fractalchaos

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established  11/9/2021,  tracking fractalchaos,  loved by panda,  25+,  pst.

featuring muses from star wars, the raven cycle, prison break, law & order, pitch black, the umbrella academy & original characters.  ​​

💯  -  for a confession to stroke an ego. —  @fractalchaos·  ( hayden ) 

somewhere   between   jersey   and   home   andy   had   lost   her   phone   beneath   the   seat   of   the   car.      it   had   been   tipping   just   past   3   a.m.,      the   lights   of   the   bridge   a   brilliant   blur   through   the   window.      she’d   been   indulging   in   a   little   too   much   wine   at   dinner   with   grandpa   howard,      as   was   often   the   case   when   visiting   her   italian   family   in   law.      the   point   being   was,   that   when   her   lovely   fiancé   helped   her   upstairs,      the   phone   was   left   behind.      basically   casting   her   into   the   sea   with   no   life   preserver.      not   to   sound   overly   dramatic.      it   wasn’t   until   she’d   been   stripped   down   and   put   to   bed,      hayden   retreating   to   the   office   to   make   music   or   look   at   numbers,      that   she   realized   her   mistake.      nearly   too   late.

❝   babe?   ❞      she   hazards   a   small   shout,      hating   the   whine   of   it,      but   hoping   he   wasn’t   lost   in   headphone   land   just   yet.      ❝   hay-bear?   ❞      there’s   a   moment   where   she   nearly   loses   faith   she   won’t   have   to   get   up,      then   he   appears   with   a   curious   expression.      head   tilting   to   the   side   in   a   cascade   of   brunette   curls   to   meet   her   eyes   where   she   lay   with   her   face   half-buried   in   her   pillow.      ❝   let   me   start   by   saying   that   you   are,      by   far,      the   most   handsome,      talented,      charming,      um   like   the   best   overall   of   everything   ever,   ❞      so   maybe   she   was   laying   it   on   a   little   thick   and   giving   him   her   most   pathetic   look,      but   it   felt   right.      ❝   …      and   i   may   have   accidentally   dropped   my   phone   in   the   car…      and   i   may   have   then   forgot   about   it…      will   you   pretty   pretty   please   go   get   it   for   me?   ❞

          there  is  no  greater  pleasure  than  an  early  morning  drive  home  after  a  long  night  with  hayden’s  family  –especially  with  andy  by  his  side.  the  smile  doesn’t  leave  hayden’s  face  as  he  navigates  the  familiar  route  home;  the  images  of  the  love  of  his  life  blending  seamlessly  with  his  family  as  if  sewn  by  fate  buzz  in  his  head.  of  course  his  grandpa  supplied  a  little  too  much  red  to  his  fiancee,  the  evidence  is  her  rosey  blush  and  goofy  smile.  andy’s  pretty  much  in  dreamland  by  the  time  hayden  parks  and  he  jogs  to  the  passenger  side  to  scoop  her  up  into  his  arms,  practicing  for  their  first  night  as  newlyweds.  

—   cautiously.             your  teeth  are  bared,  as  they  have  been,  your  jaw  aching  for  so  long  as  growls  slip  free.  you  always  have  to  defend  yourself.  you  lash  out  in  fear.  you  need  someone  who  does  not  shrink  back...  a  hand  falling  slowly  to  your  shoulder,  however  briefly,  in  a  reminder  that  you  do  not  have  to  lunge.  there  is  no  danger  here,  now.

the   crime   scene   tape   is   more   of   a   suggestion   than   it   is   a   hard   and   fast   rule,      although   the   bright   yellow   plastic   and   the   rather   direct   ‘   DO   NOT   CROSS   ‘   left   little   room   for   an   excuse   as   daphne   bent   under   it   and   tip-toed   closer   to   her   point   of   interest.      precariously   navigating   down   a   steep   and   muddy   hill,      quietly   musing   over   the   fact   that   her   bright   purple   jimmy   choo’s   would   need   immediate   therapy   when   she   returned   home,      her   attention   is   trained   towards   something   in   the   distance   that   has   caught   her   eye      …      and   not   the   fact   that   @fractalchaos   is   walking   down   the   hill   after   her.

the   sound   of   his   movements   prompts   her   to   turn   and   look   over   her   shoulder,      a   sudden   shift   in   weight   that   causes   her   to   lose   her   footing   until   she   is   flailing   and   reaching   out   for   something   to   desperately   grab   onto      -      she   found   him,      or   perhaps   he   found   her,      but   daphne   was   grateful   for   the   fact   that   she   was   saved   from   a   horrendous   dry   cleaning   bill.      ❝      why   are   you   sneaking   up   on   people      ?      jesus      !      ❞

            wide  eyes  watch  as  the  auburn  haired  trespasser  slips  in  the  thick  muck  under  their  feet.  luckily  for  her,  spencer  is  close  enough  to  be  used  for  stabilization.  luckily  for  spencer,  he  does  not  lose  his  balance  when  her  hands  find  their  purchase  on  his  shoulders.  she  is  technically  a  stranger,  definitely  not  allowed  across  the  yellow  tape,  and  spencer  is  pretty  sure  she’s  the  one  sneaking  into  a  crime  scene.  his  team  was  invited  in  by  the  local  police  department.  

❝      —      i   know      it’s   hard   to   turn   it   off      when   you   feel   like   you’re   close   to   something   @fractalchaos​,   ❞      hotch   pinches   the   bridge   of   his   nose   as   he   cradles   the   phone   between   ear   and   shoulder,      eyes   blinking   at   the   clock   on   his   desk.      the   hypocrisy   of   still   being   in   the   office      well   after   midnight   wasn’t   lost   on   him.      ❝   but   we   have   a   briefing   at   0900   and   you   need   to   get   some   rest.   ❞   //   sc.   

          it’s  before  dawn  and  dr.  spencer  reid  sits  surrounded  by  open  files  –notes  on  paper  and  the  graphic  images  of  unsolved  murders  keep  his  mind  occupied.  sleep  tugs  at  the  corners  of  spencer’s  eyes,  a  mess  of  hair  spills  across  his  face,  and  his  shoulders  slump.  it’s  the  in  between  state  of  sleep  and  awake  when  the  young  profiler  is  snapped  back  to  the  land  of  the  living,  "there's  more  than  one  unsub!"  it  takes  some  time  for  his  arms  and  legs  to  obey  command,  but  he  makes  it  to  the  phone  to  dial  the  only  other  member  of  the  team  that  would  still  be  working  at  this  hour.  

❛   i’m   tired   of   dying.   ❜

neck   protrudes   forward   before   ben   does,      silent   in   the   way   that   he   shifts   in   his   chair   so   that   he   can   see   klaus   more   clearly      -      silent   in   everything   that   he   is   now   that   he   has   supposedly   given   up   the   ghost   but   still   clings   to   this   life.      tender   eyes   are   incredulous,      brows   furrowing   into   a   narrow   squint   as   he   watches   @fractalchaos   descend   into   some   pitying   madness   all   while   the   dead   have   to   look   on,      pretending   to   sympathize   with   the   living   and   how   much   of   a   burden   it   seem   to   be   for   them.

❝      are   you   kidding   me      ?!      ❞      

ben   is   not   incensed   towards   offense   but   it   is   sanctimonious      -      to   balk   at   some   smaller   deaths   for   the   inconvenience   they   pose   rather   than   they   gift   they   truly   are.      ❝      you   know   what   i’m   tired   of,      klaus      ?      listening   to   you   whine   about   every   little   thing   that   goes   wrong   in   your   life   when   you      -      you   are   the   one   that   messes   it   all   up   for   yourself.      ❞

he   sits   back   onto   the   chair   roughly   and   grumbles   over   the   lack   of   noise      ;      ben   takes   up   no   space,      produces   no   sound   to   any   but   his   brother   while   all   he   wants   is   for   the   world   to   hear   him   rage.      ❝      don’t   insult   me.      ❞

     there  is  truth  in  ben’s  words  –klaus  can  admit  he  throws  a  grand  pity  party,  but  is  being  alive  so  great?  the  memories  of  haunted  mausoleums  plague  him  still.  drugs  and  alcohol  are  a  temporary  barrier  from  the  ghosts  and  klaus's  supply  has  run  out.

      is  klaus  selfish  for  wishing  to  join  his  brother  on  the  other  side?  is  the  instinct  to  drown  out  the  suffering  of  the  dead  a  waste  of  his  so-called  gift?  suddenly,  klaus  is  standing  on  his  feet,  turning  his  focus  toward  the  chair  in  which  ben  chooses  to  occupy.  “there  is  no  jest  in  my  lament,    brother.”  long  fingers  find  their  grasp  in  dark  curls  and  the  pounding  in  klaus’s  head  is  a  true  sign  of  his  encroaching  sobriety.

❝      i   know   that   you   don’t   know   me,      and   you probably have   no   reason   to   trust   me   but   i   want   to   help   you.      you   just   have   to   let   me.      ❞

@fractalchaos··   /   mini  sc.

it’s   clear   within   a   moment   that   the   injured   man      doesn’t   understand   the   flapping   of   her   hands      and   she   ducks   her   head   to   look   up   and   down   the   street.      explosions   rocked   the   ground   from   a   distance,      the   rumble   traveling   up   through   her   bones.      she’s   quick   to   crouch   at   his   side   and   observe   the   way   movement   creases   his   features   with   pain.      the   effort   taking   a   visible   toll.         she      knows   the   curse   on   his   lips      when   she   sees   the   familiar   shape   of   his   mouth.      she   knows   his   expression   for   one   of   question,      though   she   doesn’t   recognize   those   next   words.      frustration   plagues   her,      if   only   because   of   the   ticking   clock   of   danger   breathing   at   their   collar.      she   makes   a   gesture   between   them,      reverting   to      the   universal   language   of   charades.         you   and   me.      next   she   points   to   a   building   standing   behind   them.      desolate   on   the   other   side   of   a   wide   street,      they   needed   to   get   to   cover.      those   things   were   everywhere.