salem.
inactive, hiatus
(BIG content warning!! Trigger Warnings on the spoiler below.)
GENERAL (UPSETTING) THEMES:
-A more in-depth view of Basil’s first backstory-defining moment.
-Mentions and talk of trauma, abuse, and alcohol intake/abuse.
-Just general dark themes and an exploration of trauma/triggers.
LIST OF POSSIBLE TRIGGERS
-Abuse. (Neglect, physical and verbal abuse.)
-Mentions of self-harm.
-Slight description of burns and scars. How it felt, mainly. No real super detailed gore-y description.
-General depressing themes.
EXTRA: sorry for never posting uwu I got a month-long nosebleed on god
it’s one of my first times (like, single digit numbers) writing a scene involving triggers taking place. I’ve been through them myself so I’ll try to replicate the feeling as best as I can.
guess who just changed the BBCode haha me I wasn’t feeling the old one
-A more in-depth view of Basil’s first backstory-defining moment.
-Mentions and talk of trauma, abuse, and alcohol intake/abuse.
-Just general dark themes and an exploration of trauma/triggers.
LIST OF POSSIBLE TRIGGERS
-Abuse. (Neglect, physical and verbal abuse.)
-Mentions of self-harm.
-Slight description of burns and scars. How it felt, mainly. No real super detailed gore-y description.
-General depressing themes.
EXTRA: sorry for never posting uwu I got a month-long nosebleed on god
it’s one of my first times (like, single digit numbers) writing a scene involving triggers taking place. I’ve been through them myself so I’ll try to replicate the feeling as best as I can.
guess who just changed the BBCode haha me I wasn’t feeling the old one
It seemed as soon as they encountered the office they left. That was the same with their little lunch place. What he likes to call… “The Super Deathly Super Cool and Sorta Creepy Lunch Eating Room. Purgatory edition.” Long name, I know. He’s still working on it. The rest of the classes in this frail, decaying, and disgusting place was a below-average mess. Barren of any true passion for either learning or teaching.
But he pushed through it, class by class, hour by hour.
He sat down in his usual spot, fiddling around with his pencil as always, resting his head on his weak-ish right hand.
The ticking of the clock would make his ears ring and his head hurt. It was the same every time. Nothing changed about it, just routinely doing enough. Moving slowly until the cycle is complete. Afterward, it'll repeat it forever. That reminds him of something.
And he’s tired plenty of repeating the same, tedious point. He tried to think about… Well, what were his ‘friends’ talking about in the SDSCSCLERPE? (Ok, that’s an awful acronym.) Uhh… Alright, he might’ve been paying more attention to how darned tasty his burger was than the rather important things they were talking about. Basil snapped his fingers quietly as he skillfully multitasked. You know, he’s still in school. There’s not a lot of free time to think about other things. Ya gotta think about your own stuff while working.
He thought, he remembered. Just a little bit.
Something about what ties Mr. Yano with this 'Air' person. Air???? Alright. Some even theorized Mr. Yano had some sort of... Alter-ego, secret street life? Eh, that's boring. Imagine if, like, Mr. Yano was this alternate universe crime fighter, and one of the many mafias he needs to defeat caught onto his ordinary life? And what if Air was an alien? Haha, that would be cool. Yeah.
Yeah...
THUD!
His head slammed HARD on his desk-thing. He never really understood it, was it really a desk? Was the desk an illusion, a farce? Well, for all he knew, it was a pain in the ass. Or rather, the head.
It took him some time to realize why exactly did he just fall face-flat on the desk, ah. His unimaginable tiredness and exhaustion of living. Naturally. He quickly got his head back up and into the works.
He didn't bother to look around to see if anyone saw that head-slam into the desk. No one did, really. He'd already figured that out as he moved around his wrist. Clearly, his head slipped off it. Man, he hates it when that happens. Yes, it has happened before. I mean, he's dead and tired all the time, it was bound to be a frequent happening.
Abbot was quick to shake it off as just another mishappening, deciding that maybe for next time, he shouldn't rest his head on his right arm. Or you know, maybe for next time he should actually sleep the night(s) prior. Haha...
The sudden happening was a type of reboot for his mainframe. He remembered some stuff, but forgot others.
And this name - which he very well knew -crossed his head... Flanagan's. No, no. He had never gone there. No! But something about it made him think that he knew the place, despite never really going there. Basil had seen it occasionally when he took some walks to get a breather. He didn't feel like it was something special outside of a bar where Mr. Yano could be in. And also a fan full of jackasses. But he wasn't there to deal with those.
ENTER THE BAR, 'OH GOD, PLEASE NO.'
Alright. Yeah, he didn't really mind going to a bar. He wasn't drinking anything anyways, just there to sit down, get extra info on Mr. Yano, and leave. Just leave. Study groups don't usually get up to this... Hijinx... But, honestly? Anything more than staying in his decaying, rotting house. Plus, it would be interesting to find out what was up with Yano. He nervously scratched the back of his neck. Ok, ok. Breathe.
He didn't have to interact with anyone, he didn't have to talk or make eye contact. Just sit there and wait. Wait for someone in the study group to say 'hey ok time to go find Mr. Yano. Wait for the rest of the group to get in. Wait for... Wait- Where are they?
He turned his head around to see a good half of the group stuck outside, trying to get in. And, he wasn't going to lie, he chuckled a little at the unfortunate position of the rest of the group, a subtle smirk decorating his face. Wow, his mood was only getting better after seeing that someone is having it worse than him! That's healthy.
Abbot about now had mustered up enough comfort to feel as if this was a regular public space, like school, like a restaurant. Just another social space he can get through with no problem at all. Nope. Zero. Next to nothing.
Really! He even managed enough courage to kindly ask the bartender for... water... What? Were you hoping he'd buy alcohol? Like if he didn't know the... consequences of that.
Basil was genuinely surprised that things were going 'smoothly'. As smoothly as someone (Cough cough, Carin.) making a bit of an idiot of himself in public. Eh, he didn't really mind whatever anyone else did outside of finding Yano, but something he did mind was the sound right after he turned his head back. Right when he was about to take another sip of water.
CRASH!
The horrendous noise of multiple pieces of glass made him jump and tense out of sheer, raw terror.
Basil's heart skipped a beat, then two, then three, then four. A sharp and nearly inevitable pain traveled to his chest. He was so plain fearful of the noise he nearly had a heart attack, but his hand didn't move from the glass. He tried to stabilize his breathing through his nose, but only ended up breathing quickly and inefficiently, making the pain around his chest increase.
His eyes seemed to widen from their usual drowsy position. His hands tensed and shook the glass he was holding. He was currently terrified. Like, extremely. Basil's breathing exercises he had previously learned about weren't really the first thing he thought of when getting this scared, not like they were going to work right now, anyways.
His eyes darted around the place, trying to find something, anything that could distract him. He wasn't going through this again, he couldn't handle it. Especially not in a place like this. He felt cold and disgusting. Just like the sweat running down his tensed, shaking hands. Soon enough, the tensing of his hands became something unbearable, yet completely out of his control as his lower wrist area began to hurt from how much stress he put into his whole arm, his whole body.
There wasn't much to look at that could drift his mind away from remembering. His head seemed locked in his glass of water. He was tense, hardened in pure panic. He held his breath to prevent himself from hyperventilating and causing a scene, which would be the last option in his, usually organized, go-to list of things to do when he got anxious. Basil memorized most of it.
Take deep breaths, inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth.
Count the people in the room, if there are any.
Detail what you're seeing in your head.
Count to ten.
Such organized and helpful resource was everything but available to Abbot at this moment, the only thing he allowed himself to view was his shaking reflection in the glass of water. What a rotten, loathsome, and gruesome reflection it was. He felt absolutely insane, maybe it was because he had to, you know, breathe, and he was currently holding in his breath.
He let out a much-needed exhale, followed by a sharp inhale in a way to keep up with living as a normal human being who was just attending a bar and got too stressed out and scared by a noise.
When he tried closing his eyes as his reaction began to slow down, he felt as if he was back.
Back when he was 8.
Ten years ago.
He should've known better than to come to this stupid, awful place.
The smell of freshly poured wine arose to his senses.
It was artificial, a mere illusion thanks to his brain. He knew very well what he was about to remember.
The nightmare repeats itself every time.
He unconsciously let go of the glass he was holding. Knowing that was the cause he was remembering, knowing that's why a certain part of his shoulder was aching with a burning rage. He forcefully closed his mouth shut with force to prevent him from breathing through his mouth, which would lead to a bad case of hyperventilating, and usually, that didn't help out very much.
The single moment he opened his eyes, he looked down at his hand. Suddenly, it wasn't sweat the reason as to why it felt so wet. But his own, dark-red blood. He felt nauseous as every noise in the bar turned into pure, drowned, noises. Meaningless. But it wouldn't stay like that for long as all of the blocked-out noise slowly resembled his mother's shouting that day.
His whole body shivered in complete fear, just like it did back then. He was, to put it bluntly, hallucinating. He ran his sweaty, or well, bloody, hand down his right shoulder, eventually reaching his wrist area, his clothes felt damp, wet. And there was more hallucinative blood drawn, all relating to that day. He felt increasingly nervous and disgusting, sick, vile. The burn from his arm would feel as if it was pulsating.
All of this, combined with the unreal voices of his mother and tactile hallucinations, formed the increasing need to cry for Basil. His throat would sore out of him holding his tears in. He wiped the... Blood. On his pants. To reach for that glass of water. Or was it a doorknob? A doorknob to his room, the escape he rushed to that day to lock himself in and wait for his mother to go away.
Guess you could say this was an escape as well.
Basil reluctantly took a delicate sip of the water, most of the need to cry going down his throat with the liquid. He ultimately downed all of it. Trying to revert before the glass shattered, with red, wet hands.
He was still hearing voices, mainly from his mother's shouting. When he went up the stairs and into his room to hide from her.
Most of it was still drowned out. Just everything that happened merged and jumbled up.
"You're the biggest mistake of my life. I should have gotten an abortion, Basil." Basil, Basil, Basil, Basil...
"Um, Basil, you too." The familiar, friendly voice startled him, visible by his sudden small jump and turn.
Basil looked, normal. Tired, done with everything, as you would expect him to be. But he still looked... Scared. Evident in his body language and mannerisms.
Most of the hallucinations toned down as his focus tried to shift to the other brown-haired boy who also talked. Something about going to look for Mr. Yano with the other guy. He didn't notice he was near him at all, wow.
He nonverbally agreed to come along with a nod of his head. Alright. Can everything be ok now?
It seems so. The once-drowned crowd and music slowly came back to normal, but his hands still felt wet and guilty.
He sat there, looking like always, waiting for... Samantha? Sameth? To say if he was coming along.
He wasn't good with names.
But he pushed through it, class by class, hour by hour.
He sat down in his usual spot, fiddling around with his pencil as always, resting his head on his weak-ish right hand.
The ticking of the clock would make his ears ring and his head hurt. It was the same every time. Nothing changed about it, just routinely doing enough. Moving slowly until the cycle is complete. Afterward, it'll repeat it forever. That reminds him of something.
And he’s tired plenty of repeating the same, tedious point. He tried to think about… Well, what were his ‘friends’ talking about in the SDSCSCLERPE? (Ok, that’s an awful acronym.) Uhh… Alright, he might’ve been paying more attention to how darned tasty his burger was than the rather important things they were talking about. Basil snapped his fingers quietly as he skillfully multitasked. You know, he’s still in school. There’s not a lot of free time to think about other things. Ya gotta think about your own stuff while working.
He thought, he remembered. Just a little bit.
Something about what ties Mr. Yano with this 'Air' person. Air???? Alright. Some even theorized Mr. Yano had some sort of... Alter-ego, secret street life? Eh, that's boring. Imagine if, like, Mr. Yano was this alternate universe crime fighter, and one of the many mafias he needs to defeat caught onto his ordinary life? And what if Air was an alien? Haha, that would be cool. Yeah.
Yeah...
THUD!
His head slammed HARD on his desk-thing. He never really understood it, was it really a desk? Was the desk an illusion, a farce? Well, for all he knew, it was a pain in the ass. Or rather, the head.
It took him some time to realize why exactly did he just fall face-flat on the desk, ah. His unimaginable tiredness and exhaustion of living. Naturally. He quickly got his head back up and into the works.
He didn't bother to look around to see if anyone saw that head-slam into the desk. No one did, really. He'd already figured that out as he moved around his wrist. Clearly, his head slipped off it. Man, he hates it when that happens. Yes, it has happened before. I mean, he's dead and tired all the time, it was bound to be a frequent happening.
Abbot was quick to shake it off as just another mishappening, deciding that maybe for next time, he shouldn't rest his head on his right arm. Or you know, maybe for next time he should actually sleep the night(s) prior. Haha...
The sudden happening was a type of reboot for his mainframe. He remembered some stuff, but forgot others.
And this name - which he very well knew -crossed his head... Flanagan's. No, no. He had never gone there. No! But something about it made him think that he knew the place, despite never really going there. Basil had seen it occasionally when he took some walks to get a breather. He didn't feel like it was something special outside of a bar where Mr. Yano could be in. And also a fan full of jackasses. But he wasn't there to deal with those.
ENTER THE BAR, 'OH GOD, PLEASE NO.'
Alright. Yeah, he didn't really mind going to a bar. He wasn't drinking anything anyways, just there to sit down, get extra info on Mr. Yano, and leave. Just leave. Study groups don't usually get up to this... Hijinx... But, honestly? Anything more than staying in his decaying, rotting house. Plus, it would be interesting to find out what was up with Yano. He nervously scratched the back of his neck. Ok, ok. Breathe.
He didn't have to interact with anyone, he didn't have to talk or make eye contact. Just sit there and wait. Wait for someone in the study group to say 'hey ok time to go find Mr. Yano. Wait for the rest of the group to get in. Wait for... Wait- Where are they?
He turned his head around to see a good half of the group stuck outside, trying to get in. And, he wasn't going to lie, he chuckled a little at the unfortunate position of the rest of the group, a subtle smirk decorating his face. Wow, his mood was only getting better after seeing that someone is having it worse than him! That's healthy.
Abbot about now had mustered up enough comfort to feel as if this was a regular public space, like school, like a restaurant. Just another social space he can get through with no problem at all. Nope. Zero. Next to nothing.
Really! He even managed enough courage to kindly ask the bartender for... water... What? Were you hoping he'd buy alcohol? Like if he didn't know the... consequences of that.
Basil was genuinely surprised that things were going 'smoothly'. As smoothly as someone (Cough cough, Carin.) making a bit of an idiot of himself in public. Eh, he didn't really mind whatever anyone else did outside of finding Yano, but something he did mind was the sound right after he turned his head back. Right when he was about to take another sip of water.
CRASH!
The horrendous noise of multiple pieces of glass made him jump and tense out of sheer, raw terror.
Basil's heart skipped a beat, then two, then three, then four. A sharp and nearly inevitable pain traveled to his chest. He was so plain fearful of the noise he nearly had a heart attack, but his hand didn't move from the glass. He tried to stabilize his breathing through his nose, but only ended up breathing quickly and inefficiently, making the pain around his chest increase.
His eyes seemed to widen from their usual drowsy position. His hands tensed and shook the glass he was holding. He was currently terrified. Like, extremely. Basil's breathing exercises he had previously learned about weren't really the first thing he thought of when getting this scared, not like they were going to work right now, anyways.
His eyes darted around the place, trying to find something, anything that could distract him. He wasn't going through this again, he couldn't handle it. Especially not in a place like this. He felt cold and disgusting. Just like the sweat running down his tensed, shaking hands. Soon enough, the tensing of his hands became something unbearable, yet completely out of his control as his lower wrist area began to hurt from how much stress he put into his whole arm, his whole body.
There wasn't much to look at that could drift his mind away from remembering. His head seemed locked in his glass of water. He was tense, hardened in pure panic. He held his breath to prevent himself from hyperventilating and causing a scene, which would be the last option in his, usually organized, go-to list of things to do when he got anxious. Basil memorized most of it.
Take deep breaths, inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth.
Count the people in the room, if there are any.
Detail what you're seeing in your head.
Count to ten.
Such organized and helpful resource was everything but available to Abbot at this moment, the only thing he allowed himself to view was his shaking reflection in the glass of water. What a rotten, loathsome, and gruesome reflection it was. He felt absolutely insane, maybe it was because he had to, you know, breathe, and he was currently holding in his breath.
He let out a much-needed exhale, followed by a sharp inhale in a way to keep up with living as a normal human being who was just attending a bar and got too stressed out and scared by a noise.
When he tried closing his eyes as his reaction began to slow down, he felt as if he was back.
Back when he was 8.
Ten years ago.
He should've known better than to come to this stupid, awful place.
The smell of freshly poured wine arose to his senses.
It was artificial, a mere illusion thanks to his brain. He knew very well what he was about to remember.
The nightmare repeats itself every time.
He unconsciously let go of the glass he was holding. Knowing that was the cause he was remembering, knowing that's why a certain part of his shoulder was aching with a burning rage. He forcefully closed his mouth shut with force to prevent him from breathing through his mouth, which would lead to a bad case of hyperventilating, and usually, that didn't help out very much.
The single moment he opened his eyes, he looked down at his hand. Suddenly, it wasn't sweat the reason as to why it felt so wet. But his own, dark-red blood. He felt nauseous as every noise in the bar turned into pure, drowned, noises. Meaningless. But it wouldn't stay like that for long as all of the blocked-out noise slowly resembled his mother's shouting that day.
His whole body shivered in complete fear, just like it did back then. He was, to put it bluntly, hallucinating. He ran his sweaty, or well, bloody, hand down his right shoulder, eventually reaching his wrist area, his clothes felt damp, wet. And there was more hallucinative blood drawn, all relating to that day. He felt increasingly nervous and disgusting, sick, vile. The burn from his arm would feel as if it was pulsating.
All of this, combined with the unreal voices of his mother and tactile hallucinations, formed the increasing need to cry for Basil. His throat would sore out of him holding his tears in. He wiped the... Blood. On his pants. To reach for that glass of water. Or was it a doorknob? A doorknob to his room, the escape he rushed to that day to lock himself in and wait for his mother to go away.
Guess you could say this was an escape as well.
Basil reluctantly took a delicate sip of the water, most of the need to cry going down his throat with the liquid. He ultimately downed all of it. Trying to revert before the glass shattered, with red, wet hands.
He was still hearing voices, mainly from his mother's shouting. When he went up the stairs and into his room to hide from her.
Most of it was still drowned out. Just everything that happened merged and jumbled up.
"You're the biggest mistake of my life. I should have gotten an abortion, Basil." Basil, Basil, Basil, Basil...
"Um, Basil, you too." The familiar, friendly voice startled him, visible by his sudden small jump and turn.
Basil looked, normal. Tired, done with everything, as you would expect him to be. But he still looked... Scared. Evident in his body language and mannerisms.
Most of the hallucinations toned down as his focus tried to shift to the other brown-haired boy who also talked. Something about going to look for Mr. Yano with the other guy. He didn't notice he was near him at all, wow.
He nonverbally agreed to come along with a nod of his head. Alright. Can everything be ok now?
It seems so. The once-drowned crowd and music slowly came back to normal, but his hands still felt wet and guilty.
He sat there, looking like always, waiting for... Samantha? Sameth? To say if he was coming along.
He wasn't good with names.
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