Salt 'em & Burn 'em

Supernatural & TUA Shit Posting / Lvl 30+ / MINORS NEED NOT ENGAGE

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Summary:

Klaus is struggling with his new world. But Ora is on hand to get him out of the house and gently reintroduce him to society. More bonding for the pair as they go about an 'average' venture.

It was two more days of painful, gut-retching, skin-crawling withdrawal before Klaus was able to tell up from down. Things often got worse before they got better, and just when Four was convinced it was done, nature relented. His body, completely void of all drugs and alcohol, including the small but frequent hits of DPH, was angry , and it was letting him know it. He spent more time in the bathroom than he cared to think about and, without Ben’s input, it’d been pretty difficult to keep his mind from the incisiveness need . 

The specter returned, though, despite Klaus thinking he wouldn’t. But he was pissed and frustrated and everything else that he was more than justified to feel. Klaus had ample opportunity to open up to Ora, and he blew it. Even with Ben chirping in his ear, even after promising he’d talk, Klaus made the conscious decision to keep what Dandy had done to him under wraps. 

“I’m here for good,” Ben reminded Klaus, “ but I don’t want to talk to you right now.” 

And rightly so, the medium reminded himself. 

Klaus was determined to win back Ben’s affection and stood by the spectre’s wishes. He didn’t so much as ask for a conversation until late one night, when he was hunched over the toilet bowl with tears streaming down his cheeks. Only then did he beg his brother to talk. A word. A fucking sentence. Just to fill the space with anything else but the sound of Klaus’ stomach churning. And, to his relief, Ben understood. He talked about the void. About how nice it was to have so few ghosts around in Diego’s untarnished brown stone. He talked about the ghost cat in the backyard that Klaus had discovered one early morning while out for a cigarette. He told him that her name was Oreo and in life she’d belonged to the tenants next door, discovered only because Ben had gone into their yard and saw the small cross they’d laid for her. He told him about the old couple down the street who were haunting one of the other buildings, and the little boy who’d died of cancer a few houses the other way. 

Klaus was grateful for him then, and through sobs, he apologised over and over. But Ben didn’t acknowledge them; he just kept talking about the world outside the brownstone building. 

On the morning of Klaus’ third day of full and total sobriety, the medium knew it was over. Detox was done. Or, rather, the perpetual vomiting, diarrhoea, full body tremors and sweats were, for the most part, finished. But what remained was worse. What he was left with were the cravings. The obsessive need, the itch in his veins, the voices in his head. All of it was the reason he’d failed one hundred times over. 

Klaus appeared downstairs to Ora, making her usual coffee. She offered him some, to which he declined, and instead went about making himself tea. He slid two slices of bread into the toaster while he waited for the water to boil. 

“You seem much better today.” Ora chirped, looking at him from over the top of her mug. 

“ Merci mon cher . But I assure you it’s all a ruse.” Klaus quipped, even though he did feel much better. Physically, at least. 

“What do you think about a little trip today? We can take Flint with us.”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea!” Ben chirped, swooping over Ora’s shoulder. Klaus felt a small twinge of comfort at the fact that Ben made a comment, even if it wasn’t directly related to him. 

“….Maybe.” He hesitated, eyes fleeting from spectre to the face of his lovely hostess. 

He hadn’t been outside in so long. Worse still, he’d never been this sober in the real world in what felt like decades. There would be ghosts everywhere . And people. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which was worse. 

“Oh come on, Klaus. We can pick up your meds, and there’s this lovely little cafe just off Albert’s Avenue that makes the best pancakes. They’re pet-friendly!” She offered him a wide, eye-wrinkling grin, but when he responded with nothing but a quivering look, the smile faded with a sigh, “I guess I could get Diego to pick it up on his way home from work.” 

“Come on, man!” Ben shot, this time the words aimed very much at Klaus, “You need to get out of this house, and this is the best way to do it! A beautiful girl, a dog and brunch! What more could you want?” 

Four gnawed his lip, thoughts jumping from one place to the next. His body still ached, and his skin itched for the needle. Or the pills. Or anything  really. It was all he could think about besides the trembling fear of the ghoulies rearing their heads at any moment. And then there were the nightmares, crawling their way into his upright psyche, filling his head with memories of smells and sounds and images that he really didn’t want to remember. Getting out in the safety of numbers was a good idea. Healthy, even!

With a whole body sigh, shoulders sagging and eyes flickering closed ( but only for a second), he relented, “Alright, fine.”

Ora lit up almost instantly, as did Flint, the dog mirroring her reaction. 

“Brilliant. Shall we say thirty minutes?”

“T-thirty minutes?” Klaus nearly choked on his tea. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth or had his first cigarette, and the woman wanted him to go outside in thirty measly minutes? 

“We want to make brunch, don’t we?”

Damnit ! She was right. It was the whole point of the outing. Even though his stomach was still suffering through the later stages of withdrawal, pancakes were a must. They were the only thing that roused any sort of hunger cue. 

They parted ways, Klaus retiring for a cigarette and Ora to get dressed. She reappeared, tapping on the kitchen window twenty minutes later, and quickly ushered him upstairs.

There wasn’t much to be done. Just a change of shirt that hung from his weedy frame like a tent, and a hooded sweatshirt (‘Joy Division’, for Christ’s sake) that wasn’t much better. Both donations from Diego’s wardrobe. And, of course, the scarf complemented neither, but he continued to wear it as a matter of security. 

By the time his teeth were brushed, his hair was pulled into a sort of loose bun, and his worn Converse trainers were on, Ora was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with Flint already secured in his harness.

“It’s about a ten-minute drive to the clinic,” She said as she swung open the front door, the dog making great efforts to pull her towards the street, “And then we can take a slow walk around the park to help jostle those cobwebs of yours. I figure -”

Her voice disappeared into the ether as Klaus’ thoughts and senses were suddenly overwhelmed with just being in the outside world. 

Sober . 

Everything was loud, and the air was deathly cold. He stood stock still on the bottom step of the brownstone and looked from side to side at several new faces that he didn’t know. Some were walking by and gone in an instant, the ones that he couldn’t tell were alive or dead. And then there were those that were silent, and still, and staring at him as if he had all the answers. Those were the few that he knew instantly were ghosts, and from the way they were eyeing him up, they knew that he knew that they knew . 

His whole body felt like it was dunked in ice-cold water.

“ It’s fine, Klaus. Just get into the car.” Ben encouraged, the silent treatment once again broken in the name of empathy. 

“B-but….they’re… staring. ” Klaus' voice shook, his teeth chattered, his chin quivered; all with fear. 

Reginald’s voice boomed in his head. He was an adult, had been living with his powers since birth, and yet he still couldn’t do a damn thing to control them. The Seance was nothing but a wasted title. 

“ Klaus? Are you alright?” Ora cooed softly. 

Slowly, he forced himself to look away and towards the woman and her faithful companion. She approached him gently.

“Is it…. ghosts ?” She asked, whispering the last word.

“Yeah…a metric fuck ton.” There weren’t really that many to justify the fuck-ton system, but there were a hell of a lot more than he was used to after years of being under the influence. 

Ora visibly shivered and looked around. Of course, there was nothing for her to see.

Welcome to my world. 

Read the rest on A03

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Summary:

Ora and Diego discuss the results of Klaus' examination in a quiet moment. The pair struggles with the future of number four and how to proceed with helping him.

Klaus spent the evening in bed, rousing only for excruciating periods spent in the bathroom. Diego, renewed in his role as number one sibling, made several trips to bring him Ora’s rehydration remedy of water laced with sugar and salt. But, for the most part, they let him be. 

Ora had managed to convince Diego that Klaus was an adult, he knew where they were if he needed them. A helicopter caregiver never served anyone well, after all, and Four was becoming more visibly irritated the further he went into detox.

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Diego worried aloud. 

Ora glanced over, her attention momentarily leaving the sizzling pan on the hob, “Who? Klaus?”

Diego nodded, “He’s detoxed with me a few times. But he’s never been this…. settled. He’s usually more scrappy when he’s drying out.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing? I don’t know about you, Dee, but I’d rather not get into any fist fights with him.” 

“You could take him.”

“Oh, it’s not that, I know I could, I just wouldn’t want to hurt him.” She laughed, “But seriously, why is this a problem?” 

Sighing, Diego took a sip of his coffee and thought about it. Really thought about it. Of course, he didn’t want any trouble. After all, he knew just how feisty Klaus could be. He was a biter and had even gone as far as to hold Diego at knife point with his own knives, no less. He’d cried and begged and screeched, all in the name of another hit. Diego recalled one occasion, the last to be exact, how his brother escaped through the window of Diego’s basement apartment after his fourth day of detox, scratching his leg on broken glass in the process. But Four’s current state of being was so far from the anger and irritation that had become expected that Diego had to wonder what else was below the surface. Was he depressed? It would explain the threat of suicide. Might even have a hand in the self-injury, although that had always been a problem as far back as Two could remember. 

“I guess I’m just worried that he’s serious about killing himself.” Diego admitted, “Or that something else is going on in his head that he’s not saying, y’know?” 

Ora pursed her lips, her ‘hmmm’ only barely audible over the bacon popping in the skillet. 

“What if I get home from work and he’s dead? I’d never forgive myself. Jesus, Ora, what if -”

“Dee,” Ora covered the pan and came to sit with her partner. She took his hand in hers, “C’mon. You can’t think like that, or you’ll never leave this house as long as he’s here. We have lives, Dee. As much as we want to help, we can’t let this govern us. The sad fact is that if he wants to kill himself, he’ll do it no matter if we’re here or not.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. Her soft smile, the gentle touch of her skin, the concern sparkling in her eyes; It all closed the gaping wound left in his chest. The space where a normal childhood and nurturing parents should be. The place where trauma and hate and pain resided, where all the dark things festered until she came into his life. Even something so simple as an encouraging word worked to remind Diego that he wasn’t alone this time, and nor was Klaus. 

With a final pat of her hand, Ora jumped back up to continue with dinner. She talked ideally about this and that, while Diego weighed in appropriately, his mind still very much upstairs with Klaus. She didn’t seem to mind, though and not once did she complain when he missed a queue. 

She complained very little, come to think of it. Despite her own history regarding the death of her father and her dearly departed brother, Ora was possibly the most understanding person Diego had ever met in his life. He often caught himself thanking God (or whoever was responsible) for having met her that first morning in the academy. She was most certainly an angel sent from above to wipe away his troubles and heal his broken heart. 

“Does Klaus eat meat?” 

Diego blinked several times, rebooting his brain at the sudden sound of her voice, “Ah… oh. ” All they’d been feeding him was toast or soup, and he couldn’t remember ever having had a decent meal alongside Klaus besides that, “I…I don’t know.” 

“It’s no problem. I can bulk his portion up with lentils.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I want to, Dee. Stop worrying about it. If I didn’t want to do this, believe me, I wouldn’t.” 

Diego carded his hands through his hair. She was too good, and he didn’t even know if his brother ate meat. What sort of asshole was he? 

“You’re feeling guilty.” It was a statement, not a question: “You’ve got that look on your face.” 

“How can I not be? I’m the last sibling he has on his side, and I fucking abandoned him.” Diego growled, frustration and anger pooling in his stomach. 

He hated Klaus’ addiction for driving this impossible wedge between them, but most of all, he hated himself for letting it. 

Read the rest on A03

[zombie-rott]

Shoutgun Opera: A TUA Fanfiction.

Status: Ongoing.

Chapters are laid out below, along with the AO3 link.

Klaus Hargreeves has always lived on the edge—of addiction, of life, of his own unravelling. But when he's brutally assaulted by someone he trusted, the thin line he walks finally crumbles beneath him. With no waypoint but a handful of pills and a syringe, he spirals into a silence that ends up too heavy to carry by himself.

His brother Diego finds him half-dead and haunted. He brings him home in a last-ditch effort to save what’s left of The Seance. But Diego’s not whole either. Still wrestling with his own trauma and desperate to be better—for his partner Ora, for Klaus, for himself—he’s barely holding together the new life he’s trying to build.

Shotgun Opera is a story about what comes after the worst night of your life. About bruised bodies, broken minds, and the kind of survival that doesn’t come clean. Gritty, visceral, and unapologetically raw, this is not a story of redemption—but it just might be the beginning.

[See beneath line break for individual links & Warnings]

Read on A03

Warnings

NSFW Strict warnings for r*pe/non-con, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, s*elf-Injury, S*icide, discussions of various mental health issues, s*x work in various forms, s*xually transmitted diseases etc.

If you're not comfortable with any of the above, this isn't the right option for you.

Chapter Links -- >

Prologue

ACT One : 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 6.2 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

ACT Two: 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19

ACT Three: Coming Soon

If you're enjoying the story, I'd love to know about it! You can reblog, like, kudo or comment both here and/or on A03.

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" The realisation crashed into Diego like a wave. He had no control, only a slight influence in ways of holding space for his brother, space, he didn’t know if he could offer. And then there was the issue of where Klaus would be. After all, the ball was currently in Ora's court. "

or

Diego spends some time pondering over the situation at hand. He worries about Klaus' detox, Ora's decision & how it all pieces together. Will Ora allow Klaus to stay and ride out withdrawal in a safe and comfortable space? Will this be the last time he sees Klaus through a come-down? And will he even stay sober after the fact?

Withdrawal never got any easier. No matter how many times they’d been through this, Diego still felt the same sting, the same deep-seated frustration and anger that he’d always felt when dealing with Klaus in detox. He tried to tell himself that things were going to be different. Klaus was being honest, and not just because he wanted somewhere warm and a shoulder to cry on. He tried to put the ghosts of previous attempts to the back of his mind: The lies Klaus had spouted, the escape plans, the begging and pleading and, eventually, relapses.

“Junkies are liars,” He heard the voice of his thearpist remind him, “It’s okay for you to be skeptical."

As the house fell silent, Klaus, having retired to bed after such an eventful morning, Diego opened the back door for Flint and stepped into the yard for fresh air. Wearing a heavy coat and holding a fresh mug of coffee between his hands, Two allowed the chill air to fill his lungs. 

In. Hold. Out. Just as he'd been taught.

He closed his eyes and tried to pull apart the tangle of thoughts. He visualised a ball of yarn, its threads made up of all the things he couldn't quite grasp. The fears. The memories. The information he’d gathered throughout his brother’s addiction. But the more he picked, the more the yarn wouldn't unravel. Every time he got somewhere, it kinked with another piece, and then another and another. 

Start from the beginning, he told himself. The facts against the assumptions, and work from there. 

He thought about himself first and how he could better handle the situation opposed to past experiences. For starters, Diego was trying not to allow his anger to get the better of him. He was breathing before he snapped back when Klaus was being difficult. He was using his filter and thinking before he spoke, especially when it came to the cuts on his brother’s arm or the way he talked about his ‘power.’  He didn't express his opinions overly, especially regarding Klaus' 'ghosts.' Even though he wasn't entirely convinced that they weren’t wholly inspired by some level of drug-induced psychosis. He felt that was a later problem for a time when Klaus was better able to articulate and talk about it, even if he didn’t want to. 

It was best to focus on what was most pressing, and that just so happened to be withdrawals. Diego had watched it before, had soothed his brother and held his hair back as he’d vomited until there was blood. He’d been there to put him into recovery when, on a few dark occasions, Klaus had seized, shaking and foaming at the mouth. He’d rushed him to the ER, spent thousands on rehabilitation, barked down the phone at their siblings who’d done nothing but argue back, having long since given up. 

Another trail of the yarn broke away, his thoughts cast to the aftermath (if they made it that far and, if indeed, Klaus was still in their company). 

He thought about the quiet. The depression. The far-off look in Klaus' eyes as he smoked cigarette after cigarette, and jigged his knees obsessively. It was the emotional and mental come down that really took it out of them, and Diego was almost certain it was the reason that Klaus always fell back into old habits. It was a cycle they had to find a way to break if Klaus wanted to stay sober.

With that in mind, Diego returned to the warmth of the kitchen and opened Ora’s old, bulky laptop. He went in search of help, of ways he could combat the inevitable melancholy that came in recovery. But, after thirty minutes of scrolling and jotting down notes, it became clear that it was an inevitable part of the journey, and a part that, while a village was included, the individual needed to go through alone. 

The realisation crashed into Diego like a wave. He had no control, only a slight influence in ways of holding space for his brother, space, he didn’t know if he could offer. And then there was the issue of where Klaus would be. After all, the ball was currently in Ora's court. 

As if on cue, his cell phone rang. He scrambled to pick up before the sound could travel up the stairs and into his brother’s ears. 

“Hey D.” Ora spoke first, her voice giving off a slight echo, “How’s it been?” 

Diego didn’t know how to answer that. Was he honest, a move that would gain sympathy? Or did he sugarcoat it and risk her turning his brother away? 

“It’s been a morning.” He opted for vagueness. 

She sighed. He heard the sound of the precedent, the intercom and the banging of doors. She was in a stairwell. He recognised the din as somewhere she liked to go when they needed to have a private phone call. Granted, it was usually when they were arguing or discussing something more intimate. 

“Has it started?” 

Diego didn’t need to ask for clarification; he knew exactly what she meant. 

“It’s been building since early. He managed a shower and some oatmeal, but it was a struggle.”

“Where is he now?”

“I set him up in the spare bedroom.”

She hummed an answer before huffing out a breath, “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning.” 

“You acted exactly how I’d expect you to. It wasn’t fair of me to expect anything different.” 

“It’s just I’m so close to this promotion -”

“I know.” 

“- and I don’t need anything to jeopardise this for me.”

“You’re right. You’ve worked too hard for that.” 

“With that being the case -” Diego’s ears pricked up. He felt himself sit upright, his spine lengthening as he listened to his girlfriend intently. For the first time since their conversation this morning, he allowed himself to feel a sliver of hope. She continued, “ - I’ve talked with Sarg, and Klaus staying with us shouldn’t have any impact on my work. Provided he’s in active recovery. I can’t have drug dealers showing up, and he can’t bring any illegal substances into the house.” 

A sense of relief washed over Diego. He felt his shoulders fall and his chest release a long-held breath. 

“But he can stay?”

“For a while. This isn’t a permanent fix, D. It’s only until he’s over the hump. A few weeks, a month or two at a push.”

It was more than he’d been expecting, and certainly more than she was entitled to give. In that moment, he loved her more than he knew possible. He thanked God that she was his and that she loved him so unconditionally that she was willing to accept his brother despite the trauma he’d rekindle. 

She continued, talking about linguistics and conditions. She rhymed off things he’d never even thought to consider, such as medical intervention and long-term treatment. The latter was something that hadn’t crossed Diego’s mind in a long time, the prospect of ‘long-term’ having devolved into a thing of the past. 

Before he knew it, they were coming to the end of Ora’s lunch break. In those thirty minutes, they’d planned a meeting with an old friend from her time in medical school, and cliff-noted Klaus’ other instances of withdrawal, namely, what could be learned from them. It was all so matter-of-fact that Diego forgot he was speaking to his partner, instead reminded of how professional she was in a crisis. 

Read the rest on A03

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

"He allowed himself to rest his head back against the tiles and take in the feelings of his body. The exhaustion, the aches, the pains, the cramps in his stomach, the shaking of his muscles, the hollowness in his chest. He thought about the events of the last twenty-four hours and tried desperately not to go any further, afraid to visit that night in Dandy’s. He didn’t know what was harder for him to believe: the fact he hadn’t had a hit of heroin in two days or that he was in Diego’s bathtub. Stranger still, his brother was shacked up with a uniformed cop, in a townhouse with an adorable mutt and a spare bedroom.

God. Life certainly had a way of going from zero to one hundred real quick. "

Or

Klaus gets cleaned up and acclimatised to Diego's hospitality, as limited as it may be.

Despite Diego’s blessing, the news came with the blow that Ora didn’t feel the same. Klaus couldn’t find it in him to blame her, though. He was a stranger (virtually speaking), and a junkie at that. What sort of upstanding officer of the law would she be if she’d welcomed him without some level of scrutiny? But he'd be lying if he didn’t admit that he was a little frustrated with Diego for getting his hopes up. More than a little, actually. If only he’d mentioned a girl, a dog and a townhouse back at the apartment, maybe then Klaus wouldn’t have been so stupid as to have had any hope at all.

He didn’t say this, of course, having neither the energy nor the audacity. After all, Two came to his rescue when he had every right not to, and for that, Klaus was grateful, no matter the result. 

“She’s trying to get a promotion -” Diego explained, nervously stumbling over his words like they were fourteen again, “You g-get it, right?”

Klaus was nodding, only having caught half of what was being said. He was much too focused on the feeling of Flint’s fur between his fingers and the growing cramping in his stomach. It was - what? - a day since his last proper hit, and withdrawals were well and truly setting in. Whatever little junk he'd left in his system (over-the-counter painkillers, allergy pills, booze) were the only things keeping him from doubling over and vomiting right there on the mismatched tiles.

He swallowed the lump climbing his throat, fear of the brutality of detox becoming all too real.

Then Diego was standing, leading him upstairs, Klaus’ bag over his shoulder, and Flint taking the steps two at a time. Four trailed unsteadily behind, his hands gripping the bannister so tightly that his fingernails dragged along the wood. He tried to focus on anything other than how he was feeling. He looked around as he ascended, noticing how ordinary everything was. There weren’t Knives everywhere for a start. Instead, Klaus spied prints hung on raw brick walls, and as he set foot on the landing, a colourful woven rug was rolled out across the wooden flooring. It was so beautiful that he felt guilty trodding on it with his old, grimy boots.

He thought about telling Diego how nice his home was, cracking a joke here or there, maybe even making a back-handed comment about Two hitting the girlfriend jack-pot. But he couldn’t find the words or the motivation. All he could do was follow his brother further down the narrow hallway and into a room that, with all respect, was nothing special, yet miles above anything Klaus had ever owned. 

Diego dropped the backpack onto the floor with a thud, “Well, this is it,” he said, gesturing to the room around them, “It’s not The Ritz.” 

Klaus looked longingly at the double bed pushed snugly against the wall and matching IKEA storage. Sure, it wasn’t the most fancy of places, but it wasn’t a shitty single in a detox facility with no doors and floors that smelt like an old mop. 

When Four didn’t respond, Diego asked if everything was okay, to which Klaus almost laughed. Almost, but he was too afraid that the motion would trigger his vulnerable gag reflex.

“Okay?" Klaus repeated, "This is great. Fancy. You sure you want me sleeping on these sheets? They look pretty expensive.” He joked, but his voice didn’t quite reach the jovial heights he was used to.

“They cost ten dollars at Target.” Diego deadpanned. 

“Case and point.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “I’m going to make us some breakfast. Get yourself cleaned up and changed. I’ll leave you some of my clothes.” 

“I thought you packed me some?” 

“I did, but, no offence, they smell putrid. A little like you.” 

Klaus snorted, “Gee. Thanks bro. Kick a fella when he’s down, why don’t ya?” 

“I’m serious, Klaus. I’ll give you a few minutes to get settled, and then I want you in that shower and your clothes in the laundry. Got it?” 

Klaus saluted sarcastically as Number Two passed, Flint at his heel. He waited until steps could be heard across the hall before slumping down onto the mattress and letting out a long-suffering breath.

“That went…well?” Ben perched atop the cheap IKEA dresser like the gargoyle he’d somehow become.

“Yeah,” Klaus groaned, sitting gingerly on the bed, “It’s one of the better encounters we’ve had. At least he’s trying. Ora though? She’s gonna be a tough nut to crack.”

“Can you blame her? Like Diego said, she’s a cop and you’re a drug addict that she barely knows detoxing in her guest room. I wouldn’t want you here either.” Ben shrugged from his fiberboard throne, “No offence.”

Klaus hummed a quiet response, carding a hand through his hair. He cringed at the feeling between his fingers, the mats gathering in clumps and strays getting caught beneath his fingernails. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a shower. A few days ago? A week? Maybe even as far back as Dandy’s? His memory was foggy at the edges, and all he could feel was the pain of the water from that fateful night. A shiver trembled down his spine, his stomach twisting. 

“Klaus? Bro?” Ben’s voice cut through the fog. He’d been talking, unheard as Klaus struggled with his grip on reality, “Did you hear me?”

The medium shook himself and glanced towards the specter, his eyes lidded and heavy with exhaustion, “Sure, Benny.”

“Then what was I saying?”

“Something about…”Klaus searched his brain for an answer. Anything at all, “…pottery.”

“Pot - Klaus,” Ben sighed, “I said you ought to get clean. You can’t fall asleep like that. Not on those sheets.” 

Klaus groaned as he struggled to his feet. He took a moment to search for his bags, only to remember that Diego had removed his clothing, leaving behind only the empty backpack and whatever Klaus wore on his person. There was the promise of new clothes, his brother’s that would no doubt be three sizes too big and likely to expose the parts of himself that, while decent, he still didn’t want aired. Fear was added to the churning in his belly.

“You better get moving.” Ben chirped.

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Seven.

Chapter Seven [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" “Ora b-before you say anything. This is my b-br-brother, Klaus.”

Her features softened, eyes flickering back and forth between the two men. Diego swallowed.

“Klaus? As in Number Four Klaus?”

“The man, the myth, the legend.” Klaus piped, earning an eye roll from Diego.

“And you’re in our kitchen?” "

Or

Diego struggles with his guilt, brings Klaus home to his girlfriend and realises that maybe it wasn't the best thought-out plan.

Diego was never one to shy away from dirt and grime. He’d had his fair share of shitty apartments and even shittier room-mates, but looking around at his brother's living room made him shiver. The entire flat was, for lack of a better description, a personification of the medium's misery. And while Klaus had always been known to be a tad messy, he'd never been dirty . He’d always smelled washed, usually with something floral, and even when high, he'd maintained an air of cleanliness. The places he’d lived (or the places Diego had been privy to) were often kept in the same state as his bedroom back at the Academy; Organised chaos with a suspicious absence of grime. But the hygiene in Lavender Avenue left a lot to be desired, with dishes piled in the sink, grime in the grout and a smell that could only be described as 'hot garbage.'

Two had done his best not to show his discomfort, but he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose and cringe with each new sight or scent. Klaus didn't make any remark, however, even when he caught Diego groaning as he took a seat on the couch, his body perched precariously on the edge of the cushions. Four either didn’t notice or was too embarrassed to bring it up, and, knowing his brother, Diego figured it was the latter. Even living on the fringes of society as Klaus had, he’d always held a certain standard. To have dropped so far must have been killing him.

While Klaus got dressed, Two fretted and overthought his next move. He heard a stumble, followed by a loud curse, but held back on calling out. Truth be told, he'd been thankful when Klaus had refused his help getting cleaned up, the memory of his brother's bedroom turning his gut sour. He’d seen enough of the broken glass and vomit and blood stains, and certainly didn’t want to see Klaus fully unclothed, all too aware of how emaciated his brother was beneath the oversized, high-necked sweater.

Four kept muttering to himself and talking in hushed whispers, and Diego took deep breaths. In and out. This was all part of it, he reminded himself—just another in the long list of his brother's follies.

Sighing, Diego pinched at the bridge of his nose. Behind his eyes, a headache was blooming. All he had to do was get Klaus the fuck out of there and back to the comfort of his brownstone. He could deal with Ora afterwards, although he suspected she'd be none-too-pleased about opening her home to his severely drug addicted sibling. Christ knows how Klaus’ presence would impact her job at the precinct.

Was he selfish for asking this of her? The woman who had saved him in all senses of the word? The woman who loved him even through his own troubles and personal growth?

Opening his eyes, Diego's attention was drawn to a small bag peeking from beneath the couch. It was empty save for a fine dusting of white powder coating the insides. He swallowed and reached to take the packet between his fingers. A green happy face covered the plastic, and following a sniff test,t he was able to determine (with all his mediocre experience with drugs) that it certainly wasn't sugar. It was more likely to be heroin or cocaine, specifically impure and laced.

He growled. It was going to be one hell of a day, and it wasn’t even seven AM yet.

“Jesus, Klaus.” He uttered, holding the bag up to face level.

The medium reappeared in the doorway, dressed in a pair of old black pants and an oversized hooded sweater, topped off with a woollen tartan patterned scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He looked warm, perfect for the weather they'd been having, but impossibly thin thanks to the extra material. Over his shoulder was another bag, a duffel with frayed straps and patches covering the exterior. Diego made a mental note to check the contents when they made it back home.

“I see you found my couch stash.”

“So did you apparently.”

Diego couldn’t help but notice the nervous way in which Klaus’ fingers traced the hem of his sleeves, or how he gnawed on his bottom lip, all while maintaining his gaze over the empty packet.

Without hesitation, Two closed his fist around the bag, crushing it against his palm. “You ready, man?”

“Yeah…I think so. I figure I can always come back if I need to.”

“Sure. Of course,” Diego lied. He had no desire to bring his brother back there, “But we can talk about that later. Just make sure you have everything you’ll need for the foreseeable, yeah? Any books you wanna read or, I don’t know, those tarot cards you like, maybe? I’ve already packed you some clothe,s and anything you don’t have, we can get. Just…no drugs, okay?”

“That goes without saying…”

Little else was exchanged. Small things like checking the locks, making sure Klaus had his keys and a quick run back for the spare pair of shoes he liked (“ For when I’m feeling better.” ). After that, the energy seemed to deplete, and the drive became relatively silent save for the noise of the heater. Klaus fidgeted in the passenger seat, head turned to look out the window at the passing traffic, both people and cars.

While the medium seemed relatively calm under the circumstances, Diego felt quite the opposite. His hands were holding onto the steering wheel for dear life, his mind ablaze with fret and anger and sadness and all the emotions he couldn’t quite name. And when Klaus reached across to flip on the radio, he couldn’t help but notice how his sleeves climbed up his forearm, allowing a glimpse of an angry-looking gash, its edges still jagged and inflamed.

His heart sped up in his chest, his breath becoming caught in his throat. He was taken back to when they were thirteen and he’d walked into Klaus’ room fully expecting to wake his brother for breakfast, only to find him manically writing on the walls in his own blood. It wasn’t an odd occurrence to see the medium in such a state. He used the walls of his childhood bedroom as a sounding board all the time, but never in blood, and certainly never his own.

Diego remembered the emotions clearly because they were the same he’d felt each and every time he'd gone to Klaus’ rescue. He remembered the feeling of hot blood between his fingers as he pried a shard of severed tin from his brother’s fingers.

He hated it.

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[ibajo256]

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Six (Part 2)

Chapter Six Part 2 [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" “All this time, we thought you were just…I don’t know…overdramatic,” Diego continued, “Like all of this was just your way of expressing trauma from our f-fucked up childhood. We didn’t really think you were s-s-serious when you told us that you’re….what did you call it?”

“Perpetually haunted.”

“Yeah. That.” "

Fear was not something Diego liked to admit to. Not to himself, not to Ora, and certainly not to his fuck up of a brother. Even though Klaus was largely responsible for his fear as an adolescent, he didn’t like to let him see that. Luther was their father’s minion, but Diego was the strong one. Maybe not in body (although he often liked to dispute that fact), but certainly in mind.  That’s what his anger issues were all about. Instead of letting stress break him, he let it fester and build resentment and indignation. 

But, as he watched Klaus curl inward on the floor of his grimey apartment, screaming and clawing at his flesh, Diego's body shook with fear. His eyes were wide with fear. His mouth was unable to speak cohesively for fear . He was the embodiment of fear as his brother practically lost his mind right in front of him. There was anger, sure, but it was simmering, brewing deep below the horror and panic and confusion. 

He cried out for him, dropped to his knees and desperately tried to pry him apart. But, for being so thin and wiry, Klaus couldn’t be budged. His fingernails were dug so deep into the arm of his sweater that Diego was sure he’d break skin.

It all happened so suddenly that Diego hadn’t even had time to comprehend the possible trigger. One moment they were having a heart-to-heart, Klaus finally talking about his ghosts (metaphorically and figuratively), and Diego listening and feeling his heart break with every wobble of his brother’s chin. Then, Four was screaming and curling into a ball on the floor. He was begging, pleading, beseeching that he be left alone by an unseen assailant. A breakdown? A ghoul, maybe? But Diego couldn’t be sure because, to him, it was empty space. 

He desperately fought and finally managed to pull Klaus into his arms, where he screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. The man screamed until his voice broke and his body started to grow warm. And then something outlandish happened; his hands began to glow blue. Such an ethereal, holy blue that Diego held him at arm's length for fear of what it meant. 

As quickly as it began, it ended. Klaus collapsed into his arms, his body trembling and chest heaving. Deigo held him like a child, gripping him so tight he could feel bones where fat should be. 

“K-Klaus?” He asked aloud. There was no answer, and honestly, he hadn’t expected there to be. His brother was out cold, his body a dead weight against his. 

He sighed and rested his cheek against the medium’s matted mane of hair, the smell of sweat and dirt climbing up into his nostrils. But he tried not to think about it, or about how light Klaus was when he finally decided to move him to somewhere softer, or about just how poorly his brother had been coping in life. He especially tried not to think about how much of Klaus’ current situation was his fault. How he’d abandoned him and continued to do so for, well, their entire life. Even when he’d tried to help, he hadn’t listened.

And isn’t that what everyone wants in life? To be listened to? Especially by those who are meant to love us. 

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Six (Part 1)

Chapter Six Part 1 [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" "And you thought he wouldn’t come running?” Ben said. Klaus didn’t even react, “ He’s always loved you the most.” Ben was right, of course. Klaus had always been Diego’s favourite, even if it was never said out loud. " Or The chapter wherein Diego is reunited with his brother, but brings an unwelcome guest along for the ride. Klaus is faced with having to open up, even if it brings him to tears. And despite how wholesome their reunion should be, certain truths come to light. Literally.

Klaus expected many things from Diego. A growl, a snarl. Something more furious, like a swift punch to the jaw. But what he didn't expect was the look of horror that replaced Number Two's usual glare.

As soon as Klaus opened the door, Diego's jaw dropped and his eyes widened as they quickly took in the situation at hand. The situation being that of Klaus' disgracefully gaunt and haggard appearance. True to form, Four fixed him with a half smile, the edges barely enough to warrant the association. He knew (or thought he did) how much time and the substances involved had ravaged his body. He knew the hollowness of his eyes, the glaringly obvious points of his cheekbones, the grease and mats trapped in his auburn curls. He knew how much worse it got the more layers he removed (and worse, and worse, and worse) .

"H-Hi - "

Before Klaus could finish his greeting, Diego pulled him into a hug. He dared not breathe for fear that he'd ruin the moment. Instead, he closed his eyes and melted into Diego's arms, allowing the man to hold him upright and take the strain off his aching limbs. Not once had any of his siblings offered a genuine, honest-to-god bear hug before. Least of all when he was in such a sorry state.

God. He must look terrible if this was his brother's first move.

"You're so skinny, man...." Diego whispered into Klaus' shoulder.

How was he meant to respond to that? Did he agree or disagree, or deflect?

"Thought I'd try my hand at modelling..." True to form, Klaus chose dark humour.

Diego huffed out a sigh and pulled back, leaving his hands firmly on both of Klaus' biceps. His eyes searched the medium’s face, pupils darting from side to side, no doubt assessing the damage up close. Finally, after an age of silence, Number Two pursed his lips together in a tight scowl and slowly shook his head.

"Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't give your usual crock of shit."

"....Sorry."

"You look like hell."

"Thank you - "Klaus cringed. Deflection was a hard habit to break. "Sorry. I meant to say I agree."

"S'okay. Can I come in?"

It was then that Klaus was struck with the realisation that his apartment was possibly in worse condition than he was, and that, worse still, his brother would be privy to it. How had he not thought about this before? Of course, Diego would want to come inside. It was nearly five in the morning, blistering cold (or was he just much too thin?) , and there was nowhere else to go. Klaus couldn't even pinpoint the exact damage of the space behind him, only that the evidence of his week-long bender was plastered everywhere, from the ashes on the kitchen table to the empty bottles on his bedroom floor.

"I came all this way, Klaus. Just let me come in."

"It's a mess."

"Dude, I grew up with you. Do you honestly think I don't remember the cesspit you lived in? Come on! It's freezing."

Hesitantly, Klaus moved aside, granting access to his brother.

"Diego doesn't care about the state of your apartment, dude," Ben uttered somewhere next to him.

Klaus didn't believe it. How could he? The place was the personification of depression and loathing. Klaus didn't even know how bad it smelled, having been holed up for well over a week. Your sense of smell started to disappear after that, having gotten used to your own pool of misery.

Four was about to follow his brother inside, his mouth open and ready to direct him towards the kitchen, when a darkness caught the corner of his eye. A shape, a human shape, followed behind Number Two, stepping into the shallow light as if he were an extension and not an unwanted visitor.

Ben gasped first, followed by Klaus, who jumped so hard that he crashed into the wall. Illuminated by the light, it’s body was covered in blood, it’s chest pierced by thousands of tiny gashes, and it’s face pulled into a horrific grimace. The medium felt his stomach drop and goose bumps rise along his skin.

“Fuck!” Klaus cried out, and suddenly, it's gaze fell on him.

Of course ! How could he have been so naïve? Betty was right there, moaning her incessant prattle as if warning him. And then there were the other two who'd battled it out in his living room until Ben threatened them to pack it in. He wasn't in control, not at all, and the ghouls and ghosts could smell his fear a mile away.

“Klaus?” Diego looked at him quizzingly, his eyebrows pinched in the middle, “W-what is it?”

Klaus looked wide-eyed between his brothers and the wheezing ghoul hunched in front of him. Terror stopped his heart, his limbs shaking, and a cold, much worse than the air outside, settled into his bones. Then Ben was between them both, his arms outstretched and a growl ripping from his throat.

"I'll handle him." The specter barked in a voice only reserved for those few occasions when he allowed The Horror to creep through, “Get Diego inside and keep it together. The last thing you need to do is scare him."

Swallowing down the taste of bile, Klaus took a few deep breaths to compose himself, something he'd had to do thousands of times before in similar situations. He calmly turned back to Diego and offered a small smile.

“S-sorry. I - It’s been a while since I’ve had company. I guess I’m just easily spooked.” Klaus tried to chuckle, but it came out as more of a pathetic whine, “C’mon.”

He quickly led his brother to the least disgusting of rooms, which sadly so happened to be the one room that Betty liked to reside in.

Another ghost. Just what he needed. But at least she was passive and for that, Klaus was grateful.

As she blundered next to the window, Diego tentatively took a seat at the kitchen table. Klaus, however, chose to stand by the stove, the furthest place from Betty and the doorway.

Somewhere in the hall, Klaus heard Ben arguing with the ghoul. It got louder and louder until it rapidly died to nothing but silence, followed by them both entering the kitchen, the darkness stepping up behind Diego and Ben coming to stand by Klaus. Regardless of what had gone on between them, the ghost stared at him from behind his brother with dead eyes and a toothy snarl that oozed and dripped fetid blood.

Klaus tried his best to focus on the living in the room.

"Do you want tea? Coffee? I'd offer you a bump, but I'm pretty sure I'm out..." He joked, having noticed Diego staring at the open injecting kit on the table. It was pointless to pass it off as anything other than what it was. So pass remarks on it, Klaus would.

Regardless of Number Two's thick skin, he looked shaken by the nonchalantness of it all. Not only for the honesty, but also for the fact that it was just left there. No shame. No hiding. Just like the rest of the apartment.

"S-seriously?" He looked in horror from the used needle to his brother and back again, "I-I thought you s-said you were sober?"

Ah. The situation had rocked his brother's deeply rooted composure enough to unlock his speech impediment. Klaus would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little guilty about the fact.

“I am. I mean mostly. I haven’t had any heroin in a while. I just….haven’t gotten around to tidying up in the last few days.”

“H-heroin?!”

“I - oh.” Klaus paused. It’d been a while since he’d last talked with Diego, and heroin certainly hadn’t been something he’d admitted to during that time. Or ever, for that matter. As far as Number Two was concerned, this was a new vice and one that warranted a certain level of anger.

Diego pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Jesus, Klaus. You’re a s-smack head now t-too?”

“In my defence, I’ve been a smack head for a while. This is just the first time you’ve heard of it.”

There was a heavy silence as Diego slowly took in his surroundings, Klaus allowing him to do so, instead passing glances between his two brothers, Betty and their new addition. The former let out a groan, and the latter joined in. Shortly there was a chorus of the undead moaning in his kitchen, and all Klaus could do was mutter under his breath.

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Five.

Chapter Five [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" Would it be so bad if he called Allison? Or Diego? They’d always been more tolerable of him, and just because they’d been sharp with him once or twice didn’t mean that they never wanted him to call again. After all, it had been months. Maybe he was overdue for a catch-up? Just that. Nothing more.

He felt his walls begin to crumble. His poorly thrown-together barricades shook at the idea of letting someone else into his life again. Someone besides Dandy who never really cared enough to send him on the right path.

“W…what if….what if they won’t come?” And there it was, the one painful thought that had held him back for months. Down came the dam. Down came the walls and blockades and anything else he’d put in the way of his truest, deepest fears. Tears tumbled from his eyes, his breath hitched in his throat, “I….I don’t think I can handle the rejection…”

“You have to try.” Ben reached out for his brother’s shoulder, his hand left hovering uselessly in the air. "

They were back to basics: Klaus nauseous, head resting on the edge of the toilet seat, and Ben watching on with an expression of disappointment. Four was certain this was the end of the road, convinced that his brother had once again had enough. And who could blame him? They’d already had it out, vile words passing between them like a venomous tennis ball without an umpire to call a timeout.

He’d said things he didn’t mean, things that were far more vicious than his nature, and, true to form, Ben kept up, rising to the occasion. Feelings were hurt, words spat that could never be taken back, and then they were done, drenched in ominous silence so heavy it pinned them to the floor. All that was left was Klaus’ shallow breathing and the pinched wails of Betty in the Kitchen. They dared not look at each other, both afraid to catch the other’s eye.

It felt vaguely like old times.

That had been hours ago, a day maybe. Like clockwork, the eggshells had resurfaced and coated the floor, and they were left to dance around them like marionettes on broken strings. One desperate to help but unable to, and one so desperate for help but unable to accept it.

All Klaus wanted to do was say sorry and beg him to stay, but the words couldn’t make it past his clenched teeth. Even though the thought of Ben leaving ripped a hole in his chest, even though he couldn’t bear to be alone again, even though without the specter the ruthless howl of the coyotes rang livid in his skull, he still couldn’t bring himself to say those two little words.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best time to stage an apology. His head was pounding and foggy and wholly unable to hold together a thought. All the while, his body thrummed with a loud, continuous ache. He hadn’t had anything beyond a dried-up joint and some old vodka in over twenty-four hours, and his veins were practically on fire with the need for something stronger. He wanted nothing more than to shoot up and forget. Even just for a little while.

The specter cleared his throat, and he began to speak for the first time in hours. 

Klaus couldn’t bring himself to look up. Instead, he patted roughly at the wounds on his arm, the sting reverberating through him, causing his teeth to clench. One in particular felt numb to the touch and was so deep that there was a slight hint of fat glistening within the fleshy caverns. And yet the dull throbbing felt grounding, therapeutic, almost, taking him away from the blinding headache and Betty’s muffled cries.

He’d have happily sat there forever, his feet wrapped in blankets and his back against the cool plastic of the bath. But the looming presence of Ben’s sullen countenance made him feel on edge, like the ghoul wasn’t quite ready to accept things as they were, chaotic and teetering on the edge of suicidal.

“You need help, Klaus. Real help. Someone who’s made of flesh and bone and able to pick you up out of this mess, because I sure as hell can’t.” The spectre’s voice trembled, tears threatening to spill from his undead eyes, “I’m…I’m so afraid.”

Klaus swallowed back the burn in his throat. He didn’t need to ask why because he already knew the answer. 

“I can’t leave you -” Ben continued, his voice struggling to keep it together, “But I can’t stay here.”

 “What a conundrum.” Klaus sighed. 

“Would you consider, maybe, calling someone? If not for you, then me?”

Klaus scoffed. He pressed his thumb onto one of the deeper wounds, swallowing hard as pain bloomed from its center.

“Oh sure, I’ll just call up ol’ Reggie or Luther.”

“What about Diego or Alison? Or even Vanya? They love you -”

“They tolerate me, but I'm pretty sure I’ve maxed that out too.” He ground through clenched teeth, “Understandably.”

“You don’t think you should try?”

Klaus groaned and opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. He wanted to tell Ben about all the times he’d called only to be thrown to the side. He wanted to remind Ben of why that was. Why their siblings had left him to rot away in an apartment funded by drug trafficking and subpar sex. He was alone because he deserved it. He was alone because he’d thrown their help back in their faces time and time again. He’d taken Diego’s soft heart for granted and used Allison’s rehab stays as nothing more than an all-inclusive vacation. There was never any intention to get sober, not really. It was always just one fuck up after another and, eventually, even his closest family members were nothing more than somebody’s he used to know. 

Besides, how would they react if they saw him? Barely a corpse holding itself together with a noose.

“I’m fine. ” Klaus shrugged his shoulders lazily.

“You’re not fine, Klaus. This is the furthest from fine that I’ve ever seen you.” Ben dipped down onto his hunkers, gesturing wildly at Klaus’ arms.

“You’re getting your knickers in a twist about a few cuts? This isn’t new. I’ve been cutting myself up like a Christmas ham for as long as I can remember, bro. It is what it is.”

“Don’t do that,” Ben growled, “Don’t dismiss this like it’s nothing. None of this is just how it is. It’s fucked up, dude! And what’s worse is that you’re not dealing with it. You’re just getting fucked so you don’t have to face it anymore. You say that our siblings don’t care, but have you told them about any of this? Have you ever actually had a conversation with them about what your powers do to you and how hard it is? Did you ever tell them about the mausoleum?”

“ Don’t . Don’t you ever talk about the mausoleum like you were there because you weren’t. You didn’t experience any of it.”

So much for not wanting to fight.

Klaus pulled at the blanket around his shoulders, pinching the fabric tight against his chest as he struggled to his feet. Ben came to join him, his chest puffed out and face pulled into a scowl. They stood facing each other in their silent standoff, Klaus determined to remain still and Ben begging him to move forward. But only one was able to pick up the damn phone and send the S.O.S.

“You’re not there anymore, Klaus. You’re not that little helpless kid that Dad threw to the wolves. You’re not a lost cause, or hopeless or too much. You can make this better.”

Klaus swallowed, his throat bobbing.

“Please. I want to stay with you, but I…..I can’t if all you’re going to do is try to kill yourself.”

“It’s not like that….” The medium whispered.

“But it is, Klaus. You can’t see it because you’re buried in it. But this is suicide, even if it’s slow and indirect. You’re still killing yourself, and I can’t do this. I know I said I’m here for good, I know I said that I’m never going to leave again, but it would be cruel to expect me to watch this. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to stay.”

            “I have to sit with you and watch as you hurt yourself. Some days I don’t know if you’ll wake up. I can’t tell if you’ll bleed out, and I can’t stop you if you choke on your vomit. All I can do is watch and beg you to stop. Just like the other night. Do you remember that, Klaus? Do you remember me begging? I didn’t know that a heart could break this much when it isn’t even beating.”

Klaus squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. All he wanted to do was cup his hands over his ears and scream at his brother to stop. He didn’t want to hear it. Every word brought more and more pain rushing to his chest, blooming in his gut, coiling around his limbs like a sorrowful snake.

“P…please. Stop.” He managed, his voice small and his throat threatening to close over.

“I can’t watch you die like this.” Ben stepped closer, and Klaus could see the way the specter was shaking, his form trembling. 

Swallowing, he took a long, quivering breath. 

Would it be so bad if he called Allison? Or Diego? They’d always been more tolerable of him, and just because they’d been sharp with him once or twice didn’t mean that they never wanted him to call again. After all, it had been months. Maybe he was overdue for a catch-up? Just that. Nothing more. 

He felt his walls begin to crumble. His poorly thrown-together barricades shook at the idea of letting someone else into his life again. Someone besides Dandy who never really cared enough to send him on the right path.

“W…what if….what if they won’t come?” And there it was, the one painful thought that had held him back for months. Down came the dam. Down came the walls and blockades and anything else he’d put in the way of his truest, deepest fears. Tears tumbled from his eyes, his breath hitched in his throat, “I….I don’t think I can handle the rejection…”

“You have to try.” Ben reached out for his brother’s shoulder, his hand left hovering uselessly in the air. 

After a few more moments of contemplation, Klaus finally spoke, “....Okay.” He whispered, chest heaving a shuddering breath. How could one little syllable word hold so much weight? 

Ben, on the other hand, was thrilled. His eyebrows climbed towards his forehead, eyes growing wide as he searched Klaus’ face for any sign of a lie. In its place, he found genuine honest-to-god defeat. 

“Okay?” Ben repeated, as if not quite hearing it. 

“Okay.” It was confirmed. 

They stood in the pale light of the bathroom for a while longer, Klaus with his gaze fixed on the floor and Ben’s on the medium. Then, slowly, Four began to shuffle towards his bedroom. He made a conscious effort to avoid looking at Betty and the mangled corpses arguing in his living room. Ben trailed behind in his usual fashion, coming to rest next to Klaus on the box spring.

The medium held his busted-up cell phone in the centre of his shaking palms and stared at the screen. 

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Four.

Chapter Four [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

"Slumping back against the bed, Klaus tore open the lid and, with only a moment of hesitation, gulped down a quarter of the bottle. He pulled back with a hiss as the bitterness hit his tongue, the dryness practically engulfing his throat.

But it was fine.

It wasn’t black tar or cocaine or dope. It might throw him further into the pit he’d dug himself. He might even black out entirely. But it was better than being conscious and aware. It was better than jumping at shadows and shouting at things that no one else could see.

Another swing. Another hiss.

The more he drank, the more it tuned out Betty blubbering, Ben begging and the glimpses of Dandy’s hot breath on his neck. With each swing, he got closer to drawing out the grunts and the moans and the excruciating pain of realising that he was nothing more than a pawn. Someone to fuck up and fuck with."

In the following hours, Klaus was visited by a man bearing gifts in small packages. Ben didn't ask because he didn't need to, and when Klaus unpacked a needle, a scorched spoon and a rubber tourniquet from a tin box, he quietly slouched from the room, defeated. 

Leaving Klaus again would be criminal. Especially now that he was so desperately in need of a friend. But Six couldn’t deny how his stomach dropped when he heard the flick of the lighter. He couldn’t stop the pain from welling in his chest at the realisation that the cycle was continuing itself just as it had done when he was absent, and probably would now that he was once again present. There was no end to it, and Four's recent abuse had pushed him further into despair rather than creating the epiphany Ben thought it would. 

Fifteen minutes passed before a chair scraped against the tiles in the kitchen, and Klaus emerged, his eyes half lidded and a hazy smile plastered across his face. 

"Even after everything, you still think that this is the answer?"  

Klaus chuckled darkly, throwing back a barely audible reply, and retreated to his bedroom without any further acknowledgement. 

Communication beyond that was kept to a minimum. Instead, there was a cycle of getting high and passing out. For days, Klaus only left the solitude of his bed for three things: the bathroom, coffee, and to shoot up. And when the hard drugs began to dwindle, he took to sipping on lukewarm beer, tied in with drags of nicotine and marijuana.

Despite the cocktail of despair, there was little actual rest. Just broken sleep, unconsciousness and long hours spent staring at the water stains on the ceiling. But the  most worrying thing of all was the absence of Klaus' usual chaotic but charming demeanour. There was no conversation. No laughing. No bad jokes and even worse puns. No pet names, no otherworldly nonsense or out-of-pocket ideas. Nothing . Just deadly silence and hidden weeping and the ungodly screams when his dreams revealed a memory.

It was an unusual sight to see the medium not only so still but so solemn. Sure, he was a melancholy character at the best of times, but it was always broken up by charisma and his undeniable adept way of masking his true self. And while Ben had seen him in honest-to-god emotional despair, it had never quite reached such heights before. This was a total system shutdown, possible only through self-destruction. 

“How much longer are you going to keep this routine up?” Ben asked one afternoon when Klaus had appeared to smoke in the kitchen. It was the only window that opened wide enough to let in a decent draft, even if it did mean putting up with Betty. 

The medium shrugged. A visible shiver ran through him, and he pulled the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“You’re cold.” Ben reluctantly changed tactics because what else was there left to say at this point other than the obvious? “You should go back to bed for a little while. Maybe sleep this off and get warmed up -”

“Stop mothering me.” Klaus snapped. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he stooped forward, smoke fluttering from his lips, “You swan back in here on your high horse, get me to admit to some shit I’d been trying very fuckin’ hard to keep locked away, and now you’re auditioning for the role of mom? That apron doesn’t look good on you, Benny. It never did.” 

Ben growled, “You’re being so difficult -”

“Am I? Christ! Imagine that. Me, Klaus Hargreeves, junkie and family disappointment acting difficult. Shocker!” Klaus slammed his fist against the table, the ashtray toppling onto the floor in a crash of ash and dirty ceramic, “Just let me process this shit show in my own way, will ya?”

“And what's that? Get so high that you don’t remember your own name? Claw yourself to pieces?” Ben spat, gesturing to the deep welts dug into Klaus’ arms. The medium shuddered and pulled the blanket closer, “Great coping skills. Ten out of ten.” 

“Dad wasn’t exactly the nurturing type and Mom was a fucking robot. Excuse me if I never learned the art of emotional regulation.” 

For a moment, there was only the sound of traffic from the street below as the medium and the ghost allowed the tension to settle. Klaus was both too stoned and too tired to keep fighting, and Ben was exasperated, the frustration evident on his face. 

“Klaus…” Ben started, “ This is the first time you've spoken to me in days. Do you know how weird that is? You not running your mouth and being a nuisance?" 

Klaus scoffed, his eyes lidded and fixated on a pair of pigeons that had stopped to rest on the fire escape rails. 

“This is…a lot. All of it. I appreciate that. And…I’m sorry for pushing you too hard.”

“There were some things I wasn’t ready to face. Not now. Maybe never.” Klaus answered blankly. 

“That’s not healthy, man.” 

“Since when has anything about us been healthy?”  

Ben balled his hands into fists, a long swallow making its way down his throat. He took a deep breath. In. Out.

“When was the last time you heard from the others?” 

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Three.

<< Prologue One Two [A03]

Chapter Three [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

“Didn’t I tell you to split last night?”

“Your exact words were ‘fuck off, Casper.’”

No matter where Klaus found himself, whether in a room with four walls or a dumpster with no more than a lid, he could never manage to get away from his 'gift'. His apartment was no exception to the rule.

Honestly, it was no wonder that Klaus had a chronic resistance to sobriety. Of course, Ben was well in tune with his brother's addictions and reasoning. He was possibly the only of their siblings who understood the medium's predicament, even going as far as to say they were justified (but never to Klaus' face). But no matter his insight, Ben could never fully understand what it was like to be a walking, talking flesh bag plagued by the undead.

While the medium slept, Ben counted exactly three ghouls that moved freely throughout the home. Two came through the walls from other units, their bodies twisted in horrific reflections of their deaths. Then there was the elderly lady who favoured Klaus' kitchen, specifically the corner just next to the window and the old iron radiator. She wore a blood-soaked nightie, with brain matter caked into her hair and across her shoulders. A bullet-shaped hole between her eyes suggested a gruesome demise, perhaps one she chose for herself.

Ben inspected her, even going so far as to ask questions. But she only murmured at him rather than to him, clots of blood bubbling from her mouth and down her chin. No words, just haunting moans. Her presence made him feel uneasy, and the other two in the living area weren't much better. They were loud and angry, both seeming to know the other. Ben did his best to avoid them lest his very presence start something that couldn't possibly finish in a decent conversation.

He hugged the wall and moved cautiously back into his brother's bedroom, where he sought solace atop Klaus' dresser. There he hovered awkwardly, thoughts askew as he watched the man toss and turn, going through the mental checklist instilled in him from young teenage-hood (Is Klaus still breathing? Seems to be. Not choking on his vomit? Not yet).

With little else to do, Ben processed. He couldn’t help but rake his eyes across the pale vastness of his brother’s skin. It was a canvas of bruises, some new and some old. There were at least two separate track sites the specter could see, and he was fairly certain others were hidden from view. There were bones protruding, scars in various stages of healing, bite marks, and even burns. All painted a grim picture of Klaus' sordid reality. 

Then there was the harsh and brazen way in which his brother talked about himself, as if he were nothing more than dirt on a shoe. Ben's disembodied gut twisted at how easy it was for Klaus to degrade himself to nothing more than a problem. Klaus who enjoyed collecting trinkets. Klaus who painted his sister's nails and demanded his done in return. Klaus who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved by his siblings. He'd reduced himself not to his hobbies or collections but to the family shame.

Ben knew before he left that things were bad. Hell, it was the very reason he'd gone in the first place. And while he wasn't naïve enough to assume Klaus would fix things, he'd never suspected it would turn out quite as bad as it was.

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Two.

<< Prologue One [A03]

Chapter Two [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

It didn't happen right away, nor could Klaus pinpoint exactly how long it took for him to be thrown headfirst back into his body, but it was both instantaneous and agonizingly long - maybe even somewhere in between. No matter the time frame, the point still stood that his descent back to life was nothing short of arduous.

It wasn't Number Four's first overdose. He was teetering dangerously into double figures, having overdosed eight, maybe nine times in the last several years. But on this particular occasion, he ' woke ' in the same greyscale world he'd become accustomed to, the world reserved for only the worst of said 'incidents'. 

He stood, dusted himself off and stretched his arms above his head. Nothing ached, no bones or joints popped, no matter how he tried. His head wasn't swimming, nor was his heart pounding out of time. He was sober, truly, a nd, best of all, there wasn't a ghoul to be seen nor heard. Such was the beauty of this monotone land.

He walked for a bit, enjoying the silence and the flora steeped in colourless shadows. There was no movement. No birds in the sky nor breeze to disturb the leaves. Nothing but peace.

Now all he needed was for Her to show up and - Ah, there she was.

A girl painted in the same shades as the world around her cycled along a path carved within the tall grass. Her face was fixed with a scowl.

“You again.” She came to a stop in front of him, her eyes rolling.

Klaus offered a smile, lifting his 'Hello' hand and wiggling the fingers in a mock greeting. His grin grew so wide and forced that it created wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“ Bonjour mon petit ami ! Fancy meeting you here!”

“This is my home.”

"And golly , don't I just love what you've done with the place." Klaus extended his arms in a wide, all-encompassing gesture. "Plenty of room for little old me."

“No.” She deadpanned, and Klaus' expression immediately dropped.

He knew he was chancing his arm. The little girl never let him stay for long. Even when all he wanted was a few hours, a day tops, where he didn't have to be high enough to hide from his ghosts or sober enough to see them. Just a few blissful minutes of peace! Was that really too much to ask?

"Oh, come on . Just for a little bit longer this time. I promise you -" The medium raised a hand and gave a ' scouts honour ', "I'm house-trained, I'm not too loud, and you don't even need to feed me. I'm a glorified cactus!"

"No." She repeated without hesitation.

He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders drooping with the effort. He never did understand her reasoning, nor did she make him privy to it. Each time he found himself in her world, it was after a particularly heavy night or a freak accident that left him with a nasty concussion on the other side. He'd open his eyes to blacks and greys, she'd give him hell for daring to disrupt her peace, and send him towards some bullshit rig-ma-roll where he'd learn something about himself. Then – poof – he'd wake up with a hangover from hell and a chunk of his memory missing.

Maybe it was God's messed up way of getting him to change utilizing small epiphanies? Or maybe it was just another side effect of his useless-nasty-horrible curse?

No matter, Klaus did what he would always do when she refused him residence; He begged.

“Why not?” He whined, “I'm like your number one fan! Who else do you have dropping in like this, huh?”

"I have plenty of visitors, thank you. None of which as brazen or irritating as you.”

"Yeah, but I bet you let them through instead of blue balling 'em."Klaus huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to be so vulgar in the presence of a lady?"

" Ha !" the medium scoffed, "A lady? You're a cock-blocking asshole with an attitude problem, is what you are, missy. I'll talk how I like."

With a ' hmph ', the little girl turned her bike and began to cycle away.

"Hey! Come back! You can't just leave when I'm talking to you!” Klaus yelled, his legs carrying him after her. But despite her slow pace, the road stretched forever, and she kept moving further and further without any effort at all. "Get...get back here...will ya!?" He panted, his chest growing tighter and tighter as if he'd been running for miles.

When it became clear that his efforts were futile, he stopped, doubling over with his hands balanced on his knees as he gasped for air.

Why did this always happen? Why couldn't she just fucking let him through the God-Damned pearly gates!?

"F-fuck you!” He roared after her, “You hear that, you little twat!?” Without turning, she waved a hand in the air to further his dismissal. “ Fuck.You !"

With a growl, Klaus folded down onto the ground in defeat and waited for the inevitable.

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[saltandburnheathens]

[[Dude I'm so effing proud of this epic trauma p*rn story. IDEC]]

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter One.

<< Prologue [A03]

Chapter One [A03]

Summary:

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus' train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus' feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He's learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his 'dream' job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

With no one to tell him no Klaus became a regular bedfellow of Dandy. At first glance he was the latest fuck boy in a long line of fuck boys. He was kept well-fed, warm and given access to all the substances he could ever ask for. Dandy was like his knight in shining armour rescuing the fair maiden from a life in the underbelly and Klaus ate it up.

But beneath the surface it was a situation based purely on Dandy's love of controlling the seemingly uncontrollable.

Let no one tell you that life was ever easy for Klaus because they would be both naive and ignorant to think so. It wasn’t pleasant to be a gateway to the dead. Then, of course, there was the childhood trauma that came along with it. Memories of ‘special training’ in the mausoleum in particular played a key role in his nightmares. Have you ever been woken up by the sound of your screams? Klaus had.

Perpetual haunting aside, Number Four didn't particularly help matters. He was chaotic, for lack of a better term. Some would say that he was the very personification of a walking disaster. His early twenties were a constant stream of bad decisions, half of which left him indebted to bad people and the other half resulting in injury. And when Ben packed up and left things only continued to get worse. Of course, Klaus understood why the ghoul did what he did. If he were tethered to the biggest fuck up in The Umbrella Academy (maybe even the world), he'd have hauled ass a long time ago. Honestly, he was surprised Ben managed to stick it out for so long.

When he was freshly twenty-four and free from Ben for well over a year, Klaus found himself working in a club called 'The Fine & Dandy.' It was a sleazy place where women danced and men pawed over them like dogs in heat. While sex work was valid and something Klaus greatly respected as someone who frequented the same means of employment, in ' Dandy's, ' it wasn't necessarily considered 'high end.' Quite the opposite. But it was the only place that would even dream of hiring a kid with no qualifications or skills besides mainlining. So, like everyone else who had no choice, Klaus shut his mouth and did what he could to keep the ice in his veins and a roof over his head. He tended bar at first and when that didn't pay off (tips were lousy and minimum wage was just that) he sucked the dicks of rich, closeted men and promised not to mention if after the fact.

It wasn't a great existence, but he coped. He worked six times a week, sometimes more, powered by a cocktail of booze, cocaine, speed and self-loathing. He surrounded himself with similar characters, so no one cared enough to stop him. It was normal. Heroic and admirable even. Until he was found unresponsive on the bathroom floor. Not once, or twice, not even three times, but four.

After the fourth overdose, he was forced to deal with the consequences of his actions. Namely, Diego's fury and the reminder that Allison had stopped picking up the phone as often. The rest of his siblings might as well never have existed, their names not even making the guest list for the Klaus pity party.'

With Number Two, the only one of his kin to show up (albeit reluctantly), Klaus was given two options: He either went to rehab voluntarily or by force. Ever the drama queen, he chose the latter and was dragged kicking and screaming to a taxi and onward to Diego's chosen facility.

Rehab wasn't a new concept to Klaus. Far from it. He was a frequent flyer of many of the clinics throughout the city. Some were court mandated, other's enforced and paid for by Allison, and after one nasty occasion he'd even been transported straight to detox by ambulance on Diego's dime. He'd never quite let himself away with that last one, well aware of his brother's financial problems.

Regardless, on this particular occasion, Klaus stayed the distance. He huffed and grunted his way through detox, got his thirty-day chip (adding to the pile of others) and went right back to the cesspit he came from.

Life went on as life tends to do. He slung drinks, sucked dicks, slept with precarious people of all shapes and sizes, all in the name of staying high.

Then in walked the proprietor of 'Dandy's who, ironically enough, called himself Dandy Diamond. Of course, that wasn't his God-given, Christian name. No, rather a front. No one knew his real name. Only that he was loaded with the right kind of cash and enjoyed young, skinny twinks. Bonus points if they were a tweaker.

Dandy was a devilishly handsome man somewhere in the region of his early fifties, with russet brown skin and a muscular frame laden with all sorts of colourful artwork. Klaus was immediately hooked on his charming demeanour and generosity. Not to mention he had a spacious apartment that didn’t stink of mildew and access to clean heroin, which, to Klaus, was more than enough to bring him to his knees.

Thus, their corrupt 'relationship' bloomed. With no one to tell him n,o Klaus became a regular bedfellow of Dandy. At first glance he was the latest fuck boy in a long line of fuck boys. He was kept well-fed and warm and given access to all the substances he could ever ask for. Dandy was like his knight in shining armour rescuing the fair maiden from a life in the underbelly, and Klaus ate it up.

But beneath the surface it was a situation based purely on Dandy's love of controlling the seemingly uncontrollable. He used the promise of warmth in tandem with Klaus' desperation to avoid another bout of hypothermia. The rich man openly showered him with words of affection and affirmation seldom heard outside of sexual encounters: The emerald of his eyes, his rail-thin physique and sultry attitude. Dandy even sat with him in the corner of the club, arm around his shoulders like a hungry lion, growling at anyone who came near. He paid for meals and offered drugs and fancy wines with names Klaus couldn't pronounce.

Four months in, Klaus hadn't been near his shoddy apartment in weeks, having slept next to the man on a nightly basis.

It was fine. Dandy even

Until it wasn't.

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera

Prologue [A03]

Summary:

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus' train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus' feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He's learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his 'dream' job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

Yet, against all the drugs and booze, there Ben stood; Blue, translucent, but present. Even stoned and tipping back whatever Klaus had in his silver hip flask, Ben’s pellucid figure shone through.

Klaus first met Ben, the spectral Ben, in the academy gardens. It was cold and wet, a horrible metaphor for the sober occasion. He and his siblings huddled around Number Six's ornate, elaborate graveside to mourn; Or, rather, they argued. Both with each other and their brute of a father, dressed in his coattails and as stoic as ever despite the loss of one of his children. It was sad and ugly and a time Klaus tried hard to forget. This was made significantly more manageable when you consider the fact that he'd spent the majority of his adolescence on a carefully (and on occasions, not so carefully) constructed cocktail of substances.

Brown to push it down, gin to keep it in, and vodka because it was the easiest to steal from the old man's liquor cabinet.

Despite this, Klaus would never forget staring at the spectacle their father had erected and feeling a deep sense of loss. It was muddled together with other more complicated feelings (disappointment, guilt, disgust), but grief was the most overpowering. After all, he and Ben were second to none in terms of friendship, both having the unspoken bond of unfortunate superpowers. The Seance and The Horror. Doomed to walk through life with a terrible burden that the others would need to experience to truly comprehend.

Number Six's loss signified not only Klaus' first real experience with death but also his ultimate downfall. It was the catalyst for the desolation of the entire Umbrella Academy. As if Ben had been the glue that held them all together.

As the party dissolved after a particularity nasty fight between Luther and Diego, Klaus remained. He wandered over to one of the garden's pavilions and sat heavily on one of it's edges, brushing the snow off with his forearm. For a split moment ( or several. He couldn't be sure ), it was just Klaus, his hip flask, a packet of lucky strikes and the closed casket waiting to be lowered into the ground.

And then he was there: Ben. In all his spectral and surprisingly put-together glory, he fixed the medium with a smile that said, "I might be dead, but at least I have you."

Even though his mind was hazy and his vision was blurred, Klaus could never shake that moment from his mind. He recalled the crows calling overhead, the shadow of the clock tower as it shifted across the ground and, most importantly, the way in which Ben looked at him. Happy to see his brother again, but shrouded in a deep, unspoken sadness.

Figures. He was dead after all.

For a split second, Klaus didn't react. All he could do was stare wide-eyed, an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips and his mouth agape. There was a myriad of reasons that Ben shouldn't be there, in the centre of the pavilion, with his arms outstretched as if awaiting a hug. And then there was the fact that Klaus was just high (or drunk, he never really knew) enough that it drowned out the other, less warm and cuddly specters that hung around the mansion like leeches. So, why was Ben there? Why was he able to see him? And why didn't he mirror his death like the others?

Ben stepped forward, causing Klaus to jump so violently that he toppled over the railing and into the snow.

“Klaus! It's me!” The ghost insisted, coming down to kneel next to his brother.

“H-how...?” Klaus babbled. He pulled himself to his feet, his hands bright red from the cold and trembling against the stone. “I...I s-shouldn't...”Swallowing, he tried to compose himself. Best not to give away any secrets in the likely event that 'Ben' wasn't really 'Ben', “ You ....shouldn't be here.”

The ghost looked crestfallen at the comment, his lips drawing into a frown, “What do ya mean? You're....you're The Seance. If I was going to go to anyone, it was gonna be you, Klaus.”

“You're dead, Casper. I saw you die.” Klaus lied. He hadn't watched him die, but he'd witnessed the aftermath.

“And you can see dead people. You've told me about it a hundred times.”

That was true. Klaus had talked openly to his brother about the fact that he was – how did he put it? - perpetually haunted. Still, the medium was sceptical. He'd been tricked by specters pretending to be friends before.

“If you're really Ben, then show me.”

“Show you?”

“Did I stutter? Show me.” Klaus gestured to the specter's gut. “Even just a tickle.”

Ben, or the thing wearing his skin, glanced down at his body and back up again, continence pulled into a grimace.

“The...Horror?”

Klaus nodded. “Shouldn't be that big deal if you're really my Ben?”

With an exhausted sigh and a roll of his eyes (“I can't believe you're making me do this”), the ghoul beckoned the beast to the surface. The centre most point of his body began to glow, it's embers pushing out into his veins and outer limbs.

It was all Klaus needed to know that this being was, in every sense, his late brother. A new feeling settled in his chest. A brighter, happier feeling that he hadn't come across in a long, long time: Hope.

“Ben!” He exclaimed, “You're....you're Ben!”

“ Of course I am, you dingbat!” The light extinguished, and the ghoul flopped soundlessly onto the ground. Rubbing at his temples, he continued, “God, I hate doing that.”

Rushing forward with his arms open, Klaus fully intended to pull Six into a hug, only to be met with nothing but air.

“ I guess you can't touch me, huh?”

“No...guess not.” He should have known, but then he hadn't spent a lot of time with ghouls lately, preferring to stick to his regime of medication and alcohol.

“ So what now?”

They talked, laughing (crying, mostly ) at the fact that not even death could separate them. Then Klaus was tempting Ben with chaos and, true to form, the specter watched on, giggling, as his brother pissed in the gas tank of their father's favourite car.

"This doesn't scare you? Me being here?" Ben asked when they were settled beneath the pavilion, Klaus shivering from the cold but happy to be puffing on the end of a cigarette.

Number Four shrugged, "Don't get me wrong, Benny, for a second there, you had me. But you're the nicest ghost I know. At least you're not yelling."

It was at that moment that Ben understood. Not fully, never fully. But at least to some degree. And gradually, as time went on, he'd come to learn more about his brother and his morbid ability, one that might be considered on par with his.

The Horror matched for eternity with The Haunted. What a fitting pair.

READ THE REST ON A03

[zombie-rott]

Fan Fiction Masterlist.

I write for three main fandoms right now in the form of Ghost (Band), Supernatural & The Umbrella Academy. Themes can get pretty heavy so heed the warnings!

Check out my A03 account for more.

The Umbrella Academy

"Shotgun Opera." - Tumblr Prologue / Chap 1 / Chap 2 /

Chap 3 / Chap 4 /

A03

NSFW Strict warnings for non-con, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, s*elf-Injury, S*icide etc.

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Ghost (Band)

"The Driftwood & The Rift." - Tumblr Pt 1 / Pt 2 / A03

SFW but warnings for alcohol abuse, violence, implied non-con & abuse.

Not everyone enjoys Yule. Least of all the ministry’s favourite fire ghoul. Marred by his sordid past in the pit, Dew locks himself away to begin his yearly tradition, but with Swiss no longer there to control him, things get out of hand. And if he’s going to be banished for his shameful behaviour, he might as well tell one of his oldest friends exactly where his feelings lie.

"Won't You Show Me Your Weakness?"- Tumblr Pt 1 / Pt2 / A03

NSFW (Part 2). Swiss felt realisation dawn on him. It had to be love, there was no other explanation. His body had chosen a mate, and that’s why this felt so different to him than the usual cat-and-mouse games that he played with lovers.

Or

Swiss is desperately in love with Cumulus but he's not sure she feels the same.

"Survival Is A Talent." Tumblr Pt1 / Pt2 / Pt3 / Pt4 / Pt 4.5 / Pt 5 / Pt 6 / Pt 7 / Epilogue A03

SFW Weakness was not something Phantom had ever been permitted to show back beneath the ground. His father, a tyrant leader of their pack, came down harshly on anyone who dared to show an ounce of discomfort or disdain. Male or female, grown or child; he was a brutal man with brutal ideals. But despite Phantom’s inept ability to hide his pain, he’d never felt quite like this before. Nor had he trembled quite as much as he had done since coming to the surface.

Or

Phantom, the new quintessence ghoul, is struggling to adapt to life on the surface. What started as surface sickness has quickly developed into quintessence burnout. And with a reluctance to ask for help, Phantom finds himself down a dark path. It’s up to Papa, Aether and the pack to drag him back; kicking, screaming but alive.

"Of Mortal Flesh and Bone." - Tumblr Pt 1 / Pt 2 / A03

SFW Phantom doesn’t know how to find his place in the band because how can he replace Aether.

"Burying myself alive" - Tumblr Pt1 / Pt2 / A03

SFW You haven't been coping lately, and things are getting stressful as the new tour dates approach. You don't know how you're going to survive without him, especially when feeling so vulnerable, and take to running to calm your anxiety.

But, even as a seasoned runner, you neglect yourself. Slowly you began slipping back into a world you promised you never would.

WARNINGS! Mentions of anorexia nervosa, eating disorders, and mental health issues.

"Brother" - Tumblr Pt1 / Pt2 / Pt3 A03

SFW “Rain has fallen deep into the clutches of addiction. His life has spiralled out of control, crashing towards a crucial breaking point where he finds himself utterly alone, having pushed the clergy and his kin away. With no one left to turn to and nothing but regret weighing heavily on his heart, Rain is faced with a stark realization - he must confront his demons and seek forgiveness before it’s too late.”

WARNINGS! Substance abuse!

"Self-care isn't selfish, Papa." - Tumblr / A03

SFW Papa Copia needs to understand the meaning of 'self-care' after a hard tour. Fortunately, the ghouls are there to help.

"Sleepless" - Tumblr / A03

SFW Elena has suffered from an unknown sleep disorder ever since she was a child. She's chronically exhausted and at her wits end when she reaches out to The Church of Santanas. And despite the help of Papa Terzo and his ghouls, they can find no answer to her plight.

"Blood in the boardroom" - Tumblr / A03

SFW It really wasn't the right time for you to take your period. You had too much to do and so little time to do it in. But no matter how you tried to power through the pain, nature had other plans.

Supernatural

"Good morning Miss Winnie." - Tumblr Pt 1 / Pt2

SFW You’ve just given birth to Dean’s baby and are enjoying a quiet family moment in the days afterwards.

"Til the road runs out." - Tumblr

SFW Dean is diagnosed with cancer and he's uncertain about telling his loved ones.

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Six (Part 2)

Chapter Six Part 2 [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" “All this time, we thought you were just…I don’t know…overdramatic,” Diego continued, “Like all of this was just your way of expressing trauma from our f-fucked up childhood. We didn’t really think you were s-s-serious when you told us that you’re….what did you call it?”

“Perpetually haunted.”

“Yeah. That.” "

Fear was not something Diego liked to admit to. Not to himself, not to Ora, and certainly not to his fuck up of a brother. Even though Klaus was largely responsible for his fear as an adolescent, he didn’t like to let him see that. Luther was their father’s minion, but Diego was the strong one. Maybe not in body (although he often liked to dispute that fact), but certainly in mind.  That’s what his anger issues were all about. Instead of letting stress break him, he let it fester and build resentment and indignation. 

But, as he watched Klaus curl inward on the floor of his grimey apartment, screaming and clawing at his flesh, Diego's body shook with fear. His eyes were wide with fear. His mouth was unable to speak cohesively for fear . He was the embodiment of fear as his brother practically lost his mind right in front of him. There was anger, sure, but it was simmering, brewing deep below the horror and panic and confusion. 

He cried out for him, dropped to his knees and desperately tried to pry him apart. But, for being so thin and wiry, Klaus couldn’t be budged. His fingernails were dug so deep into the arm of his sweater that Diego was sure he’d break skin.

It all happened so suddenly that Diego hadn’t even had time to comprehend the possible trigger. One moment they were having a heart-to-heart, Klaus finally talking about his ghosts (metaphorically and figuratively), and Diego listening and feeling his heart break with every wobble of his brother’s chin. Then, Four was screaming and curling into a ball on the floor. He was begging, pleading, beseeching that he be left alone by an unseen assailant. A breakdown? A ghoul, maybe? But Diego couldn’t be sure because, to him, it was empty space. 

He desperately fought and finally managed to pull Klaus into his arms, where he screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. The man screamed until his voice broke and his body started to grow warm. And then something outlandish happened; his hands began to glow blue. Such an ethereal, holy blue that Diego held him at arm's length for fear of what it meant. 

As quickly as it began, it ended. Klaus collapsed into his arms, his body trembling and chest heaving. Deigo held him like a child, gripping him so tight he could feel bones where fat should be. 

“K-Klaus?” He asked aloud. There was no answer, and honestly, he hadn’t expected there to be. His brother was out cold, his body a dead weight against his. 

He sighed and rested his cheek against the medium’s matted mane of hair, the smell of sweat and dirt climbing up into his nostrils. But he tried not to think about it, or about how light Klaus was when he finally decided to move him to somewhere softer, or about just how poorly his brother had been coping in life. He especially tried not to think about how much of Klaus’ current situation was his fault. How he’d abandoned him and continued to do so for, well, their entire life. Even when he’d tried to help, he hadn’t listened.

And isn’t that what everyone wants in life? To be listened to? Especially by those who are meant to love us. 

READ THE REST ON A03