#Planet X could lowkey turn me into a ring

[thalliumstraww]

solarballs doodles to get my mind off ii16😭

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

@steverogershield x Ben Hargreeves

i’m lowkey obsessed with this show and may have gotten carried away with this bear with me

The little Horror and little Enna-Marie. Seemingly inseparable, even by his father’s iron will. It was only years later that you realized how strange that was, that his father had let this pointless friendship slide. Maybe Pogo had had a word to him, maybe Grace had suggested it, maybe he was feeling unusually soft-hearted the day Ben met you, maybe it was because Ben was... well, Ben. But the friendship had happened, and you were glad, even if it had turned to into something that twisted tears from you in the middle of the night now.

Your childhoods had tangled together, become one. He first saw you in the crowd when Reginald was showing him and the others off. You weren’t dressed up like a member of the Academy, you looked as ordinary (or so his father would put it) as could be, but... you weren’t. He gave you a small, shy wave, and smiled like the sun when you returned it, seeming shocked that he had singled you out, this eleven-year-old superhero you had never met. The upside to having five siblings on the steps of the Academy meant he could slip away as they were marched back inside. He stuffed his mask into his pocket and ran down the stairs. A titter ran through the crowd to see him stop in front of you.

“Hi, I’m Ben,” he said breathlessly. “What’s your name?”

You heard a lady whisper something that sounded too much like “young love” for you to handle and your cheeks burned. “Enna.”

“Enna.” He nodded. “Nice to meet you-”

Then his father shouted his name and he flinched and followed the others away, leaving you behind with red cheeks and questions... and a horde of adults and children alike wondering why you were so special.

You had been so young then, but even now every detail of that day seemed embedded in your brain, sown there by grief and longing.

You remembered the long days you spent together, after he saw you again on the street and invited you inside. You could tell his father didn’t like it when he inevitably caught Ben showing you around, but for that unknown reason, he didn’t kick you to the curb. Ben introduced you to Pogo (”wonderful to meet you, Miss  Enna”) and Grace (”please, darling, you may call me Mom”) and then his siblings... who treated you like an oddity, but a somewhat welcome one. That hardly seemed like a problem though; Ben more than made up for their strange looks. He took you on an exploration of the house, showing you his room first and feeling oddly insecure as you looked around at his things. He let you try his mask on and told you it looked really good on you.

You couldn’t count how many days you spent there, escaping the mundane reality into the old mansion that smelled like must and possibilities. Ben wasn’t the most daring out of the Hargreeves children, but he was the most enthusiastic. Hide and seek in the limited space of the courtyard, extended into the house (only on Saturdays at noon, when fun was allowed), wheedling extra food out of Grace, reading under his window for hours while Ben slept off using his power on a mission, dancing so messily but happily to the records. “You’ll love this one,” he promised before each song started, and he was right for the most part.

The scratch of the player’s needle, the dust motes swirling like tiny planets with each turned page, the loud muffled thump-thump-thump of your running feet down the empty halls, all these things populated your dreams. And so did he. He was everywhere.

Years passed. You were both older now. Ben was able to leave the house on his own, even though it was formed upon. He couldn’t seem to stay away from lunch dates with you. You would wander the streets, arm in arm, confidant in your casualness thanks to years and years of trust. You would talk about the past, the present, the future - your words would stray to that often, a landmine of a topic for both of you. Neither of you were ready to admit your relationship might be stronger than just friends. You both may have wanted the exact same future, but it stayed unspoken, trapped in the blushing silences between conversations.

You were waiting for him out the front of your favourite cafe that day. You waited, and waited, and waited. The steam faded from your coffee cup, snuffed out by the cold, and still you clutched it to your chest and waited. Ice forming in your veins. Your heart a bird beating its wings frantically against your rib-cage, struggling to get out.

Ben was never late.

He would show up, you thought. Hurrying through the light dusting of snow, ears red from the cold, apologizing for being late. He would smile and hug you and a feeling of safety would envelope you as it always did when he was around. He would kiss the top of your head, listen as you talked, give advice that you knew came straight from his heart and good sense. He would mention something stupid Luther had done, or how Diego had almost killed Klaus by accident, or how Vanya missed you and wanted to play for you again since she had improved so much. He would comment on the birds brave enough to venture out in the cold. He would tell you about the most recent mission and how many people he and the others had saved, all excited in that humble way of his. He would show up.

The first step you took in the direction of the Academy was unsteady. Those that followed were so fast you stumbled.

Pogo greeted you at the door, sober as a grave. His eyes softened at the sight of you, his lips pressing together. “Come in, Miss Enna.”

“Where is Ben?” you managed to get out through a dry throat. Your heart almost seemed to stop as Pogo lowered his gaze.

“Please... come in, Miss Enna.”

Knees and hands shaking, you stepped into the house. It wasn’t much warmer than outside. You remember that. You remember curling up in a big armchair. You remember every word Pogo said, how gently he tried to explain it. You could barely hear him through the ringing in your ears. They wouldn’t let you see the body, a mercy and a regret.

Ben was dead.

But, as you would learn... he wasn’t gone.

“Alright, okay, I’ll talk to her!”

You looked up from your book. It took your brain a few seconds to match the familiar voice to a person, and by that time, the person had already thrown himself into the chair opposite you with all the grace of a man one pill away from an overdose.

“Klaus.”

“Yeah... hi,” he replied, distracted. You frowned at him. He glared at the empty space at the edge of your table. That was it for a long few seconds.

“Fine. Fine! I’m talking to her, look, look at me talking to her!” Klaus gestured at you with shaking hands. “Enna, you know Ben, right? And Ben, Enna.” The shaking hands swept between you and the empty space he’d been glaring at.

You looked at it, then looked at him. “Are you... okay?”

“No, I’m not, actually. I haven’t slept in a month because he won’t stop bothering me.”

“Ben?”

“Yes!”

“Ben won’t stop bothering you.”

“Yes, he’s being an asshole.” He huffed out a breath childishly.

“So Ben is here right now?”

“He’s right there,” Klaus said, pointing again. “I should mention, the only time he’s really left you alone has been to harass me.” He paused. “Oh, you don’t watch her sleep, either? Okay, he doesn’t watch you sleep. Yes, I think that would be a bit creepy.”

“Klaus,” you said slowly, “I’m not saying I don’t believe you-”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” he sighed, and you saw a flash of ash-grey paper as he started rolling a blunt under the table. “Can you at least do me a favour and tell Ben here to get off my ass. Pretty please?”

“Okay.” Why not. You looked at the space Klaus saw Ben, looked at it and saw nothing, felt only an ache inside your chest. It was too soon, too raw. You had only just started to accept it, and now Klaus had torn the wound open again. You could imagine it dripping blood onto the table so easily. And somehow, if Klaus was right, it was worse. Having Ben within reach but forever separated... “Ben, leave Klaus alone.”

“Oh, he won’t do that,” Klaus said, exhaling grey.

“Please,” you added firmly.

A small silence. More sweet-smelling smoke whisked away on the wind.

“I know you’re not happy with me,” Klaus said, “but you were the one who went and got yourself killed. That wasn’t my fault.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, and obvious ‘Ben’ didn’t either, because after a moment, Klaus heaved himself out of his chair, said “take care of yourself” and left before you could say goodbye.

That night, you took off your sweater, and opened the record player for the first time in months. The record was Ben’s favourite. If music had a taste, this would be honey. You sat down on the bed, knees drawn up into your chest, and let the invisible blood soak into your blankets. Just for a moment, you felt like he was beside you. You told yourself Klaus’s gifts had always been intangible, always unsure. You told yourself it was the drugs. But you couldn’t help but hope.

You thought you caught glimpses of him, fleeting feelings. Your hand a little too warm, as if a summer breeze had been holding it. A flash of his smile, wide and infectious, in a mirror. You had to be going insane. Especially since you let Klaus collapse on your couch one night, in his tacky fake-fur coat and inexplicably neon underpants.

“You think I’m lying about Ben,” he breathed out while you carried a blanket over.

“No,” you said. “I think you’re very high.”

“That is true.” He shrugged with one shoulder, too far gone to lift himself enough to use both. “But Ben is still right... over... there.” He pointed behind you. “I think he’s annoyed with me,” he added causally.

“Why?” You tucked the blanket around him, ignoring his feebly flailing hand trying to shoo you away.

“Because I started wondering out loud what I would have to take to not see him anymore.” He lifted his head with a wobble like it was going to fall off his neck, and whispered loudly and conspiratorially, “He wants me to get sober.”

“Well, so do I,” you said.

“You two are like my parents. At least Ben is better than dear old dad.”

“I’m not better than Grace,” you said, with a smile.

“Maybe not, but you’re close.” He patted your hand comfortingly and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Go to sleep, Klaus.” You stood up, turned off the light, but as you turned to leave, he caught your hand.

“You know he loves you, don’t you?” he said quietly, unfocused eyes struggling to hold yours. “I mean, he really, really loves you.”

Your words were gone.Your throat ached with their absence. “I know,” you said, but your voice was barely audible. You could feel him here, in this room. You just knew it. “I know.”

“Good,” Klaus sighed, and let his head fall back against the cushion. For a second you were worried he had just died on your couch, but no, he was breathing.

You went into your room, shut the door behind you, curled up on the bed again. The sense of safety, of trust, of love you couldn’t explain washed over you. He wasn’t here. But he was.

“Ben,” you said, tasting salt water on your lips. “I love you, too. I always have.”

There was no reply. Maybe that feelings of love was enough for now. (At least until Klaus woke up.)

[okbyokaybye]

sry if this is all over the place im trying to connect some points that ended up being related over the past day.

My dream the night before last- I was in a giant American grocery store with mom, I was being critical of her decision making, evidently being quite cruel about it; I am overwhelmed by my feelings about pollution and ethical consumption-this product had too much plastic packaging that will never break down and will overwhelm marine life, add to the rapidly growing quantity of non-recyclable waste that litters every corner of the world. that product’s parent company sources ingredients in a way that exploits the labor of children overseas, boycott this, abstain from that, the ingredients in here are known carcinogens to the state of California… In the dream, as I have frequently in real life- I spiral down a deep dark hole of anxiety and concern over my carbon footprint, over the impact and trace I leave, and the corporations I am giving my money to-in effect telling them that I believe that it is ok for them to continue production. For personal medical reasons, there is limited options as to the foods me and kin are able to eat, found in limited quantity at limited retailers. My mother will put the needs of her family first before my ideals for the planet, and is not as able as me to make compromises or sacrifice for my greater good. In waking life I am unforgiving to myself at times where I am not as eco-conscious as my most critical self is. In my dream I scream and preach the lowkey horror on the back of every cereal box, I see a grocery store as a hell, as a landmark at the intersection of colonization and ecological collapse, which must be destroyed and condemned. I toss and turn and wake from this stress induced nightmare with significant pain in my knee. There is no possibility for ethical consumption and the puritanical way my dream self wants everyone to function without interaction with evil exploitative powers is entirely impossible. It is unfair for me to assert that my mom or myself is the issue, yet I feel responsible for all of the worlds troubles, I worry I am not being accountable. I always feel this weight, it has been a physical burden to carry earths pain, so much seriousness and stress. Im sorry I have tried to take on more than I can carry, expecting so much of myself and trying to hold others to my impossible standards as well. Today I went to the chiropractor for jaw pain I’ve had for years. It was emotional for me to get x-ray images taken and watch this scene. Up on a screen we see inside my body to my bones. The doctor translates what we are seeing- it is revealed to me that one hip bone sits higher than the other, this causes my vertebrae to be out of line at various places, different angels and severity of incorrectness from the bottom to very top of my spine. Bone starts to change to accommodate for whats in the wrong places and muscles surrounding do to, I wish I could word-for-word re tell his interpretation of my fossil records but I try to understand what is being said about my anatomy. I came in to assess my hurting jaw and my ringing ear and we discover that what is hurting the left side of my face is hurting my right knee and ankle, and is hurting my back and arms and head and hands, pains whose sources were unidentified until now and that I did not realize could be connected like this. I did not express any visual emotion because most of my face was obscured by my the face mask I am required to wear to prevent the spread of covid-19. Yesterday I try to describe to my friend that I use both hands to complete tasks because I use whichever one isn’t hurting. Now I think I may loose my ambidexterity if I have no more pain and no more need to switch off. If pain in my knee did not disturb my sleep would I have had such an intense dream for me to now call upon to reflect on the flaws in my activism. Driving home from the doctor I am frustrated that my newly discovered degenerative bone issue could have been corrected sooner if attention had been paid to my first complaints of knee pain as a child. Instead of thanking her for taking me to the doctor and setting me on the path of pain relief, I held it against her the face that I have been in pain for so long. She said that she has always tried to do the best for me even if she is wrong. I have not been appreciative of her I have just been angry at my own pain and seemed to place blame on her. She is limited by her own chronic pain and I want more than anything for her pain to heal. There is no one source of pain it is all connected and everything is acting and re-acting to the conditions that surround it. I would like to grow my capacity for forgiveness, for trust and communication of these and replace my hostility bitterness and anger. I was raised in a system of blame and punishment not unlike the penal system that governs me and I must utilize the powers of love and forgiveness to heal the parts of myself that perpetuate police mentality. I refuse to submit to my pain and anger and I have hope for some healing for the world.