08-05-2018, 08:06 PM
4. what does y/c fear most?
Sometimes, he imagines bad things happening to him. He would lay in his basket and stare at the wall, and the imagines him finding them. He can’t anymore. They… they ran away. He was pretty sure he preferred death over them coming back for him and forcing him to live with them again.
We didn’t fight back then. That was true. He was an adult now and they took care of themselves. They were his new family and all he needed to survive. He feared the idea of his parents returning. He feared someone would hurt them again and feared being hurt again.
Dimitri… couldn’t just die, either. He couldn’t do that to his alters. One of them was a baby! And- a sigh escaped him, tilting his head back, shutting his eyes, and rolling over. He could imagine it- his father breaking into his home and grabbing him by the shoulders, biting down on his scruff. A comment on his size, being dragged and being forced onto his stomach, being held down and struggling-
He recoiled as he felt a buildup of pressure and bared his teeth, standing up and heaved his breath, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head. “No. I don’t- I don’t wanna go right now. Stop.” He gasped, Dagon taking his place and the alter faltering a bit until he was able to stand up in Dimitri’s body. He panted and Dimitri’s tail wrapped around him. Dimitri’s fur stood up, but it seemed to ripple as Dimitri’s body lost it white marks and the tom’s eyes turned black.
Dagon feared the same. He’d taken the brunt of Dimitri's beatings as a boy. It was debatable what Dagon was originally was. They thought Dagon showed up when Dimitri reached a year old. They were the same age, so they had some fighting about the time about who was the original. They hadn’t fought for dominance since they were little. Dagon was different too, in that he grew with Dimitri’s age. Unlike Daisy, who was trapped as a child without a care in the world.
The touching. The pain. He shook slightly, pacing around the cabin and moving to his whiskey. His right arm started to shift into a monkey’s, twisting off the cap and pouring half a glass. His arm shifted back and he hopped onto the coffee table, bending down to start lapping up the up the whiskey. He let the acidic brew go down his throat and continued suckling. He kept drinking and drinking until he finished the glass and sat back, his mind numbing.
He drank for the numbness. It kept away the fear. It kept him calm as it destroyed their body. It made life, somehow, a little less scary for him.
No. No. He slapped the table with a paw and started shifting his arm again, trying to pour another glass as he felt more memories trying to bother him.
"speech"
Sometimes, he imagines bad things happening to him. He would lay in his basket and stare at the wall, and the imagines him finding them. He can’t anymore. They… they ran away. He was pretty sure he preferred death over them coming back for him and forcing him to live with them again.
We didn’t fight back then. That was true. He was an adult now and they took care of themselves. They were his new family and all he needed to survive. He feared the idea of his parents returning. He feared someone would hurt them again and feared being hurt again.
Dimitri… couldn’t just die, either. He couldn’t do that to his alters. One of them was a baby! And- a sigh escaped him, tilting his head back, shutting his eyes, and rolling over. He could imagine it- his father breaking into his home and grabbing him by the shoulders, biting down on his scruff. A comment on his size, being dragged and being forced onto his stomach, being held down and struggling-
He recoiled as he felt a buildup of pressure and bared his teeth, standing up and heaved his breath, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head. “No. I don’t- I don’t wanna go right now. Stop.” He gasped, Dagon taking his place and the alter faltering a bit until he was able to stand up in Dimitri’s body. He panted and Dimitri’s tail wrapped around him. Dimitri’s fur stood up, but it seemed to ripple as Dimitri’s body lost it white marks and the tom’s eyes turned black.
Dagon feared the same. He’d taken the brunt of Dimitri's beatings as a boy. It was debatable what Dagon was originally was. They thought Dagon showed up when Dimitri reached a year old. They were the same age, so they had some fighting about the time about who was the original. They hadn’t fought for dominance since they were little. Dagon was different too, in that he grew with Dimitri’s age. Unlike Daisy, who was trapped as a child without a care in the world.
The touching. The pain. He shook slightly, pacing around the cabin and moving to his whiskey. His right arm started to shift into a monkey’s, twisting off the cap and pouring half a glass. His arm shifted back and he hopped onto the coffee table, bending down to start lapping up the up the whiskey. He let the acidic brew go down his throat and continued suckling. He kept drinking and drinking until he finished the glass and sat back, his mind numbing.
He drank for the numbness. It kept away the fear. It kept him calm as it destroyed their body. It made life, somehow, a little less scary for him.
No. No. He slapped the table with a paw and started shifting his arm again, trying to pour another glass as he felt more memories trying to bother him.
"speech"