chase me.

[edgeofchase]

fish out of water | open

[edgeofchase]

demixrivers‌:

It never would have dawned upon Demetria that in the dead of night, Chase Edgings lived a whole other life… He seemed like the type of guy who had his head screwed on. Every other young male that passed through this place like some kind of GHOST were either too timid or a fuckboy and yet, Chase was not your typical boy. He had a quirk to him; a spark that seemed to ignite the recreational room with nothing less than one thousand candles. There was an energy that she was yet to feel from any other male that she had ever come across and understandably, there were plenty. Who knew? Who knew if Demi Rivers was ever going to find out about the SECRETS of a tattooed man that she met in an insane asylum? Though, she would have probably made a pretty great BEARD. It seemed as though the pair of them both needed some kind of boost; the male wasn’t getting what he wanted from his doctor or daddy – whatever the fuck you wanted to call it and the brunette couldn’t go around parading with her own love interest in the hallways. It was as if they were destined to fall into one another’s lives, though even that was slightly D E E P. 

The curvatures of cherries curled upwards like its chocolate stem, twisting around the tongue of somebody talented enough to tie it into a knot. A challenge, laced with a compliment – he was already her type of man. Allowing her thighs to drape over his arm chair, forearm slowly twirling down to his bicep which was on display, showcasing a variety of art pieces for her fingertips to trail along, the beauty tilting her head to one side – chocolate tendrils falling too. 

“What do you think I am – some sort of monster? Of course, you get the same treatment, though what I would like to tell you would probably sound much better in a WHISPER, somewhere a lot more private, though I’m going to leave a little element of mystery before I go whisking you away..”

Her fingers trailed his arm, nails lifting goose bumps from his skin, and he found himself watching them as they moved for a moment or two, before his bright blue gaze flicked back up to meet hers from under a net of long, dark lashes. 

He smirked—and so, she was like him, in a lot of ways. Teasing and toying, constantly on the hunt for attention but then tossing it back and forth like a cat did a stuffed mouse when she got it. To see what lines she could cross with it, how far she could push its borders. 

And she pushed them hard—with comments about whispers and private places—but then withdrew them quickly. And there was perhaps where she wasn’t like him. Because Chase had no real reason to be demure, or pretend to be so. To play a waiting game—but as an escort, there’d been no reason to wait unless it was the client making him wait. Holding off on seeing a payment through, perhaps to make him want them more. Yearn as a sub, more deeply. It’d worked on more than one occasion. 

He rose a brow at her, grin a bit lopsided. He tipped his head as he replied. “Yeah? Well, I ain’t against a bit of mystery, I reckon. But why do I get the impression yer just sayin’ that to save face? In fact, I reckon yer ‘bout as not interested in mystery as I am. ‘Sides, the best part ‘bout a mystery is the reveal.” 

[edgeofchase]

drbeverlyc‌:

“Oh, I’m sorry I think you might have the wrong room. Is there something I can help you with?” she asked knowing she currently had no patients lined up for meetings for the day. She fixed her papers a little more rustling them around just to make sure she wasn’t missing a meeting.

“Oh, er—” He rocked back a step, glancing at the number on the door and at the name. “Yeah, I probably do, I reckon. Sorry—I always get turned ‘round in this part...” 

Truthfully, he’d been on his way to Carlisle’s office, and had had to walk past it because he’d had a patient inside already. Chase would have to wait. But Chase hated waiting and he was about as patient and cerebral as a goldfish, so he kept himself busy by wandering the halls. And he hadn’t actually meant to step so far into her office, but he’d been wasting time peering into empty ones like a curious beagle, and had noticed far too late that this one wasn’t in fact empty.

Still though... now that he was here... company was company. He lingered, shifting a bit, uncertain. She seemed nice enough though, on first impression, and decided to risk testing the waters. “I’m Chase. Kinda new... you a Doc here, then?” 

[amberlyjacobs-blog]

Lost In Translation || Open

[edgeofchase]

amberlyjacobs‌:

                When Chase mentioned his room number Amberly quickly scribbled that fact down, wanting to ensure she knew where to find him should she ever desire another pleasant chat. That was the ting about stm, it was so incredibly HARD to build a lasting relationship with someone because you were constantly building a new one. Tomorrow the odds were that she would wake up, refresh herself with her notebook, sure enough run into Chase and try to feel the same feelings she had felt today but how on earth could that be possible? Just because she wrote; 

- seems kind and funny - helped you to your room - you had a very nice chat

Didn’t mean a damn thing. But unfortunately that was the way the brunettes life had been for the past few months, with her constantly adjusting and learning new strategies in which to acclimate to this hardware reset nearly each and every night, sometimes even sooner. It was randomized, the chalkboard like clearing of her brain, like massive erasers cutting through painstakingly etched scrawling against the slate stone. Sometimes Amberly was able to hold on to entire days, even after she woke the next morning - only to have those memories deleted mid morning, at the very latest by lunch. For as long as the Jacobs girl had been suffering from her stm she had never once been able to grasp a memory for longer than a day and a half.

The record for the shortest time frame was unprecedented though. On her worst days, in her most troublesome moments, the brunette had ceased to recall the topic of conversation - mid speech; Amberly had simply lost it. This was why she did her best to jot everything down as it happened, to scrawl in her perfectly precise penmanship each and every moment that passed her by. It was no way to live honestly, through the pages of a book instead of in the moment. But she had to adjust, had to learn some way to cope that wasn’t just a carer following her around for the rest of her life - that would surely be the end of the Jacobs girl.

                “I’d like that.” 

She smiled at the notion of being ‘harassed’ by Chase. He seemed like a sweet guy, the kind of person Amberly could very quickly see herself bonding with, memory issue or not. With that the mahogany haired mistress ran a hand absently over her back pocket - the motion reminding her that she was in possession of a simcard-less cell phone, the intended purpose of which was to take photographs of places and people she would need to remind herself of later. “Oh! See, they just gave me this and already I’ve forgotten.” The Jacobs began, tugging the device from her jeans pocket. “Do you mind if I take a picture? When I read over my notes in the morning  it’ll help me remember who you are.” A smile laced itself over her pink petals as she spoke, simultaneously drawing her finger over the screen in order to open the phones camera app.

Her smile was particularly kind, he face warm and welcoming. A sense of humour stitched into the arch of a precise brow. He liked her—liked her sort of obsessive meticulousness, which made sense now, considering what she’d just told him about her memory. And he liked that she was putting in an effort to keep track of him. Liked that apparently he’d charmed her enough to have earned a place in her book. 

He offered her a lopsided grin, which brightened when asked to take his photo. A slut for the spotlight, he was more than pleased to oblige. 

“‘Cor, you bet yer arse ya can!” He gave her a playful pose, before breaking it with a laugh and a bit of a salute. 

Alright, lovely—I’ll catch ya, ‘round, yeah? Be sure to come lookin’ fer me when ya look in yer phone and find yerself wonderin' who that ugly fucker is, yeah?” He threw her a teasing wink, backing away from her door. “I’ll be waitin’—gonna get real borin’ here real fast, I reckon, so don’t you go leavin’ me hangin’, sugar.

[edgeofchase]

He’d been to his fair share of Halloween parties to be able to see the fun in it, at least. He never went wildly overboard with costumes or anything, and usually picked something relatively scantily clad because looking anything other than less than utterly desirable wasn’t going to do him any favours at the agency. And before that, too—Raul had brought him along to plenty of events, and though they had varied in... legitimacy and class, for sure, he’d always preferred Chase to be wearing as little as possible. 

Fortunately for Chase, he preferred that too. 

This time, however, he had nothing but time, and a less of a conclusive reason to look the part of a hustler. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to show some skin—because he wouldn’t be Chase if he wasn’t mildly obsessed with turning some heads—but he also decided to go as more than just a ‘sexy fireman’ as he’d initially planned when he’d heard about the event. 

With time on his hands and means to accessing a bit of harmless craft supplies from the staff in light of the event, he actually fashioned his own boot covers to go over the tops of his Doc Martens. He used mostly red, black and white suede, cut them into strips, sewed them in rows onto a piece of elastic and attached little bells on each end. He got his hands on an excellent mask, fashioned himself a little crown out of paper, styrofoam and a bit of paint and feathers, and managed to find some coloured nylons he cut into short, fingerless gloves. He threw in a little white ruffled collar which he pinned around his neck, wore his most torn up black trousers, ripped at the knees and tight around his arse, and then went shirtless—of course. Because really, the only thing he needed to turn heads were his tats. They’d always done the job. And he may not be needing to pick up clients tonight, but that didn’t make the concept of attention any less appealing. 

While he was most looking forward to checking on the bonfire, he made the Pumpkin Ball his first stop, drawn to the music and the flashing lights that reminded him (perhaps a bit too much) of a kind of home he no longer had.

“Okay, but the question is,” he said to no one in particularly, but anyone who was listening. “Is there punch, is it spiked, and if not, how can we change that.” Hopefully, it would be easy enough to play off as a joke, if a staff member overheard—especially with the look on Chase’s face. Impish and playful and, well, he was dressed as a Jester, right? He’s not supposed to be taken seriously tonight. 

But in all seriousness.... he could really go for a drink. Or five. How about shots? How about many, many shots. Preferably tequila. 

[edgeofchase]

kitrawlings‌:

Reaching the secluded smoking area, Kit stopped and took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his back pocket. For a second he really debated whether he should proceed with what he was doing since it was beyond against the rules. Allowing and offering cigarettes to a patient could get him into a lot of trouble, but part of him did not care. The boy had made him feel better about himself and that is all that mattered. Without further hesitation, Kit placed a cigarette in between his lips, lit it and took a long drag blowing the smoke. “Here” he muttered, allowing the boy to take a cigarette out of the half emptied pack. 

Kit’s actions were rather untypical for himself, but his behaviour had its own loop holes. Even if discipline and following a certain set of rules were always on the top of his priorities, Kit sometimes just completely disregarded that matter when other more important things overshadowed it. In this case, Chase was very successfully giving Kit exactly what he needed right now - respect, appreciation and obedience. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Leeds yeah? I’ve heard it’s good there, why did you move to London?” he asked, hoping to maybe find some further information about the boy. Sure, he would look at his file after they finished their conversation, but he rather wanted to find about details, which were not written in there. Forming a trust relationship with the patients was from huge importance in order for his job to run smoothly.

“How are you settling here? I bet you miss the good old UK” he stated, taking another drag from his cigarette and flicking the ash on the ground beneath him. Kit had never been outside of the US and talking to Chase made him realise that perhaps he was missing out. There was so much more to be seen, to be experienced. One of his dreams was to go and tour through Europe on his bike. However for now that is all it was - a dream. 

He had a certain sturdiness to him—to the way he walked, to the weight of his footfalls, to the sound of the leather as he moved. There was comfort in that, for Chase, and he wasn’t sure if it was simply because it was familiar, or because it represented all the things Chase felt he needed as influence in his life. Reliability and raw, weathered, honesty. Articles and elements that lasted through time and represented fortitude, like leather jackets and steel toed boots. Bruised knuckles, calloused palms. 

He stole a glance at the man’s big paws as he offered Chase the cigarette carton, and for a moment, his thoughts wandered to what they might feel like on his skin—over his chest, around his neck, bruising his hips. His mouth filled with saliva at the thought, his pulse quickening, but he made the excuse for himself that it was at least in part because the man was offering him something he wasn’t technically supposed to have. He was condoning the breaking of rules with him, and it made Chase feel like they were sharing something private, something exclusive. The feeling sent a chill up his spine, and a thrill down the length of his neck. 

“Thanks, mate,” he said gently, plucking one from the pack and the lighter from the man’s fingers. He lit it and took a long drag before answering. “Erm—Leeds is... alright. Kinda a shit hole, actually, where I’m from. But it ain’t all bad. It’s just... I grew up there, and I ain’t got any good memories there. A lot of stuff I just wanted to leave behind, ya know? ‘Sides, London’s got more to offer. More to do,” More distraction... “More goin’ on. And just.. a chance to start over, I reckon. I love London. Lots o’ life there. So if ya go, I reckon ya oughta go there fer sure.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I miss it. Miss it a lot, sometimes. But I ain’t ever been nowhere before, so I mean... if I weren’t stuck in here it wouldn’t be so bad. I reckon I’d like explorin’ the states and stuff. But, um. Well I ain’t able to do that from in here, am I?” He chuckles, despite himself. “And apparently I missed a fuckin’ Mexico trip so. That’s a bloody bummer.” 

[edgeofchase]

fish out of water | open

[edgeofchase]

demixrivers‌:

Oh, she heard how sexual her own words came across and that was exactly how she meant for them to sound. Demetria Rivers was no FOOL – she was the queen of the castle and nobody would take that away from her. Every single thing that the beauty did was INTENTIONAL; every little curvature of her hip, every inch her finger crawled, every word that left her lips… Demi was incredibly aware of everything that she did, just as she was in this very situation with Chase. God, his sapphire hues were so D R E A M Y that she could feel herself slipping into them – perhaps because they were such a familiar colour. Nobody truly compared with the tutor that she was wrapped up in but when you suffered a disorder than required waves of attention DROWNING you, it was hard to not dive back into ocean again and again. Now perching on the arm of the big old chair that Chase was nestled into and folding one leg over the other, the beauty allowed her forearm to slide over the back of its leather, almost wrapping herself around the chair and invading his space, hazels gazing down towards him in some attempt to stay on TOP and show him that she could be dominant. 

“Mhm, sweet nothings – I’ve heard it’s what I’m good at. If you have plenty of compliments, why don’t we have a trial and error? But here’s the catch – they have to be honest. Call me narcissistic, I’m sure you won’t struggle. Thank you, Chase isn’t so bad either.”

She was close enough that he could smell her shampoo—and the faint hint of a coconut-floral lotion. Yes, definitely determined this one, but Chase wasn’t about to complain about doting attention. In fact, he’d been relatively starved for it since he’d gotten here, and Carlisle was—well he was frustratingly professional at work. Obscene and greedy as he was for Chase in just about every way previously, this was an adjustment for Chase. 

Because though Carlisle had told him he’d still work with him as a ‘client’ so to speak as part of the agreement of Chase coming here, (though, frankly, Chase was more interested in simply having a familiar Dom around, than he was in the money, now that he was here, at Brielle), he was also adamant about keeping their personal relationship quite separate from their professional one. Which meant no quickies in the janitor’s closets. No blow jobs under the desk. And though Chase was almost equally as adamant about wearing Carlisle thin of that particular stubborn precedent, he’d had no success as of yet. So yes, he could go for a bit of gratification. A bit of an ego boost, and the reminder that he was worthwhile. 

He smirked at her proposition, tongue swiftly tracing the line of his impishness. “Ah, I see how it is then. Well, I’ll be the first one to tell ya there ain’t nuthin’ wrong with a bit o’ confidence, lovely. And I dunno—not that I’m against tellin’ ya you got beautiful eyes and a rockin’ bod—but the question is do I get the same kinda treatment in return? A boy’s gotta eat too, ya know,” he teased. 

[edgeofchase]

whatsup-doc‌:

“Actually there is an official one.” Sebastian grinned “But mostly people just pick whichever appeals the most to them. Griffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Ravenclaw for smarts and Slytherin for the ambitious - that sums it up I guess.” the doctor tilted his head “If you will ever find yourself with too much time I can lent you the books.”

He grins, thinking that over. “Hmm—that sounds like a pretty good summary.  Er, reckon I might be a Hufflepuff then. I got tons of people back home who’d tell you I’m loyal, no doubt.” His loyalty wasn’t to his parents, of course—but he was loyal almost to a fault to anyone who’d ever been good to him. Friends, bosses, clients—his pimp. Regardless of the influence Raul had had over Chase, as a young, lost teenager, who probably should have been shown love and guidance—a path by which he could learn to love himself, as opposed to one of selling himself. Regardless of the dark rooms Raul had put him in, the hands he’d passed Chase into time and time again in exchange for cash or gifts. Regardless of what Chase knew deep down: that Raul had encouraged Chase into dangerous spaces where he would grow to measure all his self worth purely on his sexuality and what his body had to offer—regardless of all that, Chase had been loyal to him. 

Because Raul had done all those things, yes. But he’d also protected Chase, reminded him he was worth far more than nothing. Reminded him he was beautiful and desired and a trophy any man or woman ought to be grateful to even have touched, to even had laid eyes on. He’d given Chase a warm place to go home to, when there were no paying beds. He’d kept an eye on him at parties and events, stood in the way of unwelcome hands, uninvited attention or brazen individuals who thought they had a right to simply take what Chase had every right to refuse. After all, good product was never free. 

And he’d been loyal to a fault, because he’d believed that he’d owed himself to Raul. That the nights Raul put Chase’s tattooed hands on his belt, the nights he’d stripped Chase of his clothes in the backs of seedy bars and had him to himself—Chase had done so willingly because he’d believed it’d been the least Raul deserved. To have him this way, in exchange for protecting Chase this way. For showing him kindness, for offering him support. For seeing Chase. For caring enough to subject him to rules, and give him his time and attention. The least he could do for a man who gave him the time of day. 

So yes, loyal, and loyal to a fault. 

“Really? You’d do that?” He grinned, chewing his lip. “S’awful nice of ya. I reckon I’d like to read ‘em. I ain’t the best reader, but them series is probably a good place to start. Reckon if kids can read ‘em, I can,” he said with a chuckle. 

[edgeofchase]

Chase Edgings as Court Jester | Brielle Halloween 2018 “The fool gets to tell the truth, the hard truths that might cause trouble if anyone else tells them. He speaks in parables and paradoxes, we struggle to understand. He can speak harsh truths and we must listen because he is entertaining in his difference. We must listen because he is a misfit and cannot be held fully responsible . In the middle ages there was an implicit understanding of this with the belief that joking could help shield one from misfortune and indeed we can understand the truth of this.”

[edgeofchase]

garbataille‌:

Her lips pursed; perhaps if she ever found a lighter, she could be of some use. Not that Garnet was one to break the rules & nor did she smoke, but a smoke once & a while for someone else who had to deal with being HERE certainly couldn’t be the worst infraction. “I’ll um… keep an eye out.”

A weak, albeit polite smile broke across her lips. “It– it’s nice to meet you, Chase. I’m Gar – Garnet.” She hadn’t met many people, trying to stay in her room as often as possible for the brief few days she’d been at Brielle, but truthfully a simple conversation with someone without scrubs or a white coat on was refreshing. “It’s… n-nice that they have a garden here, at least.”

Chase wasn’t exactly used to shy folk. For one, the shy and nervous ones didn’t usually make it too long where he was from—on the streets, that is. They either got themselves into messes they couldn’t get themselves out of, got themselves killed, or ran back to Mommy and Daddy after two nights in the cold with only a mouldy sheet as a blanket and boot for a pillow. But Chase had never had anywhere to run back to. The only place he could run was away.  

And secondly, and much later—people who were that shy didn’t often end up where he did. At the agency, most of the escorts were confident, bold, outgoing. Even if they were faking, they had to be noticeable because to be noticed was to be wanted, and to be wanted was how you survived. Escorts didn’t make money by blending into the background. Fortunately for Chase, he’d never been the blending type, and he’d always been colourful and loud enough to demand the attention he needed to, in order to do well in his industry. And even when he’d been bartending—the ones who made the most tips were the ones with confidence and charm and a resounding ability to talk to people. Subtly push them to order another drink. In fact, he can’t think of any one he’d worked with who hadn’t been that way. 

So he wasn’t especially familiar with shy people, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like them well enough. Chase wasn’t exactly discriminatory when it came to different kinds of people. He usually found a way to get a long with just about everyone, so long as they weren’t objectively awful, and this bird seemed sweet, if a bit uncertain. 

“Garnet, eh? Pretty name,” he offered gently, his voice softening by reflex—a long time ago he learned to mirror traits of those around him, even just subtly. It was the best way to guarantee being liked, and since people were inherently self-absorbed, the best way to be seen by them. And Chase, more than anything, wanted to be seen. 

He gave her a soft smile, nodding. “Yeah, I reckon it is kinda nice. I mean—nicer than some of the other places ‘round here, at least. I ain’t seen the whole place yet, but some stuff ain’t as great as it was cracked up to be in the introduction meetin’.” 

[edgeofchase]

fish out of water | open

[edgeofchase]

zoe-bridgette‌:

She couldn’t help but laugh at his response: mouth cartoonishly wide, incomprehensible accent rolling into a crescendo. Zoe had never been loud like that, never known how to command a room. But Chase seemed so relaxed in his confidence, as if he just knew people would enjoy talking to him. He wasn’t wrong, either, because Zoe was already enjoying his company.

Even if, she thought as a self-conscious hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, she felt like a little grey mouse next to him.

“It wasn’t even a day trip, it was a month trip. I couldn’t believe it, after the cops picked me up I thought I was gonna go to jail, and instead I got taken straight to this camping place in Cancun. I think they’re trying to maybe brush stuff under the rug. The previous head doctor bailed with no warning, a few months back, and it was so bad here that cops had to come in with riot gear and stuff; I think a patient even committed suicide? It was before I got here, but… you hear things.”

“I fuckin’ month? What the fuck kind of place even is this?” He wasn’t sure if he was excited by the news or skeptical. Having missed the trip, there was the element of being bloody well bummed, obviously. But he wasn’t sure what it meant, having a mental hospital taking people on month long trips to the beach. Did it mean that it was lush and well-funded and a place Chase was actually really lucky to be? Or did it mean that it was a totally illegitimate establishment that did whatever it could to distract from whatever... shady fuck was actually going on behind closed doors? 

And now, with all these vague stories the girl was talking about...  “Wait, what? There was a riot? Jesus. And you were here for all that? Also, what do ya mean the police picked ya up? You were brought to Brielle by the pigs? Why? What’d you do?”

[edgeofchase]

toni-rowland‌:

Overly chipper to hide underlying feelings? What a catch she was. It was quite clear that once you  got to know her, that wasn’t quite her person at all. She wanted to make her patients comfortable though, she needed to really, or they wouldn’t  feel like they could talk to her and that was the last thing that she wanted.

What would he be like? Some patients were overly angry, and though she could understand it gave her the biggest ball of stress in the pit of her stomach. Some, spent the whole session weeping, talking about how they missed their family. Relatable, really and again she couldn’t blame them. Brielle Institute didn’t seem quite inviting from the inside  or quite frankly the outside. She’d want to see her family too.

So as he stepped through the door, she tried to analyze him as he sat. Fake put together though relieved about something. Though she couldn’t pin point what, maybe he was just nervous. After all, she wasn’t a mind reader, even if some days she wished she was.

“I know you haven’t been here long, but how are you liking it so far?” Her brows rose as she settled back in her seat, the general questions that they seemed forced to ask new patients, falling from her lips. Plus, even if they didn’t  have to, she would.  The last thing she wanted was for something totally terrible to happen.

“Er... alright, I guess?” His expression was about as sure as the tone and phrasing of his question, but an awkward hesitant grin touched his lips. But really, what did they expect? Did most people answer any differently? Did anyone truly like it here? or was anyone flat out honest—just say that it sucked? 

He supposed they might, actually. Supposed that most people wouldn’t care much about being polite. And Chase wasn’t being noncommittal because he wanted to be polite. His answer was honest because for the time being, he didn’t really know how he felt. And his answer was sort of the truth: so far, things had been alright. He’d met a few cool people. And though he’d been antsy and nervous and extremely out of his element, he hadn’t been totally miserable. So that... counted for something, at least. 

“Yeah, um. Dunno.” He added, needlessly, shrugging. Mostly, he didn’t like the quiet. And therapists and doctors tended to do that thing where they were just so quiet after getting an answer to a question. As though to be sure the patient was done talking. Open to hearing more. But it made Chase uncomfortable. Very aware of his being in the hot seat, and totally unsure of how to operate, what to say. 

His gaze flicked back up to hers, as though looking for guidance. He’d rather she do the talking—and though he didn’t really want to answer more questions, at least a question was like a direction. Something he could focus on, instead of having to come up with it all on his own. 

[edgeofchase]

kitrawlings‌:

Kit did not have a clear explanation as to why specifically, but he did find Chase cool and chilled out. He did not appear that problematic and seemed to be loyal. He would have been a perfect member of the ‘gang’ as people called it.

Nine years had passed since Kit’s double life had fallen into pieces. Although, he could now realise the deep shit he had dug himself into, part of him missed it. He missed the thrill, the passion, the adrenaline. He missed knowing that there was always someone having his back. A born, brave and beloved leader, Kit was the perfect fit for the club, if it was not for his double life. Role model and a criminal with comlpete lack of remorse sadly did not go well together. His brother had turned out to be just like him and that was all Kit’s fault. His parents put him on piedestal without having any clue who he really was. They had no idea that he would get up from the dinner table and go beat and slice people up and enjoy it on top of that. That was in fact the worst part. He could not use shitty upbringing as an excuse for what he did. It was just his nature, which he was trying hard to cover up eversince he began the disciplinary program. Nevertheless, he knew that once a criminal, he will always stay a criminal and unfortunately he made his little brother also become one. 

Perhaps the main reason why Kit liked Chase was because he also seemed like a boy who got mixed up in the wrong lifestyle for one reason or another. But it seemed like he could be trusted and that is what counted.

Kit gave a subtle nod to Chase. He was aware that smoking was way beyond the rules, but he was willing to close his eyes for people like him. People who would bring back the nostalgia feelings for the past, no matter how wrong that was. “Tell you what, shall we move over there” he said pointing with his eyes to the secluded area, perfect for smoking as it was not visible from any of the entrances or windows. Fuck it he thought, the discipline in this place was so bad already that one smoke was not going to worsen it. 

“London huh? Were you born there or? And how the hell you found yourself in Oregon?” he asked, curious about his life before coming to the states. “You know, good friend of mine comes from Bradford” he stated, thinking about one of his best buddies from the past - James. Even after he had to leave the group, they continued to be friends and see each other rather rarely, but kept in touch. 

After hearing the boy going on about not having an idea why he was there, Kit got it. Obviously he was not ready to talk about it, but that did not matter too much. So far they seemed to be in good terms, so knowing why he was there was rather meaningless. What was rather more important to Kit was that he got the resepct, which the boy seemed to be giving him. “Right..You coming?” he asked as he started walking towards the smoking area. All this thinking had made him to really crave a cigarette.

Chase was not unfamiliar with men from... complicated pasts. Dark worlds. Men who wore leather and ripped denim. Men who smelled like engine oil and musty hotels. Men with hair on their chest and scars on their knuckles. And though Chase had had his fair share of less-than-pleasant experiences where these men were involved—he’d also had some eye opening ones. Some that were memorable for as many good things as they were for bad. 

Before working with the agency, he’d been taken under the ‘wing’ of Raul—a man who, for all intents and purposes, was Chase’s pimp. But no matter what other people said, what people called him, or how despicably he might have been seen, Chase had cared for the man, because the man had cared for him. Maybe... maybe not in the traditional way people might expect or desire. But he’d looked out for Chase. He’d protected him, had his back. Given him a roof over his head, a number to call, a place to run to at night when he had nowhere else to go. He’d kept Chase safe, and shown him opportunity—and for that, Chase had been grateful. 

And it’d been his time working under the watch of Raul that he’d encountered the kinds of men whom he was now reminded of with Kit. Men who had edges and dark corners and knives tucked into their boots. Men with dirty hands and bruising grips—but Chase had found that though they’d never been especially friendly... many of them had been more than met the eye. It usually came, after the sex, as Chase lied there on his stomach, watching hazily as his John fell asleep on his back. Or as he’d listened to the drunken ramblings of a client who couldn’t have been there, laying with Chase, had he been sober. Confessions of wives or dead daughters. Confessions of crimes they regretted, or the ones they didn’t. They were complicated. Dark, maybe. Dangerous, sure. But they were complicated, just like Chase. Had been hurt, just like Chase had been. And it was in that, that he found admiration. There was where he found respect—even for the most intimidating of men. The ones with the iciest, thickest hides. There was always something more. And call him naive, but Chase liked that. 

And later, when he was with the agency, he’d conclude that in many cases, those men had really not been any different than the ones with money. With fancy watches and expensive suits. Because as it would turn out. Money didn’t automatically mean class.

“Oh, I was born in Leeds, actually,” he replied easily, finding he liked the chatter—liked that the guard was taking interest enough to ask. It made him feel visible, and there was a comfort in that. “And how I ended up here... erm. Weird story I reckon,” he said with a gentle buckle in his delicate brow. “But basically, my, uh, Doc. Works here and suggested I came here. Got me admitted, basically. And I met him, ‘cause, well.. he takes a lot o’ trips to the UK, see, and erm, s’pose he was takin’ on patients while he was there, too or somethin’?” He shrugged. “Dunno, really.” 

Talking extensively about the deal with how he got here was usually difficult—mostly because it involved a lot of lying, and so he was eager to change the subject. And the offer from the guard to join him in a smoke back outside was as good of an excuse as any. It was also one that made Chase grin. “Yeah? Really? I mean, yeah, ‘course I’m comin’, sir. Ain’t gonna say no to that.” And his grin, as they went back out the doors the way they came, was pleased, almost boyishly so, because the invitation felt like a slant of approval from an authority who ranked far above Chase, and Chase was plenty eager to get as much of that as he could. 

[amberlyjacobs-blog]

Lost In Translation || Open

[edgeofchase]

amberlyjacobs‌:

“Separate state I’m afraid.” Amberly grinned - the boys rendition of ‘take me home country roads’ having given the Jacobs girl reason to smile. Music was a bit of a sore spot for the girl, in the sense that it was a tremendous impossibility for her to grasp any of the lyrics to songs post car accident. ‘Country Roads’ was fortunately a song within her repertoire and one she rather enjoyed though she had never been a fan of country init of itself.

Though it was as Chase noted their approach to her destination the Jacobs girl found her golden hues flickering forward and then down as she hurried to encompass the route from the rec room and there by from the entrance. She thought, for a fleeting moment, how easy life would be if she’d never had the unfortunate luck to skid across the black ice and wrap the front of her car around that thick oak tree. It was only a moment of self wallow - a fraction of a second before she steeled herself against it and pushed forward, refusing to allow herself to bask in the self pity any longer. “I think so.” Amberly sounded off confidently, reading over the few sentences she had down two or three times.

As the Jacobs girl was finishing up she noticed how Chase had tripped over his words, ma - ma what? Had he been about to call Dr. Wayde something else or was this just another English colloquialism? Like how Canadian’s said eh? Regardless Amberly nodded with a small smile. “Well I’ve met a few and while I couldn’t point them out to you off the top of my head, what I have written down is fairly innocuous.” Gripping the tab of a thin pink arrow post it Amberly flipped to the staff portion of her notebook, allowing a slender manicured finger to trail over the few names she had scrawled. “Dr. Wright - the head of the institute - seems studious with a dry sense of humour. Typical grandfatherly type with a bit of an unnerving vibe. Sebastian Ramsey, he’s my doctor, workaholic and fit, easy going yet focused. Jared Jones; a tutor, fairly awkward but inherently kind, will chat forever about books and knowledge. I could go on but where would the fun in that be?” Amberly said yet again with a smile. From this small encounter with Chase she had to deduce that she liked him. Aside from the annoying habit of calling her sugar he had been kind, polite and above all hadn’t once asked about her book or condition. It had been a rather pleasant encounter - one she would be rather disheartened to forget.

“Thank you for helping me find my room - and one more thing - please don’t be offended if when we meet next I have no idea who you are…I have a memory issue - it’s the main reason I’m here.” Memory issue was a hell of a lot simpler to say than consistently spewing the mouthful of short term memory loss - and once more the brunette decided against telling Chase about her tumour, that was a whole different can of worms she wasn’t willing to open just yet.

When she started spouting off details about the staff, Chase’s brows rose a moment, before he let them down with a bit of a chuckle. Yeah, he supposed that seemed... consistent with her character from even just the few minutes he’d had so far getting to know her. 

“Blimey, that little book is quite the useful tool, yeah?” He grinned at her. “I ain’t... gonna remember most of that, but I’ll give it my best shot. I reckon the Sebastian one will stick, ‘cause you called him fit. Peaked my interest.” He smirked, throwing her a wink. “But uh, yeah, yer welcome. ‘Course, no problem. And, er, I’m room 450. Ya know, if ya ever need anythin’ or whatnot. M’sure I’d always be open for the company, anyway.” He shrugged. 

And at her confession about her memory, he nodded, his brows pulling down on the sides. “Oh—shite, sorry love. Sounds blood miserable. Well, uh. Reckon maybe you won’t find me in my room then. But I could always come back and harass ya,” he said, throwing her another hopeful grin. Truthfully, any positive connection for Chase was one he’d try to hang on to. Especially in a place so lonely, where he was so out of his element. 

[edgeofchase]

garbataille‌:

Wide eyes blinked a few times, gears turning slowly. “I – I didn’t think they’d let us have lighters or um… m-matches.” Garnet finally shakes her head, “ I’m sorry, I’m a– afraid I don’t.” 

“Nah, they don’t. They took all mine when I got here. Just thought I’d ask..” he shrugged. Apparently some people were better at sneaking around than others. Probably people who’d been here long enough to know the routine. To have figured out all the tricks. He had a bit of practical research to do, evidently. 

“Anyway. Don’t sweat it.” He looked her over briefly. She seemed a bit lost. Maybe even new, but Chase was too new himself to really know the difference. “I’m Chase, by the way.” If he couldn’t have a smoke, the least he could do was have a conversation. The distraction and attention might help ease some of his anxiety. 

[edgeofchase]

jonassavage‌:

The other melted at his words, in the same way he had seen countless men before him melt. Jonas had more than enough experience in seducing men, in making them feel like they were the only thing he needed in the world. Most of it was just manipulation, something he did so naturally that he didn’t even realize it was happening. But, there was a part of him that was just that needy, part of him that really did feel like the object of his affection really was the only thing he needed in the world. He became wrapped up in them, consumed by them just as easily as he consumed them. Every interest ended up in flames, but he wouldn’t trade that for the world, because that would mean trading the way he got intoxicated by them. That high was the best thing in the world, and he chased it in every person. 

And Chase would be no different. Jonas could already feel his strong attraction, his growing need for the other’s attention. He wanted to please him, and be pleased by him. He wanted to pull him in, in every sense of the word, and become drunk off him. It made his body language even louder, even more flamboyant and attention grabbing. He already had Chase’s attention, but he wanted more. Always more. Did it matter that he had only just met the other? No, of course not. Once Jonas had decided he wanted something, that he needed something, very little could change his mind. Or stop him. 

“Good. Average people are bo-ring, but I hadn’t thought you were anyway. You certainly don’t strike me as dull,” he says, before his mind started to run wild. Of any kind? There were so many things he could do, taking advantage of that. And, he was sure they could actually do them all. “Oh, don’t say that. You’ll start getting annoyed with me, trying to drag you every which way,” he says, grinning him, though he was sure that Chase wasn’t going get bored any time soon. Hell, he wasn’t gonna let the other get bored. 

The pool had entirely slipped in his mind–in fact, he had hardly cared in the first place. He had only suggested it to get out of the rec room, for something else to do. To be alone. But, now he wouldn’t rather do anything but dive in that pool, shed some of these unnecessary layers, be close, skin to skin in the water. A smirk comes to his lips at the other’s choice of words, “I definitely agree,” he says, glancing up and down the hall, “You know, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure it’s on the bottom floor. Come on, let’s hurry then, if you’re so eager,” he teases, grabbing the other’s hand as he tugs him down the hall, towards an elevator. 

Chase snorted, his grin fresh and foolish. “Trust me, mate—at the rate this place has been borin’ me half ta death, I’d reckon you draggin’ me every which way would be a fuckin’ blessin’, yeah? Keep me entertained...” His last look lingered, and his grin grew a bit crooked. He licked his lips, shrugging. “’Sides, I reckon I could have far worse, company.

Jonas’ energy was addictive—like a drug, for someone like Chase, who needed that kind of stimulation to survive. Who fuelled himself with impish flirtation and playful laughter, the only way he got by. Taking everything lightly was a necessity of survival, for Chase. Taking everything lightly and with good humour was how he’d gotten into the industry he had with such success. That, and, he happened to believe that there was something liberating and beautiful about sex with both strangers and familiars. Because sex was undoubtedly the most human form of intimacy, and it was a way to know people on a level that could only be achieved one way. And he liked that with everyone, it was different. And that no matter how little he knew of a person who took him to bed, and how little they knew of them, through sex, they’d know each other in ways many wouldn’t, or hadn’t. Sexual relations were like an opportunity. A way to feel and provide and to fulfill. All things Chase needed in life. All things he sought to have more of, on a day to day basis. 

The other’s hand slipped around Chase’s as he tugged him along and down the hall. And Chase smirked as they hurried along and slipped into an elevator. Jabbed at the button for the bottom floor. As the doors pinged shut, Chase smirked again, looking Jonas’ way, his arms folding over his chest casually. 

‘So—there’s only three things that ever happen in elevators—snoggin’, awkward conversations, and awkward silences.” He lifted a brow, teasing. “So... where ya from?” It was cheeky, his tongue peaking out through his teeth for a brief moment. An implication about on thing, to get it on the other’s mind, but then an action towards another—awkward conversation. Because as good as Chase was at flirting, he was also an excellent cock tease, when he wanted to be. 

Actually, he wasn’t great—because he had a hard time saying no to anything. But he was practiced enough at upping the game. He liked to be desired, after all—needed it, in fact—and suggestive remarks like that were one way to ensure he would be. 

[edgeofchase]

kitrawlings‌:

“Thanks man, I’ve no clue what I would do without this beauty” he gave a little shrug. Kit took great care for his bikes, they always looked shiny, clean and in perfect condition technically speaking. And now this boy had earned himself some extra points for complimenting him about it. It was one of the best compliments he could get, one that he definately valued the most at least. “Did you? Like to live on the edge huh?” he said jokingly. “Where was that, in the good old UK?” he asked. It was not too hard to guess, considering his strong accent. Kit had few friends who came from there, back when he was in the gang, so he knew a thing or two about the accents.

“Don’t sweat it, it’s all good. I’m just warning you that’s all, cause the other guards might not be too okay with smoking, so be careful” he assured. Kit was strict, but smoking was probably one of the very few stuff he would close his eyes about and probably mainly because he was a smoker himself and in the matter of fact a heavy one.

“Kit, nice to meet you too” he nodded, shaking his hand. If the guy had not already won his attention, referring to him as sir definately reached that goal. It felt so damn good to hear this word. Sir. Made him feel so important and dominant, even if he was just a guard. Usually doctors were the most respected ones in places like these and guards and nurses were always left in their shadows and Kit hated that. Without both of these jobs, places like Brielle were going to cease to exist. “Oh hell no, I am a guard” he said partially with relief. Being a doctor was the last thing he wanted to be. Helping people and dealing with their complaints and problems 24/7 without anything rewarding in the end, what was worse than that? Nothing. Being a guard on the other hand was still dealing with people, but rather putting them in their place and that’s what Kit found appealing about the job. Order, control and dominance. Three key factors. “And you, what are you here for Chase?” he asked, trying to get more info about the patients face to face before he checked their files.

There was something sincere about that sort of reserved smile of his. Not over the top—subtle and kind of stoic, not giving away too much, but also generous in its warmth. An accessible kindness in his eyes. Chase liked the bloke already. 

And that he was muscular and scruffily handsome was only part of the reason. 

Plus, he seemed friendly, with a good sense of humour, and more casual than a lot of the other staff Chase had met so far here. “Oh yeah, mate,” Chase replied, his grin lopsided and cheeky. “I reckon you could definitely say that. I was no fuckin’ square at least, that’s fer sure. But yeah, London. At least, that’s ‘bout where I was when I learned to ride. Sorta learned, anyway. A... friend of mine let me on his a few times. He took me ‘round the city and all that, but when I was drivin’ he took me, like, to some deserted side roads on the outskirts o’ town so I wouldn’t get myself killed, I reckon.” He laughed. 

For a big guy, he was lenient about his warning—to which Chase was grateful. He knew there’d been a rule, but following that rule was easier said than done. And he didn’t really see why it mattered, either. Who cares if he smoked, so long as it wasn’t inside? What did it have to do with his being here, anyway? Fuck all, as far as he was concerned. 

He scratched the back of his neck, giving the man a grateful grin. “I’ll be careful, promise. Thanks, erm. Fer bein’ cool ‘bout it. I figure I ain’t hurtin’ no one, yeah? ‘Sides, I don’t got any of my own, even, so it’s already gonna be a bit tough for me to do anyway.” Actually, he was hoping it wouldn’t be. That he’d find a good source and that would be that. But it’s not like he’s going to say that right now. 

From what Chase could tell, he seemed to respond well to the ‘sir’—but really, Chase was hazarding a guess. It seemed like he was, but his mood could have been unrelated. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed. But as a guard, Chase supposed that would make sense. They were usually the power-y types. Not that Chase would ever complain about powerful men who demanded respect. 

And there it was—the question. And Chase felt immediately conflicted. Because on the one hand, he felt like he was doing well with this guard, so far, and didn’t want to give him any reason to think less of Chase. Craved his approval, as he craved any approval, and wanted to continue pleasing him. To continue having the man look at him the way he was looking at him now. But he also was reluctant to talk about his so-called diagnosis. Because like... he didn’t like the idea of anyone thinking there was anything wrong with him. It was still a lot for him to even accept. 

But the way the man said his name made Chase victim to being honest. He liked the sound of his name on the lips of others—whether it was innocent or not, it was a form of acknowledgement. Proof that Chase was visible, if only for a moment, and he especially liked the sound of it in Kit’s deep rumble. And so he chewed his lip, eyes casting down briefly. 

“Erm, that’s a good question—” he let out a bit of a half laugh. Making light of it, and offering the man what he hoped was an endearing grin. “You know, if I figure that out, i’ll be sure to tell ya. ‘Cause if I’m bein’ straight with ya, sir, sometimes I ain’t got no fuckin’ clue what I’m doin’ here. Ain’t that sure that I need to be but..” he shrugged. “My doc thinks otherwise. So erm. Here I am.” 

[edgeofchase]

roganxarchuleta‌:

Rogan hummed and shook his head, “Oh…” He wasn’t entirely sure Abacus was a name - wasn’t it one of those old… counting things? - but he wasn’t going to bring it up and potentially piss Chase off somehow, “Uhm, which movie is that?” he also didn’t know any movies with a Mr. Darcy. None off the top of his head, anyway.

“I’m in 452.. so we’re neighbours, I guess. That’s cool, right?” it was a small thing but it was a thing nonetheless, “You’re from England, right? I went there once, it was a lot of fun.” he hadn’t, of course, but maybe it would build some common ground between them. 

“Oh, it’s that one from one of them, uh, Jane Austin books. Not that I know fuck all ‘bout her books other than, well. She wrote that one. Uh, Pride and Prejudice? They made a big Hollywood movie, but it’s British. Them Americans stole it, ‘course.” He grinned. “Anyway, I ain’t even seen it. Just know the bloke’s name is Mr. Darcy. But I mean, no surprise sappy romance ain’t really my thing.” 

“Yeah, guess so! That’s cool mate. And yeah, m’from London. Well, Leeds, technically, but I was in London that last, like, four years or sum’it. When did you go? And where ‘bouts? London, I take it? Most Americans go there.”