fluorescent adolescent

chris, 23, west coast transplant majoring in programming at nyu [dependent rp blog]

[greelin]

“scythes are impractical battle weapons” you say but i can’t hear you over the swish swish of my huge fucking scythe, which is cool

[lenaoxtonarchive]

[christempher]

.Chris rises to his feet, though he remains at a fair distance from the monstrosity facing him. Josh supposes that was fair; he was, after all, the personification of the very things that go bump in the night ( the very things he so often teased his fiancé about — look out, Cochise, they’re gonna eat you alive! ). Josh, too, remains still. He looks towards his best friend, fogged vision be damned, and the two paths come to a head in the forefront of his mind. To stay, to run — to give up, to give in. He doesn’t know which would be worse; which, he begged, would lend himself to a calm resolution? Which would be the better ending — to live as a monster, or to die as a human? It would be his final decision in an existence so desolate and dark; he ponders this with a gentle pause, a quiet contemplation. Chris was afraid, that was all that mattered in the end — his fiancé was afraid of him, and he had every right to be ( what’s wrong, Cochise, afraid of a little horror? a little death? ).

“Am I?” he asks this clearly, slowly. He would allow anger to rise, the feeling a slow and dying thing; he would sink teeth bare and deep, ripping and tearing through its thick veil of malevolence. He had every right to be angry — what god would insist on torturing him any further? He was already crazy; he was already gone, and now he would become the beast ( one of us, his sister whispers into his ear. a family, the other chimes ). He knows this is real — can feel the hunger clawing up his throat, savage and desperate — and he decides, then, to take a few fumbling steps back. He can’t think straight — not with Chris so close, not with his heartbeat th-thump, th-thump, th-thumping in his ears. No, he needs to leave; he has to get out of here.

Chris was still breathing heavily, and his heart was still pounding in his ears. Sure, yeah, he knew that this was Josh, but that didn’t change his outward appearance. And yeah, Josh had a valid question. Sure. Okay. “I mean you haven’t... you haven’t tried to hurt me yet. That’s... that’s a big point in your favor.” He kept himself backed up against the wall; he still couldn’t bring himself to move closer.

He felt terrible about it. He loved Josh completely and totally, and that hadn’t changed. It would never change. But...

But.

“What do we do?” Chris’ voice felt small. He hated asking that, ‘cause what could they do in a scenario like this, but he didn’t know what else to say. “I... Josh. What do we do? You’re all...” and he motioned vaguely at his face. “Is that... is that it? Fuck, dude.”

[christempher]

When Chris enters, Josh takes all the effort he can muster to stare — really stare — at him, boring a hole into his vision. It’s foggy, hazy at best, and he begins to realize that perhaps it wasn’t just a trick of the light, or an effect from the lack of sleep; no, he thinks, one hand gripped to the couch cushion with a tight, intense force. With one eye showing only smudges of color and shape, the other shows a full body — a figure, lit against the blackened foreground. He doesn’t need to think to describe this: he sees the motion perfectly clear, and the realization as to why makes him nearly double over in fear. He rises to his feet, standing slowly; once upright, he brings one hand to point at his mouth, tapping against the exposed teeth, his eyes trained on Chris the entire time. The other hand goes to his throat, holding it gingerly as he attempts a few times to speak. The first, only a guttural sort of sound, doesn’t make much progress. The second produces a similar effect. The third, however, he tries slowly, timidly.

      “Hh…hurts,” he says this quietly, but the voice remains recognizable as his own. With his small success, he tries again, producing a similarly soft response. “Had…a nn…nnigh,” he stops, takes a breath, then tries again. “…nightmare.” there are tears pricking at his eyes, only further fogging his vision. He doesn’t seem to mind it too much, only standing there, awkwardly facing his fiance on the floor.

Chris watches Josh move closely - he’s not acting strange, which is a comfort. The vivid look - memory? - of those wendigos on the mountain haunts him. Josh’s movements are slow and steady and still very him, which is a small mercy, he supposes. He avoids looking at the gash on his face, but it’s hard to when Josh is pointing at it; he looks and tries not to throw up, but it’s a close thing.

The noises Josh makes are alarming, and if Chris wasn't sure that Josh was still himself, he’d be running. Instead he sits up a little as he listens closely; that’s Josh’s voice, it’s unmistakable, and he manages to say a few words. That’s enough to encourage Chris to stand, even though he’s shaky and nervous.

“Hey, Josh, don’t... don’t talk if it hurts, okay?” He doesn’t move closer - he doesn’t trust himself to not lose his balance and collapse with the first step he takes, and he really doesn’t trust himself to look at his mouth close-up just yet. “I had one too. And, uh... Jesus, man.” But he doesn’t want to focus on the physical nightmare that’s happened to the man he loves - he knows there are too many questions that would have no answers - so instead he just breathes out a gentle “you’re still you, that’s... that’s a huge relief.”

[bforedawn]

@christempher

       He wakes with an aching hunger, deep and throbbing in the pit of his stomach. In the dim light of the evening, moonlit trickling in from the cracks of closed curtains, he fumbles his way to the kitchen. It is dark, and he waits impatiently for his eyes to adjust; still, something seems off. Wrong, somehow, as if he’d been kicked in the head and left for dead — it hurts, this starving emptiness, this cavernous solitude. He knows that Chris is here — can hear his soft breathing, as if amplified in his ears — and after he tries to eat ( once, twice, three times, it leaves him only nauseous at best ), he decides to lie down on the couch. He lies here, still and petrified, one hand tracing slow lines down the jagged teeth jutting from the side of his mouth, the torn flesh raw and longing. He doesn’t sleep — doesn’t actually think he could if he tried — and instead, he simply stares up at the ceiling. He tries closing his eyes, but that only increases the anxiety; he can’t do that, he decides, and inevitably ends up just waiting for his fiance to wake. 

        Finally, he hears shuffling from the bedroom. He hums to himself, an audible groan of sorts as he shifts on the sofa; he moves to sit up, inhaling a sharp breath as he tries to calm himself. He is terrified — scared that he’s becoming the very monster he dreamt of, devouring someone as if it were his only hope for this minimal survival. Wide eyes — one glossy and fogged, the other clear as normal — stare in the direction of the bedroom — watching, waiting.

[christempher]

Chris woke up from the nightmare he’d been having with a jolt - it was a familiar one, one where he left Josh to die on the mountain they’d spent so many winters on as kids. He’d had it last winter for sure, and he was able to recognize it as just that - a nightmare. Not real.

Knowing that, he got up and shuffled towards the living room; Josh wasn’t in bed beside him, which meant he was probably awake on the couch or in the kitchen. Sure, he knew it was a nightmare, and not reality, but he kind of needed to see Josh alive and safe and okay to feel better.

He nearly passed out when he saw him, sitting on the couch and staring at him. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He leaned back and braced himself against the wall - he wasn’t going to scream. He couldn’t. That would get attention from neighbors and that was the last thing he needed right now. “Jesus Christ, Josh, dude, what the fuck?” He felt his breath coming quicker - was he hyperventilating? He was probably gonna start doing that - and his heart was pounding. Josh looked like he’d...

Like he’d spent a while in the caves on that mountain with the fucking wendigos.

“Okay, babe, Josh, I, uh. I. Wow. Okay. Um.” He tried his hardest to catch his breath; instead, he just slid down the wall and sat on the floor. “What? What the fuck is going on?”

[tf2pine]

[christempher]

NO WE CAN’T BRING THAT BACK JOSH JESUS

[kazoo-goddess]

Visit Original Link

Summoned by @alwaysaprice. Original idea from @gwennovynne.

[christempher]

chris’ instagram | 1.9.19

[shanehollnder]

FOCUS: Roadblocks

[christempher]

He’d been planning this for several months, and now that the night was here, he found himself shaking a bit with nerves. He’d been glued to Josh’s side all night, avoiding too much alcohol for fear that he’d forget everything he’d written and rehearsed.

When midnight hit, he fought down the nervous nausea and kissed Josh with a smile.

“Happy new year, Josh,” he whispered, and then he began.

“So I did the math,” it started. He kept Josh close, kept his voice hushed just enough so that he wouldn’t be overheard. This was just for Josh and him. “It’s been seventeen fucking years since we met and became best friends. Seventeen years! That’s more than half our lives, dude. What the hell. Like... honestly? I don’t think eight-year-old me ever expected this. Like, being your best friend forever is great in theory, but realistically? It’s really rare that friendships last this long. But here we are, still best friends but also boyfriends, which is fucking awesome. Third grade me definitely didn’t expect to be dating you, but it’s kinda been the best two years of my life. Even if you brought spiders into our home - like, I’m terrified of them, but they’re not as scary as the thought of losing you.” He took a deep breath and laced their fingers together so he could feel a little more grounded; once his nerves were subdued again, he continued on.

“Seriously - we’ve been friends for seventeen years and we’ve been apart for maybe seven months of that total. The last time we were apart for any great length, I ended up flying to New York without, like, real plans? Just because I missed you. Which definitely sounds pathetic,” and he laughed a bit at himself, “but you’re just such a permanent, constant part of my life. I actually can’t picture my life without you, man. You’re my best goddamn friend. And I love seeing you happy - did I ever tell you that your smile, like, lights up the room? Fuck, that’s the gayest shit I’ve ever said. But it’s true! I know some days it’s not easy and some days are straight up terrible, and sometimes there’s nothing I can really do to help but I still like being there. Being supportive. Sharing the weight if you want me to. You’re not alone and never will be, ‘cause being without you feels so fucking wrong to me. So... if you want, you’ll never have to be alone again. It’s... Christ, dude. I like being with you and I like making you happy. I kinda wanna do it for the rest of my life, actually.”

With that, he sunk down to one knee, dropping Josh’s hand to fish the box out of his pocket. He’d been hiding it for a while, constantly moving it so Josh wouldn’t find it in their room. His hands, mercifully, stayed steady as he opened it, tuning out the rest of the people in the room and focusing only on Josh.

“Joshua Washington. I have loved you since we were kids. We’ve been together through almost literally everything. I have spent the majority of my life by your side and I really wanna keep it that way. So, Josh... will you marry me?”

[christempher]

They’d survived another day, and sleep found him quickly while he held Josh in his arms.

They were back on the mountain. Josh was trying to get him to hook up with Ashley. It felt weird, but they were together. It was fine.

He pranked Josh and Sam, and it was great. And then they used a ouija board and they contacted Hannah? Josh freaked out. He went missing.

Then Ashley did.

Then he found them in a fucking Saw-style trap and even though he chooses to save Josh, Josh is the one that gets cut in half. He was forced to watch, even as Josh screamed at him to help. He couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t save him.

Everything felt like a blur after that until he was at a table and being forced by a psycho to kill himself or Ashley. The gun wasn’t loaded, but the fear was real, and then the psycho’s Josh. The world shifted on its axis and he felt sick to his stomach.

It only got worse from there. Wendigos. The monsters he hated so much as a child are real. Mike wanted to hurt Josh, and he stopped him - even after everything, Josh would always be his best friend - and then he went to go talk stuff over with the rest of them.

At some point, Mike left Josh. And Chris risked his life to go get him, but he was gone.

They never find him either.

Chris woke up, and he bolted to the bathroom to be sick.

Yeah, he wouldn’t be sleeping anymore for a long, long time after this.

[christempher]

It had been a very, very long day so far.

Josh had been on edge all day, and it was a lot - Chris had been freaked out the whole time, trying to figure out how exactly he could help.

He couldn’t, really, but he still tried.

Josh was still curled up in a mountain of blankets on their couch, Chris pressed close to his side, where he’d been all evening. One of his hands played with Josh’s curls every now and then while the other scrolled through articles on his phone; despite how widespread this… weird shit had been in New York, he couldn’t find any news on it. It was freaky.

It took a while for them both, considering all the shit they’d been through; nights like this always reminded Chris of winter breaks spent at Blackwood, staying up too late watching movies together until they fell asleep tangled together on the sofa. Hannah and Beth always teased them in the morning, but he never really cared. It was, honestly, a routine he kinda missed.

His mind was still at Blackwood when sleep eventually came, Josh’s head on his shoulder and Chris’ head leaning back against the couch.

It didn’t seem weird to him that his dream started there, at the annual Blackwood getaway, all of their friends in attendance and Bob and Melinda nowhere to be found. Dream-Chris got settled in the room he and Josh always shared, made some hot chocolate with Ash, and helped Josh break into the liquor cabinet for the party they’d be having later.

If this was a lucid dream, Chris was going to try and derail it. But every attempt to pull Josh away to kiss and cuddle didn’t work.

Huh. Weird.

The party was pretty normal for their group, and no one was surprised when he and Josh ended up passing out drunk on the kitchen island while everyone else did other things. It wasn’t out of the ordinary.

When they woke up, though, everyone was freaking out. Apparently at some point while they were out cold, Hannah and Beth ran into the storm. They hadn’t come back.

Guilt and fear consumed Chris whole as their entire friend group tried to figure out what to do until the police arrived.

Hannah and Beth were like family to him and had been since the third grade. When he turned to look at Josh, he was heading out to get some air.

Time passed quickly, in that weird way it does when you’re dreaming and you’re aware of it. The twins were never found, and they buried two empty caskets.

The guilt in Chris’ gut kept gnawing away at him and it never left. If he hadn’t been passed out, he could have saved them or found them or done something, but he failed-

He woke with a start - he checked his phone. 3:12 AM. He’d been out for a little while, then.

He managed to shoot off a quick text to the twins - now he kind of understood what Josh was saying. It’d felt so real, like a memory more than a lucid nightmare. He just needed confirmation they were both okay.

It took him a minute of anxiously staring at his phone to realize that he wasn’t going to get a reply right away, and that was what caused him to shift his focus to Josh. Josh had remembered something way worse, but his face was peaceful as he slept. He’d failed him, in the weird nightmare-world, and he just kissed Josh’s curls gently. It was a promise to himself, and to his boyfriend, that he would never fail him like that in this world.

He knew sleep wasn’t going to come back after that dream, so he just held Josh close and waited for sunrise.

[christempher]

The cackle is music to his ears, and he’s probably a bit too proud of himself for being the cause of it. He gets a kiss on the cheek as revenge, and he’s especially proud of that part; Chris mentions moving back out to LA, and Josh tells himself he won’t get bitter about it. Not here, not now. He would definitely not be moving out to LA anytime soon — not until his parents stopped bothering him, and not unless he could have the whole gang there with him, too — but that is a discussion for another time. They are quickly summoned to follow behind one of the volunteers, and Josh is ever thankful for his boyfriend taking his hand; it helped to snap him out of his own mind, and he will forever be thankful for this.

        The room is large, various kittens running around and meowing at anything that moves — Josh wouldn’t admit that his heart grew seven sizes on this day, but it definitely did. “Holy shit,” he mutters this under his breath, wide gaze watching a huddle of kittens just a few feet away. “Bro, I want all of them.”

Chris is melting; he’s on his knees in a flash, Josh’s hand abandoned in favor of motioning gently at a tiny white kitten. “Hi,” he coos at it, watching it take a few tentative steps towards him. “Josh, get down here, c’mon.”

He practically drags Josh down to his level, fingers lacing together again as he tries to coax the little white kitten into his lap. “I mean, as much as I’d love to adopt all these kittens with you, I think our apartment would get overrun. So, can you, like, pick out one? The best kitten you can find?”

[christempher]

Chris was scrolling through cats on his phone, and Josh was busy watching people enter and exit the building and various rooms; he didn’t necessarily enjoy being social with strangers, and being off his medication especially didn’t make this any easier, but he was determined to be okay. Just for today. The people here seemed nice enough, eager to give them the cat of their dreams; to be honest, Josh didn’t dream of cats. He wanted a dog, but a dog would probably fuck with the spiders too much. The girls were the priorities here, as he so lovingly told Chris earlier in the day, and so they sat in idle wait, patiently biding time until they could interact with all of the cute little kittens this place had to offer.

        “Bro, that’s what you do!” he’s teasing — really, he is — and a gentle punch on the arm accompanies the words. He’s smiling now, even though he’s pretty sure they weren’t going to adopt the old lady cat of Chris’ dreams. “I didn’t think you were into pussy, anyway.”

Chris laughs and lets himself fall to the side when Josh gently punches him. “I know! Her and I are soulmates. We’re kindred spirits, this cat and I.”

When Josh makes the crass joke - and really, Chris should’ve expected that, it was Josh after all - Chris cackled, way too loud for the tiny space they were in. “Oh my god, dude, I can’t believe you, holy shit.” It’s a reminder of why he loves him so much; the terrible jokes and endless teasing are his favorite parts of Josh. That hadn’t changed in all the years he’d known him.

He presses a gentle kiss to Josh’s cheek. Just because he can. “When we move into a bigger place someday - like, if we ever move back to LA? We should totally get a dog too. That way the girls are safe.”

Before he can fumble over his words making sure Josh knew they didn’t have to move if he didn’t want to, they’re being summoned by one of the volunteers, and Chris takes Josh’s hand to pull him along. He was excited, so what?

The room they enter is big and full of toys and cat trees, and a large assortment of kittens are milling around being cute as hell. He gasps. “Oh my god, dude, look at them.”

[christempher]

So Chris’ life had gotten to this bizarre, perfect place and he couldn’t really believe it was real sometimes. He had an internship lined up. He was on track to graduate. There was a ring safely hidden in his suitcase in his closet. It was Christmastime, and he was spending it with the love of his life.

And then Josh was like hey, let’s get a cat, and Chris was pretty sure all his dreams were coming true.

That’s how they found themselves at the local animal shelter, Chris scrolling through the senior cats on his phone while they waited to be let in to the room with all the kittens. “Yo, Josh, if they don’t have one that looks like an Elvira to you, there’s this old lady cat named Mittens and apparently she yells for attention whenever she sees anyone. I think I might be in love with her.”

[jeongin-archive]

on all levels except physical i am asleep rn