OWING NO ALLEGIANCE TO RULERS !

HEAVENLY OR EARTHLY ! ( independent & highly selective original character. written by emma. theme under heavy co. )

[nietzschehoe-blog]

just   an   fyi   that   i'm   still   around   @   pulitzerlost   since   i've   been   inactive   here   for   a   while!!

[nietzschehoe-blog]

i   know   i   haven’t   been   on   in   a   while,   but   i’m   thinking   of   adding   masha   to   a   multimuse, since   i   really   miss   playing   her.   it   might   take   me   a   bit   to   get   things   set   up,   though,   so if   you   wanna   hmu, i’m   currently   hanging   out   at   @pulitzerlost​!

[nietzschehoe-blog]

i   know   i   haven’t   been   on   in   a   while,   but   i’m   thinking   of   adding   masha   to   a   multimuse, since   i   really   miss   playing   her.   it   might   take   me   a   bit   to   get   things   set   up,   though,   so if   you   wanna   hmu, i’m   currently   hanging   out   at   @pulitzerlost​!

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

            ❝ Okay, Lorcan, she says everything they told the police is true— ❞ He does as he’s told, and as soon as he turns up the volume there’s a very loud and emphatic “FUCK!” from the other end of the line. If James wasn’t in so much pain right now, he’d laugh. He can make out Paul’s voice, too, they’re arguing (fucking great) and Lorcan’s shouting something about telling the police to fuck off. ❝ You’re gonna fuckin’ get me killed here, Lorcan! ❞ James yells, over the din, and there’s a silence that lasts a grand total of two seconds. ❝ Okay, Lorcan, listen to me. If I die— ❞               ❝ You’re not gonna fucking die, James, stop talking like that— ❞ At least Lorcan looks genuinely worried; James can tell he’s been drinking because of the way his words slur slightly, but whatever.               ❝ I love you, okay? I love you, and I didn’t mean what I said last night, I— I don’t know if you love me or not, but if this is the last time we talk, God, I’m sorry. ❞ He feels slightly embarrassed saying all of this with Masha standing right there, but he needs to make it known.

            ❝ James, of course I love you. ❞ Lorcan says almost immediately. ❝ Where are you being held? Is it safe for you to talk? Do you know what the people who kidnapped you look like? ❞ James doesn’t respond for half a second, nervously eying Masha in the corner, though he’s certainly considering it.

            ‘ don’t you fucking dare. ’ masha’s voice is low, teeth-clenched. she knows what james’ thinking, knows that if he wants to say something, there’s really no stopping him. she’s just hoping that her warnings will serve as enough of a deterrent, that he won’t be stupid enough to risk a repeat of earlier. but then again, she’s overestimated his ability as an intelligent, functioning adult before. ‘ - do you want another broken arm? ’ it’s an empty threat - she’s not going to risk harming him to the point where medical attention is necessary. although, at the moment, she’s willing to come close. ‘ you better listen to me, james - ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

              He just about stops himself from mumbling “sounds very comforting” under his breath, and swallows the pain medication first. God only knows how much fucking pain he’s in right now. James’ phone has been blowing the hell up, with twenty-nine missed calls from Lorcan and a similar number from Paul. Great. At least somebody seems to care about him. He decides to FaceTime Lorcan (because he wants to see how fucking worried he really is), and he’s secretly hoping they’ll be able to trace his phone’s location. ❝ Lorcan— ❞ James, for the first time in years, is relieved when his husband answers the phone. ❝ Okay, listen to me. I’ve been kidnapped by these— I don’t know what their problem is, I think they wanna be in the news, anyway, I don’t know how much they want for a ransom but please get me out of here, Lorcan, ‘cause she fuckin’ broke my arm and I think I’m going to die, so please… ❞ He looks up at her, wondering what else she wants him to say.

             ‘ the police. tell him the police should be made aware that everything we’ve tried to tell them is true. ’ masha leans back, balancing her weight on the balls of her feet as she awaits lorcan’s response.  ‘ turn the volume up. ’ she mouths these instructions, pointing in the direction of the ceiling, an attempt at clarity. james hasn’t done anything to worry her, not yet, at least - but that doesn’t mean she isn’t on edge. he’s proven to be an unreliable hostage, and she wouldn’t put it past him to make an attempt at identifying her, or his surroundings. ‘ - remember, don’t say anything that you’ll regret. ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

            ❝ Oh, God… ❞ He groans when he feels her jabbing him in the side. James takes a few seconds to remember the ghoulish events of the past few hours and when he does, he groans again. That’s great. So it’s not just some drug-induced nightmare or a bad trip, this is reality. Very comforting. James holds out his hand for the pain medication (god only knows he needs it, it’s probably fucking ibuprofen or something that won’t do shit for him anyway) and his iPhone 7 (now he’s just waiting for the comments about capitalism on that one. ❝ What the fuck d’you want me to say? ‘Hey, I got kidnapped by a bunch of… I don’t even know what to call them, and my arm’s broken and I’m probably going to die, please pay the ransom immediately?’ ❞

            masha gives a rather nonplussed shrug, doing her best to seem the opposite of antagonistic - she wants james to actually listen to her instructions this time. ‘ if you think that will work. ’ arms folded, expression vaguely optimistic ( at best ), she raises her eyebrows, as if telling the man in front of her to hurry up. ‘ if you say anything, and i mean anything, about my appearance, about my name, about this room, then things will be get very, very bad for you. ’ original plan seemingly forgotten, voice outwardly threatening for the first time, she relaxes her stature, nodding once at james. ‘ - go ahead. ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

          ‘ james - ’ the man is still slumped-up against the wall where masha left him, unconscious and with his right arm in a makeshift sling. without hesitance, she prods him in the side with her toe, tone loud enough to wake even the heaviest of sleepers. ‘ i’ve brought you some pain medication. and your phone. ’ she hopes the last item will be incentive enough for him to open his eyes. ‘ you’re going to call your husband for us, and explain the situation. ’ // @poorbcy

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

              James barely restrains a SCREAM when he hears her say “you’ll be fine.” What in this situation would inspire that thought in him? ❝ I can’t feel my hands, I can’t feel them, I don’t know— ❞ He glances downwards, but no movement. Okay, now this is getting ridiculous, this is getting really bad. ❝ I won’t be able to play guitar again, will I? Fuck, fuck… ❞ He thinks he might just fucking pass out (from the pain or the pills, he doesn’t know) but at the moment that’ll be a mercy.

             the inability to move one’s fingers after an accident like this is often indicative of nerve damage, but she’s not going to tell him that. ‘ let’s just take some nice deep breaths, okay? ’ she’s waiting for him to pass out at this point, because shockingly, the sheer panic in james’ tone makes even her feel slightly guilty about what he’s being put through. ‘ plenty of people break their arms and can still play guitar after, it’ll get better. ’ she’s doing her best to coax him into a sitting position, to better examine his arm. ‘ i promise. ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

            ❝ You can fuckin’ see it, look at the way it’s— fuck! ❞ He groans through gritted teeth, completely ignoring her order to stop whining (because it’s James, and whining is what he does.) ❝ Jesus Christ, Jesus fuckin’ Christ— ❞ James is finding himself hard-pressed to fight back tears (again), call him a wimp, but he doesn’t care because this fucking hurts like hell. That, and he’s worried about how he’s ever going to play his guitar, as far-fetched as it all seems right now.

            ‘ alright, alright, hang on - ’ hesitantly, masha prods the oddly-shaped arm, and swallows a lump of discontent sitting in her throat, glad the wound isn’t worse. ‘ it’s a clean break, you’ll be fine. i don’t have any painkillers on me, but i’ll grab some later. ’ she doesn’t know how she’s going to tie his hands now, without injuring them further, but she’ll cross that bridge when they get there. ‘ can you move your fingers? ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

              He takes immense offence to the label “anorexic” (drug addict, well, okay, maybe he’ll ‘fess up to that) but James doesn’t even have the words to argue with her right now. ❝ My arm… ❞ His right arm is splayed out at a completely unnatural angle— he knows it’s broken, he’s broken it before while playing rugby, but at the time he was twelve and he wasn’t a professional fucking musician. Fuck. ❝ You broke it… ❞ He groans, squeezing his eyes shut because it hurts so fucking much.

             masha swears under her breath, removing herself from the jumble as quickly as possible. ‘ let me see. ’ her tone is demanding, frustrated. she would assume james is faking it, if not for the expression on his face. ‘ if you had just listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened. ’ she groans inwardly, amazed at how quickly everything has managed to go completely south. ‘ - and i told you to stop whining. ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

              James just about has time to call upon Jesus Christ (even though he doesn’t believe in the dude anymore) before he goes crashing to the ground— he’s fairly certain something’s broken when he hits the floor. Of course, his first response is to let out a long, pitiful whine; he’s long ago discarded any notions of stoic masculinity, because there’s really no handbook in how to behave this situation. ❝ Get… off me… ❞

                           ‘ shut up. ’ she jabs her elbow into the small of his back, pinning him to the ground. ‘ did you learn nothing from earlier? i mean, you’re a fucking anorexic drug addict, you don’t stand a chance against me. really, i thought you would be smarter than this. ’ there’s that aristocratic condescension again, a remnant of childhood that still slips out on occasion. ‘ do you think i’d be dumb enough to fall for that stupid whining? did you think i’d care? ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

              ❝ Yeah, yeah, last time I checked, I’m the only one here who didn’t ask for this situation. ❞ He gives her a blank stare for a moment, wondering whether he should comply or whether he should try again— well, James can remember this one time he was scrolling through some articles on The Guardian that said the best chance of escape in a hostage situation would be in the first 24 hours. FUCK IT. He can hardly feel his limbs now but he once again throws a badly-aimed punch in her direction as he leaps to his feet, making for the door as if his life depends on it. (It probably does.)

             james manages to graze her cheek, but masha barely notices - she’s too focused on how stupid he must be to recognize any pain. this time, when she tackles him, there’s no emphasis on safety or any attempt to minimize bodily harm, just a sickening thump as they both fall to the ground, dead weight. ‘ you know what? i hope it hurt that time. ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

              ❝ What a bloody ridiculous question that is. ❞ He doesn’t sound as pissed off as he’d like to because he’s interrupted by a yawn. ❝ You fuckin’ kidnap me, but oh, everything’s gonna be alright ‘cause I’ll have my fuckin’ medication that keeps away my hallucinations but will make me fat and ugly! Yeah! Right! D’you even listen to yourself? Actually— no, you obviously don’t. I don’t know why the fuck I’m still talkin’ to you when youk eep saying you have other people who helped you in this. ❞

             ‘ they’re. . .not like me. ’ masha is angry, sure, but not in the same way as them. more intellectual, less reactionary. ‘ i asked if your medication would make things better, not fix the problem. you’re not the only with psychological damage, you know. ’ those had been her last three pills, too. ‘ alright, hands out - i’m going to tie them, again. i guess you’ll be napping on the floor. ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

            ❝ It only gets better from here, I assure you. This is the most lucid you’ll see me for the rest of our time together. ❞ James mutters, and it’s true. He doesn’t give her an answer for her second question and just rolls his eyes instead. He’s already starting to feel sleepy, although whether it’s from the pills or his own amphetamine withdrawal he doesn’t know. ❝ You know something? I wish I could stab you to death. ❞

            ‘ you wouldn’t be the first to try. ’ she’s not very offended by james’ statement - it would be her reaction as well, if someone were to take away what she saw as one of her most basic freedoms. ‘ i’ll do my best to get your medication. really. ’ it’s a semi-reluctant statement, a vague attempt at empathy. she knows trauma, and she knows hate, and she’s trying to put her dislike of james aside in favor of this mutual bond. ‘ will things get better after that? ’

[oldschoolsciencefiction]

All governments suffer a recurring problem: Power attracts pathological personalities. It is not that power corrupts but that it is magnetic to the corruptible.

-Frank Herbert, “Chapterhouse: Dune,” 1985 (via oldschoolsciencefiction)

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

            ❝ The only other option I had was to fuckin’ stab the nun and probably kill her, and then spend the rest of my life in prison— actually, I would’ve probably hanged myself in the first year, and that would’ve been the merciful option. ❞ James snaps back, having no time for her philosophical bullshit in the face of his very real mental turmoil. ❝ Yeah, right, that’s alright then, let me just advertise to the world that I’m a fuckin’ lunatic and that’ll save me from being kidnapped by a bunch of… wannabe political activists who don’t know jack shit about what they’re doing. Fuck you. ❞

            ‘ i’m not a wannabe political activist, you’re just a difficult hostage. ’ she’s getting tired of the conversation, of james’ constant mood swings and incessant whining - however justified he might feel. ‘ i honestly don’t care about whether you stabbed a nun to death or not, how many time do i have to repeat myself? ’ she stands with a sigh, expression unreadable. ‘ when i tie you back up, do you want to be in the chair, or do you want to stay on the ground? ’

[nietzschehoe-blog]

poorbcy.

            ❝ I don’t like you. ❞ He declares suddenly, his expression a mixture between frustrated and perplexed. ❝ You know I’m not alright in the head. There’s no use pretending. Why can’t you be a bit fuckin’ nicer? ❞ James has used this technique time and again with people, and it’s worked every time. Maybe someone wise would point out from time to time that Paul’s got bipolar disorder and he isn’t the living embodiment of shit, but James would counter that with the fact that Paul’s got it managed. He doesn’t. (Lorcan hates when he uses his mental illness as an excuse to justify his behavior.) ❝ You are the reason why I’m having all sorts of fucked up flashbacks. ❞

            ‘ if it makes things any better, i don’t particularly like you either. ’ masha’s doing her best to distance herself from james, from the situation at hand. ‘ besides, i would say it’s the hospital’s fault, not mine. institutionalization is not the hallmark of a democratic society, you know.  ’ waxing philosophical, she’s found, is a good way to divert attention from your hypocrisies. ‘ look - if we had known beforehand you would be having episodes, you wouldn’t be here. it’s not like i enjoy subjecting you to this. ’