Daydreamer

Jude Pannebaker. Twenty-three.

[jude-pannebaker]

Half Asleep || Dylan and Jude

[dylan-mercer-blog]

[Dylan struggles to not look too excited. He gets to follow around someone that isn’t Jackson for a change. All he has to do is keep from messing this up, and maybe they can be . . friends. He can really use some of those. Anyone that doesn’t hate him that isn’t Jackson is good enough for him right now. Actually, it doesn’t even matter if they hate him or not. Them not being Jackson is really all he’s looking for in the company that he keeps. People need to stop associating him with his roommate so much. They’re not joined at the hip, and they function without each other. Fucking psychos.

Realizing his thoughts have gone off on a tangent, he gives a quick nod, hoping that it’s the right thing to do in this situation. After all, he has no idea what Jude said after ‘It isn’t that far’.]

Thanks, Jude. Yeah, I guess it is a fire hazard, huh?

[Suddenly, that strikes him as funny. The fact that he hasn’t had much sleep is what causes the delayed reaction, but the irony is what’s humorous. Fire hazard? He’s a pyromaniac, and he’s a fire hazard. It’s all too true, in more ways than one.

It takes him another moment to realize that Jude probably doesn’t know why he’s laughing. He just looks like a weirdo again. That isn’t good. His only choices are to explain the joke - which is a lame joke, anyways - or to skip over it and look even dumber, so he chooses to just apologize instead. Apparently, there was a third choice.]

Ah, um, sorry. Something funny just popped into my head. Yeah, a favor - I’ll return it whenever you need me to.

[jude-pannebaker]

[Why the hell is Dylan laughing? It isn't as if Jude said anything particularly funny...at least he doesn't think so. Maybe he's hilarious and he doesn't even know it? Maybe he's so witty, that he managed to say a one-liner without realizing it'd left his mouth?

He doubts it.

It's more likely that the boy is just a weirdo. He probably has voices in his head and they're all saying jokes only Dylan can hear. Is it dangerous to be around schizophrenics? Jude would think he'd pick up on disorders and all that shit from being at Stonebridge for so long, but he hasn't really learned a thing since he'd stepped foot inside the manor.

This could be because he spends all of his time stuffing desserts into his pockets and daydreaming off by himself rather than talking to the other patients. Or it could be because he doesn't listen to any of the doctors or nurses when they're trying to explain things to him. In any case, he's curious as to why Dylan, the possible schizophrenic, is laughing.]

What--ah--what're you laughing at? What popped into your head?

[His hands quickly brush against his face, checking for any stray boogers. Nope. Nothing.]

Is it somethin' I said?

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Subjective Comforts || Rose and Jude

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Well now, hadn’t that taken an interesting turn? Jude was odd, Rose thought. Everything about the way he spoke was odd to Rose, and more than that: it was cynical. She had a deep respect for cynicism, but he responded to that philosophy in a completely different way than she. She would use it to distance herself from others, similarly to what Jude had just done, but then their methods differed. Rose didn’t come out and admit to it, didn’t shut down and push them away. She let them believe they were getting close to her when they weren’t.

A sudden bout of self-hatred seized her and she turned her head away, stretching again to make sure nothing showed in her face. It took a few moments to push that hatred away, long enough that the pause was noticeable. “That’s too bad. I’m one hell of a friend to have.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie. She knew how to be a friend, even if it was less than genuine. “Don’t put words in my mouth, sweetheart. You’d best get to know me before you try to deduce my motives and thoughts.”

"I think here is a place where … a friend might be useful … don’t you? Hypothetically speaking, of course. Clearly that isn’t an option for you, and that’s fine. I’m not implying that I want to be your … what was the outdated, lame terminology you used?" She grinned, keeping her tone light instead of insulting. She was teasing, she didn’t want to offend him. Not in the slightest.

Rose had a feeling she would regret upsetting him. Again, to her dismay and frustration, she hadn’t a clue why. She looked into his eyes again, willing herself to focus and absorb everything she could.

[jude-pannebaker]

One hell of a friend to have? Ha. Sure. Rose was probably one of those girls who loved to gossip and toted herself as the queen bee. There were so many of those girls running around the manor. Just the other day, he came across this loud-mouthed brunette named Laura or Lana or something. She was trying to tell him what to do, and at the very end, dug her nails into his skin. Yeah, no thanks. He wasn't looking for any new friends--especially ones that were girls.

His father was a firm believer that women were trouble anyway. He just fucked them and left them afterwards. It was easier that way--less mess, he said. Jude wondered why his father had decided to marry his mother if he believed in that kind of philosophy, but he wasn't so sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

"Yeah? And what do you think making friends with a loony is good for in here? Most of the people here are drooling idiots or crazed psychopaths. You trust someone and you can get yourself killed." This was true. He'd met his fair share of freaks around here and he wasn't willing to trust anyone anytime soon. He didn't even think he could trust the brunette before him. She hadn't been willing to divulge her reasons for being here, so they must be bad. She could be dangerous.

He crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow at her. "Why? You got friends here already? You're new here, aren't you?" he asked. 

[11pretty-little-things]

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Subjective Comforts || Rose and Jude

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Jude Pannebaker.

The name rung a faint bell, but Rose shook her head. She would have to think about it later and in the meantime she’d prefer him to believe she was in the dark entirely. Cynical and clever, she was hardly ever at a disadvantage when it came to information and relationships. Actually, she had a habit of having people wrapped around her finger in very little time at all. They thought her wit was endearing, her smirk mysterious and strangely tempting. Little did they know how cold and broken she had become. Mostly they were idiots, not bothering to find out what they were getting into.

Rose constantly felt as though she’d been stripped of something; that there was this key element to her identity that had been stolen from her. It was painful to think about. She preferred manipulating others and when that failed, manipulating the facts, to achieve her ends. She was always safe, always protected. She had already learned that no one else would save her if she needed it.

Rose raised an eyebrow, “You won’t be? Why’s that?” Shame.

[jude-pannebaker]

Was this girl coming onto him? Or was she sincerely curious as to why they weren't going to be the best of friends? Jude hadn't wanted to go into it--he'd hoped that she'd simply accept what he'd said as fact and leave it at that. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? He wasn't about to tell her that it was difficult for him to forge relationships in here--or at all, for that matter. He wasn't going to tell her that every time he thought he was getting somewhere with someone, they were released from Stonebridge's care, leaving him all alone in this God-forsaken shithole. 

So, he decided to say the next best thing. It was going to make him sound like an asshole, sure, but he was certain he was going to say something to fuck it all up sooner or later. 

"You don't make friends in a place like this. What's the purpose? I'm not lookin' to spend time with any of these weirdos in here. Are you?" he asked. "I don't know if you're looking for a new 'BFF' or whatever, but it's not me. I'm only talkin' to you now because I don't mind shooting the shit for a few minutes. I don't want to be your friend, though, just like you don't want to be mine."

Who needed friends, anyway? He had his mother and father, and that was enough. After his mother got sick, none of his friends from school checked up on him. No one cared. As the days passed by and he was pulled from school to be tutored at home, no one called him again. None of his friends came to the funeral. No one came forward with their condolences. Jude was left to grieve on his own.

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Subjective Comforts || Rose and Jude

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Rose grinned, amused. “I’m Rose,” she said, “and there are three questions you never ask a woman: ‘how old are you’, ‘how much do you weigh’, and ‘what mental disorder do you have’. I’ll make you a deal, though. You tell me your’s, I’ll tell you mine.” She nodded decidedly, eyes flashing devilishly. Well, she might tell him. She’d have to decide on what disorder she wanted to have pretty quickly, though. Rose didn’t like lying without planning it out; you were caught much too easily that way.

She analysed his posture carefully, wondering what she could tell just from little details here and there. He seemed almost exasperated to her, as though he had some tedious task on his mind. The manor required neat dress and hair, so she couldn’t very well come to any conclusions based on that much. Rose sighed very slightly, again tracing over the many outlines of the many essays and speeches she could write about how inhumane and questionable these sorts of places were.

Then she let out a cough, shaking her head to clear it. She wanted to focus on him, wanted to assess him and judge him. Rose wasn’t quite sure why; his presence didn’t so much annoy her as it did put her on her guard. Why was that?

[jude-pannebaker]

Huh. He ran his fingers through his mussed hair, fingers falling upon the cowlicks that cropped around his head. Blackburn would have his ass if she saw him looking so slovenly, but he liked getting a rise out of her. Plus, wasn't this bedhead look all the rage as of late? Well, his was authentic. No hair gel needed. He was a natural beauty.

Jude leaned back in his seat, legs outstretched before him. He liked to take up space. His father taught him that it demanded respect and attention. It garnered Jude quite a few dirty looks on cramped subway cars, but he knew that those around him were just jealous. They always were.

"That's fine. I don't need to know what you're in here for. It's not like I'm going to spend much time with you anyway," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm Jude Pannebaker. You've probably heard of me and my father. We're always in the news." And the tabloids, but he wasn't about to tell her that. She might have read about him anyway. His face was always plastered under horrible headlines.

Jude Pannebaker Banned from Club No Vacancy

Jude Pannebaker Arrested for Possession

Jude Pannebaker Nearly Runs over Paparazzi

He hoped she hadn't read them.

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Subjective Comforts || Rose and Jude

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Rose stared at him, her nose wrinkling again. “No.” At first, it was all she could bring herself to say without snapping at him. She thought his immediate response was rather bold, and she wasn’t sure whether she liked that yet. It had also been vaguely insulting, if she chose to take it that way. Instead she crossed her arms, nonchalant.

"Didn’t you know? It’s all the rage for people to be off in corners, whispering to themselves in a psychiatric ward. It gives the place that standard … home-y, you-could-die-at-any-moment feel. I’m just trying to keep up with the ever-changing times." She smiled cheekily for effect, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It was still interesting, though. The way he’d spoken to her, the way he’d chosen to start the conversation; the choice to speak at all, for that matter. Rose made a mental note of it.

He was kind of cute, too. Nice smile, broad shoulders. Rose re-positioned herself so that she was facing him head-on in her chair, wanting very much to dissect this stranger into a sniffling mess. He had that arrogant way about him, the one that made people both love and hate you at the same time. Rose always spun a little closer to hate, just in case.

[jude-pannebaker]

Ah. She was witty. Jude hated people with wit. They always made him feel stupid because he couldn't keep up with their clever remarks and biting sarcasm. He didn't really have to worry about that with people at the manor, though. Everyone here was just as dumb as he was--possibly ever dumber. There was a patient at Stonebridge, who kept taking off his pants and draping it around his neck like a cape. Jude didn't have to worry about being witty with that guy.

On any other day, Jude would have left this girl to be alone with her cheeky smile and sharp sense of humor, but he was tired from walking all morning and he didn't want to return to his room just yet. So, he plopped down in the seat opposite her, ready to work his mind, so he wouldn't look like an imbecile in comparison.

"You're weird," he said. "But I guess that makes sense because you're here in this dump. What're you in here for anyway?" Jude gave her a quick once-over. "You have an eating disorder or somethin'? Or are you one of those people who have like fifty voices in their head? If any of them are telling you to hurt me, you can tell them to fuck right off."

[marcus-richter-rp]

Roomies, Take Two: Marcus and Jude

[marcus-richter-rp]

Of course, it was another kid.  That’s pretty much all they kept in this place, a bunch of snotty nosed kids.  The last institution he’d been in had been filled with guys who would have eaten these brats for breakfast; a half step above prison essentially.  Not that Marcus really cared one way or another. Kids were impressionable, they would do all sorts of crazy shit without even thinking twice about it.  Hell, he’d practically sweet talked Todd into smuggling drugs in for him during their very first conversation.  It was a weird dichotomy, given that in many ways Marcus refused to grow up, and yet he was now very much an outsider in their ranks.  At this point, he didn’t have much of a ‘place’ at all.

He snorted when his new roommate informed him that he didn’t have any good old guy jokes, turning back to the pile of books he was carefully stacking.  ”Right, I highly doubt that, but I appreciate you sparing my fragile, geriatric feelings.  Nah, I thought I’d just move my shit in here to fuck with you.  Nothing better to do.”

As the kid crossed the room and hefted himself onto his bed, Marcus shot him a weary side glance.  ”Interesting?  Not really. I’m a prick, and oh, I like to chug near fatal cough syrup and acetaminophen cocktails every now and then.”  He rolled his eyes.  ”Don’t worry, I’m not going to spear your eyeballs with crayons, or sleep in women’s underwear.”  He could at least understand the innate fear that went with having to live with someone in an institution.

Marcus pushed his suitcase out of the way and slumped at the wall that his own bed was butted up against.  ”Oh yeah?  Well, if we’re talking about the same girl, she told me her grandpa was Paul McCartney, but I’m pretty sure she just said that to me because she thought I’d find it cool.”  He began kicking off his sneakers.  ”This place is if full of liars, not all that different from the rest of the world.  And what’s your problem?  Uncle Bob touch in your naughty place?  Set fire to a church?  Have a rolodex worth of imaginary friends?”  He’d heard it all. 

[jude-pannebaker]

Holly hell this guy was blunt. Jude couldn't tell whether or not he liked that yet. The man seemed like the type to tell Jude up front if he had any problems with him.

"You wear too much cologne." 

"I don't like your face."

"I hate how you keep sneaking desserts into the room. You're getting crumbs everywhere."

At least he wouldn't have to worry about the man lying to him, though. That sounded nice. He'd been lied to and deceived ever since he'd arrived at the manor. Even his doctor seemed to be a liar, hiding her disgust for Jude under a practiced smile and some thinly-veiled threats. It'd be nice to have someone be honest to him for once. It'd be annoying, sure, but this might be a nice change of pace.

"Right on. Drugs, huh? Cough syrup tastes gross, but I guess I can understand the appeal," he said. Jude, himself, used to dabble in drugs. Nothing too bad. Just a little weed and a few lines of coke here and there, but nothing too crazy. He was offered a slew of other things at clubs, but he was always too wary to let himself fall into that scene completely.

Jude supposed he could tell the man about his "maladaptive daydreaming" or whatever the hell the doctors called it--especially since the man was so open with him--but he didn't want to. There was a vulnerability in admitting this issue and he'd much rather not do that with a stranger. He was sure the man would learn in time anyway; Jude fell into his reveries often enough where it would be impossible not to catch him at one point or another.

"I got into a fight with some paparazzi. I beat them bloody for saying things they shouldn't have. My dad put me in here because I have 'anger issues.' Can you fucking believe that? Look at me. I'm cool as a cucumber," he said, rolling his eyes. "What's your name anyway? No, wait. Let me guess. You look like a Hugh. Or a Gregory. "

[roseandfell-deactivated20140706]

Subjective Comforts || Rose and

Rose lifted her arms over her head, closing her eyes and letting out a little hum as she stretched. She missed music terribly. Here she was expected to socialize, to be sane. In summary: too many requirements. Putting in headphones and being angry at the world suited her far better. She hardly cared for stereotypes, angst was the only one she catered to. Besides, why was she to be deprived of music? The issue merited her angst. There must be some famous quote from some famous philosopher she could call to mind to accent its necessity. Perhaps then one of the sane ones could be persuaded to help her.

She laid her head on the table, the hum devolving into an irritable grumble. Her head was pounding painfully. Each moment that was spent inside this manor was a torturous one. She’d chosen to nestle down in the sitting room only because the white walls were bright enough to remind her of the open air. Darkness had a strange connection to confinement. At least, they did with Rose. It seemed a bit subjective. 

It was rather early in the morning, so the room was quiet, empty, still. Light filtered in through the large windows and left long, streaking patterns on the dark hardwood floor. Rose focused idly on that light, nose wrinkling. It was nice, granted. Very nice. Clearly, they’d spared no expense in shutting her away. She suspected that was more due to preemptive guilt than love.

Her gaze flickered to the piano. Lovely thing, that piano. A part of her wondered how old it was, how well-maintained it was. She’d be able to tell straight away if she could bring herself to play a single note, a scale, a song. That sort of mood eluded her. She was glad it had, because it wasn’t a minute later that the doors opened and someone walked into the room. 

"Ooh, I spy with my little eye another crazy." Rose mumbled, straightening out. Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent. There, the perfect quote. Wasn’t it that author? Victor Hugo? Yes, that was— Rose glanced at the person who had slid into the room, unnerved to find them looking at her. Had she spoken loud enough to be heard?

[jude-pannebaker]

Jude liked getting up at the crack of dawn. The manor, which was usually crackling with energy, slowed to a stop around the early hours of the morning. No inane conversations were being had, no fights were breaking out, no slobbering morons were milling about the corridors. The morning offered him a brief respite from the irritating lunacy of the other patients.

He shuffled around the empty halls, going from floor to floor, soaking in the sweetness of the silence. He allowed his mind to wander to beautiful places, spinning stories that he wouldn't remember when he came to. Still, Jude allowed himself to dream, allowed himself the comforts of being with his mother--even if it was all in his mind.

After an hour or two of walking along the third and second floors, Jude worked his way to the first floor sitting room, where he was shaken from his reverie by a muttering brunette. Was she talking to him? Or was she talking to herself? He supposed it would most likely be the latter; patients seemed to talk to themselves often here. They always complained about the "voices in their head."

Lunatics.

"You talkin' to me? Because if you are, speak up. My dad said that people who talk quietly are only doing so because they're too stupid and ashamed to speak loudly. Is that you? Is that your case?" he asked.

[marcus-richter-rp]

Roomies, Take Two: Marcus and Jude

Cobain was gone, shipped off, moved out, miraculously cured in record time, whatever.  Marcus didn’t know what had happened with Todd, but he had woken up to find he was being reassigned to a new room, and a new roommate along with it.  Great.  And right when he had actually been warming up to Toddie, he was going to have to deal with doing it all over again.  Who knew what brand of crazy he was in store for this time, at least Todd had been fairly normal.  But the more you rolled the dice in a place like this, the more likely you were going to hit the wacko jackpot. Once again, Marcus attempted to argue his case for his own room to Stonebridge’s administration, and once again, he was denied..or more accurately, ignored.

In a sullen, grumbling state of discontentment he packed up his things and moved to his newly assigned room, a few jail cells down the hall. When he arrived, nobody was in there, but he could clearly see the evidence of another human being living in there; belongings, half the closet space taken, unfamiliarity all over the place.  Annoyances. Marcus unpacked in an exact reversal of what he’d just done minutes beforehand.  Hopefully this would just be temporary; he had sworn he was going to get better now, and then he was going to get out of here. For the first time in a long time, the possibility of a real life awaited him. No more relapses.  No more strange roommates.

He was stacking various books on the nightstand when he heard footsteps behind him.  He didn’t fully turn around to face his new roommate, but merely muttered over his shoulder, “This would be your cue to unload your best old guy jokes.  I’ll wait it out.”

[jude-pannebaker]

Jude wasn't looking forward to a new roommate. For the past week or so, he'd been enjoying having a room all to himself. There was no one to bother him--no one to keep him up with their snoring or attempts at striking up a conversation. He was free to stay inside his room all day without having to worry for his safety or fear for his privacy. It was nice--quiet. That was all going to end today, however, when his new roommate moved in.

They hadn't told him anything about the new guy, so imagine Jude's surprise when he saw that the man standing before him was about twenty years old than he'd expected him to be. The man told him he should get out all his old guy jokes now and Jude had plenty. One of them was pretty good, too. It had to do with the man's prostate problems. He'd heard his dad joke about it before to his colleagues. It had them all in stitches.

As much as Jude wanted to crack these jokes, though, he didn't know how kindly this man would take to jokes about his penis. For all Jude knew, this guy was violent. Because he was going to live with him for a while, he didn't want to start off on the wrong foot. Sleeping with one eye open didn't sound like his idea of a good time.

So, Jude silently walked past the man and hopped onto his own bed, not bothering to deal with the necessary handshakes in his introduction.

"Nah, I don't have any," he lied. "So, you're my new roommate, huh? You in here for anything interesting? I hope you're not one of those pathological liars in here. Those patients are annoying as hell. One girl told me her father was Bono. She told another guy that her dad was Bruce Willis. I heard that her dad is really just some accountant or somethin'."

[silasbotwn]

[jude-pannebaker]

Into the Hollow || Jude and Ethan

[lonelyethan-blog]

[Is food the answer to everything? He’s honestly feeling a little nauseous, but the older guy’s offering the only good thing right now - a distraction. Ethan feels like he has no choice but to accept; if he doesn’t, he’ll break down. Then again, there’s always the chance that he’ll accidentally brush by someone else on the way to the kitchen, which is terrifying just to think about. He’ll have to risk it, though; he can’t chance having a panic attack in the middle of the hallway.]

U-Um, yeah. Yes. Sure.

[He’s repeating the same thing over and over, he knows, but he wants to make sure he’s getting his point across. The blond’s nervous, after all, and if he misspeaks, he might get into trouble. A lot of trouble. A simple misunderstanding might lead to a physical confrontation, which he’s really not up for right now. Hell, he threw up all over that redhead, although it’s something he hates to think about it. Right now, he’ll probably just slip into unconsciousness if something happens.]

I won’t t-tell.

[The seventeen-year-old shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, averting his gaze from just to the side of the older guy to the floor. Even looking at him makes him feel sick; he really doesn’t want to vomit again. Determined not to do so, he focuses on that, but in doing so his concentration slips. One hand wanders over to touch the other arm, and his fingers start to scratch at the skin there, like he’s digging to get something out without realizing it. If he’d noticed, he would’ve stopped it, but he doesn’t have any idea that he’s hurting himself. Even a simple distraction can do that to him.]

[jude-pannebaker]

[The boy doesn't really look like he wants to tag along, but that's fine. He doesn't want anything from the boy and he's not exactly interested in having a pervert for a friend. Jude would usually keep his distance, but he sees something in the blond that he can identify with. Jude can't quite put his finger on what it is, but he sympathizes with him. Poor little weirdo.

Jude gestures for the boy to follow him. They don't have to walk very far to get to the kitchen, but they'd have to be fast if they wanted to catch the pastry chef in time. Jude walks at his own, quick pace. He doesn't slow his step to let the boy catch up with him, but he does glance backwards every once in a while to see if he's still following.

It's the third time he glances back that he notices the boy scratching at himself, fingers digging into a small patch of skin. Yuck. Does this kid have a skin disease or something? Or is he just picking at a scab? In any case, it's gross and it's making Jude lose his appetite.]

Don't pick at that, man. It's gonna get infected. My mom always said to leave that shit alone or it won't heal. 

[He pauses for a moment and stops walking, his brow furrowed as he looks back at the boy.]

You don't have something like--contagious--do you? Cause if you do, you gotta tell me. 

[jude-pannebaker]

Half Asleep || Dylan and Jude

[dylan-mercer-blog]

[He looks down at the ground while Jude responds, scuffing his shoe against the hardwood floor. Great. Dylan can’t help but feel awkward now, like he’s backed the blond into a corner or something. While the older male can probably find a way out of it, it’s the nineteen-year-old’s own fault, so he feels responsible for finding a way to change the subject. Even so, Jude seems to find another topic first. Admittedly, it’s not one he wants to take part in, but he deserves it.]

You said you were headed back to the dorms, and I didn’t remember how to get back, so . . I just kind of tagged along. Sounds kind of creepy, sorry, but I didn’t want to bother you and ask.

[That’s true enough. Honestly, Dylan isn’t even sure why he wanted to go back to the dorms in the first place. The only thing waiting for him there is Jackson, and the lawyer isn’t really someone he wants to see right then. He doubts that anyone ever really wants to see the sociopath, but he’s pretty sure that he’s one of the few people that actually has a good reason to avoid him. He’s been repeatedly used and abused by him; of course he knows he should stay away.

Realizing that he’s let the silence drag on for a bit, he gives an awkward smile, taking a step back from Jude. From having had his hand on his shoulder earlier, he had stayed too close, but now he’s at a good distance. Hopefully, Jude won’t point that out.]

I should probably . . go, I guess, unless there’s a reason for one of us to stay. I have to find a place to sleep, and - well, you’ve got that session, right?

[jude-pannebaker]

[Yeah, yeah. Dylan's a little creepy for following him, but he's not nearly as bad as that lanky kid that was hanging out in the bathrooms. This is quite possibly the only amiable conversation Jude has had since he's been at the manor. All the rest of his interactions have devolved into insults or violent altercations. Jude doesn't think he's lonely, but maybe it'd be nice to have someone around to talk to. While he enjoys his mother's company, it's always fleeting; she leaves him just as quickly as she comes to him.

Having someone to hang around with at the manor might be nice. The two don't exactly get along, but at least they can have small-talk. What the hell does this kid talk about, though? Not listening to music? Being a geek? Maybe Jude can educate him--pry him out of his Amish upbringing and bring him into the twenty-first century.]

Nah, I can show you to the dorms. It isn't that far and I don't want you sleepin' in the hallways again. It's a--y'know--a fire hazard. 

[It's unlike Jude to go out of his way for others--especially someone as weird as Dylan is--but perhaps this is good. It shows progress in him, doesn't it? Maybe he can tell Blackburn that he's turned over a new leaf. Will that help him get the hell out of here faster?]

Blackburn can wait. If I show up late, I'll have a shorter session and that sounds good to me.  Think of this as a favor. I show you around and you can do something for me later.

[jude-pannebaker]

Into the Hollow || Jude and Ethan

[lonelyethan-blog]

[He’s really a mess. It’s taken him a moment, but he sees that now. No wonder Connell doesn’t really seem to interact with him anymore - much less anyone else. Maybe people can sense the fact that he’s pathetic, and it drives them away. Ethan’s realized that he doesn’t like being alone, so this is really driving him nuts. Jude’s the first person he’s spoken to since - well, since who the hell knows when. The seventeen-year-old’s mind is too frazzled to remember who else he’s spoken to lately.]

I . . I d-don’t have her. I’ve got— I’ve got Peter. Dieterle. Doctor Dieterle.

[If he’s not careful, he really will start crying. That disgusting feeling under his skin isn’t fading at all, and he just wants to scratch through his arms until he can get it out. Then again, that’ll make things worse - even touching himself right now will lead to a total panic attack.

Realizing that the older guy’s said something supposedly helpful, he gives a small nod, having barely listened at all. It probably won’t help him, since he’s got Peter, but it might.]

Um, thanks. Yeah. Thanks.

[Thanks is the word he’s looking for, he’s fairly sure. If it’s the wrong word, he’ll probably get a weird look, but he might still get that if it’s the correct word. The only thing he can really go on is the fact that if he gets no odd looks, it’s the right word. That’s all he has to go on, which is kind of bad - usually, his memory is better than this, but he feels like his mind is scrambled. There’s a pounding sensation at the base of his skull, which is making thinking just that much harder.]

[jude-pannebaker]

[The boy is a wreck and as tired as Jude is from sleep deprivation, he's feeling nicer than usual. The other day, that weird kid with the glasses was kind enough to ignore Jude's moment of weakness. He'll return the favor for this weird blond. He doesn't know how to go about offering this boy advice, though. He's bad with words and often hurts people more than he helps them. Jude supposes he'll just offer the next best thing.]

Look, dude, you look pretty fucked up. You wanna go get a snack or somethin'? They're not supposed to serve us anything, but I know a guy that might sneak us something from the kitchen. He's kinda nervous, though, so you gotta be cool or he's not gonna give us anything.

[It's nice having money in a place like this. All of Jude's peers are loaded with cash, sure, but none of the staff members are. It's easy to slip them a fifty for a dessert cake or two. Jude only has a twenty dollar bill, but he's sure that's more than enough to give them something to nibble on.] 

You wanna come with me or not? It's up to you. You better not rat on me, though.

[kai-osuka-blog]

Far From Amenity || Kai & Jude

[kai-osuka-blog]

Kai sat staring blankly at his sketchbook as the pencil rotated in his nimble fingers. The drawing utensil flying out of his hand when another voice suddenly startled him. He watched as the pencil rolled off towards the other’s feet and let his eyes trail upwards towards the voice’s face. “The time?” He asked with an arched brow. It was a simple question, but it caught Kai off guard because it was not at all the first question he thought he would hear here.

He looked down to meet his bare wrist, suddenly remembering he didn’t bring a watch. Taking a second to mentally curse himself for forgetting such a thing, he looked back up at the guy and simply shrugged. “I can’t really help you there.”

His eyes went back to his book, shutting it and quickly shoving it into his bag. “If it helps at all, I just got here about twenty minutes ago and I remember the time in the car saying two-thirty.”

The accent in his words grew heavier when numbers spilled out his lips and Kai hated that. There was this weird factor about the entire ordeal that reminded him of his father, and comparing himself to that man was the last thing he wanted to do.

Quick flashbacks set in brain in a burst of color before settling with an old memory of when he was nine. His class was spending a week going over English greeting and numbers, so of course, Kai was eager to show off his skills to his parents and teach them a thing or two.

Snapping back to reality, Kai looked back up at him, surprised the other was still there after his abrupt spacing-offing. “Sorry, I was just thinking. Uh, you wouldn’t happen to know where I’m supposed to go if I’m new, right?”

[jude-pannebaker]

If Jude's father were here, he'd call the boy out on his accent. He'd ask him where he's from--expecting the answer to be something along the lines of "not here." Jude's mother, however, taught him that was rude. She said it made people feel different and there's nothing worse than feeling different. If she were here, she'd tell Jude to ignore the slip--ignore the remnants of the boy's accent.

Fine.

"Good, then I have plenty of time to kill 'till I have to go," he said, flopping back in his chair. Jude rolled the pencil along the floor with the tip of his shoe. Maybe he should be bending over and picking it up for the boy, but he didn't feel like it. "My doctor's a real bitch. I dunno if you have her or if you even know who your doctor is yet, but I hope for your sake you don't have mine. I got Blackburn. She didn't even know my name. She's a real idiot, but you didn't hear that from me."

He noticed how the boy had drifted off for a second, but Jude was willing to excuse him. After all, his attention span wasn't the greatest. His father had tried his hardest to beat some sense into him, but all it managed to do was leave Jude with a few scars. Perhaps Stonebridge would be able to train it out of him in time, but Jude couldn't see his habit breaking anytime soon.

"Yeah, you're supposed to go to the dorms and settle in. You want me to take you? I got about an hour and I'm not in the mood to hang out with all the other doofuses here. That's the first thing you have to learn here: everyone's an idiot," he said, standing. "Except me, of course, but--" he gestured to a girl walking past them at a clipped pace. Her eyes were darting about the room as she muttered quietly to herself. "Look at her. Look at what I'm talking about. This place is filled with morons."

[jude-pannebaker]

Breaking Point || Jude and Celeste

[celestejacobs]

It hadn’t been more than a week since her last fight. Fighting with Ethan in the library had sent her spiraling into a deep depression, one which she was only brought out of by more anger. She had been out of bed for one day, one fucking day, but her life was already pushing her back into depression. Just as soon as anger took it’s course again.

Celeste wasn’t sure who’s fist was who’s at this point, fists and arms were flying and she was sure she had bitten down on her own tongue, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. She could feel her anger in every cell in her body, and nothing short of a sedative could stop her now.

She was swinging her arm back, getting ready to land a solid punch on the kid’s chest when his fist shoved her shoulder and she felt the empty space between her foot and the floor.

It was a few seconds before Celeste’s mind caught up with her body, and she realized she was falling backward. She felt the hard stairs with every thump as she toppled head-over-hells down the staircase. No thoughts were running through her head; everything but her physical being seemed to be frozen in time. Nearing the bottom of the case, she was rolling now, her body hitting each step with more force than the last. Finally she reached the landing, her body halting and her mind coming back to life.

Everything hurt. Every muscle, every bone, every fiber of her being was screaming in agony, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breath. Her head ached. Her eyes fogged, and she succumbed to the darkness that followed.

[jude-pannebaker]

In that moment, Jude felt as if he had left his body. He was watching from outside of himself as the red-haired woman flew down the stairs, her body making unsettling noises as her limbs slammed against the steps.

He hadn't meant to do it.

A shout kept ringing in the stairwell. Jude assumed it was the guard. Noisy oaf. He needed to shut up--to stop yelling. Jude pressed his hands against his ears to muffle the shrieks, but he could still feel the man's voice through his palms. Jude's eyes couldn't leave the woman's as it crumpled at the foot of the stairs. From this angle, it almost looked like his mother's when he found her dead, splayed across the bed with the top of her skull splattered across the headboard.

This was too much--too much.

Jude shut his eyes and rocked his body, willing for his thoughts to carry him somewhere beautiful--somewhere far from here. But the shrieks kept pulling him back. Every time he'd drift away to see the phantom shape of his mother, sunning herself in the library or eating breakfast on the porch, his attention was pulled away, wrenching him back to the stairwell. 

His body trembled as he held himself, wishing, praying, for peace. All had he wanted was to get away from here--to be with his mother and away from this hell. It was the woman's fault. He hadn't meant to do it. His mother would know. She'd tell them. She'd--

A body crashed against him, tackling him to the floor. Jude tried to tell the guards that it wasn't his fault, but they were too busy driving their fists into his skull to hear him. 

As Jude faded into unconsciousness, he heard himself cry out one last time for his mother.

[lorizechlin-blog]

The Devil Wears Pant Suits || Jude and Helena

[lorizechlin-blog]

[God, where is this boy? He’s certainly not here. Helena thought she was good at getting distracted and ignoring people, but he seems to take the cake. How rude. She’s taking time out of her busy day to sit here and listen to his silly little insults (which he really needs to work on). She doesn’t get paid to sit here and watch the boy dream about La-la Land. 

Honestly, he’s starting to worry her. What if he’s having a stroke, or something? Or maybe he’s in some sort of catatonia? Helena knows how to deal with these things, but she’s sure she doesn’t want to. God, what if he falls over and hits his head? There’d be lawsuits galore. She can’t deal with anything like that right now—especially not with Arnold, a boy who already dislikes her. She’d be out of a job in a flash.

Helena snaps her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. She isn’t sure if it’ll work, but she hopes so. She’d rather he say something witty and brash to her than sit there in some odd state of semi-consciousness.]

Arnold. Arnold! Pay…pay attention. We’ve only got twenty minutes left. 

[jude-pannebaker]

[Jude is visibly startled when Helena starts calling his name. Oh. Jesus Christ. Did he drift off here? This'll definitely not earn him any points with his doctor. Whatever. If she tries to take any privileges away from him, he'll just tell her higher-ups that she couldn't even remember his name. Idiot.

Jude should tell his father the poor conditions of this place. The doctors can't even keep their patients straight in here and the patients try to sneak peeks at his dick while he's taking a piss at the urinals. His father would have a fit.

Then again, Jude might not be able to reach his father right now. It's busy season and he knows his father is trying to land a big account. Maybe he'll try later. His dad will have to be free some time.]

Twenty minutes? That blows. What the hell are we going to talk about for the rest of my time here? Your gross incompetence as a doctor?

[He's pushing it and even he knows he's going too far. But he knows he's already going to receive a punishment for his behavior, so he might as well go all out.]

How old are you anyway? Forty? You married or anything or do you live alone?

[jude-pannebaker]

Into the Hollow || Jude and Ethan

[lonelyethan-blog]

That’s not— That’s not what I said.

[He’s having trouble forming full sentences now. If Ethan has a breakdown right here and now, he knows it’ll be well-deserved, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to have it. He’d rather escape and cry in a closet or something than do it here. The last time he’d met the other male, he’d still been on his meds - now that he’s no longer on them, he’s no longer at risk of mood swings. Any breakdown he has will be fully his own fault.

The blond takes half a step back from the stranger, fixing his eyes on the ground. He’s not as weird as this guy seems to think he is. Ethan might be gay, but he’s no pervert. He tries to respect boundaries - which is more than the guy in front of him does, it seems. After all, there hasn’t been any sort of apology for what happened just then. Running into someone was something worth apologizing for.]

Please, I just—

[He stops, not sure what he wants to say. He wants to go back to sleep, to leave this guy’s presence, to take a thousand showers. There’s a lot of things that he wants, and none of them seem to be possible right now.]

Just look at me. Does it really look like I want t-to be here right now?

[That one stupid stuttered letter nearly has him crying. There are no tears in his eyes, but it won’t take much to make him sob like a baby. Ethan’s definitely not the most manly one in the building, and he knows it. He’s a slave to his emotions - especially sadness and anger, although the latter doesn’t happen often.]

[jude-pannebaker]

[Jude sucks in his cheeks as he beholds the boy. The blond is a nervous wreck. He looks like he's about ready to fall apart at even the slightest provocation. While Jude likes to poke and prod and push people to their boundaries, he's feeling generous today. Maybe he'll cut the weirdo a little slack. He won't show the freak his goods or anything like that, but at least he won't make him cry.]

What's the matter with you? You have a bad session or somethin'? You don't have Blackburn, do you? I guess I'd be crying, too, if I were leaving her office. The woman is a certified bitch.

[It might not be smart to speak so poorly about his doctor, but Jude doesn't care. The woman had thought his name was Arnold and had called him it for the entirety of his session. He's sure calling her a "bitch" couldn't put him any lower in her eyes. He already knows how deeply she hates him.]

My tip: just nod your head a lot whenever she speaks. If she pauses for a long time, just apologize and say you were really thinking about her words and you'll consider them next time you do somethin' bad. Try not to use it too often, though. She caught onto me. Now she's saying shit like, "If you're listening to me, repeat what I just said."