don't breathe

art catharsis and character-introspection this is a place to store thoughts on various original characters, and dreams i remember

[ngc3587]

002 scramble: gabe

bgm: interpol - everything is wrong ----

01a: The first time you say it, you're busy drowning your cotton mouth while your skull splits itself in repeating halves. "I don't have a problem, I just like having fun." is best friends with "I'm fine." they always come together. The looks on their faces while they run careful fingers through your greasy hair at five am all say they don’t believe you, so you close your eyes.

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02a: There's a rusty guard rail and six stories between you and absolute salvation. 'this is all you have left' says the almost empty bottle in your right hand. 'are u up?' blinks the phone in your left. Both hands are shaking, and you feel sick.

…

02b: 'lol yeah'

----

03a: There's something lodged in your throat and it hurts. When you breathe in, it burns like acid and flips your skin inside out and you are buzzing. Through crooked paths paved with good intentions and a sea of bad choices, you've been moving against your better judgement this entire time and now that you're here… you can't find the words to say. The thing in your throat makes you cough and stutter, weak kneed and dizzy. All you manage is a single sharp inhale, but it's enough for you to rattle the thing loose and spit it out in a whisper.

Three years of misery and longing half formed regrets.

"how was your flight?"

His son is still clinging to his legs and you're an idiot, but your eyes are bright with unshed tears and suddenly you're back to being sixteen and hopelessly in love.

And you hate it.

----

03b: If you ever got the chance to say something to your younger self, you would tell them to stop while they're still ahead. That this, at sixteen, when your biggest problem is a budding puppy crush on an older man and the fact that you aren't as tall as the rest of your class. This is the best things are ever gonna be.

You would stick up warning signs and run yourself off, push yourself towards someone else, knock yourself out and burn your house down- anything to make sure you never met him.

It took you three years of chasing an impulsive high to realize you'd never get up to that same point again. Everything past falling for someone is a constant downhill slide, and you have no idea how the hell you're going to climb back up again.

[ngc3587]

001 scramble: rowan

01a: there’s a dead boy in the bathtub

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02a: there’s a monster tucked into the corner beside the sink, watching the fluorescent lights while they buzz and echoing the feeling throughout its stretched out limbs. it smiles softly to no one with blood in its teeth, and the bitter chalk of partially dissolved pills fading against the back of its throat.

vs. (3rd or 2nd pov??? decide)

you can feel the buzz from the fluorescent lights echoing through your limbs, and you know it means you’re well on your way to downright fucked. there’s the bitter ghost of partially dissolved pills fading on back of your tongue and your eyes are swimming, swimming, swimming. there’s blood between your teeth and under your fingernails, and the barely there beginning of a burn where the cherry of your cigarette blows kisses to your knuckles

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03a: everything tastes like copper and vomit, and there’s a wet fire burning trails down the back of your neck to your right hip, so bright and sharp that it has you gritting your teeth til they ache. somewhere in the back of your head, you wonder if this is what dying feels like. closer to the forefront, you wish everyone would stop fucking talking, and you wish even harder for them to just drop fucking dead. you feel like you’re halfway there yourself, when your head throbs and you’re fighting back the bile rising up against the back of your throat. every last bit of your existence could be summed up as ‘exhausted’,  and people are staring at you like they’ve never seen an actual human disaster waiting for the bus at six in the morning. you’re so fucking tired and so fucking sober and you really fucking hope you still have something tucked away in your apartment somewhere.

it’s been a long fucking day.

you laugh, but no one hears it.

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01b: there’s a dead boy in the bathtub, with soft features and an angry red line opening his neck from ear to shoulder. you are full of adrenaline, and butterflies

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04a: you can’t remember how to breathe. there’s a fog in your head that chokes off your rational thought process, and you can’t remember how to breathe. your vision swims, clears and blurs in turns until you’re dizzy with it. the track marks still stand out, fresh and irritated from your agitated scratching, and every vein in your body is singing in tune to a cocktail of bad intentions while you writhe. there is no ‘you’, no person, no name- just a body and the voice that claws its way up your throat an octave too high. your back arcs in a perfect bow, and you sing prayers to a new god that promises you more of the same as a reward. he only ever calls you ‘junkie’, neither of you remember your name.

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01c: there’s a dead boy in the bathtub and you don’t remember exactly who he was, but you know who he was to you

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uc uc uc

[ngc3587]

give me a second to clear out the dust, because goddamn

it’s been nearly a year

[ngc3587]

another eternity // listen

1. past lives - ke$ha || 2. miasma sky - baths || 3. cosmic love (seven lions remix) - florence and the machine || 4. you (original mix) - galantis || 5. beings - madeon || 6. divinity - porter robinson || 7. the shade - metric || 8. go with it - tokimonsta || 9. you & me (flume remix) - disclosure || 10. begin again - purity ring

[ngc3587]

note

scrap/totally remake:

Cable Bellenger

retcon relations 100%

rebuild personality

revise history

[ngc3587]

i can't remember anything about it except being gutted. not cleanly with tools, like usual, but dug into with fingers and pulled apart vertically down my stomach. 

i can't remember anything about it except being gutted, but i think i might have liked it.

[ngc3587]

ROTTEN! // listen

1. hellbent - Mystery Skulls || 2. absolute territory(silva hound bootleg) - Ken Ashcorp || 3. six shooter - Coyote Kisses || 4. love hurt bleed - Gary Numan || 5. lawn knives - Born Gold || 6. closer(tall sasha bootleg) - Nine Inch Nails ||  7. love ballad - Tove-Lo || 8. E.V.O.L - Marina and the Diamonds || 9. nowhere to run - Stegosaurus Rex || 10. do you want to die together? - Stars

[ngc3587]

note

100-years tower in the 'now' between then and next

[ngc3587]

note

scrapped/totally remade:

Gavino Norriscus

flesh out

rework or remove old info

[ngc3587]

and if i weren’t such a shitty gardener, I’d plant flowers in you.

[ngc3587]

I can't remember any faces from my dream, but there was someone there. They were stringing fishing wire through my neck with a sewing needle-- it didn't hurt but it felt like I was choking on it, and I cried anyways because I was scared. 

I can't remember anything else but that.

[ngc3587]

your head is haunted

Whenever you look back on it in your old age, there had been times when you'd wondered if you'd made him up. Those blue-gold eyes and that sharp smile-- maybe it'd never been there at all... But that's just absurd, you could never have made him up.

People can't dream of faces they've never seen, after all. And his was always so very, very clear.

In every universe where the two of you exist, you always meet. It's a cycle as unavoidable as the changing of days-- if he's there, he will find you. And nearly every time, you are very young. Every time, you will start out hating him like it's all you were ever made to do. He's a monster, something terrible-- but the knowledge that he's probably the worst you'll ever come across is comforting, somehow. (The devil you know always feels safer than the ones you don't, was how you reasoned it once.) Lifetimes of experience tell you he will hurt you, and the same experience tells you that you will love him for it someday. 

(You always ignore that part, deny it with every fiber of your self until you're significantly older, that's just how it always goes.)

In every universe you cycle through alone, you still know him-- but only as a thing you see in nightmares. Still feeding your paranoia, still making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end because you still expect it, even if he's not there. But you always seem to like him more that way. 

Whenever you live a life without him, you take the things you remember and make them your own. Slowly, without realizing-- you don't always notice, but you always feel the most at rest around things that remind you of him. The sharp-soft way he smiled for you, the way he carried himself, the way his eyes narrowed that always filled your veins with ice. You take them, wear them like you've been doing it all your life, and you are content.

(You always grow up with much sharper edges like that than you do during the times you have him.)

...

(Not that you mind, you've always been especially fond of monsters anyways.)

[ngc3587]

all lined in a row from least to most likely to attempt murder out of spite, novus and keir would be the most and least likely, respectively. Chadwick would be squarely in the middle, since it's not something he'd like but he wouldn't have it in him to refuse with the right person goading him to do it.

[ngc3587]

comic drabble to-do musebase list

home

rock 'n roll queen

awkward

mosquito

carry me

[ngc3587]

I dreamt that you killed me. Again. Dreamt that we stayed in a nice little place with a pond and a garden. Very traditional Japanese in design and aesthetic 'feel'. Every night while I slept, you would feed me little white larva with scrabbling feet and tireless mandibles. It took days for me to notice something, maybe even longer. A squirming, piercing pain that gradually became a white hot burn and foaming blood in my mouth. On the second month, my stomach spilled open and little black beetles rolled around in my ruined entrails on the floor. You took a picture with your phone and left.

[ngc3587]

With his warped and fragmented thought pattern combined with a constant sense of needless paranoia, writing for Novus is writing half truths and flat-out lies. He's an 'unreliable narrator' and not everything he thinks he sees or hears is true.

[ngc3587]

one hundred blind eyes

In Novus's case, growing up so damn privileged helped cultivate his gross sense of entitlement. His 'king of the world' attitude is the product of both his circumstances and his own crooked sense of self. He sees more than he should and files everything he knows away on a 'just in case' basis. he likes to think he's prepared for everything and that there's nothing he can't take on.

But he's still very young.

Still just a child. Still scared of things he's unfamiliar with, and still seeking comfort from familiar faces when the world feels too big for him to handle. In simultaneous love and hate with the entire world, he has the most and least worldly sense. He understands 'how', but not 'why', leaving him with half-truths and misinformation.

Blood and gore don't phase him, but his own reactions to things scare the hell out of him, and he can't stand it. He loves his family in a romantic sense, and doesn't understand why that would be a bad thing. He hates the man who stalks him and claims it's fate, but he gets restless when he doesn't know where he is. Taking apart mouthy people feels like 'justified punishment', and he's positive everything he does is the right decision. 

He thinks in backwards loops, abstract pieces that don't fit together as neatly as they should. He talks in his sleep and has night terrors and wakes up with sleep paralysis on rare occasions. While he'll claim he only keeps himself awake out of caution for the first, he's scared of all three. He cries the easiest and he's scared of big dogs, he really is still just a child. He's misguided, more than anything else. If he's left alone long enough, he'll get existential and contemplate the idea of past lives-- an idea that's been planted in his head over time.

He's misguided, and that's what's made him a monster. 

Taking in what he sees like a sponge, he's 'learned' that manipulation and sneaky violence are the most efficient ways to get things done. He has an extensive knowledge of poisons to work with, and a slowly growing library of medical procedures as well. 'So long as it's clean and quick and for ????' is seared into the back of his brain to fester. It started out as 'watching out for family' and warped over time. Twisted and putrefied and grew.