Oh Noâź
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Oh Noâź

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Forgetting
NaNo continuation but also a decent standalone piece.
TW: dehumanisation in process; drugging and needles mention.
The subject woke to the bright light being shined in his eyes. He ccouldnât see anything but the light, white and pulsing agony on sensitive pupils, blown wide from days in the dark. They watered, stinging as they tried to protect him from the pain. He blinked, and saw only the red of eyelids pierced by the lamp.
âWake up,â a voice came through the ringing in his ears, the pain of silence pressing into his eardrums. âWake up.â
His head throbbed with an unsteady beat, and he shook it slowly. His mouth was stuffed with cotton and just as heavy. He didnât want to wake up.
âNod if you understand me.â
Nod? He nodded. He could do that. It tipped him along the edge of dizziness, but not quite over. The room teetered, and settled again.
âGood. Nod if you know your name.â
His... name? No, he didnât â was he supposed to have a name? Everyone had a name, didnât they?
He shook his head.
PAUL LAURITZ (1889-1975 )
"The Evening Hour, Sierra Madre, California" Oil on canvas 24.25" H x 30.25" WÂ
I won an auction last week and it is now up on the blog! Head over to the blog to read the story behind this lamp. #septemberedithome (link in story) _ #lauritz #auction #boughtonauction #vintagelamp #nordiskehjem #mittnordiskehjem #boligindretning #boliginspiration #instahome #interiÜr #bolig #interiør #inredning #interiørmagasinet #indretning #nordichome #weekend_inspo #bedroominspiration #myminimalhome #theperfectsimple #thesimpleeveryday (at Copenhagen) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0eAeGLnEp6/?igshid=1vhab341a8ufw
pride sketch from '22 :]

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Lauritz
TW: addiction (beginning of italics section, skippable).
The thing crackles when it comes on. The crackle fizzes against his head, as if he can feel it before it touches his skin. He feels like perhaps he can. Thereâs a current running through him, an electric fear that exposes every nerve like sparking wires. His skin feels like itâs ready to jump off his bones and run. He wishes he could follow. He wishes...
Then the pain comes, flashing across him and whiting out his thoughts with a harsh jolt.
Silence, and he catches his breath, trying to blink through the haze. His ears are ringing. Something twitches, he isnât sure where it is. He closes his eyes, opens his eyes, tries to look around, but there are only white patches.
The crackle comes on again, and Lauritz remembers to close his teeth together so he doesnât bite his tongue. He doesnât know how he knows to, but the thought--
Disappears from his head with the jab of the electricity again against his shoulder, sending a spasm like an earthquake through his bad arm and down into his muscles, and this time he screams, hoarse and half-voiced, breaking up into a static gurgle as the - cattle prod? As it pulls away.
Oxygen pulls into his lungs painfully, dragged in down a throat that burns. Heâs tired already. Itâs only been two. Thereâs going to be ten.
âPle...â he tries, but the word croaks into nothingness, and pain shears over him in response, pulling his body out of his control. He jerks in the chains, rattling them above his head. His hands are shaking. âPl...se...â
The crackle and the stab of pain rocketing across him, and his voice wheezes out in a failed cry. The pain stops, then starts again, moments later, and he seizes up, yanking on the manacles and trying to force his voice into motion. Itâs like a nightmare, unable to scream, unable to move, body twitching out of his control even after the shock has stopped, and his voice wonât come out, and his breaths are just wisps of air.
He feels like he swallowed a sword of flame and he knows there are still four to go.
The skin is numb when it hits him again, but the wires that run through his skin are no less potent, like poison in his veins. He gasps for breath when it finally stops, and even that barely makes a rasp. This is how he lost his voice, he realises distantly, until the thought is wiped out by the agony.
Two...One left? Only one left, he thinks.
He screams. His body is aflame. His throat vents pain and it only comes back stronger.
Heâs done, heâs done, that was ten--
Body dissolves into white flame. He canât stop shivering. Was it not ten? Were there more? Please, heâs had enough, he needs it to stop--
Please. He canât do this. The time between them is blurring. The pain isnât stopping. His chest is locked up and he canât breathe--
He canât take it, he canât, he canât, stop, please, stop, stop--
Tears stream down Lauritzâs face as his body twitches and shudders like a dying flame, sputtering out, and he canât find where the air is and he canât hear anything but the ringing, singing ears and a voice, faint, âStop, stop it!â
But thereâs nobody here but him and the scientists and they never listen when he begs them, they never--
His body combusts and when it fades, he shudders. Heâs a man made of ash. He heaves in a single, thin breath, and feels the pounding in his head slow just slightly. He blinks, white and grey static giving way to a twist of shadows. Where is he?
âLeave him alone, he hasnât done anything!â
But the rat has done so many things, so many evil things, and he had to be punished for who he used to be.
Rain. Itâs Rain, on their chair, fists clenched and glaring angrily at Alfonse, standing over him with the silenced weapon in his hand. No more crackles. Itâs over.
Werenât they going to pretend not to care?
âHeâs done plenty,â Alfonse says, his husky bass sending a shiver right through Lauritzâs bones - or is that the aftershocks? âYou know very well what heâs done. And heâs done much more than you were there for, of course. Heâs not a redeemable man.â
âHeâs not even the same man,â Rain says. âHeâs different. You scrubbed out who he was and now heâs just - a gullible idiot. Itâs like watching you experiment on a rat.â
Lauritz looked down. A rat. Yes... He knew. They still thought of him that way.
Alfonse was unmoved. The crackle came on again, and Lauritz tensed with a whimper, only to be rebutted by the manâs laugh. âHe was a lab rat, you know. We didnât know if the procedure would work. But he made a good test subject - nobody to miss him - and the results were better than weâd hoped. He was stupid afterwards, of course... But that wasnât a detriment at all.â
Rain doesnât object that heâs stupid. He must be, if they think so. Or maybe everyone is stupid compared to them. Instead they breathe steadily, still blindfolded but appearing more relaxed than ever. âSo why shock him now? Hoping heâll forget me?â
Alfonse laughs again, louder, and Lauritz feels himself shrink as it bounces across the walls. âNo.â
Without warning, hot metal stabs against Lauritzâs back and pain lasers across his body. He screams, and screams louder when it doesnât stop, and screams again as something vast and lightless opens inside his head and he knows, deeper than he knows his own name, that heâs been here before.
The shock stops but the empty space does not go away. He canât close a door on it like he did before. And itâs growing.
NaNo 4
The hatch opened, bringing light and a wash of fresher air, and it was the other one. Rain. He stayed curled up, protecting his ribs, which were aching. Not as badly as his nose, granted, but that was a constant throb every time he moved his head. There wasnât much he could do about that.
The stranger climbed up and looked at him, a green bag in their hand. The expression of their face was difficult to read, neutral but heavily focused. They crouched down opposite him, and set about unpacking the bag.
As the man watched, they pulled out bandages, antiseptic in a brown bottle, a tub of cotton buds and gauze. After a rummage, they produced something else, little sticks.
âSplints,â they explained, meeting his gaze. âFor your nose. Itâs broken. Straighten out for me, let me see your ribs.â
Tentatively, he pushed his legs out flat, slouching forwards without his hands to support him. Rain approached, hands reaching â and then paused. Swallowed.
âI need to see underneath your shirt.â
He nodded.
âDonât...â They hesitated. âHold still, alright? Otherwise Iâm leaving.â
NaNo 2
Kala was pacing up and down the kitchen in front of the range. Sheâd always been a pacing kind of person. Rain could remember her revising with them in college, up and down the living room while she tried to recite dates for their history course.
Now, she was pacing over the tiled floor because she was triggered, and trying to hold off a flashback. It was something she did often, when the spectres came back and she went quiet and tense and angry. She paced, working out the energy, forcing her body to produce endorphins for exercise and grounding herself with the hard press of the floor against her feet. Five paces from the coffee machine to the back door. Five paces from the back door to the coffee machine. Her fists were tight and swinging in the air with each stride.
Rain didnât watch. Itâd be the same as watching a pendulum. There was no point. They sat at the table, cardigan pulled around their shoulders, with their cup of tea between their hands. Chai was good for the mood today. Spicy, warm, and something homely too.
Kala had locked him in the attic, but didnât know what to do about it.
Rain knew.
âItâs fucking illegal, but he deserves it, right?â she said, stopping suddenly and looking at them. âHe deserves it and more. After all the shit he did to you.â
âAnd to you,â Rain agreed. âI think we can get away with it for a little while.â
She nodded. She resumed pacing. Rain sipped their tea, and thought about what they would write in their journal about today. Dear diary, today the man who tortured us begged us for help...
Kala stopped again. âBut what if itâs real? Heâs really lost his memories?â
Rain shook his head. âWe canât believe that right now. Itâs too convenient.â
âRight,â she agreed, and started pacing again. âAnd even if he did, heâd still fucking deserve it. He doesnât get to escape the consequences like that.â
Rain made a neutral noise. Dear diary, today we discussed whether it was ethical to torture someone who had tortured us.
It had started to drizzle, they noticed, looking out of the bay window above the sink. The sky had dimmed from pale blue to a light, fuzzy grey. Kalaâs workout things were still in the garden on the grass. She definitely had better thing to worry about, though.
âBut,â Kala said, frozen mid-stride.
Rain glanced over.
She shook her head, glared at the door, and paced on.
They waited, watching the rain patter against the window, droplets sliding down over it and meeting together where gravity willed it. The gentle undulation of white and grey moved sluggishly over the sky, drifting away from the sea. They could go to the beach later, while everyone else would be staying away.
âWe have to figure out if itâs real, right?â Kala said, and when Rain glanced back they saw that sheâd come to a stop in front of the kitchen table where they sat. âWe have to... We have to see if itâs real. How the fuck do we do that?â
Rain put their mug down, drawing their hands back into the sleeves of their cardigan. âI can think of a couple of ways.â