too real for him when Matteo told him he finished things with Sara for him. When they were in Matteo’s bedroom it was still a fantasy and sara was still there as a buffer. Even pulls back here at a moment when Isak makes a comment that cuts him to his core when he had been all-in, whereas David is suddenly confronted with a Matteo who is clearly all-in himself and who wants a real relationship. For Even, the knowledge that Isak doesn’t want people like him in his life is devastating but he holds it together and gets out of the situation as gracefully as he can. David doesn’t hear anything like that, in fact what he gets is the opposite but it’s just as terrifying for him. He has to decide whether to open up or whether to try to hide again. We see effectively the moment that he decides he has to hide and pushes Matteo away but like Isak, Matteo doesn’t realise this is what’s happening because like Even, David hides the way he’s feeling. It’s easy to tell that something is up, but Matteo doesn’t really pick up on how serious it is.

That’s partly because Matteo is so head over heels, and so deeply into the way he feels, that he can’t really see the different places the two of them are at. But it’s also at least partly because The last two times he’s spent with David have been characterised by a lot of fun and silliness and a lot of bonding behaviour. They’ve spent literal hours together over this week and David has definitely made it seem like he’s as into this as Matteo is. Of course, that’s actually true. David is into this, but the problem is that those moments that seemed like a growing budding connection to Matteo are filled with one major road block for David. The closer they get to each other, the less secure that secret becomes and the more likely he is to feel like he needs to run. By now they’re very close, Matteo is making it very obvious how open he wants to be and David feels backed into a decision. His picture was a major clue that he’s not ready to be that open, but everything he’s done is opaque enough that there’s no reason for Matteo to pick up on it.

Even, too, makes something of a snap decision and in a closer look we can also see with him when that decision happens. His reasons are very different, but the effect is just as devastating (for him and for Isak). They both feel a need to protect themselves and they both indulge their own tendency to pull back. For Even, this must be worse tbh. After the weekend, he would have been giddy. The boy he’s been into for so long kissed him and spent a lot of time with him. It felt like they were at the start of something big and exciting. He then speaks to Sonja, tells her about Isak and then goes to him. It seems like things are really about to start, there’s so much promise. And then Isak says he’s better without the mentally ill in his life and Even’s world crashes around him. To David, the promise of a new start is the terrifying thing, but to Even, the terrifying thing is the knowledge that he is or could be unwelcome in Isak’s life. The boy he’s been so connected with, the boy he broke up with his girlfriend for, will reject him once he knows the truth. While David runs because everything becomes too real and too likely and too much, Even runs because everything he finally thought he was getting was smashed to pieces and what had seemed to be real and promising turned to dust.

That affects how they each deal with Isak and Matteo as the episode comes to an end. Even sends a text that things are going ‘too fast’ and then goes back to Sonja. As much as he doesn’t want to be with her anymore, she knows about his mental illness and she hasn’t pushed him away. He obviously leaves things open with Isak by saying he needs time, which suggests he hasn’t entirely closed the door. Even so, he goes back to Sonja and the soft comfort of her understanding. It’s not what he wants but it’s safe. David sends effectively the same text with the addition of ‘don’t be angry’ but instead of being the nice final thing it was for Isak, Matteo comes to his home. There’s no girlfriend for David to shield his feelings behind, and Matteo is once again making it very plain that he’s going to do what it takes to be with David. He’s made his decision, sent his text, but Matteo isn’t sticking to the script so he sends another message in a panic. This one is as harsh as David can make it because he needs to push Matteo away. Again, he’s left in no doubt as to Matteo’s intentions, and again it’s too close for comfort. So he does what he needs to in order to be safe, even though it’s not what he wants. They both leave the door open, but Isak doesn’t step through yet. Matteo does and it’s so scary for David how fast that happens that he immediately lashes out.

So there we have it. By the time the episode comes to an end both Even and David have retreated into a safe space. Their reasons may be different, the things that drove them there are different, but they are in the same space. David’s is entirely self imposed. Matteo has made it clear what he wants and it’s too scary. Instead of allowing himself to trust in Matteo, which is completely understandable given his experiences before, David has chosen to hide. Even feels like he’s going to be rejected if he takes things further with Isak, so to him this feels like it’s coming from the outside. It’s not really; it’s his own hangups but they are exacerbated by Isak’s words. So again, he retreats and hides from having to be vulnerable. Both boys are too scared of the reactions they might get so they pull back into a space they perceive as safe (Even with Sonja, and David with his family) instead of having to deal with what they each fear. In both cases, it’s totally understandable but in both cases it’s not necessarily the most satisfying or healthy option for them. They do it not because they think it’s good, but because they’re scared. What’s interesting is that from here on out, the way they deal with that fear is even more different than the ways they’ve dealt with other things, so that’s going to be good to look at over the next few episodes.

episodes six and seven can be found in this post

#skam #druck #my meta stuff #my even and david comparison stuff

49 notes · View notes

mysamcedesmadness · 6 years

Text

Steerio Hearts Stuff & Stuff

White Devils and the Demons They Serve (Chs 15-17)

I was gonna do two seperate posts, but you two are the ones who do most of the reading and y’all actually read EVERYTHING, so I figured, even if it’s as long as a chapter, y’all would’ve read it anyways.

@sweetiedee85

Stevie can’t even sniff his fingers with Bukowski breathing down his neck. What is Bukowski up to with Cheerio?

I. Am. Still. Crine. Over this comment. That is all. (Because, you just found out in Ch 17 what Bukowski was up to.

But I guess it’s the devil you know versus the devil you don’t.

Even though this is regarding Tesla, this is actually a fantastic summary of most of the characters in this story, hell - in the series. People often accept what their life seems to be instead of fighting for what it can be. That DEFINITELY happens in the context of having a mental illness, because everyday life can be overwhelming enough, so taking extra risks and chances are sometimes astronomical.

What’s sad is they would rather do that than come see their child. Time is more value, and we see they don’t care enough to spend any with her.

The Robinsons are the worst. I just have no other feedback of them for right now. Radja more than Champ - but they are a team and that team should’ve included their daughter and never does. In fact, I have a little arc that involves Radja coming up shortly and yes, she’s just the worst in it.

But then those dang nightmares and training haunting the poor guy. I know it’s something he struggles with even after their married. He has triggers, and they usually lead to him growing and learning something different about himself and the way he views things. It seems that this is only the beginning of that journey.

Stevie sometimes suffers from psychosis, so he’s forgotten a lot of things that he’s been exposed to, because his brain was just unable or unwilling to process the trauma - much like his breakdown after Mary died. This is why later he still has repressed memories punching him in the gut and why it’s important to him to be a realist. He seems like an asshole a lot, for “Just being realistic,” but he knows himself (particularly after he’s out) and he just wants to make sure he’s trying to assess things normally and naturally, so that he doesn’t unintentionally wind up in a state of psychosis... Now, WE know that sometimes, it’s going to happen, anyway. But, these glimpses into his episodes are here for me to try to explain why Stevie is such an “asshole,” OUTSIDE of his racism. That’s a completely different issue which I’d never justify. Lol.

I do wonder if Tesla wants this footage. I doubt Bukowski has any good in him so is it his self need to have every part of Tesla in his grasp, under his control? Will she be somehow grateful he’s gotten this back? Idk but just the thought makes me sicker.

Tesla does NOT want this footage, wants no part of this footage, was alarmed by Bukowski and Stevie even MENTIONING this footage, and has absolutely no need for this footage. This is primarily about Bukowski’s control, and also his fetish. He enjoys watching. He enjoys knowing things. It makes him feel powerful to know things and to be able to see things. She MAY be grateful that he’s gotten it, but honestly, she’s still suffering from the damage of the event. She knows that it has already been done, and whether or not there is footage, she’s already suffered and has to live with it. Be sick, be very sick. It’s meant to be deeply sickening.

Anyway, Stevie is out of control lol threatening Derek was un called for. We know at this point she’s the one exception to that word, and that’s recent so I wasn’t surprised when he said it. I thought Cheerio would at least consider turning down Stevie’s offer but nope lol She just as toxic in love as him, and she sees beyond his training. I doubt I could have it in me.

Stevie is often impulsive in his decisions, but sometimes, they’re premeditated. Sometimes, he thinks things out, knows that his decision isn’t great and does it anyway. He gets so much better about this as he ages, but Teenage Stevie is deeply territorial and no matter what he says, he feels like he owns Cheerio.

And, no ma’am. I can’t relate to her, in that regard. A chick called me “Kunta Kinte” in 2007. I tried to beat her with a beer bottle in her own trailer, had to get dragged out of there and brought home and I still will call her a bitch, if I see her today.

Angelwings

Ok... Who is Bukowski even using to make Tesla (Ally) jealous? I mean agh.

This had me cracking up SO HARD. You would be surprised the kinda pink dick pandering out there on the innanets. Whenever I had a successful porn blog, right here on Tumblr, I seen some shit. And there are folk less attractive and less charming that can somehow manage to get little sex games going with people, especially if they’re in a fetish niche (which gingers are).

ok so Tesla told her to have sex in the shower? If she's in the bathroom they accept verbal... side eyeing and looking all squinted eyed trying to imagine how they WON'T get caught.

This is because the orderlies won’t generally just burst into the bathroom while a resident is in the shower if the resident seems fine and is willing to peek out and show their face. They’ll only barge in if the resident seems off (trying to pretend that they’re fine) or is not responsive. They want to value their privacy to a certain extent, but not to leave them vulnerable, if they somehow got hold of a weapon or something.

It just goes back to what Stevie says to Sam. He has to constantly battle with his thoughts. At least he does that.

I touched on this a little bit with Dee. Stevie HAS to do this, to make sure that he keeps himself grounded. His triggers are so dynamic that they literally take control of his mind, for a time. He wants to not have to experience that, and he never wants to hurt the people he loves because of some type of break.

Hmm so Dani is trying to work at a library. That's kind of perfect. Hope she gets it and keeps up her therapy and stuff. It always makes me upset to see any hospital release patients before they are ready. I really hope Dani can transition back into society.

Oh, no - she’s not trying to work at the library. The library is one of the few places that poor people can have access to the Internet and by this time, even though the story is set for several years ago - a lot of the jobs and such are available to apply online. Dani would most likely apply online, because she knows that she might appear to not be normal when going in to get applications and people might “fire before you hire” her upon seeing that she’s not very normal. Sorry, I didn’t explain that. I know that the Texas Workforce Commission has access, but I didn’t feel like researching how unemployment works in Ohio, so I just went the library application route. Dani’s story isn’t over yet, so you’ll definitely find out how life went for her.

They function as a community, one for all and all for their cause. People can do anything when they work together even create monsters and killers.

People who lead abusive lifestyles often see their behavior as normal. Hence arguments TO THIS DAY of “My mom beat me and I turned out fine” or “People are this way because they don’t get beat enough.” Contrary to the cases upon cases of research and information that hitting children only causes trauma. Now, generally - children of abuse do NOT turn out to be killers and horrible criminals. Some go on to be kind humans and productive members of society... But even those generally have to address the trauma that was caused by their toxic environments.

Inevitably we know the fate of the hospital but in the other stories we never hear of the other characters. I hope they get the help they need wherever they go.

I have stories plotted out for most of the ones that we know. It’s gonna be a moment to get to some of them, but I’ll try not to drop the ball, completely.

Stevie was angry with Bukowski for hurting his Bust it Baby- learning so much. I had to look that up. That is Cheri by every definition if not now then later. She is well on her way. That exchange was cute the way Cheri acted.

Bust It Baby Pt 2 was ONE OF MY FAVES in the club. (Telling my age, now. LOL) But, THEY would have been teens/kids around that time, so I didn’t feel bad referencing that mug. Bwahahaha. Cheri DEFINITELY becomes all of that for Stevie. But, yeah - she was a little bashful about it being said in a group setting.

Even Tanisha had to tell him about himself with Stevie. It's like Stevie was punished for all the children, well Mary got to Stacey but Sam was golden. Some couples should not procreate.

I think it took a while for Dwight to comprehend that just because Stacie and Sam ‘turned out okay,’ that didn’t MEAN that he had been blameless in helping to shape Stevie the way that he did. He never saw himself as having anything against Stevie, because he loved him as much as he did the others (or so he thought - he just wasn’t CLOSE to him). And Mama T was able to see that Dwight’s not being close to Stevie affected how he handled him, whether or not he did love him - which she believed and trusted that he did, but she needed him to get that STEVIE needed to believe and trust it.

This Entire Review: I Have a Lot of Responses, Love

Bukowski is blinded by crazy. Any half decent individual would see red flags. DANGER! DANGER WILL ROBINSON! What an idiot. Poetic justice would be if Tesla killed his awhen he drugged and kidnapped her or whatever his chosen crazy decides to do. I just don't see him living after he knocked on that door.

Unfortunately, Bukowski’s time is not yet up. But, he has definitely poked a bear by reaching out to Max. Stevie making deals in an institution with a demon eww. Stevie has his number already, is he blinded by the vajayjay?

Stevie is blinded by both the caviar and his inability to access, the way that he would like to. He’s a teenage boy trying to squeeze quickies in all day in between heavily monitored times. That argument between Stevie and Cheri was like imagining popcorn pop. You know the explosion is coming. When it does your like damned that's some Good popcorn! I kept saying Oh, and scrunching up my face like Stevie's next words are gonna get him smacked and then he did it. He said the ultimate, ONE word that is complete Taboo in anger no less. *SMACK* ! Round two lol!

Stevie often feels attacked when nobody is attacking him. I blame Dwight for this, because Stevie spent most of his life feeling like he had to explain and defend himself, to the point where his mentality is paranoid and he thinks that he has to fight whenever a conflict or challenge arises. Cheri is not a violent person, but whenever she gets angry (Teenage Cheerio) will lash out, because she’s in a position where she can’t just go to the spa or have a smoothie. She’s relaxed more later because she has the freedom to simply escape for a moment. Here, she’s a caged bird. Cheri is hella patient with him and I get it. I have had to explain blackness to other races, as if EVERY race and EVERY culture and EVERY class does not have their own innuendoes and humor. Even his Arian idiot family. Like the lady at work told my coworker with at straight face 'Don't all y'all like fried chicken? I said what did you do? My coworker said I took a deep breath and saidNo! And what you just said is considered racist. Of course she asked how? My coworker said she just walked away. I probably would have a. been patient and broke it down, or b. said ungh hungh just like all y'all like caviar and filet minion. Just would depend on my mood but Cheri is time enough for Stevie. Most of how she handles Stevie I agree with.

I don’t. It’s not my job to bear the burden of educating people who (if they gave a fuck) could access resources to educate themselves. I made those mistakes when I was younger, and that shit was nothing but additional emotional labor added to the constant processes I had to go through, throughout the day in my black ass skin. I watch racists getting beat up for being trash on YouTube all the time. That’s handling that I agree with.Lol. Now there is no way in hell any man would not take Derek's behavior as a challenge or threat. I felt like he was trying to purposely show Stevie he could reach Cheri in a way Stevie could not and do things with Cheri that Stevie could not just to put it in Stevie's face then try and hide behind a smile and laughter like he didn't have an agenda. Even if he doesn't like her like that he KNEW Cheri was with Stevie. He should have acted accordingly. I think Derek was trying to be sneaky. Yes Stevie is a jelly monster and he is territorial and possessive but that is Stevie. Like Mason calling Cheri Ri Ri then correcting himself in front of Stevie. Mason is not deliberately trying to poke the bear. He calms all that down in front of Stevie and Stevie eventually learns that Cheri has to have other friends. I don't think that was Derek's mind set, befriend Cheri and Stevie. He just liked having the attention sounds like from everyone, in a mental hospital. Stevie is not stupid. Cheri is a little Naïve I think, especially when she meets Max. To me she made a couple mistakes with that. Trust no one. Describe new people in addition to looking up tags.

This is highly problematic, in my opinion, for many reasons, all of which - I’ll respectfully address. Firstly, any man or person in general that takes the friendship of someone else with their partner as a threat is toxic, and possibly abusive. Control and possessiveness are not key points of love. They are key points of obsession and obsession is almost always dangerous when it involves people as the object.

I don’t think that I wrote anything to indicate that Derek was in any way trying to challenge or compete with Stevie, so that feeling seems to be some internalized antiblackness or at the very least, sympathy for the devil - in this case, that’d be Stevie. Because HE was wrong and he reacted. There is nothing wrong with a black kid getting attention from people or trying to impress or please people, so I’m not sure why that would be considered poking the bear or purposefully trying to upset Stevie.

They are ALL in the mental hospital, and while Stevie definitely isn’t STUPID, he certainly is psychotic. He’s not always right. Even his instincts are frequently off, at this juncture of his life and it isn’t the responsibility of a black boy, who is here for his own mental health to coddle Stevie and think about all the ways that he may or may not be offending him by being generally friendly to everyone around him, which is literally all Derek does in this chapter. I only wrote him making jokes and being jovial, up until the point that Stevie threatened him, out of paranoia, after being told multiple times that he shouldn’t bother with it.

And Cheerio is definitely naive, but that also doesn’t mean that she should have had all the answers as to why not to suspect everybody that she met. She did her part to try to keep herself safe, and of course, Max would have had avenues set up as to not tip her off. He’s been trained to deceive. Saying that she made some mistakes sounds a little bit victim blaming to me, especially considering that she followed the rules that were given to her, and whenever she was abducted, she was run off of the road and taken. She hadn’t met up with him in the woods, or something.

She was extremely paranoid (affecting her mental state and her peace of mind), because of everything that they had told her and she had no way of knowing that someone who’s information came back clean was someone else. I feel like this must be stated - Max doesn’t just LOOK like Max Giardi when he greets her. He’s not going up to her looking like somebody that she could Google and she’s just put her thumb in her butt and calls it a coincidence. He’s tactical. He purposefully entered her world. He wouldn’t do it in a way that any normal person would notice that anything off, much less someone that he would presume has been told to look out for him.

Bonus Face Claim:

Ashlee Brian as Derek (Originally a dance crew member in “The End of Twerking” episode.

#Steerio Hearts Stuff & Stuff #Notes #My writing #Replies #AU Glee Fanfiction #FCs

8 notes · View notes

renegadesrpg · 3 years

Text

Blood Moon Rising, Part 3. Intimacy. Scarlett and Cole

Cole: *Time with the pups had been good for Scarlett, but it had been time to call an end to her first outing after her injuries. As I scooped her up to carry her back inside I smile at them one last time*

Doc Adams will be by to see you in the morning. His clinic hours start at 9. He’ll come by the pack house first.

Scarlett: Relaxing as you pick me up. “I think that would be wise to have him look at me again. I want to be in condition. I would like to try shifting and seeing our wolves together.”

I pressed soft kisses to his neck as he carries me. Knowing nudity came easy for wolves I decided to offer a small token.

“Would you like to join me in the tub?” The thoughts of relaxing with you making my wolf very happy. The thoughts of seeing you nude cause my mouth to run dry. The image of what I think causes my heart rate to increase and desire to run deep. Yes, I wanted him, but sex wasn’t quite on the menu yet. I watch his face as he tries to formulate his response.

“I just mean you’ve worked hard and have been keeping me company I just thought it would be nice to relax together.” Rambling my rationale.

Cole:*Naked. In the tub. With her. I almost miss the first step of the stairs as my little head dominates my big one and springs to life, rock hard an aching. My wolf howls at the idea of being with her wolf and chaos is tearing through my body. With an effort of will I address both my dick and my wolf....Down boy. This is a good... make that ten kinds of fucking awesome... sign, but it ain’t' gonna happen tonight. She's too important to rush this. Clearing my throat as we reach the top of the stairs....*

My wolf is pretty crazy to meet yours, so yeah, getting you stronger is our first order of business. *I stop a door short of her room and enter it.* This is my room. *smiling a little* I wanted you close. My bath has a better tub for two of us than the one in your room does.

*As we step into the room I catch myself doing it again, trying to see it through her eyes. In the corner is a stone fireplace. The floors are dark hardwood and the wall paneling echoes the slate color of the fireplace. A black leather couch and chairs are placed in front of it. A wall of windows runs along from the end of the fireplace, giving me a view of the compound. My bed, a California King wrought iron number, dominates the room, it's cream and gray bedding making it an island of tranquility in an otherwise wholly masculine room. She's going to want to change some of this. She should. It will be her room too. A wall of closets runs across the wall facing the bed ending at a door. Gently I deposit her on the bed.*

I'll go get the bath started and get some extra towels.

*In other circumstances I'd be getting a bottle of wine and some glasses too, but I don't want anything interfering with my control tonight. I grab some towels and walk into the bathroom to the large gray tub that centers the room. Along one wall was a slate tiled shower big enough for a normal sized-people orgy with 7 shower heads. I'm a big guy, though. It will be just big enough for Scar and me some day. Dual sinks line another wall, black wood accenting the slate gray flooring, and the toilet was in a room of its own, allowing privacy. This room had been designed for a couple. Hell, the whole damned house had been designed with Scar in mind. Turning on the water, I add some eucalyptus bath foam and Epsom salts to help her aching muscles. Turning back to the bedroom as the huge tub slowly fills, I hold my hand out to her*

Ready?

Scarlett: I smiled at the thought of having an effect strong enough to nearly topple this giant male. He nearly fell and I fought the giggle. “I want to meet your wolf too. She’s whining to meet him.” I nuzzled into his neck- safe. And a little hot under the collar knowing I would soon see all of him. I gulped and could smell some of the desire between us. Damn wolf senses. And if I could smell it he certainly could, but thanks to being poked by something in particular I knew he was too. We were mates after all, bound to turn each other on. I really hoped Cole wouldn’t mind my body, it was mostly healed but the couple extra pounds compared to his perfectly chiseled body were noticeable. I gazed around at the room conveniently right next to mine. Now knowing we were so close had ideas swimming through my mind and lewd images for

the future me to test out. I watched as Cole took care to prepare the bath I willingly gave my hand to him. I was always willing when it came to him. I took a deep breath as we walked into his cavernous bathroom, I stopped and gazed longingly at the shower- oh yes I loved

shower jets... for reasons. I cleared my throat.

“I really like your shower Cole.”

Losing myself in his eyes for a moment I realize the bath is nearly full. Whoops... I reached for the hem of the shirt I wore of yours and lifted it over head, revealing the faded bruises and my tattoos. I quickly bend slightly and removed the pants and panties in one swoop and stood nervously shifting from side to side. Nude, in front of him. I opened my eyes to look at Cole, exposed and shy about it. I looked down and out of reflex covered myself with my hands.

Cole: *Fuck me, she takes my breath away. All female curves in all the places I love them. Catching the nervous gesture with her hands and eyes, I grasp her wrists and move her palms to my chest and tilt her chin up with one finger*

Stop. You're beautiful Scarlett. Don't be ashamed to be naked with me.

*The bruises on her, made me want to hurt her father and anybody else who'd ever laid an unkind hand on her all over again, but they'll fade. Tentatively, I lay my hand on her bare skin and slide it down her side to rest on her hip, then slide me free hand to cup her head and tangle in her hair. Pulling her lips to mine, I kiss her, letting my tongue slide across the seam of her lips but no further. I so want to fucking taste her. I can scent her arousal and my dick was ignoring orders and straining against my jeans so I was pretty sure she could scent mine. Reluctantly I break the kiss and release her and when I can speak, my voice sounds like it’s a gravel road on a hot day*

Get in the tub, baby and scoot forward. I'll slide in behind you in a minute.

*No fucking way were these jeans coming off until she was under the water. Not like the water was actually a physical barrier but my brain could tell itself it was one.*

Scarlett: The kiss was passionate and possessive, but also sweet and full of emotion. My moan sounded loudly and echoed off the walls. He smelled so good. Maybe a little.... No Scar, much too soon. My lips still moved after Cole broke the kiss, my wolf and I both whined. He was so

incredible, and he liked my body. My mind finally came back online. He was an alpha and aroused. Even though he didn’t use his alpha influence I still obeyed. Slowly I climbed into the tub and sank down, immediately I felt the warmth of the water and added salts begin to work on my skin. I took a deep breathe, taking it all in before I turned to look at my mate.

“You’re over

dressed Alpha.”

I tried to be playful despite my nerves as I sat forward to give him the spot he requested of me. I gazed at him still, he was an incredible specimen. Not just because he was handsome, he was smart, kind, and so devoted. It made me want to progress, I wanted to recover and be able to get past the trauma and give all of myself, mind and body- but still it scared me. What if he grew tired of me? Shaking the thought I returned to shamelessly ogle him. He was nothing short of glorious and I would praise him every time I could.

“What’s your favorite color?” I ask to keep my mind off the hormones that hung in my body and in the air.

Cole: *Watching her body slide into the water was an exercise in pain as my cock got harder than I'd ever thought it could and pressed into the rough metal zipper. Commando causes problems occasionally but I usually had better control. I may have to invest in underwear now that she's here or I'm going to be in pain every hour of every day. Swallowing hard, I unfasten my belt and then the button on my jeans. Carefully, I slide the zipper down, letting my now massively erect cock spring free, and shuck the jeans off. *

Color?

*My mind draws a blank. It wasn't something I thought about. Yeah, I love the dark blue of the sky at twilight and all the greens of the forest, but usually I wore black. It was easier. Finally, as I slip in the tub behind her and then slide my arms around her waist to pull her back against me, adjusting myself so my dick presses up flat against her ass rather than poking her... and damn did it want to poke her..., I answer*

I don't think I have one. I guess it's going to be whatever color you're wearing at the time, baby.

Scarlett: My jaw fell open seeing his proud body... how would that fit in me? I gulped and the moisture from my mouth went elsewhere. Holy Goddess he was perfection personified. My loud gulp sounded again. As he settled behind me I let out a soft sigh and yipped when he pulled me to his chest, it was what I wanted and the mate bond was growing. I was content and my breathing slowed. It was bliss being so close to him. Mate! Shut up pup! My wolf and I struggled for a moment before we focused on our mate. He really did know the right things to say. What not just because he was handsome, he was smart, kind, and so devoted. It made me want to progress, I wanted to recover and be able to get past the trauma and give all of myself, mind and body- but still it scared me. What if he grew tired of me? Shaking the thought I returned to shamelessly ogle him. He was nothing short of glorious and I would praise him every time I could.

My jaw fell open seeing his proud body... how would that fit in me? I gulped and the moisture from my mouth went elsewhere. Holy Goddess he was perfection personified. My loud gulp sounded again. As he settled behind me I let out a soft sigh and yipped when he pulled me to his chest, it was what I wanted and the mate bond was growing. I was content and my breathing slowed. It was bliss being so close to him. Mate! Shut up pup! My wolf and i struggled for a moment before we focused on our mate. He really did know the right things to say. What I wore- or was it a line? Time would tell but everything about Cole seemed genuine. I could see myself loving him deeply with all of me- I really did want to. In a moment my goals shifted. Get better, become fully bonded mates, and be happy.

“So right now your favorite color is nude?” I turn my head and place a soft kiss on your chest then give you a cheeky grin. I trace the tattoo of my face with my lips. Kissing myself. I laugh.

Cole: *laughing with her* Baby, nude is /always/ going to be my favorite color on you. *dipping my head down to catch a kiss while she laughs. If I could capture this moment in amber and keep it on my desk for the rest of my life to remember, I'd do it. And it's not because she's naked. Not even because we're both naked and wet and... don't go there brain. I've been around naked females all my life. Clothes get ditched when you shift. And I'd been around females I was about to have sex with often enough. But nothing had prepared me for how I feel when I'm with Scarlett. Hell, yeah, the body was aching harder than it ever had in my life, my arousal off the damned charts, but that wasn't it. Something settled deep in my chest. A recognition, a peace, a deep happiness. ‘Mine,’ my wolf growled at me. ‘Mine,’ I agreed with him. And that's what it is. Scarlett is mine. She'd been destined to be mine from the beginning of time. And because she was mine, she brought me this deep sense of happiness. Of permanence. I understood now, why wolves mate for life. If she died, even now without being fully mated, I'd die with her. She wouldn't go into the beyond without me. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her tightly to me. So this is love. Not just mating instinct. Love. Nuzzling her neck, I whisper*

I think I may give up showers in favor of baths. With you.

Scarlett: It was an incredible feeling of peace as I nestled into his chest, his erection may be seeking attention but I turned so it was pressed against my belly. Oh my I craved him on another level. It was soul to soul. My wolf was content and she was actually responding to me now. I let her have her moment and focused on the moment, forever etching it into my mind. It would forever be my favorite.

“Our first bath. I wouldn’t mind taking more with you. Maybe even a good snuggle.” I curled more so into his chest and arms. I never imagined having such peace and it was addictive. My peace was a home with Cole. I wanted to try. He deserved that, and so did I. My father couldn’t hold me back now.

“I want to try something with you.”

I smiled softly and nuzzled my face into yours neck. After my scent was thoroughly mixed with his I placed my hands on each side of his face, caressing him sweetly. Just beginning my worship of all of him. My lips touched his and the sparks erupted all through my body. An instant addiction I ached to feed all the time. My lips began to move faster against Cole’s an urgency to taste him to love him. After deepening the kiss just a little more I push my tongue between his lips, just needing to taste a little more.

“Mmmmm.”

Cole: *The surprise at her lush, wet body pressed against mine, her firm breasts against my chest, was totally replaced by more surprise as her hands cupped my face and initiated a kiss. She deepened it almost before I could respond. Her delicate tongue slipping between my lips, but I catch up fast. My tongue slides over hers, tangling with it as I taste her -- strawberries and honey -- and I wonder if she tastes like this everywhere. A low groan escapes me as my hands slide down her back, to cup her ass and press her closer against me, but still holding onto control, not going further to let her take the lead. After what she's been through, I understand she needs to make the first moves every level we progress. She needs it to prove to herself she's whole and deserves to be happy.*

Baby, you're gonna kill me. *sighing

against her lips* Spend the night in my bed? I promise, nothing happens you don't want. I just want to hold you all night.

Scarlett: The way he gripped my hips and backside was bliss. I continued to groan into his mouth as the kiss intensified. He tasted like summer. It was perfection. “Oh Cole.” The kiss ended with us both breathless and obvious arousal that hung in the air, thickened by the heat of the bath. I was slowly learning him and his habits. And now his likes. He thought I was going to kill him? He should try being in my shoes. He was literally going to rip me in two when time came. I was tiny compared to him, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt a hair on my body. Bliss. Perfection. Did I want to stay the night with him? Yes. I longed for him. Doctor Adams had mentioned being near my mate could help me heal- but there was also the possibility of sex and pregnancy. Yes I got the safe sex talk from a stranger. It was mortifying. Knowing how it worked was one thing but hearing about an alpha’s expectations and drives was another. I was blooming with need again as I batted at that thought.

“Yes I would like to sleep with you tonight.”

Cole:*smiling at you, a hand coming up to cup your cheek as I kiss you. I know what a breakthrough that was for you. And it turns me on. Of course, everything about her turns me on.*

You ready then? To sleep, I mean. *chuckling a little* Like I said, only as far as you want to go.

Scarlett: “I’m ready.” I gave Cole my hand and tightened my fingers around his. After a moment I push so I can start getting out of the tub. “I hope you want to cuddle.” I hadn’t had much affection ever so I wanted to lavish in it while I could. Cole was such a sweet individual and made me crave more. “Can I wear another of your shirts?”

Cole: *I suppress a little pang of disappointment that she wants a shirt to sleep in. I wanted her skin to skin. but it was probably better that way. I'd dig out a pair of soft gym shorts to wear to be doubly sure we didn't get carried away. Although she could damn well touch anything she wanted to touch and I'd keep myself in control. She was an innocent. Letting her explore my body in her own time would help her be more confident when we consummated the mating. I wasn't an adolescent pup anymore but I remembered that curiosity. And because I wasn't an adolescent anymore I could control myself and allow her to do it.*

I think that can be arranged. *Sitting up as she starts to stand, I quickly gain my feet and steady her. The tub's slick and she's loose and relaxed, but still a weak enough to be wobbly. I step over the side of the deep stone slipper style tub and gain my footing on the rug beside it. Grasping her around the waist I lift her up* Watch your legs* and over the edge to stand beside me. I grab one of the bath sheets I'd stacked on the floor by the tub and wrap one around her, then grab another and wrap around my waist.*

I've got some stuff in the bedroom.

Scarlett: “Okay.” I smile softly as you wrap me up and treat me as the greatest treasure on earth. I guess to my mate I would be. Pulling the towel closer I could smell you and fresh laundry and I do enjoy it. Yes I’m weird. I follow you, watching the way your muscles bunch and coil as you walk to the bedroom. I’m again enveloped by the scent. While you’re locating the items I decide to sit on the bed, and quickly find myself laying against your pillow just wrapped in the soft towel. Yawning softly. “Should we watch something?” Not wanting to sleep quite yet because I just want to spend time with my mate and be able to claim more of his time. His time was precious to me. “Thank you for letting me sleep in your bed. It’s really comfortable so far.” I nestle closer into the pillows. “I love your scent.”

Cole: *She loves /my/ scent? I have to laugh because I love hers and if I can't get her to sleep with me every night yet these sheets aren't getting washed until we mate so I can sleep surrounded by /hers/. My wolf nods in agreement. He likes her scent too. Opening a drawer I pull out a tee-shirt. It's old and been washed so many times it's soft as silk against the skin, but the concert logo on the front reminds me of the night I first met her. I'd just returned from it when my dad told me he had someone he wanted me to meet. My heart had practically jumped through my 18-year-old chest at the sight of the skinny blonde thirteen year-old. I just knew. In the years after she'd disappeared this shirt had been a talisman to me. A reassurance that I'd find her again. Carefully I lay it on top of the dresser, then open another drawer and rummage haphazardly through it until I find a pair of gym shorts. They're loose legged and there's netting to hold my junk in place, but it will be good to sleep in. And, if she gets adventurous, easy for her to let her hands roam. Not counting on that but hope springs eternal. Dropping my towel, I step into the shorts and go to the bed with the tee-shirt. Goddess, she looks amazing, laying there in nothing but a towel.*

We could put an old movie on if you want. I'm a big TCM fan.

Scarlett: I laid there and watched him pause with one shirt. It held meaning to Cole, and I wanted to see the whole thing, it looked like it had been washed and worn often, so perfect sleep attire. I slipped on the shirt and nothing else, I didn’t really have anything at the moment. And touch was so important I almost second guessed the t-shirt in its entirety. He liked seeing me nude, and I trusted him to not push me. Even if I wanted him to, he would probably deny my advances for now. Even if we both wanted it, I wasn’t ready deep down for such a momentous event. Thank the Goddess for him. I tossed the towel and reached for my mate. Having him near was incredible. I did want to stay every night but we would just start with tonight. I didn’t know if I snored horribly and he would want to kick me out. He makes me feel so safe and protected. I craved him being near. Once he settles into bed I scoot into him, my back against his chest and backside in his lap. I then put his hands around my waist. “Is this okay?

Cole: *pulling her even closer so her bottom fits snugly against my groin, I drop a kiss on her neck*

It's perfect. But might be kind of hard to watch TV from this position if you still want to. I can take that or leave it, baby. I got all I need right here.

Scarlett: “Would you like to sit up with me on your chest?” I offer, so long as I’m against him I’m okay, my world is right. Each time I move slightly my hips brush back against your lap and a soft intake of air sounds between my lips, “as long as I’m with you- and we can kiss more.”

Cole: the subtle brush of her ass on my cock is a treat and a torment. And one that's testing me. Turning her in my arms to face me,*

I think this works.

*Reaching for a remote that controls everything electronic in the room, I dim the lights and turn on some soft music. Putting the remote down, I turn my attention to her. Slipping one arm under her pillow, I lay my profile on the pillow, just looking into your eyes as I run my free hand down your side to pull you against me.* Perfect. *taking her mouth with mine, gently probing her lips until they open for me.*

Scarlett: It’s amazing how easily he moves me with him, and that I don’t recoil or tense, the first few days after I had woken he wasn’t able to get near me, but his patience with me has led to what has become beautiful between us. I was falling for Cole. The other promises didn’t matter and nor did the other alphas. I was falling for my alpha. My mate, my Cole. Mine. Just as I opened my mouth to speak his lips came to mine and immediately I responded. His lips asked for mine to yield. And willingly I did so. He explored my mouth and I wanted more.

My lips opened further and tongue danced with his. A sensual preview of what would come. I groaned softly and my hands went to his chest feeling over him, his abs... and accidentally feeling his erection. I returned my hands to his chest to behave- I knew it was hard. So hard..

Cole: *Groaning as her hands caress over my arousal I fight the urge to roll her to her back and feast on her body. She's not fucking ready for that, but it’s an effort of will to stay where I am. Moments later, as she moves her hands to my chest, I know I made the right call. Still,

maybe a little encouragement is in order. Taking both her hands in one of mine, I kiss her knuckles*

You can touch me anywhere you want baby. Explore all you want. I'll be honest. There's nothing I want more than to touch you, taste you...make love to you, take you every way there is. But none of that's going to happen tonight, no matter what you do. So if you want to explore, the playground is open. And if you don't, just laying here and necking and cuddling will be awesome too. And doing one, doesn't mean we can't go back to the other if you get panicked. You're in control tonight.

Scarlett: I could touch and let him touch me. I was sure of it. He was Cole, he never hurt me. He was mine. It was perhaps one of the most incredibly sweet things I had ever heard, and I was in control of this big, beautiful, alpha male. Me. Scarlett Mitchell who used to sing Gaga alone in her room and not have any real friends. Me. I nodded while looking him in the eyes, we returned to kissing passionately. I could almost feel his mouth below my waist, as if his mouth was there instead of my mouth. Heaven. As my breathing picked up I moaned again. He was my compliment. Feeling emboldened for the moment I took his hand and put it on my breast, after I held it still growing used to his palm on it I let go to allow him to tease my skin. I moved his other hand to my backside, I liked it there. It felt like a way he claimed me. And I liked that. With his hands busy it was my turn. I reached around with one hand to lightly tickle his back, the other trailed to his abs. Then a little lower to feel his hardened flesh again. Did my hand fit around it? Slowly my fingers wrapped around it. Success!

Cole: *Goddess, her skin...it's silk. When she moves my hand to her firm, high breasts, I squeeze gently at first, kneading it, the let my thumb and forefinger roll the hard pebbled nipple. My mouth is watering, dying to take it in my mouth as my other hand squeezes her ass, my fingertips caressing her crease, grazing her sex as I tease her. She explores my chest, trailing her hand down my abs until.....* Fuck.... *it comes out a low groan as her hand encircles my cock and squeezes. My eyes shut as she explores it, moving her hand on me. The thick vein pulses under her hand as I struggle not to thrust into it*

Scarlett: My eyes are closed focused on each sensation I am experiencing, for most it is the first. I move my hand up and down as I had seen done in movies. It seemed to work. I wanted to drive him crazy with desire, to feel like a goddess, his goddess and only his. His hands move with mine, and I moan into his mouth. “Ohh Cole,” I could smell our heavy scents in the air. Just as I let out another moan there was two rapid knocks at the door and it proceeded to open immediately, and Ethan’s voice is heard as he walks in he’s explaining a rogue attack that injured a patrol member. I freeze and roll away, a wide smirk crosses his face and a cheeky comment comes out.

Cole: *Her mouth, her body....I'm in fucking heaven and then...*

MOTHERFUCKER!!!

*I roar at Ethan as I hastily roll my body over Scarlet to conceal her from sight. The smartass remark about 'pup tents' freezes before it’s all the way out of his mouth as I glare at him. Right about now all that's saving him from a beat down for seeing Scarlett like this is the fact we've been best friends since we were pups.*

You will apologize this second. This is your female alpha and you will respect her. *It comes out a growl,* And then you'll wait outside

my door. Doc's with them now?

*He nods, his face gone pale, realizing this wasn't a casual fuck. But he Goddess damn well should have scented what was happening and known it wasn't. I've never brought a woman into my bed, into this house, before. Hastily he apologizes to Scarlet and steps out, closing the door behind him. Turning my attention to Scarlett, I lift myself off of her and wrap a blanket around her, then put my arms around her*

Fucking hells, baby, I'm sorry. Ethan's not usually such an asshole. *stroking her hair* Are you ok?

Scarlett: The movement is so fast I’m left a little dizzy. Then the growling. Cole’s growl was deafening as he chastised his head of security. I couldn’t look up at the male I was embarrassed he had walked in on me and Cole doing that. After we were alone again he asked if I was okay. I had to think. Was I? Slowly I nodded.

“That was a little more than necking babe.” Not realizing I called him a pet name. I put my forehead to his and control my breathing. “That was by far the most pleasurable event of my life so far.” I hope that I had given it in return. There was another question. “Can I stay with you?” I wanted the reassurance that I did not displease him. I craved him being near.

Cole: *The tension drains out of me as she answers. She called me 'babe'. It's the first time she's done that. Ok, Ethan's still an asshole, but I'll forgive him just because she called me that. Chuckling*

Yeah, a little more than necking. I regret nothing. *Stealing a kiss from her,* I hope that you /will/ stay with me. In my life, in this house, in this bed. And not let my chief of security being an asshole scare you away. Scar...*looking at her seriously* He should have known better. I've never brought a woman into this house. Ever. He should have scented what was happening and been more discrete. But *sighing regretfully* I do have to take care of this. If the injury had been serious, E wouldn't have been such a smart ass, so I'm not too worried about my soldier, but it shouldn't have happened and that /does/ worry me. *Kissing her lightly* Be here when get back?

Scarlett: “I promise I will be here. Go take care of our soldier.” I kiss Cole softly and settle against the pillows, calming my hormones. When he’s gone I just wish I had a girl to talk to, instead I replay the situation over and over until I fall asleep waiting for Cole to return.

#TBC

#BloodMoonRises #Intimacy #Renegades #RRPG #AU #BDB #Reapers #Vampires #Angels #Wolfen #Ghosts #Witches

0 notes

rkahnso · 6 years

Text

TW:// heavily mentioned anxiety, anxiety attack, corporal punishment, physical pain/harm

trc, to sohee’s knowledge, never really does grand-scale meetings like this. well, not since the samsung buy-out. so she’s a bit confused. they have until a certain time to meet. rather than risk being reprimanded by an instructor, she tries to leave as soon as her workout circuit is finished.

she swears everyone in the company is in the gymnasium at that moment. many people that she doesn’t even know. the minute she’s spotted, a coach approaches her. sohee freezes. her eyes are wide, like a cat in the middle of the night. the coach doesn’t say much other than to “follow him” and grab her by her arm to lead her in front of everyone else. jessica soon joins her. she swears her blood just ran cold.

walking through and past everyone made the sinking feeling in her stomach deepen. she doesn’t know what to say or how to react but her heart is beating so hard that it makes her feel jittery. her hands are shaking hard now. she swears her body is practically buzzing. her ears are ringing.

the moment jessica is next to her, she feels like the other isn’t really there. sohee is looking at herself from far away. this isn’t happening right now. it couldn’t be. she feels like her vision is narrowed like she’s looking through a scope. it doesn’t feel real. right now, it feels like an odd mix of not really feeling these physical reactions at the same time sohee logically understands that she is reacted badly to this.

she can’t breathe.

she can’t and she knows she can’t even as she draws in a shaky breath. her hands are shaking harder now. she’s practically trembling like a leaf. she hears someone speak to her but it sounds garbled, like the person is underwater. her nerves seem to be in overdrive. her spacious awareness is nonexistent -- she can’t process any of her senses right now. the garbled words repeat themselves but she’s too shocked to hear.

then she’s hit....hard.

sohee knows she yells out in pain but she can’t shake the veil that seems to separate her from reality. she can’t breathe. her chest feels tight and she doesn’t know what hits her. she wants to run, throw up, faint, anything and everything but her body isn’t responding. she’s freaking out. she doesn’t know what to do. she missteps, almost too dizzy to stay still. she’s hit again. this time, the words yell at her and rattle her brain.

“get on your knees, dammit!”

this is like her own personal nightmare come true. while she shakily lowers herself to the floor, flashbacks to her first week in trc permeate her thoughts. watching her friends get hit, the yelling -- everything that made her terrified to speak to anyone for months. the exact trauma that kept her from asking to go to the bathroom or for water or to volunteer -- it’s the exact thing that forced sohee to keep her head down in the halls of trc and hope, pray that she didn’t exist to the instructors.

and it was happening to her.

they caught her and she couldn’t escape. she doesn’t know what she’s done but this time it’s only her and jessica on their knees --

(the coaches yelled at her twice to put up her hands. she got hit for being unable to process the directions quickly enough and sohee was panicking too much to feel the pain initially)

-- so it must be bad. her adrenaline must be coursing through her veins because she doesn’t feel the sharp ache from the blows. when she lifts her arms, she doesn’t feel how heavy they are. she’s just full of pent up energy that she feels like running around and curling up at the same time.

just as she thought the ringing in her ears couldn’t get any louder, she heard the heavy thudding of boots. she looks up, eyes full of fear. this is not what she expected to come out of today. the moment she looked up at the senior coach, she really felt like she was going to pass out.

“These two decided to share how they love seeing each other at work even if one of them is a public trainee and the other isn’t. You really think people can’t put two and two together? The public is always smarter than you; they’ll overthink every time. That’s why there’s always fake scandals going around.”

she looked over at jessica in horror. sohee didn’t think much of their comments on her instagram. she’s not actively modelling anymore. although she still has an impressive following, she didn’t think much of their silly little comments. she didn’t even think that would insinuate that jessica was a trainee. she could be a dance coach for all anyone knew. but she knew that argument wouldn’t save her.

when he leans down to whisper to them, sohee swears that she nearly flinches away. she doesn’t like the sound of his breathing or the hiss of his words. it does nothing to ease the panic that’s practically exuding from her being. she’s vaguely aware that she’s crying but she can’t lower her hands, lest she be hit again.

there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach (different from what she felt earlier) when the coach announced that everyone was on a social media ban. again. this time, it was sohee’s fault. although they have basically no free time to even be on social media (the most sleep any trc trainee gets on weekdays is like, three hours before they have to be up and at the company again), trc trainees seem to make it their life blood. sohee barely manages a post on instagram every few weeks (if any) and her twitter is practically abandoned. how any other trainee finds time to do anything else is beyond her. and she’s convinced they don’t sleep.

but she knows everyone will blame her. they, like the coaches, will blow silly comments out of proportion. there had been no news about this. no one had caught it. there’s been no major blogs running on the internet exposing jessica as a trainee. but she knows the possibility of it happening was bad enough. and it was all her fault. for some stupid comment.

by the time everyone is doing their laps, sohee doesn’t even feel like she’s in the same reality anymore. she feels like she’s distance -- elsewhere despite her body physically being in the room. her anxiety hasn’t ceased and the adrenaline still flows, her heart beating so hard that her chest feels like it’s going to fucking explode. she’s resorted to hyperventilating but no one pays any mind. the tears run down her face.

when the other trainees are ushered out, jessica and sohee remain. the coaches tear into them, almost like they’re not even real people. like they don’t have feelings or emotions. the insults are not unlike what sohee would face in the fashion industry. agents who will insult their models, scolding them for being “overweight”. much like her mother, who would yell and scream at her for any falter in her bubbly personality; for anything she deemed as a mistake. to her, sohee wasn’t her daughter but a walking product placement. how dare she be human.

she hit her peak when she couldn’t hold it in anymore. she sobbed, lowering her hands to hug herself while she grasped for breath. she was hit, again, for breaking posture. but her knees hurts, her arms ached, she couldn’t breathe, her mind was racing and she wasn’t even really there. disassociating heavily in this moment that it took a few hits for her hands to go back up.

the particularly mean coach with the heavy boots leaned down to her, smirking. “well, i hope we can take your strong reaction as a guarantee that you’ll behave from here on out.” his smirk was vile, heartless. when he straightened, he turned up his nose as if she were nothing to him.

she knew she wasn’t.

“clean yourself up and return to your schedules.”

but sohee didn’t know how. she didn’t know how to calm down or to relax or stop her crying. in pure fear of getting hit again, she got up quickly, nearly falling over herself. she ran. she ran as fast as she could out of that gymnasium.

but she knew she was trapped here, so help her god.

#solo #kingdom.chronicles #(((((((:#(( i conferenced w the admods about these events!!! ))#(( thank u and have a good night ))

7 notes · View notes

lillaxtrigger · 5 years

Text

Faded land: Chapter 15

The waning moon shines down upon the city of Niagara, piercing through a rising pillar of smoke. It’s lunar glow mixes with that of the flames burning along the power plants fresh, smoldering remains. These flames are soon extinguished; onlookers of the disasters aftermath watching as the Canadian forces work to put out the fires While some tempt to quell the blazing wreckage, others tend to the rubble that once made up the plant; moving the heavy chunks of steel and concrete with but their armored hands. Cleanup efforts fail to stop at just picking up rubble however, as the countless corpses that are uncovered from the wreck are swept up all the same. Occasionally, the crew digs up a survivor buried under the mess of metal and stone; the soldiers acting accordingly and quickly rescues and tends to those severely injured.

One of the employees sits along the side wrapped in the weighted comfort of a trauma blanket; his leg refusing to cease trembling within his quaking boots. Standing in front of him be one of the soldiers that tended to his recovery; the worker recounting the attack for the trooper. “It...It all just started like every other day. Wake up, had breakfast, went to work, had lunch. Same deal as usual. I was talking to my friend about something. Bout finding some kind of mutant while walking home last night. Before another word could come out of his mouth, we hear the back door getting kicked down. That’s when this punk looking girl came bursting in with a bunch of masked people with guns and weird purple boxes and started gunning down the others. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the face Marty wore as led pierced through his brains. The dread in his eyes burned into my mind.

Seeing all that was more than enough of a warning to high tail it outta there; my legs carrying me faster than they ever have. Sprinting through those halls, I screamed at the top of my lungs trying to warn as many people as I could about the terrorists as gunfire echoed behind me. Not really sure what got people running more to be honest. Once everybody got themselves scrambling through the halls, I dashed towards wherever I could hide my sorry ass; the supply closet. Hiding among the noxious scent of the cleaning supplies, all that I could hear through the other side of the door was the echoes of firearms and the screams of my coworkers. Occasionally, I could hear the door before me rapidly pound; almost hard enough to straight up break through. Couldn’t hear anything beyond all the chaos, so it was hard to tell whether it was one of my coworkers wanting in, or one of the terrorists. Makes me ashamed to admit that I was too scared to open it either way. Eventually, all the noise just died down; no screams, no bullets, no pounding, not a sound. Made me think the storm finally pass. If only I knew what would come next.

Just when I was about to reach for the door, an overwhelming boom shook the whole place. The shelves of supplies fell right on top of me, just piling all on my back. Pretty soon, the entire roof saw it best to join in the fun and crumbled right on the whole. At time, I thought all of it was a death sentence; trapped within a tomb of cabinets and Clorox. Might as well been a blessing in disguise. All that junk piled on me wound up saving my skin from the explosion outside. I spent what seems like hours stuck under it all, feeling all of its overwhelming on my back. Thought if the pressure snapping my spine wouldn’t kill me, the heavy cleaning chemicals would. Lucky you guys dug me out when you did.”

Finished telling his spiel, the rescued employee lets escape from his lungs a heavy sigh. “Didn’t even to try to do a damn thing to help anybody or stop those terrorists. Thinking about the sound of that pounding door...Still eats me up inside. Can’t help but wonder if it was really someone wanting to hide from the horrors going on outside. Make me think of myself as nothing more than a worthless coward.”

“Quit beating yourself up.” The worker look up towards the Canadian, watching as the soldier detaches the helmet from the suit; bits of concealed air escaping from the bottom. The soldier’s head exposed to the open air, her naked eyes gaze down upon the traumatized survivor. “You were just some panicking rando who wound up getting caught in the madness. Most people like you can’t really make hard decisions like that in the middle of chaos.” Though the soldiers reassurance reaches the rescued employee, it does little to quell the guilt he clearly held. Hoping to reel him out of his depression, the soldier lowers herself to the moping employee, kneeling to down to his level. The worker feels the steel grip of her gauntlets as the Canadian softly grasps his shoulders. “Don’t worry. You living through this will more than help us. We’ve been tempting to thwart these bastards for more than a year now, and every witness that lives through their attacks gives us one step closer to bringing these terrorists to justice.” Hearing this eases the workers worries a bit, a little breath leaving the employees lungs. “You don’t have to answer now. But we need you to tell us about anything distinct about these terrorists. A particular article of clothing, a certain pair of shoes, any visible scars, anything you can think of to tell who they might be. Just let us know, okay?” Having said that, the soldier readies to give the worker time to recover, but halts in her departure when she hears him mention: “Actually, there was someone with them that stood out to me.” The Canadian turns back towards the rescued employee, hearing him continue with: “One of the masked attackers was wearing the weirdest thing. It was some kind of rough looking...Lab coat. Makes me wonder just what kind of sickos those terrorists have working for them.”

Underneath the concrete of the city, Clara sat between the bands of her teammates; who revel and celebrate their successful attack with a gloriously loud feast. Though laughter and merriment surrounded her alongside the sound of chewing food and gargling alcohol, the scientist does nothing but simply stare down upon her hearty meal; reflecting on the act of terrorism she just participated in. The screams of panic, the gazes of dread, the cries of terror; the despair of the employees that were gunned down still fresh in her psyche. What she thought to be a humble resistance group determined to free the American people from the Canadian authority turned out to be a vengeful terrorist cell soaked in the blood of the innocent.

Clara’s eyes venture all throughout the massive table of terrorists, watching as they eat and drink the rest of the night away without a single hint of remorse or regrets. None of them care about all the people they’ve slaughtered, all the lives they’ve taken away, all the hopes, dreams, and families that they’ve carelessly shattered. All that matters to them is the fierce flames of revenge.

Just when she thought that these people held not a bit of sympathy within them, her gaze comes across a pair of members balling their eyes out across the table. Curious of what they have to say, the scientist guides her ear towards the duo, her hearing piercing through the merriment around her. “...feel so bad about them man. It’s been eating me up right in my gullet. I don’t think I can take it.” “I know. I Know. I’m sorry for them too. But there’s nothing we could have done for them.” “I’m just can’t stop seeing the faces they made when they got shot. The blood spurting from their bodies… Can keep a girl up at night.” Huh, maybe a few of these guys aren’t as heartless as initially thought. Maybe a sliver of humanity may hide within the crevices of this terrorist cell after all. “We just gotta keep em in our hearts Jenna. Those two bastards would have wanted it that way.” Wait...Just two? “Yeah. Look on the bright side. At least Ben and Marky got to knock of a couple heads before theirs got knocked. Should’ve seen them frolicking with their gun, shooting up all those Canadians and traitors. Least they had some fun before they bit the dust.” And just like that, her hopes of these assholes having any pity for the innocent is completely shattered. Should’ve figured as much.

Suddenly, the scientist felt the leathery hold of a wayward grip on the back of her shoulder; turning on a dime to find the Dandy right behind her. “Whoa-oh! Easy there lab coat. It’s just me.” Upon site of the Mysterious overcoat, the scientist lets out a ragged breath; adding to her relief with: “Sorry.” “Are you feeling alright? You seem kinda jumpy tonight.” her host asks. “Yeah, something like that. Just didn’t think that the mission would involve so much, uh...” Clara hesitates, wishing not to disclose the regret of her moral mistake. “Stop! Don’t say another word. I know exactly what your going through.” “You...You do?” “Yeah. You still feeling shaken about all the action today. Not used to the fray being that intense, are ya?” “Hnn...” Not really the most accurate statement, but best to just roll with it. “-nnnYeah! Yeah. Didn’t really think I make it outta there on one piece to be honest.” She then hears the Dandy groan aloud, confirming that he: “Knew it. Listen. I am beyond sorry. Should have never set you up on a bombing run on the first day. Wanted to build it up. Lobbed some softball at you before pitching the big league baseball. But wouldn’t you know it. It was the only job available on such short notice. And I knew I needed to get you something under your belt so everybody here wouldn’t try to screw you over.” “Pardon?” “And hey, not only things worked out in the end, you proved to be quite the crafty asset. Heard from Shoa how you took down a Canadian guard with just your brains and couple bullets. Keep up doing stuff like that and you see herself across the border in less than two weeks.” Promising that, the Dandy gives Clara a pat on the shoulder and leaves Clara just as conflicted as they met, perhaps even more so. Without further interruption, the scientist stares back into the meat of her meal; left to ponder with path to take upon metaphorical forked path of life.

Yeah, it be absolutely wonderful to cross into Canada in such a short time, save a ton of time looking where they might have took Arthur. Still, don’t think he’d take to kindly crossing the corpses of countless innocent people to find him. Plus, who knows how many of these missions she can take before she winds up joining them. Fantastic hosts that these guys have been, it might be best to take her leave from their ranks as smoothly and stealthily as she can. Don’t want these maniac to suddenly second guess her and gun her down on the spot.

Hours pass until the passion of the party trickles down to a halt, the safe haven of the sewers are soon shrouded on a vial of darkness. Not a single sound dared echoed through the quiet hours of the resistance base, all but the near silent footsteps of the scientist. Masking her presence among the darkness, Clara glides along the makeshift buildings and shacks that make up their dwellings. Though her stealthy ventures don’t prove to be a breeze, finding some lights cutting through the darkness from the diner; the luminescence stretching across the base. Doesn’t seem like there’s any way through them. Gonna need to crawl right under it all.

This in mind, she lowers herself down onto the grimy concrete floor and begins her crawl across the base of the diner. Creeping below the illuminating windows, her ears catch the noise of clacking dishes and sweeping scrapes of the broom; the sound of idle chatter blending into the muffled echoes. Her sneaking endeavors soon come towards an obvious blockade: the front doors, its glass letting flow forth a stream of light. Near the glow of the door, the scientist takes in a deep breath, understanding that she’ll need to pull this off as smoothly as possible. After letting loose that same breath; she dives straight through the row of luminescence; the guy cleaning the counter taking obvious notice of her sudden bolt through.

Hoping right over the counter of patched up marble and stone, he swiftly open the glass doors of the diner; taking a glance outside to see whatever darted across the door. “Whatcha doing Billy?” someone inside asks. “Thought...Thought I saw something go across the door.”. “Probably was just a rat or something. Hey, come and help me out here. Trying to scrape off a piece of food I found underneath this seat. Kinda looks like its moving.” Hearing his partners plea, he shrugs off the site and retreats back inside; unaware of the scientist he saw ducking along the side of the diner. Having snuck past the prying eyes of the diner, Clara continues forth in her escape.

Her stealthy ventures soon take her towards the corridor leading to the subway; the cooling midnight winds bellowing through the tunnels. Deciding between the enormous open train tunnels and the cramped dank sewers is a choice that even the most ineptly moronic could correctly decide. Ain’t no way in hell that she’s risking going through that trap infested hellhole again. Not really sure what’d kill her in there faster, the traps or the ungodly stench of cadavers drifting through the urine and feces.

Peeking behind the hall leading to the subways however, she soon realizes that she might not have as much of an option as she thought. Gazing ahead, she finds along both sides a couple of armed guards, their flashlights shining down the darkness of the tunnel. Guess it shouldn’t be much of a surprise they’d set up some sentries through here. The wide open space of the subway don’t lend themselves well towards setting up roadblocks. Having guards at the ready is practically the only measure of security you could set up. Probably not a wise idea to just waltz over to them and say: “Hey, just going out for a little bit, catch y’all later bitches.” without a feeding them a half decent excuse either. Unfortunately, what the scientist boasts in intellectual prowess, she lacks in social deception. Traveling miles on end though the nuclear wastes hasn’t exactly given her any opportunity to build her charismatic abilities. She couldn’t think of a good lie for them to scarf down even if she had all night.

With the safe option out, the only one left standing be risking her life in the dank tunnels of the Niagara sewers. Not the most elegant form of escape she could take, but situations like this don’t look down kindly to the elegant, they look down upon the scrappy. Let’s just get this over with.

As Clara readies herself to descending into the rank horrors of the sewers, the echoes of her fellow resistance members reaches her ears. “They definitely came from over there.” Hearing their approach, she wastes not another moment to dart into the darkness of the tunnels. “Just now! Someone ran in the sewers! Come on!”

Bolting through the concrete corridors, the scientist hears the voices behind her growing softer. Once far enough from her pursuers, she turns right upon the cross tunnels and darts behind the oncoming corner. Peeking out from behind the brickwork, the scientist witnesses several of the resistance members halting at the intersection; some of them wielding firearms. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! How’d they even find us!?” one of them curses. “You sure you saw somebody run down here? Might have just been a raccoon.” another questions. “Naw, naw. I saw it too. Shadow was definitely too big to be some mangy raccoon.” another clarifies. “Rrnng. Whoever this guy is, they ain’t getting outta here alive. Everyone split up!” Upon that command does the entire squad scatter; a pair of them sprinting in Clara’s direction. The scientist herself frantically wonders how to elude her approaching former teammates, looking ahead to find the tunnel too long to escape from their site. Gotta find someplace to hide.

The duo soon turn onto the corner, racing through the clear concrete pathway. Suddenly, one of them halts in their tracks; his partner slowing down and turning to find him looking back. “What you slow down for? See something?” Her partner stays silent, steadily returning to the other side of the tunnel with the barrel of his gun aimed down the corridor. Upon reaching the other side does the sound of splashing reach his ears; the gunmen swiftly turning back to find the waters beside him rippling. “You see that?” the gun asks. “No. What was it?” his partner wonders. Approaching the river of sewage, he looks into the waters sickly green color; the murky waters giving him very little hint what could be lurking underneath. Though still curious of what could be hiding beneath, he flips the butt of his gun towards the river. “Uh...What are you doing?” his partner cautiously questions. “Don’t wanna waste the ammo checking what could be down there.” Slowly, he begins to dip the back end of his assault rifle down into the stream; the grimy waters rippling as his firearms dive deeper down.

After poking his gun around in the mix of piss and poop, the butt of his firearms is caught in the steel jaws of one of the rivers traps; the pair of rusty teeth tempting to pull the guy into the depths of the river. “Shit!” The man attempts to pull his rifle away from the underwater traps strong draw, his boots scrapping against the concrete underneath his feet. Seeing her partner being pulled towards the deadly trap infested river; she quickly comes to the poor bastards aid; hugging onto his midsection and helping him pull. “Let...go of your gun, you jackass!” “Never!” The guy refusing to let go of his precious firearms, the opposing pull eventually splits the rifle in half; the sudden snap causing the duo to careening into the brick wall.

The two terrorists rise from their blunder; the gun looking upon his weapon to find it snapped in two. Though not a word comes from his mouth on the matter, his partner on the other hand can’t help but add insult to injury with: “Well, guess you wound up wasting more then just a few bullets there, huh.” Hearing this, the former guns face deflates further down to a scowling brood; throwing what’s left of his weapon into the sewers stream. “Lets just keep moving...” he insist.

After that whole fuck up of aquatic endeavors; the two turn the corner in a dripping mess; neither of them aware that the scientist that they seek hanged above them the whole time. Letting go of the piping that she suspended herself on, Clara drops out from the shadows of the corner. As soon as she lands, she starts to check the contents of her bag; counting the number of canned goods she has left. Kind of a huge waste to just throw one of them away like that, especially with how little chances she gets to restock her rations. Still, had to sacrifice something to throw off those maniacs off; wouldn’t exactly be a smart idea for it to be a piece of her equipment, like her compass or can opener. Hope it was at least something disgusting, like those beans or that can of chowder. Shifting through her rations, she unfortunately finds both of them accounted for; noticing one that she had been look forward to tasting missing from the bunch. The can full of deliciously juicy pears, a loss that deeply disappoints the scientist; their sweet flavor forsaken to the trap infested waters of the sewers. Truly, a loss non more tragic among canned goods.

She soon moves on from her shattered hopes of sugary fruit and closes her backpack; glancing down in her sulk to notice the large drips of water trailing around the corner. Jeez. How wet did that asshole get to leave behind puddles this big in his wake. Probably gotten at least 5 liters of disgusting sewer water all over him. Didn’t even take the time to rinse himself off. Bet he reeks of rotting fecal matter and old dry urine by now. Still, kind of lucky that he flippantly disregarded his own hygiene like that; as the water droplet he left behind make the perfect trail for the scientist to follow. This in mind, Clara hesitates not another moment to pursue her pursuers.

Following the drops of grimy water along the brickwork tunnels, the trail of rank sewage leads her safely weaving through the maze. Sure, on the surface, it seems pretty idiotic. Chasing down the guys that wanna gun you down with nothing to fight back against. But when realizing that these guys likely know the twist and turns of these sewers better than an obese loner familiar with the bottom of a chicken bucket, it becomes all the more clear why trailing these guys through these tunnels of horrible death and unruly odor is a better idea than it sounds. No doubt that the risk of stalking these dangerous terrorist might lead her to the way out of this death trap filled horror show.

Though hoping this, the scientist pursuit suddenly comes on an unexpected close. Halting upon the turn of the corner, Clara comes face to face with the resistance members bleeding bodies; both of them having impaled onto a spring loaded spike trap. Witnessing the duo that tempted to search for her fall to the machinations of their mazes own workings urges the scientist to slowly back away. Perhaps these guys aren’t as familiar with the layout of their own maze as she had figured. The pairs corpses making this fact more than clear, she books it back through the safe route that they led her down.

In the midst of her retreat, Clara turn the corner to find a few of the armed resistance members with their backs turned. Instantly, she dart back behind the corner before they have the chance to turn around; not halting a single moment in her sprint away. “I saw something!” she hears one of them scream. Racing away from the pack, the scientist hears the cluster of their footstep from behind; risking every corner she can to evade their line of site. Knowing that taking one of the safe routes would guarantee her being cornered, she finds it best to gamble going down one of the other routes.

As she flees from her firearm toting foes; Clara feels the light tug of a tripwire at her angle and instantly stops. In front of her springs forth a spike covered board of wood; its blood soaked nails stopping just mere centimeters from Clara’s face. Though taking a short breath, the scientist isn’t allowed a moment to relax; hearing the steps of her pursuers close in.

The squad soon turn the corner; their firearms aimed and ready for whoever may be around the tunnel. However, their site beheld nothing but the spring loaded spike trap before them. “Wha-I...I swear someone turned here! I saw them!” one of them claims. “Dammit Windslow! Get some fucking glasses! You’re winding up leading us to our early graves!” “Come on. They couldn’t have gotten far.” With this, all f them set off in the other direction to look for their prey; unaware that who they were gunning for hid right in front of them the whole time. Once the coast was clear, the scientist jumps out from behind the nail covered board of wood; peeking around the corner to see the squad scampering away. Though she saw first hand the ignorance of her pursuers first hand, it would be smart to observe if some of these terrorist fair better in intelligence more than others and lead her toward the freedom she seeks. If nothing else, their cadavers can serve as warnings.

Just as before, the scientist darts of towards those that chased her before in an act of strategic irony; carefully tailing the resistance members in the safety of the sewers dark corners. The squad leads Clara safely all around the brick tunnels, swerving through corner after corner; weaving left and right. She peeks behind every corner she sees then turn and waits for them to turn before resuming her pursuit.

Soon her trailing comes to an abrupt snag, seeing a set of growing shadows on the approach. Figuring them to be the searchers that she had been tailing; Clara quickly turns the opposite way and bolts outta there. Fleeing from the pack of terrorists, the scientist hears one of them mention: “I definitely saw somebody this time, I know it!”

Hoping to shake off these gun wielding maniacs, the scientist start to randomly turn at every corner she comes across, regardless be them clear of traps or not. This attitude eventually lands her into trouble, when she feels the faint tug of another tripwire snapping upon her chest. A trap that she more than predicted, as she stops completely in her tracks; waiting in anticipation at whatever makeshift contraption from the twisted minds of these terrorists would pop out next. And as such, the scientist sees a pair of uzi’s drop down from the sewers ceiling; a pretty obvious sign for her to get down. Right before they begin to unload their clips, Clara hits the deck, ducking right underneath the storm of led. Though the barrage of bullets continue, the scientist knows there no time to wait for the storm to pass and crawls right underneath the hanging automatic guns.

Moving on from that bullet spewing trap, Clara continues her race through the sewers. No doubt that everyone in these tunnels heard that storm of led fire off; their echo’s surely drawing the whole terrorist cell to her as she sprints. A fact that shows true, as the scientist sees a shadow coming along the upcoming corner; prompting her to make a swift U-turn. Though tempting to scamper back where she came, Clara finds another cluster of shadows threatening to emerge from the other direction. Pinched between the pavement pathway, the scientist frantically looks around for whatever escape she could take before the pair of resistance groups wedge her on their approach. There ain’t no way in hell she’s taking her chances with the river at her side. Never mind the ungodly stench irradiating from those waters; who knows what kind of horribly constructed machinations of maniacal madmen may lurk underneath the surface. Not even the shadowy corners of the tunnel could conceal her; the spaces of darkness far too small to camouflage her whole body. Her whole situation seemed utterly hopeless; not one place she could find cover among the approaching terrorist forces. Taking a glance towards the roof of the tunnel, however, a small smile stretches across her face. Finally.

Coming together in the middle of the brick tunnel, the pair of packs find nothing but themselves among their sites. “Huh? The hell are you guys doing?” one of them from the left asks. “Though we saw something come this way. You?” another responds from the opposing side. “Heard one of the uzi traps go off and came rushing to see what it caught. Wound up being nothing but a waste of led.” “Think we might have just been chasing each other this whole time?” “Dammit! Knew it was a bad idea splitting up. Wound up wasting time and men just tailing our own asses!” “Come on. We have better luck staying alive in this shit hole if we stick together.”

Having said that, the two resistance group form into one and shove off deeper into the depths of their own stank ass maze. Though their ignorant proves their downfall once more; the woman that they had been seeking be right above their head, quietly hanging onto the ladder above. Once she was certain that her pursuers were out of earshot, Clara looks overhead; her escape from these nightmarish underground sewage lines right above her head. Wasting not another moment within its filth driven air; the scientist eagerly climbs up towards the manhole.

Peeking out from the depths of the underground, her eyes beheld the welcoming site of the moonlit surface of the city. From beyond the manhole, she found herself within a mildly populated area of Niagara; seeing the legs of the occasional passerby walk along the street. A situation that proves all the more troublesome for the scientist; knowing how bizarre a site it be for some random woman to crawl out from the sewers. No doubt seeing such a scene play out in the dead of night would make anybody crap themselves and scramble for the authorities. A scenario that Clara knows would certainly play out if she was in their shoes. Still, can’t just wait all night for the streets to clear out; someone from below could spot her lab coated ass any moment and fill her behind full of led. Gotta bide time just long enough for when nobody’s lookin.

A plan that sends the scientist in an anxious sweat, the potential risk of mistiming her escape all too clear. Threading the eye of this needle proves to be quite the taxing, the tense air thickening every moment she spent under that iron manhole. Soon though, the chance to surface from the sewers comes; not one pair of eyes aimed her way. With not a soul peeking in her direction, she swiftly rises out from the manhole; carefully sliding the cover back on. Once out from the underground, she breathes in a hearty dose of the surface air; liberated from the sewers ungodly odor of pissed soaked cadavers and crap covered waters. Such a welcomed relief to take in the scent of the urban jungle once more. Finished basking in the fresh air of the surface, the scientist scuttles off into the depths of the city.

Further and further she flees from the manhole that she popped out of, putting as much distance as she can from those underground maniacs as possible. Clara soon takes cover within the darkness of a nearby alley; glancing back to see if any of those freaks followed her. Luckily, she saw not a single sign of the resistance that pursued her. Pretty safe bet to think that they wouldn’t risk coming up here and exposing their rank behinds to the public eye. Knowing this, her nerves finally start to unwind; causally strolling into the street as she ponders upon her next move.

Obviously, the underground proved more than enough to not be a viably safe option anymore; shame too. If there was any truth to their words, then that secret entrance across the border would have been wonders to cross. Might have to stunk to high hell and back, but at least there wasn’t the looming threat of lasers to worry about. Only the potential risk of contracting some kind of abomination of biology that most doctors would prescribe as a disease. Something that modern medicine couldn’t dream of fighting against.

Haven’t even come across a single hint of Angelo anywhere in this city either. Still can’t fathom what urged the bear spider to up and leave the way she did. Shame too, could have easily got into the land of maple leaves one way or another with her at her side.

Her mind then wonders back to that bridge that she’d spotted while strolling through the park. It probably wouldn’t hurt to observe how these Canadians handle immigration control. Perhaps it might not be as bad as the countless horror stories she’s heard made them out to be.

Breaking from her brainstorming session, she soon realizes the street goers around her glaring oddly at the scientist as they pass by. From glances of fear to scorns of rage, it seemed that the entire street was itching to turn on her at any moment; catching the fret of the city’s citizens within her ears. “Is that really her?” “Yeah, she was definitely with them.” “Oh god, what’s she doing here!?” “Do the guards know she’s here?” Hearing all this coming from the crowd urges Clara to hurry in her urban trek; fearing that her mere presence may draw some unwanted attention. An eventuality that soon comes to pass, as she looks to her back to find a pair of the Canadian troop right on her tail; pushing right through the crowded streets with their rifles at the ready. And just when Clara thought she crossed the finish line in her deadly marathon too.

Swimming through the bustling streets of the city in her attempt to abscond from the pursuing soldiers, the scientist squeezes herself through the thick stream of people. Tempting as it is to take her chase to the open roads, she find it best to gamble on these Canadians moral grounds; betting that they wouldn’t dare fire a signal round of plasma near any of the nearby pedestrians. Seeing if her theory held any ground, she takes a glance back towards the troops; finding one of them aiming the barrel of their weapon in her direction. Just when Clara thought that her little moral test would be spurned; the other soldier shoves their partners weapon aside, shaking their head and pointing towards the crowd frightened gazes. Their cowering stares prompts the maple trooper to lower his firearms, instead the armored duo opting to pick up the pace on their pursuit.

Though relieved that her little plan worked; it shows itself to be but a waning strategy; the crowd beginning to move away from the scientist in her escape. With the mob around dispersing, she knows that the troops behind her would soon have a clear shot. Best find a way to distract them and find a place to hide before her cranium winds up with a freshly burnt hole. To that end, she looks towards the nearest civilian and reaches out towards their side. Hate to do this to just any rando out and taking a calm, nightly stroll, but you gotta take any avenue you can to escape. Clara grabs hold of the citizens arm and shoves them towards her pursuers; the mounties stumbling back upon the civil intrusion. Seeing her diversion effectively obstruct her foes; she sprints off towards the nearest corner and away from the soldiers site.

After helping the shoved citizen up, the Canadian troops continue their hunt; the concrete path before them devoid of any civil hindrance. Coming around the corner, the two pass a shadowy alleyway; one halts upon its entrance while the other continues through the streets. Staring down into the alleys seemingly endless darkness, the soldier spots a hint of white heading deeper down.

The armored trooper decides to investigate, prowling deeper into the urban sleeves depths. With the fuchsia glow of his armor piercing through the veil of darkness, the Canadian soldier carefully inches through the alleyway with their rifle aimed ahead. Coming towards a corner, the trooper puts their back against the fresh brick wall; charging their firearms for what that piece of scum has planned. The Canadian then jumps out from beyond the wall with their rifle primed and ready down the dead end, though with their light shining down upon nothing but overflowing garbage cans and rusty dumpsters. The rats and raccoon scurrying past as the trooper approaches the collection of trash; the glow of their armor reflecting against the tin and iron of the trash cans and fire escape.

The armor directs their gaze towards the collection of cans; an obvious hiding place for the scum of the city to dwell. Might risk letting the fugitive slip away if they checked one at a time, best just get them all at once. Thinking this, the trooper aims the barrel of their laser rifle down upon the cluster of cans; firing a barrage of beams down the dead end. The rounds of plasma pierce right through the dumpsters iron, the assault leaving the container resembling a block of Swiss cheese. Through this bombardment does the soldier finally hit their mark; scarlet leaking out from one of the tin cans. Halting their gunfire, the trooper nears the bleeding can and uncovers to find a hand sticking out among the bags. Digging through the garbage, the soldier soon uncovers the corpse of a man; its decayed skin suggesting that it long since died. Though the question arising of what sicko would shove a dead body in the garbage; the cadaver before him clearly isn’t the woman that they’re looking for.

Their search coming to a literal dead end, the trooper begins to depart from the collection of shot up cans, the sharp clang of crashing metal stopping the soldier in their tracks. Swiftly turning back, the barrel of his rifle aims down the remains of a rusty fire escape; the ladder split in half among the wreckage. Gazing up, they found not a single sign of life to be had; just the loose metal hinges that once suspended the escape. Probably just a case of corrosion and decay. Hope the restoration team reach that building soon.

The soldier soon starts to retreat from the alley, unaware of their target being right above their heads. Watching atop the roof as the trooper departs, Clara slumps over as she lets out a heavy sigh. Lucky that the same strategy has been working all night, though its recent execution could’ve held a lot less risk. Despite her escape from the armored authorities, this does little to ease her trouble mind; with a couple questions starting to surface. How did those people recognize her? What urged the locals to give the scientist such scornful glares, causing enough of an upset to get the cops involved? Were their any witnesses that survived power plant bombing?

Breaking her out from her thoughts do the echoes of a nearby conversation bait her attention; Clara glancing down the opposite end of the roof to find several of the citizens discussing her appearance. “You sure it was her?” “I’m positive it was one of them. Not a doubt about it.” “One of the survivors said that one of the terrorists wore a dirty lab coat.” “Who else in this city walks around wearing a dirty ass white coat?” “Saw the Canadian cops chasing her down a streets a couple minutes ago.” “Dude, screw those guys! If I ever come across her, I’m gonna skip calling them and just beat that bitch senseless!” “Make all of those terrorists pay for killing all those poor people!”

Upon mention of her beloved lab coat does she look to the article of clothing in question; noting its worn and torn silk stained with the dirt, blood, and sweat of the wastelands. Guess this ragged old thing doesn’t bode well with camouflaging her within the urban jungle, don’t it? Ain’t exactly gonna blend in with something as distinguishable as this. No use denying the obvious, gonna have to ditch it. A real shame to. This coat’s been with her since the beginning of this whole mess, one of the few reminiscence of her life that she had carried over from her past. Its helped her sleep during those long cold nights in the waste, shielded her olive skin from the beating skin during those endless treks. Gonna be kind of hard to part with it after all this time. Feels like cutting off a part of herself. Still, if it helps her get closer to Arthur, closer to undoing all the horrors that she’s seen, then she’ll be more than willing to part with it.

With this in mind, she digs into the contents of her coat pockets, just to be on the safe side. Don’t wanna wind up kicking herself in the shins for ditching anything important. A lucky precaution that she took, as she pulls out the picture of her and Arthur from depths of her lab coat pocket. Gazing upon Arthur's enthusiastic smile in the photo makes her eyes wonder towards the giant wall bordering the country in the distance.; her mind wondering what fate might have befell him on the other side of its steel.

Placing the picture in her backpack, she slips the silk of her lab coat right off, revealing her undershirt to the open night air. Gazing down upon her coat, her eyes wonder towards a nearby shadow, following the darkness to find a tall antenna set onto the rooftop; its lanky steel casting forth a long string of darkness along the roof.

Standing along the edge of the rooftop, she takes one last look at her coat tide to the antenna. With nothing else left on the matter, she jumps away from the white silk as it flows in the wind; leaving a crucial piece of her past behind.

Among the musty shadows of a nearby alleyway, a door set along the side opens wide; the light from the inside illuminating the darkness. Out from the inside ambles out a hooded man dragging behind him a ridiculously heavy garbage bag; its heavy duty plastic scrapping against the concrete. “Stupid parents, making me throw out the trash... Don’t help how they have the can across the house...Filling it up all the way with heavy shit...” It takes the guy a couple seconds to hoist the bag onto his shoulder, audibly grunting as he lifts the heavy load. Once above himself, the hood lobs the bag over with all his might, hurling the garbage towards the dumpster; though landing right on its iron edge. Witnessing the bag teeter between the dumpsters side; the guy simply just shrugs off the matter with a: “Whatever. Pick ups problem now...”

Apathetic about where his waste landed, the hooded dude starts to head back inside, but halts in his tracks upon hearing the sound of nearby footsteps. From his pants, the guys pulls out a switchblade; gazing ahead to find nothing but the light pouring out from the door. “Someone here? Warning ya, ain’t no pussy.” After his warning, his ears pick up the faint taps of footsteps at his back; swiftly turning as he slashes toward whatever could be creeping up behind him. Though lashing out, the man finds not a single soul at his back. “The hell?...” Wondering what could have been behind him, the hood fails to notice a figure creeping right behind him; lifting above the hood before her a hefty brick. A single strike to his head is all it takes for the figure to knock the guy out cold, the hood flopping down onto the concrete. Gazing down upon the guys unconscious body, his attackers eyes trail from his hood towards his pocket knife laying at his side.

Some time later, a woman steps out from the building; her shadow engulfing the opposing wall. “Henry! What is taking you so long out here?” Upon his name does the man in question rise from the pavement; a painful groan escaping from his lips. “Agh...My head...” Rubbing the back of his head; the guy steps into the light; the woman letting out a sudden yelp upon laying eyes on him. “Jesus! What happened to your cloth!?” she questions. Upon the woman’s question does the guy take a look at himself; finding her claim to be on point. Aside from his undergarment, the poor bastard found himself nearly in the nude; stripped down from head to toe. This discover makes the man jump, letting out a similar scream. “Ahhg! W-what happened to my cloths!?” “Just get inside!” the woman demands. Hearing this does the guy eagerly comply; shutting the door behind him as they both rush back inside.

Neither of them notice the scientist that assaulted him hiding within the alleys vial of darkness; cloaked in the very hood that she had pilfered from his unconscious body. Heading out if the alleyway, Clara stashes her freshly picked pocket knife into her pants pocket, adjusting her pack to her newly acquired garbs. More of a loose fit than she thought, but a hood this bland should be perfect for concealing her from the unwanted eyes of the armored mounties in the streets. Emerging out from the darkness, the hooded scientist blends into the midnight crowd.

Venturing through the city, she studies the passing people at her sides, finding not a single one alarmed by her very presence. Seems that this piece of fleece passes the pedestrian test. Doesn’t seem not a soul around is pissing themselves. But soon, the scientist true experiment arises, a pair of Canadian troops on the approach. Clara merges with the parting crowd before them, hoping that her disguise would fool the trained troopers. The scientist keeps her breath held as the pair of armors pass her; watching as they stare straight ahead without so much as a passing glance. As soon as the authorities were out of site, Clara lets loose a heavy sigh; relieved that her hood has fooled even the elite of eyes. Guys were literally right next to her and they didn’t even bother peeking. Realizing how effective her simple disguise was against the prying eyes, the scientist continues through the streets with a little ease of mind.

Thanks to the mundane facade that her new hood granted her with, the rest of her midnight stroll through Niagara stays safely tame; her venture through the city streets eventually taking her toward the bridge set through the borders. Though with the bridge in plain site, one more obstruction dares to stand between the scientist and the land of leaves and maple. Before her stood a wide building with overhead letters reading: “Canadian registry”.

Kind of shocking that these maple leaved megalomaniacs would even have a registry at all. Course, it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. If they actually bothered to install a bridge between the country, then of course they’d have the most basic of immigration security. But basic might be kind of a stretch, the building being nearly half the size as a parking lot. Ain’t no way someone sneaking around all that without getting shot by the mounties.

Though the registry’s sheer width pales in comparison to the size of the line beside it. The row of people leading in stretching beyond the entire block, all leading straight into the buildings side. Set along the opposing side be another set of doors; a steady stream of people flowing out from the inside. Upon their faces be a range of upset expressions; all differing from disheartening to depressing, from sadness to fury. Seemed like a whole spectrum of negative emotions was spilling out from within, none of which held any kind of promise.

Wondering about the stream of disappointment, Clara opts to take a peek of the registration process; curious to know how the land of the north deals with immigration control. A glance through the window shows the scientist a steady stream of Americans marching through the egregiously long line, all leading towards a counter smack dab in the middle of the room. From their, she witnessed someone handing the receptionist a sort of card, which the man behind the counter inspects and scan. Probably some kind of ID or passport that they check. Standard stuff really. After the card is scanned, Clara sees the man handing it back and points the women towards the back of the room; noticing the woman sporting an overjoyed smile as she proceeds. Unfortunately, the next guy doesn’t bode as lucky though; as right after inspecting his ID, is sent straight towards the exit.

Guess their won’t be a chance in hell of passing through this place without one of those card. Could always just steal one like she did her hood, but weather it’d be a viable one would be pretty much a one shot gamble. If she showed up again with an entirely different card, it’d likely raise of eyebrows. Perhaps simply forging one would yield swifter results.

Right on that thought does she hears an alarm blaring from within, glancing towards the desk to find a man at the front swept up in a panic. He attempts to make a break for the exit, but a stationed guard quickly seizes the guy before he could reach for the doors. Captured within the Canadians armored grasp, the poor guy is dragged across the room through another door; all the while his muffled pleading echoes throughout the room. He attempts to fight back against his captors, wiggling and punching against their arms. Though his resistance is swiftly quashed; the armored guard knocking the guy out cold with a heavy punch to the head. The people in line attempt to look away from the scene, others forming tears that flow from their eyes. Once the guy is dragged through the door, the receptionist rips his card in half; prompting some of those in line to head for the exit. Watching all of this unfold before her makes the scientist shove off; rethinking her plans of illegal counterfeiting.

Witnessing firsthand the brutally unapologetic immigration control on full display, she soon starts to realize that her options are running dry. There isn’t really much she can do on her own to get over that wall fast enough. There is that secret entrance that the Dandy hinted at, though it’s doubtful that she could come back without as little as an explanation. Still, after what she’s seen those guys do, ain’t no way in hell she’s crawling back to them. Maybe she could try and get one of them to spill the beans. Gonna need to work out how though.

In the midst of her thoughts, Clara takes notice of the peoples fright; their gazes aimed towards the night sky. “What the hell is that?” “I don’t know.” “Oh god, is it another attack!?” “Seems like something’s crawling up there.” Looking in their direction, she found the masses staring towards one of the bigger buildings of the city towering into the night sky. Along one of its faces, the scientist finds something big and black crawling up towards the towers roof. From where she stood, she could make out the fuzzy blotches eight legs scuttling along the building; dragging along its bloated lower body. Witnessing these features rings familiarity within her, realizing that the mass crawling up that tower be her runaway steed; Angelo.

Hard to believe the old girl’s still kicking it. Thought for sure she would have wound up getting herself caught or shot by the mounties. Though something tells the scientist that she won’t evade the Canadian authority for much longer, as the ursa arachnids public appearance will no doubt spark their attention. Gotta get to her before the maple leaved cops close in. With this in mind, she sprints down towards the decaying tower; her bear spider nearly reaching the top.

#lillaxtrigger #faded land

0 notes