[OOC Note: A-OK with multiple versions of the same family members, so don't let someone with yours already being in here turn you away!]
The Set Up Five got them out, and they didn't die in the Apocalypse that their sister had brought unto the world. Decades worth of screwed up family dynamics was apparently enough to make the whole world combust, who knew?
But it worked. They survived. By the skin of their teeth, but they survived. And adjusting to where they ended up took some time, but the Hargreeves were little else if not adaptable, and they were still in the process of adapting now.
For Klaus' part? He was trying to stay to clean. Two days was nothing, and that's all it's really been so far. But every step counted, right? That's what he keeps telling himself, but he's been here before and he knows what's coming. Day three will start the withdrawal process, and by day five he'll feel like he's dying and after everything they just went through to not die, he might be incredibly insufferable during the worst of the first week of his withdrawal symptoms. But if, if he can make it through that, and the next week, and into the next month, maybe he can start making some real progress on this track.
And if not... at least nobody in the family will have expected any better from him anyway, right?
Prompt #1 Klaus has taken up residence on the couch in the living room of the house the lot of them had claimed when they arrived. Stairs would be stupid once all of this really gets underway, so it made the most sense until he's through the worst of it. He's idly flipping through a book about some weird science thing Five had been researching for....reasons that Klaus didn't follow. Half the words in this book are so far above his paygrade and he's lost all sense of words now.
He groans and shuts the book with a loud SNAP! before tossing it onto the nearest flat surface with a much softer thud. "I'm bored! Someone entertain me!" He calls out to no one in particular. Klaus isn't even completely sure who is, or isn't, at home just then. He just hopes one of his siblings is nearby, and might think to take pity on him and give into his request.
Prompt #2 At the lack of potential response from the house--whether because they're all conveniently gone at the time, or if they were simply otherwise busy and couldn't be at their brother's beck and call--Klaus might eventually find himself slipping away into a light slumber. Sleep is a thing he has such a tenuous relationship with. Most of the time, he tried to avoid it when he could; sometimes, he was too good at it and lost days just to sleep, others, he would startle awake at the slightest sound or shift of air in the room.
In the earliest days of withdrawal, it's easy to sleep, his body too exhausted to do much else. But the longer he goes, the worse it gets. Fevers and nausea make him miserable, his body aches, and his moods swing sharply from aggressive agitation to desperate begging.
And that's before sobriety has taken enough of a hold to let the dead creep back into his awareness. That's when the real fun starts. He needs the most attention by this point, overwhelmed by the voices and visions he's spent decades running from. He can be found curled up in the corner where the bed meets the wall in the room he's moved to from the couch in the living room with his knees drawn to his chest and palms pressed against his eyes, muttering a muffled, terrified stream of, "No, no, no, no... go away, go away." He won't react well to being startled, but it'd be almost impossible not to if he didn't notice someone coming in.
Things have changed. It's an understatement of literally universal proportions. They're back together. All of them. Including overpowered, what even the fuck kind of crazy ass epitome of overemotional wildness was that Vanya. Their plan is... nebulous, at best, but that isn't stopping them from scurrying about as if they know just what they're doing, and how they're going to make this work.
But things are changed in smaller ways too. Maybe not between him and Luthor, and not likely to change between them any time soon, but some of those littler things have given Diego back things he's lost since they were teenagers. Such as some of his siblings.
He hears Klaus' call, something that is utterly and entirely familiar from their childhood, and just as grating now as it was then. The only difference now is that Diego knows this is more than a bored child begging for attention.
This is a barely sober Klaus begging for attention so that he didn't end up doing something stupid. It is just enough of a difference to be all the difference in the world.
Of course, Diego is about as mentally stable and empathetic as any of his siblings, and so when a knife comes zinging through the air and buries itself into the book, pinning it to the table, it should be no surprise.
Perched on the railing of the staircase, smirking down at his brother with a second knife held delicately between his fingers, poised and ready.
"You have ten seconds to choose where the next one goes... Or I chose."
Given their past, it might be best if Klaus chooses. That it's designed to make him think fast and without time to wallow is entirely accidental and totally not Diego's plan at all, right?
Klaus jolts to an upright position at the sound of the knife hitting the book, eyes wide, head whipping around to find the known source of the intrusion. Okay, maybe it wasn't an intrusion if he'd asked to be paid attention to, but this is not what he meant, Diego!
"Dude!" he's jumping to his feet on the couch, arms spread in his incredulity. "I am not trying to reach a stage of chopped liver, here!"
Wait.
If he doesn't say something in actual response to that question soon--
If possible his eyes get even wider and he's jumping from the couch to the tabletop and spin in a half-circle, pointing to the first thing he sees. "Right eye of this--" He scrunches his face a bit, "creepy fucking painting," He looks back over at Diego, "Why do we have that? We should get rid of it." Another glance back at the painting and he leans forward, and then back. "It's following me." He shudders.
He smirks as his brother begins to rant about his activities. A wicked smile when Klaus realizes he's wasting time.
"You almost ran out of time," he says, but then a moment later his hand flicks out and the right eye is gone. "Now he's only half following you," he says, holding up the next one. "Left eye now?"
It's not entirely healthy. Not for either of them. It's the only thing Diego could think of though, and knowing that his brother is trying to sober up means he's going to try. Even if he isn't exactly sure how this works, but keeping an eye on him and keeping him thinking about anything else is the best thing he can think of.
"Haaaa, you're so funny," he says, voice dripping with mockery and sarcasm. The worst part is, he knows Diego wasn't joking. He nearly ran out of time and became the target instead. "Yes, blind that fucker!" Why did old paintings always have to look so creepy? Was it a requirement to look like you stepped out of a horror movie back then?
"Uh- no!" He practically shrieks emphatically. "How about this isn't the 'Diego makes his brother target practice' hour?!" It's a panic-y thing, really, not knowing how serious he might be about that. "Can't we just have some normal bro time for once?" Whatever that was, Klaus sure doesn't know, but it sounds better than having to dance to not be hit with a knife.
"Because if we keep this game up, I'm going to zig when you thought I would zag and end up with a knife in my ribs and then you're going to have to take me to the hospi--" He cuts himself off, mid-ramble and spins in a circle on the balls of his feet to face Diego properly, face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Heyyyy, we could totally keep playing this game! I could probably get some Dilaudid out of it..."
Okay. He knows he's supposed to be, like, getting better and everything, but honestly, this sucks. And it's going to take a lot longer than a couple of days for his thoughts to be re-wired away from this kind of scheming. Which is not even scheming because he's just laid the entire plan out in the open. But whatever. It'll probably bring Diego back to the actual point of this particular need for distraction anyway.
Adjusting has been a hardship for all of them, although of course they're all showing it in their own ways. They're all chafing at the various pressure points between them in their own way, still trying to figure out the way the web that holds them together shifts every time one of them moves, different from one to the other to the next.
Diego wants nothing to do with any of it, and he's made that clear. He doesn't want to see Luther's face, he doesn't to look Vanya in the eye, he doesn't want to listen to Five's mouth, he doesn't want to answer for the wary tension from Allison. He doesn't want to think about Mom and Pogo and Patch. So he doesn't.
This means that he spends a lot of time away from the mansion, it means he has to, and he comes back at all hours of the night. He comes back and gets snapshots of what the others are going through, what's changed, what's stayed the same, but there's only one frame he lets include him for more than a few moments at a time.
"Klaus," he calls, low and stony, because he's realized too late that he's automatically made his boots silent on the floor. "Hey." But he doesn't stop moving forward altogether. Nothing comes from stopping moving forward.
The adjustments have been hard on everyone, and they all have dealt with it in their own ways. No one could be surprised when Diego's way of dealing with it meant vanishing to do whatever it is he did, and swinging in and out of the house at his own whim. Klaus saw him coming and going more than once, but he never said a word, didn't try to stop him. Why would he try to take away the thing that helps his brother cope? Klaus knew far too well how vices worked, and at least Diego's vice could be said to save people, even if his ways were unconventional and outside of the law.
"What?" His head snaps up at the sudden voice, which is more solid and real than the rest of them, not to mention familiar and that is at least comforting. "Oh...hey." Until he remembers the mess that he is in that moment, which is frankly embarrassing, and he forces himself to sit up a little more, legs criss-cross under him instead of drawn to his chest, fingers fidgeting in his lap. "Just get back from all your cape and cowl'ing?" Always with the jokes, even in the throes of withdrawal.
If Diego is grateful for anything - if, because it's hard to tell any one emotion from another when he's not on speaking terms with any of them - it's that Klaus hasn't ever tried to stop him. Beating the ever loving shit out of criminals isn't his only vice, and it's that much easier when he's been fighting with his siblings for so long. It almost helps things feel more normal.
But he doesn't want to go after Klaus the way he will Luther for trying to say they need him here, or Allison for trying to lay her hand on his arm. He'll make Luther bleed, he'll make Allison throw her notebook at him, but he doesn't want to want to tear into Klaus like that.
He raises an eyebrow, making no secret of the way he looks over his brother.
"Do I look like a traumatized billionaire with a rodent fetish to you?" he snorts, and offers one gloved hand. "Come on."
"Maybe not the rodents," he teases, smirking a little. He almost could ignore the obvious sweep of his brother's eyes over him, taking in how he probably very literally looked like death warmed over-- and god, does Klaus hate that phrase.
He frowns at the hand offered his way, "What?" he questions skeptically, but still willingly allows himself to be pulled to his feet all the same.
She's alive, though she feels like maybe she shouldn't be. There's a ringing in her ear, and outside it, a terrible silence that makes her heart start to race. It doesn't matter how much she rubs her ear, snaps outside it: she can't hear, not on her right side, anyway.
It leaves her panicking, shaky and nauseous, and though part of her just wants to stay curled on the couch she woke on, she knows she can't. What if she brings this place down on top of herself? She needs to breathe, and getting outside - maybe that will help.
So she can't hear Klaus when he shouts: it's just background noise, something she can't differentiate from the muted creaks of the building. But she does stumble on him while she tries to find an exit, disheveled and still in her - was this suit always white?
"Klaus?"
Oh God. She can barely hear herself. It's like there's a pillow over her mouth. Just breathe, she tells herself, feeling increasingly off-kilter: just breathe.
Klaus spins toward the panicked-sounding voice of his sister-- and god, she seems so much like the baby sister they all always pushed her into the place of being just then. Panicked and looking on the edge of... Klaus isn't sure. It pushes him to move and act, though, even if he's certain he's the worst possible candidate for...everything, really.
"V? Hey, it's okay," he reaches and puts a hand on her arm, almost like some kind of anchor to reality. He's not sure what's going on, but he's felt that kind of thing before, and touching can help ground a person. "What's wrong?"
V, he says, and they might as well be underwater for all the clarity she can hear with. She takes a gulping breath, struggling to stay calm. She doesn't pull away when he touches her arm, though she can't decide yet if she wants to: is it an anchor, keeping her from floating into the unknown, or dragging her down to the depths? Really hard to say right now.
"I can't - everything sounds--"
She touches her ear, cupping it protectively. She doesn't want to say it out loud: if she puts words to it, she'll have to remember why she can't hear.
"Breathe... Vanya, in and out, okay? It's okay. We-- we're safe. All of us." He can only imagine the way she feels if she even gets a fleeting stray thought of that theater and everything that was literally crashing around them in flames. But--
"A house in-- like-- 80's New Orleans." Which sounds ridiculous, unless a person knows their lives, and the things all of them are capable of. "Five got us out, and this is where it kicked us. Have you- have you been out solid for the last two days?" He almost wants to touch her face, just to prove that this, she is solid and real. Whether to himself or to her, he's not sure. But he doesn't. He just keep his hand on her arm, hoping she can remember how to breathe.
Allison was walking past the door when the book slammed and her brother yelled, causing her to throw a look through that same door. Like he was a child with less sense than Claire even. Klaus, who did his best to avoid growing up and acting like an adult in the slightest, if he could at all help it. Or them. Or himself. Or the world at large.
If the look on her face reads all Mom Judgement maybe someone around here has to, and it's not like any of the rest of them decided to find out just what it was like being a parent, and getting to realize they were basically surrounded by five years olds at all times.
"Why are you judging me from all the way over there?" He sticks his tongue out at her, like the child he actually never stopped being. "Come heeeere." He waves one hand to call her over.
It's an act, really. Trying to cling to whatever sense of normalcy that he can in the middle of all of this change. And he needs the distraction, too. To keep himself out of his head, from giving up on this sobriety thing and dive headfirst back into all of the vices he's trying so hard to let go of.
Luther isn't sure he's really the most entertaining sibling who could have overheard Klaus's whining, but he's the one who'd been closest to hear it. He frowns slightly as he steps into the living room and looks down at his brother sprawled out.
"How am I supposed to do that?" It's easier to ask than to just assume or something, right?
And he knows Klaus really does seem to be trying this time to stay sober -- if he can help with that... well, he'd like to at least.
Luckily for Luther, it's really all much less about legitimate entertainment value and a rather dire need for distraction before Klaus lets the itch of boredom, and the general achy hell that is detox, take over and make him do something he'll regret so much when it's over and worn off again.
"I don't knooow," He whines, throwing himself back against the couch, tugging his feet halfway up toward bent as he stares up at Luther from where he stands. "I just need to not.... be alone right now." He admits in a rare, almost serious second, dragging both hands over his face. Klaus generally opts for brutal honesty in lieu of a pretty lie, regardless of how hard it is to own, how bitter a pill it is to swallow.
The truth is he's terrified of screwing up. Again. It's not that he's never been clean, or that he's never tried to sober up. It's that it's happened over and over and over and it never sticks. And he's never meant it in the way he does now, which only adds to the internal pressure pushing at his chest and threatening to crack his ribs with the force of every ounce of fear and anxiety behind it
"Oh..." It's a slightly awkward response, but-- he can do that. He can keep Klaus company for a bit, at least. He moves in, carefully settling on the other end of the couch. He looks over at him, eyes lingering for a moment as he takes in his appearance.
"Well-- I'm here. I can stay for a while"
Although he's not entirely sure he's the one to seek out if he's itching for drugs, but Luther will try his best to discourage it or distract from it.
Klaus is a sudden flurry of movement as Luther settles at the other end of the couch, pulling himself into a sitting position, knees bent, ankles crossed, hands clapping together, "So! Ho-ow are you? What's new with you? Enjoying this 80s farmhouse we're stuck in?" Just talk to him, Luther. Give him anything to distract him.
Things were...awkward, to say the least, when the threat of the apocalypse was over. There had been apologies made, words said, but at the end of the day, she had still almost gotten them all killed. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to ignore.
The result had made her even more quiet and withdrawn than normal. Really, she was waiting to be locked up or thrown out at any second. She wasn't entirely sure she'd blame her family if they did. Maybe the only reason they didn't was fear that she'd go psycho on them again.
Vanya was moving quietly through the house in search of some coffee when she hears Klaus' voice. His door is open enough that she can see inside, catching sight of her brother curled into his mattress and muttering like he was being tormented.
Her first attempt at calling his name is completely missed, only joining the cacophony of voices screaming a chorus of his name around the room. He presses his palms to his eyes and tries to will them away, even though he knows that has never worked before. Anything to get them to leave him alone.
It's that 'hey' that breaks through everything else and brings him out of whatever moment he was having, a shuddering gasp escaping as he pushes himself to sit up, roughly swiping his hands under his eyes and straightening up, trying his best to appear some version of fine. Not done easily with the mussed hair, smudged eyeliner that was anything but a stylistic choice, and eyes rimmed red in a way that had nothing to do with being irritated by smoke. But he tries.
"Hey, V... you okay?" Because if he flips this around, he can focus on her instead of his demons coming to haunt him like he knew they would the second he didn't have a trace of altering substances in his system.
"I'm all right," she says automatically. Which, she is. Sort of. For a given measure of 'all right'. But, if nothing else, she's doing better than Klaus seems to be.
"Are you okay?" she asks cautiously, stepping into the room, looking him over. "I mean. You just seem like you're not okay, maybe."
Tilting her head, she asks, "Is it a...powers thing? Or a sobriety thing?"
Five was currently deeply involved in the aforementioned research. It was hardly their home library, but he’d scavenged what relevant texts he could, and set himself up at the kitchen table; a little busier than he would like, but it did have the benefit of a ready supply of coffee nearby. He had one of the smaller, more portable volumes folded open in front of him, its margins scrawled with endless notes and complex equations.
Since the jump, his siblings had been fussing over him off and on, asking him if he was okay, how he was feeling… What any normal person would have found comforting was damned near suffocating. The only peace he got was when he buried himself in his books, likely because it was assumed, he wouldn’t strain himself while sitting down.
That was fine by him — He needed to stay busy. The immediate danger had passed, but the threat of the apocalypse still loomed in his mind. This was a patch job on a sinking ship, a temporary fix at best. The Commission weren’t ones to simply give up, and Five had to imagine they had contingencies in place, fail safes… He would have.
While he would never readily admit it, he couldn’t stop. Even now, he didn’t know how to let go; without that driving force, without a mission, he was rudderless. He was no closer to knowing what to do with himself on the ‘day after’, and the sudden abundance of free time allowed his thoughts to wander to dangerous places. And so, like the stubborn old man he was, he dug his heels in. He buried himself in self-made work, fighting a battle that he refused to admit could be over.
At least, he did until Klaus’ voice rang out from the room beyond.
Maybe it was the lingering headache that spurred it, or maybe it was the inevitable result of the tension that had been building within him in the days since their arrival. Whatever it was, something inside him snapped.
The air in the living room seemed to warp in on itself, and a second later, a glowering Five appeared a few feet from the couch. Not one of his better ideas, he realized belatedly; despite his insistence otherwise, his body hadn’t fully recovered from the strain of the temporal jump. The use of his depleted powers left him seeing stars, and he quickly attempted to disguise that unsteadiness by snatching for the discarded book.
“You know, Klaus, maybe you’d be less bored if you went outside.”
Klaus blinks when the old-familiar pop! and sudden light invade the living room and Five is at the end of the couch, half-swaying on his feet for his efforts. One eyebrow arches slowly upward as he makes his best attempt at covering the falter-- takes one to know one and Klaus has been the guy too unsteady on his feet and trying to make it look like a movement made on purpose just a few too many times not to see the lie for what it is.
But he doesn't comment on it. He's too caught up by that snappish tone his brother has decided to take with him suddenly.
"Yes, I'm sure outside is the best place for me to be while I'm detoxing." he deadpans the words, with a little bit of an air like it should be obvious that wouldn't be the best plan. He may be through some of the worst beginnings of it, but there's another day or so left to ride out before he's properly clean yet.
Edited (typos that will haunt me every time I re-read this thread fjdklasjfd) Date: 2019-04-16 03:29 pm (UTC)
The skepticism was noticed, and deliberately ignored. The last thing Five needed was to further fuel the fire when it came to the concerns regarding his health; he was under enough scrutiny as it was, and he’d been fine after allowing himself a minute or two to regain his bearings. Well, mostly fine. It just meant that going forward, he would need to better regulate the use of his abilities.
Klaus wasn’t wrong on the latter point, however. Much as the condescension rubbed him the wrong way, outside was not the best place for him, especially given the sensitivity of his present condition. The old farmhouse had been mostly clean to start, but what few temptations it held had since been purged by their other siblings. It wasn’t foolproof — Klaus was many things, but when it came to creativity, there was no denying his prowess — but it did allow them some small measure of control over the situation.
… Arguably, being this close to Five, who was currently wielding a blunt object, wasn’t the safest place he could be either.
“Yeah, because sitting here, staring at the walls, has been working out so well,” he fired back, his grip tightening on the book.
But that was it, wasn’t it? There was a part of Five that understood, somewhat. It wasn’t to say that they were alike, or that he had any experience in weathering the symptoms of withdrawal, but… he did know solitude. He knew silence, and the games it played with the mind. It was one thing to choose to be alone, but when the distractions were stripped away and things got quiet… That was when it was hardest to keep the thoughts at bay.
He forced out a sigh, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
“What do you want?” This time, he sounded only moderately annoyed, which, when considering the source, was just about neutral. It was as close to an offer to help as Klaus was going to get.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
{Sobriety is hard with these ghosts chasing after me to keep me terrified » OPEN TO ALL HARGREEVES
Date: 2019-03-06 04:11 am (UTC)The Set Up
Five got them out, and they didn't die in the Apocalypse that their sister had brought unto the world. Decades worth of screwed up family dynamics was apparently enough to make the whole world combust, who knew?
But it worked. They survived. By the skin of their teeth, but they survived. And adjusting to where they ended up took some time, but the Hargreeves were little else if not adaptable, and they were still in the process of adapting now.
For Klaus' part? He was trying to stay to clean. Two days was nothing, and that's all it's really been so far. But every step counted, right? That's what he keeps telling himself, but he's been here before and he knows what's coming. Day three will start the withdrawal process, and by day five he'll feel like he's dying and after everything they just went through to not die, he might be incredibly insufferable during the worst of the first week of his withdrawal symptoms. But if, if he can make it through that, and the next week, and into the next month, maybe he can start making some real progress on this track.
And if not... at least nobody in the family will have expected any better from him anyway, right?
Prompt #1
Klaus has taken up residence on the couch in the living room of the house the lot of them had claimed when they arrived. Stairs would be stupid once all of this really gets underway, so it made the most sense until he's through the worst of it. He's idly flipping through a book about some weird science thing Five had been researching for....reasons that Klaus didn't follow. Half the words in this book are so far above his paygrade and he's lost all sense of words now.
He groans and shuts the book with a loud SNAP! before tossing it onto the nearest flat surface with a much softer thud. "I'm bored! Someone entertain me!" He calls out to no one in particular. Klaus isn't even completely sure who is, or isn't, at home just then. He just hopes one of his siblings is nearby, and might think to take pity on him and give into his request.
Prompt #2
At the lack of potential response from the house--whether because they're all conveniently gone at the time, or if they were simply otherwise busy and couldn't be at their brother's beck and call--Klaus might eventually find himself slipping away into a light slumber. Sleep is a thing he has such a tenuous relationship with. Most of the time, he tried to avoid it when he could; sometimes, he was too good at it and lost days just to sleep, others, he would startle awake at the slightest sound or shift of air in the room.
In the earliest days of withdrawal, it's easy to sleep, his body too exhausted to do much else. But the longer he goes, the worse it gets. Fevers and nausea make him miserable, his body aches, and his moods swing sharply from aggressive agitation to desperate begging.
And that's before sobriety has taken enough of a hold to let the dead creep back into his awareness. That's when the real fun starts. He needs the most attention by this point, overwhelmed by the voices and visions he's spent decades running from. He can be found curled up in the corner where the bed meets the wall in the room he's moved to from the couch in the living room with his knees drawn to his chest and palms pressed against his eyes, muttering a muffled, terrified stream of, "No, no, no, no... go away, go away." He won't react well to being startled, but it'd be almost impossible not to if he didn't notice someone coming in.
Prompt 1
Date: 2019-03-06 04:54 am (UTC)But things are changed in smaller ways too. Maybe not between him and Luthor, and not likely to change between them any time soon, but some of those littler things have given Diego back things he's lost since they were teenagers. Such as some of his siblings.
He hears Klaus' call, something that is utterly and entirely familiar from their childhood, and just as grating now as it was then. The only difference now is that Diego knows this is more than a bored child begging for attention.
This is a barely sober Klaus begging for attention so that he didn't end up doing something stupid. It is just enough of a difference to be all the difference in the world.
Of course, Diego is about as mentally stable and empathetic as any of his siblings, and so when a knife comes zinging through the air and buries itself into the book, pinning it to the table, it should be no surprise.
Perched on the railing of the staircase, smirking down at his brother with a second knife held delicately between his fingers, poised and ready.
"You have ten seconds to choose where the next one goes... Or I chose."
Given their past, it might be best if Klaus chooses. That it's designed to make him think fast and without time to wallow is entirely accidental and totally not Diego's plan at all, right?
no subject
Date: 2019-03-06 05:05 am (UTC)"Dude!" he's jumping to his feet on the couch, arms spread in his incredulity. "I am not trying to reach a stage of chopped liver, here!"
Wait.
If he doesn't say something in actual response to that question soon--
If possible his eyes get even wider and he's jumping from the couch to the tabletop and spin in a half-circle, pointing to the first thing he sees. "Right eye of this--" He scrunches his face a bit, "creepy fucking painting," He looks back over at Diego, "Why do we have that? We should get rid of it." Another glance back at the painting and he leans forward, and then back. "It's following me." He shudders.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-07 03:27 am (UTC)"You almost ran out of time," he says, but then a moment later his hand flicks out and the right eye is gone. "Now he's only half following you," he says, holding up the next one. "Left eye now?"
It's not entirely healthy. Not for either of them. It's the only thing Diego could think of though, and knowing that his brother is trying to sober up means he's going to try. Even if he isn't exactly sure how this works, but keeping an eye on him and keeping him thinking about anything else is the best thing he can think of.
"Or should I aim for that spot by your foot?"
no subject
Date: 2019-03-07 04:04 am (UTC)"Uh- no!" He practically shrieks emphatically. "How about this isn't the 'Diego makes his brother target practice' hour?!" It's a panic-y thing, really, not knowing how serious he might be about that. "Can't we just have some normal bro time for once?" Whatever that was, Klaus sure doesn't know, but it sounds better than having to dance to not be hit with a knife.
"Because if we keep this game up, I'm going to zig when you thought I would zag and end up with a knife in my ribs and then you're going to have to take me to the hospi--" He cuts himself off, mid-ramble and spins in a circle on the balls of his feet to face Diego properly, face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Heyyyy, we could totally keep playing this game! I could probably get some Dilaudid out of it..."
Okay. He knows he's supposed to be, like, getting better and everything, but honestly, this sucks. And it's going to take a lot longer than a couple of days for his thoughts to be re-wired away from this kind of scheming. Which is not even scheming because he's just laid the entire plan out in the open. But whatever. It'll probably bring Diego back to the actual point of this particular need for distraction anyway.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:idek wtf happened somehow ig i accidentally copied my whole meme post lmfao
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:2
Date: 2019-03-07 05:05 am (UTC)Diego wants nothing to do with any of it, and he's made that clear. He doesn't want to see Luther's face, he doesn't to look Vanya in the eye, he doesn't want to listen to Five's mouth, he doesn't want to answer for the wary tension from Allison. He doesn't want to think about Mom and Pogo and Patch. So he doesn't.
This means that he spends a lot of time away from the mansion, it means he has to, and he comes back at all hours of the night. He comes back and gets snapshots of what the others are going through, what's changed, what's stayed the same, but there's only one frame he lets include him for more than a few moments at a time.
"Klaus," he calls, low and stony, because he's realized too late that he's automatically made his boots silent on the floor. "Hey." But he doesn't stop moving forward altogether. Nothing comes from stopping moving forward.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-07 12:30 pm (UTC)"What?" His head snaps up at the sudden voice, which is more solid and real than the rest of them, not to mention familiar and that is at least comforting. "Oh...hey." Until he remembers the mess that he is in that moment, which is frankly embarrassing, and he forces himself to sit up a little more, legs criss-cross under him instead of drawn to his chest, fingers fidgeting in his lap. "Just get back from all your cape and cowl'ing?" Always with the jokes, even in the throes of withdrawal.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-08 04:31 am (UTC)But he doesn't want to go after Klaus the way he will Luther for trying to say they need him here, or Allison for trying to lay her hand on his arm. He'll make Luther bleed, he'll make Allison throw her notebook at him, but he doesn't want to want to tear into Klaus like that.
He raises an eyebrow, making no secret of the way he looks over his brother.
"Do I look like a traumatized billionaire with a rodent fetish to you?" he snorts, and offers one gloved hand. "Come on."
no subject
Date: 2019-03-08 04:38 am (UTC)He frowns at the hand offered his way, "What?" he questions skeptically, but still willingly allows himself to be pulled to his feet all the same.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:If this is too old, please feel free to just ignore it - inbox cleaning!
From:never too late 👀
From:no subject
Date: 2019-03-12 02:36 am (UTC)It leaves her panicking, shaky and nauseous, and though part of her just wants to stay curled on the couch she woke on, she knows she can't. What if she brings this place down on top of herself? She needs to breathe, and getting outside - maybe that will help.
So she can't hear Klaus when he shouts: it's just background noise, something she can't differentiate from the muted creaks of the building. But she does stumble on him while she tries to find an exit, disheveled and still in her - was this suit always white?
"Klaus?"
Oh God. She can barely hear herself. It's like there's a pillow over her mouth. Just breathe, she tells herself, feeling increasingly off-kilter: just breathe.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-12 02:52 am (UTC)"V? Hey, it's okay," he reaches and puts a hand on her arm, almost like some kind of anchor to reality. He's not sure what's going on, but he's felt that kind of thing before, and touching can help ground a person. "What's wrong?"
no subject
Date: 2019-03-12 02:58 am (UTC)"I can't - everything sounds--"
She touches her ear, cupping it protectively. She doesn't want to say it out loud: if she puts words to it, she'll have to remember why she can't hear.
"Where are we?"
no subject
Date: 2019-03-12 03:16 am (UTC)"A house in-- like-- 80's New Orleans." Which sounds ridiculous, unless a person knows their lives, and the things all of them are capable of. "Five got us out, and this is where it kicked us. Have you- have you been out solid for the last two days?" He almost wants to touch her face, just to prove that this, she is solid and real. Whether to himself or to her, he's not sure. But he doesn't. He just keep his hand on her arm, hoping she can remember how to breathe.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:Prompt #1
Date: 2019-03-15 03:36 am (UTC)If the look on her face reads all Mom Judgement maybe someone around here has to, and it's not like any of the rest of them decided to find out just what it was like being a parent, and getting to realize they were basically surrounded by five years olds at all times.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-15 04:46 am (UTC)It's an act, really. Trying to cling to whatever sense of normalcy that he can in the middle of all of this change. And he needs the distraction, too. To keep himself out of his head, from giving up on this sobriety thing and dive headfirst back into all of the vices he's trying so hard to let go of.
prompt #1
Date: 2019-03-19 07:53 am (UTC)"How am I supposed to do that?" It's easier to ask than to just assume or something, right?
And he knows Klaus really does seem to be trying this time to stay sober -- if he can help with that... well, he'd like to at least.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-22 02:57 am (UTC)"I don't knooow," He whines, throwing himself back against the couch, tugging his feet halfway up toward bent as he stares up at Luther from where he stands. "I just need to not.... be alone right now." He admits in a rare, almost serious second, dragging both hands over his face. Klaus generally opts for brutal honesty in lieu of a pretty lie, regardless of how hard it is to own, how bitter a pill it is to swallow.
The truth is he's terrified of screwing up. Again. It's not that he's never been clean, or that he's never tried to sober up. It's that it's happened over and over and over and it never sticks. And he's never meant it in the way he does now, which only adds to the internal pressure pushing at his chest and threatening to crack his ribs with the force of every ounce of fear and anxiety behind it
no subject
Date: 2019-03-22 08:31 am (UTC)"Well-- I'm here. I can stay for a while"
Although he's not entirely sure he's the one to seek out if he's itching for drugs, but Luther will try his best to discourage it or distract from it.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-22 12:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:cw; allusions to suicidal ideation
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:end?
From:I think so! Awesome thread <:
From:Prompt #2
Date: 2019-04-10 09:34 pm (UTC)The result had made her even more quiet and withdrawn than normal. Really, she was waiting to be locked up or thrown out at any second. She wasn't entirely sure she'd blame her family if they did. Maybe the only reason they didn't was fear that she'd go psycho on them again.
Vanya was moving quietly through the house in search of some coffee when she hears Klaus' voice. His door is open enough that she can see inside, catching sight of her brother curled into his mattress and muttering like he was being tormented.
"Klaus? ....hey, Klaus...?"
no subject
Date: 2019-04-11 03:15 am (UTC)It's that 'hey' that breaks through everything else and brings him out of whatever moment he was having, a shuddering gasp escaping as he pushes himself to sit up, roughly swiping his hands under his eyes and straightening up, trying his best to appear some version of fine. Not done easily with the mussed hair, smudged eyeliner that was anything but a stylistic choice, and eyes rimmed red in a way that had nothing to do with being irritated by smoke. But he tries.
"Hey, V... you okay?" Because if he flips this around, he can focus on her instead of his demons coming to haunt him like he knew they would the second he didn't have a trace of altering substances in his system.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-12 04:59 am (UTC)"Are you okay?" she asks cautiously, stepping into the room, looking him over. "I mean. You just seem like you're not okay, maybe."
Tilting her head, she asks, "Is it a...powers thing? Or a sobriety thing?"
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:Prompt #1
Date: 2019-04-15 04:36 am (UTC)Since the jump, his siblings had been fussing over him off and on, asking him if he was okay, how he was feeling… What any normal person would have found comforting was damned near suffocating. The only peace he got was when he buried himself in his books, likely because it was assumed, he wouldn’t strain himself while sitting down.
That was fine by him — He needed to stay busy. The immediate danger had passed, but the threat of the apocalypse still loomed in his mind. This was a patch job on a sinking ship, a temporary fix at best. The Commission weren’t ones to simply give up, and Five had to imagine they had contingencies in place, fail safes… He would have.
While he would never readily admit it, he couldn’t stop. Even now, he didn’t know how to let go; without that driving force, without a mission, he was rudderless. He was no closer to knowing what to do with himself on the ‘day after’, and the sudden abundance of free time allowed his thoughts to wander to dangerous places. And so, like the stubborn old man he was, he dug his heels in. He buried himself in self-made work, fighting a battle that he refused to admit could be over.
At least, he did until Klaus’ voice rang out from the room beyond.
Maybe it was the lingering headache that spurred it, or maybe it was the inevitable result of the tension that had been building within him in the days since their arrival. Whatever it was, something inside him snapped.
The air in the living room seemed to warp in on itself, and a second later, a glowering Five appeared a few feet from the couch. Not one of his better ideas, he realized belatedly; despite his insistence otherwise, his body hadn’t fully recovered from the strain of the temporal jump. The use of his depleted powers left him seeing stars, and he quickly attempted to disguise that unsteadiness by snatching for the discarded book.
“You know, Klaus, maybe you’d be less bored if you went outside.”
no subject
Date: 2019-04-15 04:00 pm (UTC)But he doesn't comment on it. He's too caught up by that snappish tone his brother has decided to take with him suddenly.
"Yes, I'm sure outside is the best place for me to be while I'm detoxing." he deadpans the words, with a little bit of an air like it should be obvious that wouldn't be the best plan. He may be through some of the worst beginnings of it, but there's another day or so left to ride out before he's properly clean yet.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-23 07:59 pm (UTC)Klaus wasn’t wrong on the latter point, however. Much as the condescension rubbed him the wrong way, outside was not the best place for him, especially given the sensitivity of his present condition. The old farmhouse had been mostly clean to start, but what few temptations it held had since been purged by their other siblings. It wasn’t foolproof — Klaus was many things, but when it came to creativity, there was no denying his prowess — but it did allow them some small measure of control over the situation.
… Arguably, being this close to Five, who was currently wielding a blunt object, wasn’t the safest place he could be either.
“Yeah, because sitting here, staring at the walls, has been working out so well,” he fired back, his grip tightening on the book.
But that was it, wasn’t it? There was a part of Five that understood, somewhat. It wasn’t to say that they were alike, or that he had any experience in weathering the symptoms of withdrawal, but… he did know solitude. He knew silence, and the games it played with the mind. It was one thing to choose to be alone, but when the distractions were stripped away and things got quiet… That was when it was hardest to keep the thoughts at bay.
He forced out a sigh, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
“What do you want?” This time, he sounded only moderately annoyed, which, when considering the source, was just about neutral. It was as close to an offer to help as Klaus was going to get.
(no subject)
From: