umbrellajackassery | Dimensional Bullshit

Entry tags:

Dimensional Bullshit

He had been dead for over a decade now. Dead and gone for everyone but Klaus. Poor Klaus had to deal with his nagging and constant puttering around for so long.

When it had happened, when he died, they were all on mission. It was messy. Real messy. he had tried something new in the middle of a fight. Tried to summon something new from under his skin. It worked, but it was disgusting. Tentacles and teeth, eyes and multiple jaws that seemed to burst out of him so swiftly that it seemed to make him bleed. He screamed as it happened, hands out to the side in fists, yelling in actual pain and not strain of control.

Father had been encouraging him to call forth more powerful creatures, but Father also got a look on his face that he was going to be sick anytime they trained together. He pushed, but he pushed from the other side of a training room. A large steel room that Ben was locked away in with a window and a speaker so they could talk. "Again, six." he'd say, causing Ben to try again. Try harder. He wanted to make the man proud of him.

Training sometimes consisted of hanging pig carcasses from the local butchers place, projecting the tentacles or other things on them, and attacking them with control. Sometimes he'd just beat them up, like a boxing bag, other times they burst through the carcass and make a mess of things. Generally by the time they were done he was covered in muck, tired, in mild pain, and the pic carcasses were all missing. He'd always return to his room worn out and smelling like rancid bacon before crawling off to try and take over the bath tub for a while.

But this mission? It was bad. he had summoned something too big for him to control. Something that didn't want to be controlled. In the fight he nearly attacked his own siblings. He could feel the creature pulling at him, yanking him along the floor, losing complete control over everything. The eldritch horror rampaged for some time, taking out all the bad guys, as well as a few innocents. By time he was stopped and done, the creature had wrapped itself around Ben. Had taken hold of his body and squeezed. Ben was crying, unable to stop it. Crying for the people he had killed, Crying for the siblings he had hurt and that had to be carted away by Luther. Crying because it hurt. It hurt a lot.

And then his arm pinched in the wrong way. His leg cracked as it was pulled in wrong. He screamed, body shaking as the beast tried to return inside. except as it returned inside, it took Ben with it. With a yell, his bod broke, seeming to disappear inside itself. Gone.

For years he couldn't seem to remember how he died, just that he was dead. And Klaus didn't want to talk about it. He couldn't blame him. So he haunted Klaus, seeming to live by different rules than other ghosts. When Klaus was too high to notice him, he felt sleepy and groggy, but he was there to see his brother doing dumb things. When he was sober he hung around, bored and wanting to do things. He didn't disappear like normal ghosts.

And then the apocalypse happened.

When Five tried to take them all back in time, he managed to take them back to just after Father passed away. the wavering between youth and age effected everyone, but they all ended up the proper age and proper time. It did however five Five a flicker of where Ben was. Ben wasn't DEAD. He was trapped. Trapped in a dimension between living and the eldritch horror show that he once could summon.

When Five managed to bring him back, Ben was returned, at the same age as everyone else, tired, lost, full of aches and pains, but alive again. Alive and breathing, home once more. Able to breath real air, hug any of his siblings he wanted, and eat anything. And he was going to try out everything he couldn't try before. Be it with his siblings or on his own. He was going to live life to the fullest, even if that meant pigging out or being reckless.

[This post is open to any era of Ben's 'life'. Training. Battles and missions. THAT mission where he died. For a Five or someone to pull him back, or simply for reunion times with their long lost brother. Multi threads and Multi siblings welcome. Threadjacking welcome. Backtagging welcome. Do your best!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The worst part of this is it suddenly feels like losing Ben a second time. Much less brutal than the first, maybe, but a kind of loss all the same. Or a confirmation on the already existing assumption, at least. Still, he hates it and the accompanying overwhelming feeling of it all.

He hears Ben talking, and it's like ice shooting down his spine. Not a ghost thing, really, just an emotional kneejerk reaction to hearing the voice of your dead-dead-dead brother speak suddenly after somewhere in the ballpark of a year of not managing to get his attention even when you tried.

"Yeah..." His voice breaks halfway through that single-worded answer, not quite up to talking, but unable to refuse Ben anything any more now than he could have when they were kids. He slowly lowers his hands, but only to loop them around his knees, which stay firmly in place against his chest as he stares up at the very in-tact specter in front of him. "You guys aren't usually so... whole, though." That's kind of weird, isn't it?

This was just strange for him too. It didn't feel like a year ago, but then again he can't remember how he died, and there is a lot of fuzz going on in his bring. He runs his hands down his body, looking for problems, but there are none.

That was strange, right?

But oh. Oh! He was dead. Oh god. Okay, yeah. That explained a few things, he supposed. He moved, lowering himself to his knees and shins, sitting before Klaus and staring at him. "What do you mean? More whole?" He asked, looking down at himself. "Shouldn't I be like this?" Then, fainter "How'd I die?" And then even softer. "Oh god, I died..."

he reached a hand out to Klaus' knee, but it went right though, making him jerk it back away again.

"I dunno-- usually, um- well, usually, there's, like--" Oh, god, he can't make the words work in his mouth. Ben is here. Ben is here. BenishereBenishereBenishere. Which means he's dead. Deaddeaddeaddead. "Oh, fuck." He barely breathes the words out, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

But Ben's hand slides through his knee and it's a sudden fizz-snap! of cold that shoots through his body, which causes a shudder that's as much body-felt as a weird, shaky sound heard out of his mouth. "Jesusfuck, don't do that." He snaps, though there's no real heat in it. Because Ben is new at this and how could he know? Not Ben's fault he just found out he's dead.

And suddenly, he's a flurry of movement, untangling himself and pushing to his feet. He abandons his brother where he sits and goes into the kitchen of the apartment, flinging cabinet, fridge and freezer doors open left and right until he finds-- "A-ha. I knew you wouldn't fail me, Jack." He pours a sloppy mess that amounts to something near a double shot of vodka in what seems to actually be a coffee mug, and downs it all at once.

Just a little something to calm the nerves. Not like he was going to go for a full-blackout at not-even-10am. Plus. Ben. is. here. Ben has never been here and he's still really freaking out.

"I've- I've never seen people I know when the- the dead come'a callin', you know? It's kinda freaking me out." At least it's honest. "But I'm good." He says, moving back into the living room with the vodka bottle firmly gripped in one hand, dropping back down onto the couch, pressing his back firmly into the corner of it, eyes still unwaveringly set on his brother still crouched on the floor. "What I was saying was, uh-- usually... there's signs, you know, of the death the person suffered, visible on the ghost version. You just- you look...the same as I remember."

Edited 2019-03-17 03:20 (UTC)

The hand going through the others knee felt weird to him too. Like when he passed through him for the hug. It felt wrong. Strange. His hand had jerked back and as the other snapped at him to not do that he found himself apologizing. "Sorry..."

And then he felt like his heart fell in his chest. And he didn't even have a heart beat anymore. There was a coldness that ran through his belly though and he found himself crouched there, looking at how fast Klaus moved. How he practically ran away. He felt abandoned for a moment, but also... was this how all the ghosts felt around Klaus? When he didn't want to talk to them? Did they feel left alone? Cold?

God it was so cold here.

He stayed where he was, trying to get used to this feeling. He was dead. Oh god, he was dead. Klaus was back, with booze, and trying to explain. Ben moved, standing again, turning to look at Klaus where he sat. There were signs of a persons suffering, but Ben looked fine.

Then how did he die? he blinked, a hand coming to his head, rubbing at it. "I don't... remember dying. What happened? When? Did I just die in my sleep or... no, that's not right. We were on a mission, right?" his hands ran down his body again, checking it out. "What happened?"

He might have told him not to worry about it another time, but, well. Right now, Klaus is freaking the entire fuck out. The whole world's on a weird tilt and he doesn't know that it'll ever get righted again.

He holds the vodka in the space between his legs, which he's pulled up under him in a criss-cross style. Somehow, every word that rolls out of Ben's mouth is worse than the last. Harder to swallow than every one before it. "What hap-- huh- oh, god. No. Nononono, you can't- you can't make me do this, Ben, please..." He tries really hard to not remember it, to block the memory out of his mind. He relives it enough in nightmares, he'd rather stay away from it during his awake hours, thanks.

On some level, there's a tug of guilt somewhere deep in his chest. This is stupid. He's an idiot. Managing, somehow, to make this about him, ignoring the needs of the other person in the room. It's selfish as all fuck, and he might feel worse about it if he thought about it for more than half a second.

But as it is, right now, all he's seeing is his brother asking him to relive one of the worst days of his life.

He was scared. That was the first feeling that hit him. Or, the second only after confused. Should the dead feel fear? That seemed stupid. Pointless. But then again that might be why they screamed at Klaus so much. They were scared. They were dead and they were ws cared. Was that it? Shouldn't he feel at peace or some shit?

There was a weight on his chest. Should the dead FEEL a weight? A pressure pushing at him. Should that happen? Why? Klaus was going on, telling him no. Don't make him say it. Jesus, what happened? He felt himself take a swifter breath. ghosts shouldn't have to breath, right? He felt himself hyperventilate a bit. Moving to take a seat on the floor where he stood. He sat there with a silent plop, hands coming to his face and hiding it.

"Oh god." he said pathetically. 'How long have I been gone?" he asked through tightened vocals. He was trying not to cry, and failing. Hiding it behind his hands. there was no sound of breath, but it was clear he was trying hard to breath, or get that under control. He didn't need to breath though, but he was trying, and failing.

Klaus wasn't the only one having a freak out.

Klaus can't take his eyes off his brother as he just sits here on the couch, seemingly frozen and rooted where he is. His chest is tight and his head is swimming and he wishes he could make all of this stop right now. He's watching as reality so very slowly starts sinking into Ben's senses. He's dead. He's Dead and it's killing something inside of Klaus to watch that realization play across his face. Confusion. Fear. Panic. It's all so intimately familiar in ways Klaus doesn't want to count or face at all.

More than anything, he hates being the person that had to make Ben know this. Feel this. All of it. He takes a swig from the bottle of vodka before setting it down in its spot again.

"I'm sorry..." he whispers, the broken way he feels about this slipping through those two words. "About a year, give or take..." He shrugs one shoulder. "It feels like forever... God, I miss you so much, Ben. You have no idea." He shakes his head and swipes one hand under both of his eyes.

It's a lot to take in. A lot all at once. For Klaus it's been a year, but for Ben it didn't feel like that. It felt like he was there and then he wasn't. There was a lot of pain and pressure and then there was this. he had no concept of time suddenly.

Gruffly, he rubbed at his eyes, mad at himself for crying. Why was he crying? He wasn't a baby. He sniffed, trying to clear his eyes, but they kept welling with water. HOW the fuck can a ghost CRY? Why was it like this? How did he DIE?

He balled up in on himself a bit more, forehead to his knees and his elbows on either side, hands reaching behind his head, just hiding there for a moment. Ben had always followed Diego in the art of trying not to cry because it made you look like a baby, but he pretty much failed every time.

"A... A year." He repeated into his knees. His hands pulled his hoodie up over his head and held on tightly, hiding in it. "I don't remember any of it. This can't be happening. It can't." He said in a muffled tone. He wanted to say he missed the other too, but he barely noticed he had been gone. And it hurt. He lost so much time.

"You don't remember dying?" Klaus isn't shy about the way his voice shakes, or how scared he is. This is all new territory he hasn't exactly been faced with. He is also pretty sure their emotions are feeding off of each other, because right now they practically look like mirrors of each other. The only difference is, Ben is only just now coming to realize this, and Klaus has had a little longer to adjust. Not that having that time makes Ben suddenly being here again any easier to wrap his head around.

"Did you ever-- did you ever hear me or... get some kind of feeling or- or anything at all?" Klaus doesn't really know where the ghosts go when they aren't with him, but he supposes he must call them away from wherever that place is to where he is when he conjures them. But he doesn't know as much as he should about his power, so it's mostly just a lot of guesses and speculation on Klaus' part.

Oh yeah, their emotions are feeding off each other. Ben might have held it together a bit better if Klaus wasn't freaking out. It's like when one baby cries, the other has to as well, and god Ben felt terrible. He was dead and he had no idea how.

"I, I don't remember anything. One moment I was there on a mission with you all. I called something to fight for us, and then I was pushing through a wall of gray to fall into here and find you eating cereal."

That wasn't all true. He did remember the pain. There was a lot of it. He raised his head, eyes staring past his knees. "I remember hurting. Like the world was underwater. Pressure. It hurt a lot. I remember screaming, but I don't remember hearing you. I don't think I heard you at all. N-nothing." he stuttered softly, looking from his human shaped ball self to the other, stressing out about this.

"I just went from there to here. the hurting stopped. I saw you. That was it."

Klaus wishes he could reign it all in, if nothing else, for Ben's sake, but he's never been particularly good at that. And the drugs probably didn't help whatever minuscule control he'd ever managed to have on his emotions at all. But dammit if it he doesn't try, for his brother's sake. He can at least act like he has his shit together for five minutes, right?

He takes a quick swig from the bottle of vodka before setting it down on the coffee table, making some show with his hands, which start as flat palms toward himself before pulling into a loose, half-closed shape. Like an outward, physical representation of him shoving his dramatics back into a box. Or something.

Deep breath. In. Out.
Ben was always there for him when he was alive.
He can do this for him.

"Okay, um- yeah. Yeah. Yeah, there was a mission and it went super sideways, super fast. The-- uh-- whatever it was, that you called for help kind of...lost its shit in the fight and..." Oh, God. The memory is so perfectly clear in his head, in ways things never are any more because his head is never perfectly clear anymore. It makes his chest tighten and he pauses for a second, fingers curling in, nails biting against his palm. "It was like it turned on you, or-- I don't know. Maybe it didn't like the control you had over it. I don't know, but..." He can't stop the tears from making his eyes shine too bright as he recounts what was one of the worst days of his life. "when it was done, you were just-- gone. There was- there was never any sign of you... I-I... I always hoped maybe it meant you weren't dead."

A hope which kind of dashed entirely when he showed up the way he had.

He's trying. He's trying to calm down but it's hard. It's like everything just caved in on him at once, even if it had been a YEAR since it happened. It was like Klaus was playing a mean joke on him, except that the fact he was clearly a ghost made that impossible.

He ran his hands through his hair, tugging a bit and... paused, looking up at Klaus as he tried to tell him what happened.

He sat up a bit, his hands dropping down to his belly and frowning, arms sliding around to tighten a bit there, as if to hold back anything that might want out. He could still feel them there. Different now, but still there.

"I-I'm sorry." he said, to that. To all of that. To having him retell it. To having died on him. to haunting him now. All of it. He pressed his hands into his head a bit, elbows on his knees, and trying to compress it all into his brain.

"I just... I don't remember any of it. I don't--I can't believe I don't remember this. Dad always wanted me to summon something more. I guess he got his wish. I just... Oh god. I..." He tried for another breath, trying to stay calm. Klaus was trying, so he would try too. "I'm sorry..."

"What? N- nonono. Don't-- don't apologize, it's not- it's not your fault, Ben." He's scrambling to his feet, only to go down to his knees in front of him again. He tries to grab Ben's hand and tangle their fingers together, this sudden, desperate need to comfort him the way they always had done for each other as kids taking over all logic and sense in his brain. It didn't work, of course. Klaus' hand passed straight through Ben's. "Dammit." he mutters quietly, sitting back on his knees. He can't even be useful enough to comfort his brother.

"It's not, though. Okay?" he keeps his voice calm and quiet, even if he's still fidgeting a little, his hands in his lap, not sure what to do with them since he can't even touch Ben. "Don't blame yourself." A beat. And then quieter, more pleading this time. "Please..."

His hands are tight in his hair and he's watching the other. Apologizing seemed like the right thing to do. The last thing Klaus needed was another damn Ghost hanging around. Especially one of his brother.

As Klaus moved to try and touch him, he moved to do so as well, and frowned as they passed through each other. This was discouraging. How did ghosts manage at all?

"I should have been in more control. This wouldn't have happened if I just did what I normally did. If I had better control, right?" He'd been trying to do what Father wanted, and that backfired, badly, didn't it? That's all he could think it was.

"I don't even know how I'm here. Is this how Ghosts attract to you? They just show up?" He felt helpless over this. Now what? Did he talk to Klaus and pass out? Did he hang around? How did this work?

That's where their opinions on this fact differ, just a little. Maybe Klaus doesn't need yet another ghost hanging around, but at least this one is his brother. At least this one is someone he knows. Someone he likes. Someone he trusts. Present-tense because he's here, and not as gone as he was for the last year, and it makes Klaus feel a little better than all the 'Ben was''s that happened for the last handful of months. On the rare occasions he could manage to talk about him at all, anyway.

"No... Dad shouldn't have pushed you to do something you weren't ready for. This- your-- it's his fault." Wasn't it so much easier to just blame Reginald for anything that ever went wrong in their lives? Truth told, most of the time it was just the truth.

"Kind of?" He shrugs, "Mostly, they just scream at me, and look like death, so you know--" A vague motion toward Ben. "Clearly a step up, here." At least Ben didn't look the way Klaus last remembered seeing him, twisted up in ways a human body is never meant to be. He's not sure he could do this if he had the evidence of his death with him.

Yeah, well... well... okay. You got your brother as a ghost. He still was going to feel badly about it at some point. Like now. And a bit later. You know, guilt for being there when he knows the other doesn't want to deal with ghosts. And the worst part? There was still going to be 'Ben was' comments made, because none of the others could see him there. Just Klaus.

"I should have been able to handle it." He protested softly, starting to relax a bit on his grip and how he was seated. Oh god, he was really dead. "I can't blame him for this." Oh but he should, and maybe he would later.

He relaxed more, now just staring at his brother. He felt sick but couldn't do anything about it. He felt so strange. "I don't understand. Why am I different? Does it normally take a year for ghosts? To, I don't know, be known?" Klaus, why don't you know how this works?

He's glad that Ben is relaxing more, it helps him relax some too. Marginally, at best, because he keeps asking questions that Klaus doesn't actually have answers to. Even though he should. He should know all of this, and so much more.

"Pumping your body full of poison again, I see."
"Such a waste of potential."

"What are you afraid of, the dark?"
"You are my greatest disappointment, Number Four."

Klaus drags both hands through his hair, fingers tangling between messy strands, half-doubled-over his knees, letting out a groan that is frustrated and self-loathing and disappointed--

--but it's all over in the smallest handful of seconds, hands back in his lap, eyes on his brother in front of him, and everything about him calm. That eerie kind of calm he used to get after training sessions with Dad.

"I- I... I don't know, Ben. Um.." His gaze drops. His fingers get fidgety again. "I haven't, uh- gotten- gotten any better at..." One hand lifts and waves in a slow circle. "any of this." He looks back up, a smile on his lips that has no humor or brightness in it at all and is only a sad echo of what a smile is supposed to be. "It's, uh-" he clears his throat. "It's been a... hard year. After you-- I mean, I just--" That smile comes back and he shrugs and spreads his hands, which almost immediately fall back into his lap.

And that's where the explanation ends.

Like that's any kind of explanation at all.

Surprise, Ben. You died.
Surprise, Ben. Your brother is still a fuck up.
Ya-ay?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dimensional Bullshit

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject