#jason kolchek -- inbox answer

[notthedyingtype]

@omniterror // evalyne approached jason. "“ how about a little midnight snack? ”"

it had been difficult for jason to sleep anymore -- memories of those godforasken tunnels keeping him up late into the night, sometimes even into the early morning hours of the next day. elbows rest just above kneecaps, his hands pushed up into his own hairs -- cap resting on his knuckles. he can hear that prayer on repeat in the back of his mind, lips moving once or twice to silently form the words he had been mentally running through his mind since coming top side once again.

time had slipped by in that restless hunker, a sharp breath drawn in through his nose, stifling that startle under false guises as he straightens up a bit. "what?"

he hadn't not heard her, the lack of sleep had finally caught up to him, making the world around him stutter &&. lag. "...is it even midnight?" time was hard to tell in this fluorescent hell. "&&. what kind of snacks?"

[notthedyingtype]

@wakingdrcams // december comforted jason: "“  look at me,  you’re safe.  and you’re not alone.  and i’ll never let you be alone again.  you understand?  ”"

darkness engulfs every bit of light streaming into that room, the distant clicking crumble of the tunnels reverberating off the walls around him. clarice was just here, so where did she go? he watched her disappear. watched her get pulled away into the depths of that swirling darkness &&. he couldn't react in time to save her. "clarice?" his voice is like a gunshot in the quiet -- though the screeches are just as loud, if not louder. his heart leaps into his throat &&. his shoulders tense. his steps fumble him backwards away from the darkness, grabbing hold of one of merwin's arm, jason plunges into the depths of that darkness only to be tackled into a new memory. they were surrounded. statues &&. creatures everywhere. there didn't seem to be any escape, hope dwindling into oblivion, &&. the ground disappearing beneath him -- scraping along his pack as that thing drags him further into the tunnels. his struggles were futile, kicking &&. flailing in its grasp -- anything to get free. the ground quakes, that creature raising above him &&. the ground quakes again -- harder this time. one arm raises to keep it away from him, grunting with the effort to push it back a bit, fear darkening his eyes. he was gonna d--

"jason." chestnut hues blink to clear the sandy memories from his mind, staring up at december as breathes catch in his chest. he wasn't in iraq. he was in their bed. he wasn't in danger. he was having a nightmare. she was waking him. he swallows thickly, shifting up in the bed, kicking the tangled mess of sheets from his legs &&. places his head in his hands -- taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

he almost flinches when her arms wrap around his shoulders, downplaying as nightmare jitters. "look at me, you're safe. &&. you're not alone. &&. i'll never let you be alone again. you understand?" jason's slow to move, gripping tight to her arm around him, afraid to let her go just yet. his grip is tight, but hers is tighter, &&. he's appreciative of that more than words are capable of expressing. "thank you."

the exhaustion in his voice is astronomical, but it's the weight behind his eyes when he finally does look at her that speaks of the truth. the nightmares were getting worse. if there is one upside thought -- he didn't hurt her this time.

[notthedyingtype]

@dcwnseeker // sam sought jason's help: ""Jason?" Sam's voice is quiet as she speaks into her cell phone. The signal is weak, but this single, small bar is the best she's had since she got up here, and she'll be damned if she doesn't use it. "Jason, can you hear me?" She thinks she hears him talking, but it's garbled and cuts out, and it could just be weird sounds in the static. Or wishful thinking on her part that he's even there. "If you can, it's Sam, and I need your help. Please, help." She repeats the last two words emphatically, hoping that, if anything gets through to him, it's those two words."

fingers twitch against the neck of the bottle in his hands, chestnut hues drifting to the face down cell phone on the coffee table. it was rare he got a phone call -- even rarer on a wednesday night. brows knit together as he bends forward to pick it up.

SAM GIDDINGS

his next door neighbor. giving her his number only days before had just been a pre-caution, he didn't think that she would actually call him, &&. now that she is? worry spikes into his throat &&. he answers his phone only a few minutes later, praying his hesitation hasn't worsened whatever predicament she is currently in.

"sam?" nothing is clear. static eats every word spoken, but he still tries. "sam, where are you?" all he knew was she went on a trip. somewhere to spend time with friends after an incident last year where two went missing. he'd probably be able to find where with that alone, it still never hurt to ask. "h-help? help where?"

[notthedyingtype]

09. do they prefer/tend to be dominant, submissive, both, or etc.? 10. how often does your muse indulge in self-pleasure? / presses x to jason

meme

xoxox, gossip girl

do they prefer/tend to be dominant, submissive, both, or etc.?

he is more dominant than anything. he does not mind submitting when necessary/his partner asks him to, but he likes to be on top. he likes to be in control. he, much like clarice, is a dominant leaning switch.

how often does your muse indulge in self-pleasure?

not as often as he used to. maybe 2-3 nights a week, but hardly any more than that. he's simply got a lot on his mind anymore that he tries to distract himself from or else he'll end up going crazy.