#isaac's PTSD

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 6 - 26

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: PTSD, past captivity, references to being unsure of reality, thoughts of murder, self-harm themes, bad reaction to discovering self-harm, harm reduction, recovery

~

Isaac felt better already, knowing there was a locked door between him and the rest of the world. He had locked it behind Vera and Tori as they came in with tonight’s dinner: a hearty shepherd’s pie with rich bites of tender chicken, carrots, and potatoes all in a mouthwatering gravy. Once he had locked the front door, he had walked to the back door and made sure – for the second or third time since he’d gotten home – that it was still locked. It was, but it didn’t hurt to be so sure.

Edrissa had gotten into the house through the unlocked back door and then held a knife to Gavin’s throat. Isaac would have to be stupid to not check, and recheck, and check again.

Isaac sat on one side of Gavin on the couch, and Gray sat on the other. Vera, Sam, and Tori sat sandwiched on the other couch. Now that everyone was finished with dinner, Gavin leaned against Isaac’s side, and Isaac’s arm was slung over his shoulders. Gavin wasn’t shivering for the first time since they’d left the house that morning. Isaac was sated on two large slices of shepherd’s pie.

And yet, he ached to be holding his gun. The concerned glances Vera was throwing him weren’t helping.

“Thank you so much for bringing dinner,” Gray said, finally breaking the silence. “Did you make the pie, or buy it in town?”

“Bought it,” Vera said with a chuckle. “I appreciate your faith in us, but after everything… um. Recently.” She gave a stiff shrug. “Neither of us have felt like cooking.” She smiled tiredly at Tori over Sam’s head.

Gray let out a huff. “Same here,” they said gently. “But we’ve all been… through a lot. I don’t think anyone’s expecting anyone else to be out there crafting gourmet meals.”

“Except Edrissa,” Vera said tightly. “Apparently she’s been, uh… helping Meredith out. With the pies at the general store. Spending most of her time there, actually.”

“Really,” Gray said. Their tone was perfectly even.

Isaac’s hand tightened into a fist as the image of her flashed through his mind – cowering behind Gavin in that bathroom, eyes wild and streaming, clutching herself, looking terrified, as if she was the fucking victim and not the one pressing a knife to a man’s throat hard enough to draw blood just seconds before.

To Gavin’s throat.

His jaw ached and he swallowed hard. He forced himself to release his fist and brushed his lips to Gavin’s temple instead. He felt Vera’s eyes on him the whole time. He cleared his throat.

Sam wet their lips and leaned forward, seeming to sense the tension. “We’ve been keeping things as calm as possible here,” they said with a glance at Isaac. “Mostly just… sleeping.” They laughed. “All of us. Mostly Gray.”

“I don’t appreciate the accusation,” Gray said good-naturedly. “Although, god, I’ve never slept so much in my life.”

“What about you, Gavin?” Tori said softly. She reached over the back of the couch and rested a hand on Vera’s shoulder. “How are you sleeping?”

Gavin relaxed further against Isaac’s side and drew in a deep breath, thinking. “Well,” he murmured. “Better than in… than with Schiester. That’s definitely for sure. But…” Isaac bit his lip and waited for the second shoe to drop. “…it’s… sometimes hard to tell where I am. When I wake up.”

Isaac’s heart twisted. He knew all too well the things Gavin said, and fucking believed, when he wasn’t sure if he was staring at Isaac himself or merely a figment of his own imagination.

“D-don’t you want to… to punish me? …you want to, right? It’s… Isaac, it’s… it’s okay. It’s not… real, I know that. You can do… whatever you want. I can give that to you… if you want. I know it doesn’t really help you… But it’s what I have. P-please don’t stop touching me. Please… Isaac… please, this… this feels better than… a-anything he does to me.”

Shame clogged Isaac’s throat. His fingers itched for his knife. Fuck.

“Yeah,” Vera was saying. “Yeah, that’s… that’s the hardest part, I think. After. The waking up and not knowing, for a while.”

Isaac’s head snapped up. Vera held Gavin’s gaze, and he stared at her with an understanding that Isaac had never shared. Even though everyone except for Gray had been held captive, tortured, collared – what Gavin and Vera shared now was different. They had both been taken, punished by a sadist, had their minds broken down by pain and time – and drugs, in Gavin’s case. They had been kept in a basement, shackled for use because it brought a madman pleasure.

And they had both been alone.

Isaac’s hand shook as he slid it into Gavin’s and squeezed.

“Does that ever go away?” Gavin murmured, as if he had forgotten anyone else was there. Tears shone in his eyes.

“Yes,” Vera answered immediately. Then, she said, “Mostly. Months or years go by, and then you’ll have a shitty day or a bad nightmare and you’ll wake up not knowing where you are again. But the thing that matters is, it passes. And you’re always, always out once it passes.”

“Unless I get taken again,” Gavin whispered as the tears spilled over. “Like you did. Twice.” He shuddered and muffled a sob against Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac’s arms wound around him in a trembling embrace, pulling Gavin into his lap. Vera stared at the floor, chewing on her lip.

She was taken again three times, if you count the time she went in to save Tori and killed Joseph Stormbeck to escape.

Isaac bit his tongue and shook his head to clear the thought.

“Alright, scootch over,” Tori mumbled as she crossed the living room to drop into the spot where Gavin had been sitting, gently laying a hand on Gavin where he now sat shivering on Isaac’s lap. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it across Gavin’s shoulders. “There, better?”

Gavin nodded with his face pressed to Isaac’s neck. His tears streamed into the neckline of Isaac’s shirt. He wrapped Gavin up again, carefully tucking him in, and glanced at Tori inquisitively.

Tori nodded at Vera. “She’s a lot more sensitive to cold when she’s in the thick of it,” she said gently. “And he’s got goosebumps.”

“No shit?” Vera said. “Is that why you always get a blanket when I’m having a bad day?”

The corner of Tori’s mouth curved up. “Yes, dear, that’s why I always get a blanket when you’re having a bad day.”

Vera raised her eyebrows. “No shit,” she mumbled.

“Schiester k-kept the basement cold,” Gavin muttered into Isaac’s neck. “If I wanted blankets I had to… t-tell him things.”

All the blood drained from Isaac’s face. “What… kinds of things?” he croaked.

“Confessions,” Gavin whimpered. “I… I don’t think most of them were true. I don’t remember. I didn’t care. I was cold. Ziegler told me most of the things I admitted to weren’t true.”

“Who the fuck is Ziegler and are we killing them?” Vera said, sitting up straight and staring at Isaac. “Someone who knew you were down there?”

“Y-yes,” Gavin managed through a particularly violent shudder. “He… he didn’t… hurt me as much. And he… let me go.”

Vera’s eyes went wide. “Like—”

“Not like Ryan,” Isaac said sternly. Tears glittered on Vera’s eyelashes. “Just a guard who decided not to kill me when I was pulling Gavin out.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Gavin said in a small voice. “He… he could have but he… didn’t.”

“But—”

“Fair enough, Gavin,” Vera interrupted. She shot Isaac a glare. “I get it. That can be enough to keep you sane. Just one person who doesn’t want to hurt you as much as the others.”

Gavin nodded weakly against Isaac’s neck. Isaac tried to meet Vera’s glare, but she shot daggers at him and he faltered. Tori’s hand moved in small, gentle circles on Gavin’s back.

“No one’s taking you again,” Isaac whispered against Gavin’s hair. His arms shook with how hard he squeezed Gavin. “No one. You’re safe, alright? You’re… you’re safe.”

As soon as Edrissa is dealt with—

I wonder if I could get to her before anyone realizes what I’ve done—

“You’re okay, Gavin,” Tori said gently, her hair mingling with his as she leaned in close. “We’ve got you.”

“Y-yeah,” Gavin heaved, and shuddered violently. His hand wrapped around Isaac’s wrist. “Yeah. I’m out.”

Edrissa’s the one who last made him question where he was. I’m going to fucking—

“What the fuck is that?” Vera snapped from her place on the couch.

Isaac’s head shot up and he glanced around the room, ready to neutralize the threat. He met Vera’s eyes and realized she was looking at him – no, not at him.

At his arm.

The sleeve was pulled up slightly on his forearm, exposing a scar left by Gavin’s knife – and the cut he himself had made over it, not five days ago. The angry line flared red in the dim light, and it was devastatingly obvious what it was.

Isaac dragged the sleeve down over the cut, obscuring his entire hand. “Nothing,” he growled.

“Isaac, fuck,” Vera breathed. She rose from the couch and stood over Isaac, staring down at him, looking stricken. “That…” Her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist, pulling the sleeve up to reveal the line of cuts up and down Isaac’s arm.

Isaac yanked his arm out of Vera’s grasp, cringing back into the couch. Gavin slid off his lap and partially onto Tori. Isaac couldn’t even look at Tori; he could barely bring himself to look at Vera, who stared down at him in horror.

“It’s nothing,” Isaac pleaded with a broken voice.

“Vera, let’s respect Isaac’s desire for privacy,” Gray said, a little weakly.

Isaac could feel Gavin’s gaze drilling holes into the side of his head. He blinked back tears and swallowed hard against the shame strangling him. Slowly, he opened his mouth to speak.

Vera beat him to it. “I… told you not to punish yourself,” she said. She held her hands lamely out to her sides. “You said you wouldn’t—”

“No, I didn’t,” Isaac said through his teeth. “I never said that.”

Vera shook her head. “But—”

“I wouldn’t have said that,” Isaac said. His voice was fading, cracking under the pressure of Vera’s gaze. Having Gavin so close to him, feeling all eyes in the room on him, on his arms, safely hidden again under his long sleeves, was too much to bear. He swallowed again, hoping his dinner would stay down. “I never lied to you.”

“I n-never said you did,” Vera croaked. Her hands were in fists at her sides now. “I… how long?”

Isaac shook his head. He glanced at Sam, who stared right back at him. A quiet sort of pain pinched their mouth. “I… would really rather not have this conversation,” he said thickly.

“Yeah, I bet you wouldn’t,” Vera breathed. She sniffed and lifted her chin against the tears that glittered in her eyes. “Isaac… why didn’t you tell me?”

“What, and have you react like this?” He meant to snarl the words, but they came out weak and pathetic sounding.

She nodded slowly. “You’re right,” she murmured. “That’s… that’s fair. I’m sorry, I… This isn’t… how I should be reacting.”

“Let’s everyone take a breath,” Gray said softly. “Vera, do you want to sit down?”

Vera returned to her couch on stiff legs and fell to her seat beside Sam. Isaac could breathe a little easier, without her standing over him. Gavin crawled back onto his lap and wrapped his arms around Isaac’s neck.

“Sorry,” Vera said flatly. She drew in a deep inhale and let it out in a gusty breath. “Sorry. That’s… probably the last fucking thing you needed.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said. He shrank as Gavin laid his head on his shoulder.

“Isaac, can I touch you?” Tori said. Isaac jumped, but relaxed a little when he met her eyes. Her gaze was soft, sad, but not filled with horror. Not like Vera’s. He nodded, and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m really sorry,” Vera whispered. “That was… I wish I could take that back.” She wiped her eyes and sat up, taking another deep breath. “That was shitty of me.”

“No,” Isaac grumbled. His arms stung as if all the cuts were brand new. He longed to scratch at the ones that itched, but he couldn’t bear to draw any more attention to them. He swallowed tightly. “I should never have…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“No.” Vera held up a shaking hand. “Don’t… don’t do that.” She raked her fingers through her hair and stared at the floor. “Um…”

Isaac couldn’t bring himself to say any of the things that were echoing through his head:

I know this hurts you. I know I did it because I’m weak. I know I would never have had to do it if I had just kept my family safe in the first place. I know…

He knew right where his knife was, too. Gray had taken the one he usually used, but he had another in his pack. All he would have to do is—

“Boy I wish someone else would say something,” Vera said with a broken laugh.

Gray leaned forward with a warm glance toward Isaac. “Did you hear Sam is going to be staying with us?” they said, without missing a beat. Isaac could have cried with gratitude at no longer being the subject of discussion.

Tori beamed and glanced at Sam. “I didn’t hear that! That’s so great.” Her voice was tighter than Gray’s, but it was still light. Isaac felt a wash of gratitude for her, too.

“Yeah,” Sam said. They sounded so tired. But happy, too. “Yeah, I talked to Zachariah about it and… I’m going to be staying here for a while.” They grinned at Isaac. “The foreseeable future.”

“That’s awesome,” Vera said, with only a little flatness to her voice.

“We’re definitely happy about it,” Gray said with a smile.

“It’ll be really nice to… to have you here, Sam,” Isaac croaked. He rearranged his face into what was probably a smile and willed the darkness in his chest to dissipate. “It’ll be nice to be together.” His arms tightened around Gavin as he said it.

Sam nodded, their expression brightening further. “We were worried about where I was going to sleep, but…” They patted the couch cushion next to them. “Turns out this couch is extremely comfortable. After how long we spent on the road, just about anything feels good.”

“You slept on my floor on an air mattress for months,” Tori said with a laugh. “Anything is better than that.”

“Even sleeping on the ground during winter?” Sam said with a mischievous smile. All at once, the exhaustion around their eyes faded away, and they looked like themself again. They looked like the Sam Isaac had always known.

“Depends on the winter,” Tori said. “In the south it wasn’t bad.”

“I’ll take the air mattress,” Vera interjected, raising her hand. “If I get a say.”

“Yeah, because it was on my floor,” Tori shot back with a conspiratory grin.

Everyone laughed at that, even Isaac. He felt the cold fist around his heart loosen a bit, then fall away entirely. As he looked around at the people he loved, feeling Gavin’s warm weight in his lap and Gray’s shoulder brushing his, he could breathe a little easier. He could survive another few minutes without his knife.

Perhaps he could go without it entirely, tonight. It would still be there in the morning if he needed it, and he figured he would. But… maybe then he could just hold some ice instead, if he didn’t need it too badly. What he knew for sure, though, was that he didn’t need the knife tonight.

With his family around him, alive, safe… he could go without the knife for a little longer.

Continued here

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[theking-mustdie]

Cramped

pairing: background Scott McCall x Isaac Lahey

warnings: claustrophobia, panic attacks, mentions of feeling nauseous, PTSD, child abuse, mentioned scratching at own skin

a/n: i am on a mission to bring back claustrophobic isaac. this is my first work ever im open to constructive criticism!! ooc? maybe? i have no idea.

word count: 2,040

Isaac has coasted through his time in the pack without his claustrophobia, or its symptoms, being discussed at all. To be fair, there was hardly a lull in monsters-of-the-week to ever walk up to someone like Scott or Stiles and randomly throw out: ‘Hey! Did you know that my father locking me in a freezer in our basement did irreversible and unspeakable damage to my mental and physical health?’ So he wouldn’t say he minded the lack of communication. He preferred no one pry into his weaknesses or his business that they had no interest in knowing about.

However, there were some times where his panic was simply unavoidable.

From experience, Isaac consciously made sure to avoid his claustrophobia getting the best of him, usually stood next to exits or windows in any room he’s in. He’s not too fond of the unknown.

So when Scott suggested taking a day-trip somewhere after the insane, durach-filled month they had, Isaac reveled in the idea of a break and eagerly agreed.

“Where do you want to go?” Scott asked Isaac one afternoon, spread out on the couch.

“I haven’t exactly ventured outside of Beacon Hills so I wouldn’t even begin to know where to go,” Isaac replied from the other couch, half-asleep. With no threat looming overhead, Isaac hadn’t been as distracted, meaning that his nightmares had come back full force. He tried to keep himself awake to avoid the flashbacks he’d rather forget, but it was only delaying the inevitable. He’d rather not have indulged anyone else with his issues because it’s his burden to bear, and he’s almost positive that Scott couldn’t care less about his personal problems when he had a whole town to protect.

“We could always borrow Roscoe and drive down to the beach. I could use some time outside,” Scott replied after a beat, thinking.

“How far away is the beach?” Isaac asked, unfamiliar with any nearby beaches.

“Um probably about an hour and a half?” Scott guessed.

“That’s fine with me, but don’t expect me to go splashing around in the water like a dog.” Isaac crossed his arms and glanced over to Scott.

Scott laughed, rolled his eyes, and said “we’ll leave tomorrow morning” definitively.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

That night Isaac was able to catch thirty minutes of sleep until he was plagued with images of bleeding nails, metal chains, and impeding darkness before he startled awake. He decided it was a lost cause and tiptoed downstairs to grab himself a glass of water as he tried not to disturb Scott or Melissa. He returned to the McCall guest bedroom and settled on chipping away at his mountain of late work for school.

The night prior Isaac and Scott agreed on leaving at nine o’clock in the morning, so as the clock struck eight Isaac packed up his school work, hopped in the shower, and threw on some athletic shorts that could pass as swim trunks. As he left his room to head to the kitchen and find breakfast, Scott stepped out into the hallway and gave Isaac a small smile in greeting.

If Isaac’s gaze lingered on Scott’s bare chest, no one was there to witness it.

They both ate breakfast while talking about their plans for the day. Scott wanted float in the ocean and relax while Isaac wanted nothing more than to lay on the sand and read whatever crappy books the McCall’s had tucked away in their guest bedroom bookshelf. He needed a good distraction.

As they gathered the needed towels, sunscreen, and other beach items, Isaac began packing Stiles’ jeep that he had left outside Scott’s house the night before. But not without an intimidating threat of death if anything were to happen to it.

After a heated argument about who should get the aux, Scott was playing his music and they were off.

Isaac loved scenic car rides. He loved looking at the trees, houses, people, and anything that caught his eye. He leaned his head against the window and silently tried to fight sleep but eventually dozed off with the roaring of the engine and the rocking of the car acting as a lullaby.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Isaac slowly regained consciousness, unaware of his surroundings nor how long he had been out for. The first thing he had registered when he woke up was the car right in front of them. He tried to put the confusing, weird feeling that washed over him aside and turned to ask Scott how long he had been asleep.

"About half an hour. We were driving pretty smoothly until we hit the morning rush." he answered. He spared a glance at Isaac and saw the confused look adorning his face. "What's wrong, dude?"

Isaac whipped his head up to look at Scott and offered him a tight smile. "Nothing, just a little tired. I'm fine."

Isaac knew Scott could tell he was lying, but dropped in favor of looking at the road.

As he got a hold of his bearings, Isaac realized that they were sitting in the middle of bumper-to-bumper traffic. He tried to discreetly glance behind the Jeep, to the left, to the right, and ahead without alerting Scott, but a feeling of panic rose in his chest. There was maybe five feet of space between Stiles' car and others at all times.

Isaac began to understand what was wrong with him.

His heart started beating faster and his breathing started to quicken. He attempted to focus on anything else, the radio, the honking in the distance, even Scott, but nothing was working. His anxiety began to rise, and with it, the desperation to get the hell out of the car and off the highway.

Scott let out a frustrated groan, unaware of what was happening in the seat next to him. "We're stuck in here. The people ahead of us won't move," he said, his hand came down on the top of the steering wheel to emphasize his point. Scott turned to look at Isaac and saw that he was slumped over in his seat. Isaac yanked at his seatbelt with one hand, fully shifted, and clawed at the door of the Jeep with the other.

He was officially freaking out.

His exhaustion, bottled up emotions, and PTSD were all fighting a losing battle in his head. Usually simple things like traffic wouldn't set him into a panic attack, but it seemed all forces were working against him. His seatbelt felt like it was suffocating him, the walls of the Jeep were smaller than he remembered, and his werewolf senses were dialed up to ten.

Isaac stopped clawing at the door and frantically looked around the car to find anything that could help put him at ease, but came up short. The cars that surrounded the Jeep started getting closer and closer and Isaac started to use his free hand to claw at his chest, willing his heart and lungs to slow down.

However, before he could do any real damage, he felt his wrist being yanked away from his skin. More terror coursed through him at the confining grip until he realized that it was Scott holding him. His eyes found Scott's and Isaac let out a small, barely audible whimper.

Scott, however, heard it and jumped to do something to help Isaac. They wouldn't get anywhere if they stayed on the highway where Scott had to split his attention between Isaac and the road, so Scott shifted his hand to hold Isaac's as he moved to pull off the closest exit. In about five minutes, they were parked in the nearest diner and the driver's side door was thrown open.

Isaac's state had not improved in those five minutes. He was in dizzying state between reality and that damn freezer. His surroundings were disorienting and he couldn't make out what was real and what his panic-ridden brain was feeding to him. The only thing he could feel was the cold hand that once held Scott's.

He distantly heard the sound of the passenger door being thrown open and his seatbelt unbuckled. Suddenly, someone's hands were on his face as they said his name over and over again.

Isaac's brain cleared enough to register that Scott kneeled in front of him, hands on his cheeks, and repeated his name in hopes of garnering his attention.

Isaac locked eyes with Scott. Before Scott could acknowledge what was happening, Isaac threw himself out of the car and ran to the middle of the deserted parking lot. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the bile creeping up his throat to return from where it came. The next time he opened his eyes he took a deep, albeit stuttered, breath and looked around. The only person he could see was Scott and the closest object to him was at least fifty feet away.

He collapsed on the concrete and spread his arms and legs out as far as they went. Scott slowly made his way to Isaac, sitting on the ground next to him, but allowing him space.

The pair sat in silence for a while, the seconds ticking by as Isaac closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths.

Isaac was the first one to break the silence and turned his head towards Scott.

"I used to be in that freezer until I no longer knew what day it was." Isaac closed his eyes and took another steadying breath. "It didn't matter what I did, because to him, I always deserved it. I thought that by becoming a werewolf all these stupid feelings in me would have stopped. It only made it worse." Isaac talked slowly as he came to terms with his situation alongside Scott. "I don't remember how it started, but I remember every single time. I remember the bandages I wore on my fingernails because I pried them all off at some point or another. I remember the hours convincing myself that I deserved every second I spent in that fucking freezer. I remember the sound of my Dad coming down the basement steps, praying that he was going to let me out before he turned around and went right back up the stairs. I remember him letting me out of that box and hugging me tight, convincing me that he loved me and only wanted the best for me. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time it worked. I didn't know how to run away. I didn't know how to leave because he was all I had. I stayed because I was scared he was all I'd ever have. I didn't want to take the chance that he was right. That I'd be nothing without him."

After Isaac's confession they sat in silence. Isaac eventually sat up to match Scott's position.

"I- I don't know what to say." Scott confessed.

"It's alright," Isaac reassured, "I thought you deserved an explanation in exchange for dealing with me," he breathed out.

"God, Isaac, you don't owe me anything. Why didn't you tell me about this earlier, I could have helped you!"

"It didn't matter earlier. What were you going to do, add my shit on top of the shit you already had to deal with?"

"Of course it matters that you're dealing with this! And alone?" Scott emphasized before taking a deep breath, "I'm not really good at giving words of wisdom, or any advice really, but I'm here, always. I know it sounds hollow, but I'm around whenever you need to talk or rant or, who knows, punch. You don't have to keep going through this alone. That's what a pack is for." Scott reached his hand over to the boy's and clasped it around Isaac's.

Isaac lifted his eyes to meet Scott's and squeezed the his hand in lieu of thanking him, not knowing if he had the capacity to talk yet.

"You hungry?" Scott asked after a while. He released Isaac's hand and got up off the cement, reaching his hand out to help the other boy up.

"Is this place even running?" Isaac asked disgusted, looking at the not-so-nice exterior of the run-down diner.

"Only one way to find out!" Scott shouted, already on his way inside.

[dgct2]

Look guys I served with in Iraq were broken by less and she's still here.

Cal having Emily's back right from the start.

2.04 Offenders

[kaylonprimary]

i keep thinking there's going to be this whole reveal that the kaylon have the capability to feel emotion it's just hidden somehow but i think i am giving too much credit to the show with that prediction

[cuppachar]

The Invalidated Silent Screams Of The Tormented by Cuppa_Char

Fandoms: Ted Lasso (TV)  

Summary: When a blast from the past unsettles Jamie it leads to a very public meltdown.

Ch. 6

Jamie studies the older man’s face and sees no animosity or irritation. In fact, it’s the softest Jamie has ever seen Roy’s face, at least directed at him, as Jamie instantly knows. He wants to tell. He needs to tell. He needs to release it. Give it to someone else. Let them carry it for a while. He needs Roy.

[alpaca-clouds]

How does Isaac heal?

Let me quickly address something that came up in discussions about Castlevania and the character arc of Isaac.

I wrote yesterday about my take on Hector and his trauma, and I have written before about what we can piece together about Isaac's past. tl;dr: Isaac was probably taken from somewhere in the Ottoman Empire as a child and brought to Europe as a slave. We also do know that after he escaped slavery he was again and again confronted with racism and islamophobia, making him misanthropic.

Now, when I talk about that Hector very clearly has not healed from the trauma during season 3 by the time season 4 happens, because it is just not realistically possible, I have now heard it several times come up: "Well, but Isaac heals by talking to like three people."

But here is the thing: No, Isaac does not heal. But he ends the series in a place, where he might be able to.

So, let me ramble once again about trauma. Like Hector, Isaac for sure has CPTSD, because his psychological and neurological development was altered by the abuse he experienced as a slave - and whatever happened after that.

And no matter how calm he appears in his demeanor, that trauma is there and it is raw. While Hector is outright searching for love, so eagerly hanging onto whoever might just offer him a glimpse of it, Isaac has closed himself up to love and trust. Because this, too, is very much a trauma reaction. And like Carmilla he channels all of his hurt into anger against pretty much everyone else.

We do not quite know, what he did before joining Dracula. But it appears that he did never once follow a bigger goal than survive. (Also see: His monologue in the end.) Which makes total sense, because trauma - especially continuous trauma - will put the brain into a constant survival mode. And while the entire "fight or flight" thing we learn is greatly oversimiplified, there is some truth to it. And in Isaac's case it is very clear that he is always in "fight mode".

Now, what happens during his journey is, that he suddenly has a goal of his own and for once is forced to actually listen to other people, rather than just kill every single person coming his way. And what happens through it - especially through what the Captain tells him - is that he gets a chance to reframe his prior experiences. He gets a chance to reframe his trauma.

And that is something that is the first step in healing. Because it can lead to acceptance and acceptance can lead to healing.

Reframing basically allows him to look at the world through another lense but his constant survival mode and anger. It allows him to act out of a basic form of rationality again. Because until that point his actions (like Carmilla's) were irrational.

Just take his "revenge" on Hector. Sure, Hector did betray Dracula. But Hector had literally no hand in Dracula dying. Would the trio have had more of an issue, had they had to fight more forces in the castle? Probably. Would it have made a difference? Doubtfully.

Now, the big difference between Hector and Isaac in my PoV is, that Isaac has a lot more tools to heal himself, than Hector has. Because: No matter how you think about religion, religion can very much help in healing from trauma.

It is why I am far less worried about Isaac's trauma post-canon, than I am for Hector. Especially because we see Isaac at least willing to face his trauma, too. And Hector... uhm, well. He ain't that far yet.

[cannondisabledcharacters]

Today’s disabled character of the day is Isaac Clarke from the Dead Space series, who has dementia and post traumatic stress disorder

Requested by Anon

[Image Description: 3D model of a man facing the viewer. He has short greying black hair and blue eyes with dark bags under them. He has a short beard and mustache. He is wearing a fabric jumpsuit with metal belts over the arms and a metal ring collar. Under his suit is he s wearing a dark green shirt with worn out “new horizons” in white letter on the front.]

[flatstarcarcosa]

The thing about Sam is that he’s honest to an infuriating degree. Reese and I used to plan ‘surprise’ parties for each others birthdays with him just for the amusement of watching him try to lie his way out of direct questions about it.

Sorry if this is how he finds out about that, by the way.

It also means he’s direct. There’s never any question about what Sam means, or why he means it. There’s no ambiguity. I don’t remember enough about the world before the Rising to know if that ever bit him in the ass, but in today’s world, it’s an asset.

When he told us about becoming our legal guardian, that was exactly what happened: he told us what the situation was, what our options were, and the idea he’d had. Then he left it up to us to choose. No hard feelings, no strings attached.

The state-mandated therapy wasn’t something any of us chose, and also wasn’t something we could get out of. The first therapist we had didn’t like how dependent Reese and I were, and wanted Sam to put a stop to it. She even made some not-so-vague threats about dragging him to court over it, and making our new life as fucked as possible.

The problem was that she was one of those people that thought the zombies would pass. Even five years since the Rising began, she still insisted that all ‘this stuff’-- she never called it what it was, like doing so is what would make it real, not the corpses in the streets-- would go away and the important thing was making sure we’d be able to blend right back into polite society.

She even started suggesting I should move out, since legally I was well old enough, though that also meant she couldn’t make him make me.

We used to get ice cream after those appointments. I don’t know what kind of weird ass logic he had in his brain that you get the kids ice cream after two hours of them bullshitting their trauma, but that’s what ended up happening.

It’s funny enough now that I almost feel bad about the time I cussed him out about it being stupid. Almost.

He brought it up after a few minutes, being honest and to the point about what games the therapist was playing. I think Reese heard ‘separate’ and proceeded to shut everything else out; they were still defaulting to shutting up, and down, at the slightest chance of something being emotionally taxing.

I asked him what he was going to do about it.

Not, ‘what are we going to do’, but what he was going to do. I knew how the cards were stacked, and that despite being over 18 there were still some things I may not ultimately get a say in. He couldn’t make me leave, but I couldn’t make him let me stay.

Wouldn’t shut me up about it, of course, but at least I knew when fighting was pointless.

He looked at me, and was quiet for a moment.

Then he casually took a spoonful of his coffee ice cream, making a show of digging it out of the cup and said, “I think we should lie about it.”

He banked on the therapist caring more about the illusion of power she had, that if she forced enough people that didn’t have the option of fighting against her to do what she wanted, that it would eventually pay off and she would be proven right when ‘this stuff’ finally ended.

In short, tell her what she wanted to hear and she’d be happy enough with it she wouldn’t figure out we were playing her as much as she was playing us.

At the time, it took me by surprise.

Looking back, it shouldn’t have.

More importantly, it was the first time I remember thinking that maybe he actually did give a shit about us, and this whole situation wasn’t just some way he was trying to assuage whatever guilt he had about his time in the service.

The moral of the story kids, is this: just because someone presents themselves as being more powerful than you doesn’t mean they’re automatically correct. And if the most straight-laced, no-bullshit person you know is suggesting you do the opposite of what the people in power are saying to do, you should listen to them.

Also, coffee ice cream is still shit-tier.

[erythristicbones]

while i do love that i decided to write the EOTA trilogy w/ different POVs for each book, bc yea it's just the same 6 ppl working together regardless but it's important to see all of their POVs, it does also leave a lot unexplored for the previous POVs each time. like these things still happen and i DO get to explore them, its just different when it's no longer the POV

[kitkatwinchester]

So like...

The fact that it's happening to all of them should probably make me feel better, because it means that Stiles isn't crazy and isn't, like, particularly losing it or anything.

Like.

They're all having side effects, just in different ways related to their own individual trauma.

But it doesn't.

That actually makes me feel worse.

Like.

A lot worse.

We knew this was gonna happen.

Or, at least, something like it.

We did.

But that doesn't mean I have to be OKAY with it.

That doesn't mean I have to LIKE it.

That said...

It's definitely gonna make for one h*ll of a season.

Have I mentioned that I'm excited yet?

'Cause I'm excited. XD

Also that scene between Scott and Isaac was great. XD

Scott's trying.

He really is.

And so is Isaac, in his own way.

And I can't really be mad at either of them.

'Cause it was too funny and too cute.

Anyways.

Time for our three teens to confide in each other and try to figure out how to drive away the trauma they're all dealing with.

("Do you wanna hit me?" "No." "I think you should hit me." "I don't want to hit you." "Are you sure?" "Why would I want to hit you? You didn't do anything, did you?" "No. I mean, umm...what do you mean?" "I mean, like, you didn't kiss her or anything, right?" "No! Absolutely not. No." "...did you want to?" "Oh yeah, totally." *hits him* XD XD XD XD)

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 6 - 27

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: themes of self-harm, harm reduction, imperfect recovery, PTSD, tattooing, piercings, themes on nonconsensual tattoos and branding, angst

~

“Come into town with me,” Sam said, looking right at Isaac over the breakfast table.

Isaac’s hand tightened in a fist around his cereal spoon. “Um…” He glanced at Gavin, who sat next to him. Gray had already eaten breakfast hours ago and was out on a walk.

Isaac’s scars stung. He was going to… not use his knife, he wasn’t going to do that after breakfast, he told himself he wasn’t. But his skin itched and he needed to do something. He had been planning on holding an ice cube after breakfast until it disappeared into water, dripping off his fingers.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s in town?”

A faint flush warmed Sam’s cheeks, and a smile tugged at their lips. “Zachariah did some asking around, and it turns out one of the guys who lives in town used to be a tattoo artist, back down south. Zachariah is going in today to, uh… get his tattoo covered up.”

“Oh,” Isaac said softly. He chewed his lip and kept his gaze from flicking to Gavin with sheer will alone. “His…” He motioned at his own shoulder with the spoon in his hand.

Sam nodded solemnly. “His Stormbeck crest, yeah.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed. “How would they cover that up? It’s… huge. And dark black.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said with a shrug. “But apparently the guy said he could do it. And I wanted to go, to support Zachariah. I figured you might come with me.” Their gaze shifted to Gavin’s. “Both of you?”

“That sounds nice, Isaac,” Gavin said gently, sliding his hand into Isaac’s free one. “But if you, um… need a break after last night—”

“No,” Isaac snapped. The embarrassment of Vera’s gaze and words hadn’t faded, but he was fucking sick of being the one having to be babied. Not after what Gavin had been through. Not after what Gavin had survived – after what he nearly hadn’t survived. Isaac wasn’t going to be the reason Gavin stayed inside, away from the sun and air and grass, because he was fucking embarrassed.

He shuddered and carefully put his spoon down. When he looked up at Gavin and Sam in turn, they were looking up at him in concern – or perhaps something deeper than concern. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he ground his teeth against the shame that prickled where their gazes touched him. His throat worked and he made his shoulders relax.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I hate being this on edge.”

“We know,” Sam responded without hesitation – but without judgement, too.

Isaac offered them a tentative smile. He squeezed Gavin’s fingers and glanced between him and Sam. “I appreciate you being concerned. Both of you. But… I’ll be okay. I think it would be better, actually, if… if you both believe I’ll be okay. And…” He returned his gaze to Gavin’s, and his smile grew warmer. “And we should get you outside as much as possible. Get some color in those cheeks before winter comes.”

Gavin laughed and drew his hand through his short-cropped hair. “Vera did say I look so white now I may as well be a ghost.”

“Damn, Vera,” Isaac muttered.

“She meant it as a joke,” Gavin said, still smiling. “I wasn’t hurt by it.”

“I know,” Isaac replied. But maybe she could wait until I stop seeing you dead in my nightmares before she starts joking about it? He pulled Gavin’s thin hand to his lips and kissed the bony knuckles.

“So… yes?” Sam said, giving them both a thumbs up. “Tattoo guy? Zachariah? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Isaac said with a nod. “Gavin?”

“You know I’m always interested in going into town,” Gavin said with a grin, and in that moment, Isaac’s heart swelled to bursting. There was Gavin, his old self – perhaps not his old self, but his true self, the way Isaac had seen him in the few months they had had together before Gavin had been taken – radiant and mischievous and sweet. In that wide, contented grin, the pain and fear had fallen away from Gavin’s face, the circles under his eyes faded, and the scars stretched until they were pale again. Isaac’s throat tightened and he drank in the sight of the thing he hadn’t truly believed he would ever see again: Gavin safe, home, and happy.

The intensity of Isaac’s attention made Gavin blush. “What?” he said, his smile growing wider.

“Just… looking at you,” Isaac murmured. His own face flushed and he looked away. “Sorry.” He glanced at Sam. They stared at him, grinning too. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said with a chuckle. “It’s really nice to see you two back together, is all.”

Isaac flushed deeper and snatched his spoon up off the table. “Yeah,” he said, and scooped up a bite of cereal. “Let’s finish up breakfast so we can head into town.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam said. “I can’t wait to see what Zachariah is gonna get.”

∴

Isaac didn’t know what he found more intriguing: the man’s tattoos, or his piercings. Isaac had seen all kinds of piercings before on the team’s missions – rings all over the ears, in nostrils, in lips, in eyebrows, in nipples – but he had never seen, or at least noticed, anyone who had pieces of metal seemingly embedded in their skin like the tattoo artist did. And he had them all over his face – on his dimples, cheekbones, and above his eyebrows. Isaac couldn’t stop staring.

The man seemed to notice. He gave Isaac a long glance, which had him shifting his gaze down sheepishly. When the man turned his attention to Zachariah, Isaac used the distraction to look at his tattoos.

They covered his skin – or at least, his left forearm and hand, with some stretching up his neck to wind across his jaws as well. His right forearm was almost completely bare, and the half-rolled sleeves of his shirt and pants obscured the rest of him from view. But across his left arm twisted the impossibly complicated shapes of skulls, birds, and geometric shapes, all in a gritty swirl of black and gray and red. The designs shifted with his muscles as slid his hands into his pockets. He stood only a little taller than Sam, and was even more slight in stature.

The shop itself was actually just a glorified shed attached to the feed store, but it looked like it had been completely made over to accommodate an array of tattoo supplies – plus a chair in the center of the large shed that looked like it could be unfolded to be like a bed. A few stools lined the walls as well.

“So,” the man said with a thin shrug. His dark, baggy clothes seemed to hang off him. “You said shoulder, right?”

“Um… that’s, that’s right,” Zachariah said softly. He rolled up his short sleeve and stared at the floor as he revealed his Stormbeck tattoo. Sam reached out and put a hand on his arm.

Isaac’s throat tightened. It’s bigger than I remember.

Still, the man nodded, seemingly unbothered, his eyes moving over the tattoo. He tilted his head. “Any ideas for what you wanted instead?”

“Oh… no,” Zachariah mumbled. “Just whatever works. I know it’s… it’s bad.”

The man snorted. “Definitely not the worst I’ve seen. You ever try to cover one of these up on the face?”

Gavin gasped. “Who the fuck tattoos on the face?” he breathed.

“The Torrs,” the man said with a dry chuckle. “When they’re feeling particularly shitty. A bull in the most god-awful blocky style, right here on the cheek.” He motioned to his own cheek, bare except for a dot of metal. “Or on the neck. Still, I think I’d prefer that over the Stormbecks.”

Gavin went rigid beside Isaac. Isaac could hear his throat click as he swallowed, watched his lips tremble as he opened his mouth and asked, “Why… would you prefer a face tattoo over the Stormbecks?”

With an easy shrug, the tattoo artist pulled up the sleeve on his right arm and exposed the brand over his bicep: the head of a raven, surrounded by vines. By the look of the scar, it was a decade old at least.

“R-right,” Gavin whispered. “Stormbecks brand.”

“Hurts like a bitch, too,” the man said with a chuckle.

“So you were owned by my— by Benjamin Stormbeck?” Gavin croaked. His eyes swam with tears.

“Yup,” the man said. When he didn’t continue, Isaac’s gaze shifted from Gavin and pinned the artist where he stood.

“You know who he is.” Isaac’s mouth was dry. His hand inched toward his gun.

“I suspected,” the man said gently. He shrugged again. “No hard feelings, though. I mean. I heard some of the story, so I know that’s not even your real name anymore. And I heard you were in town. So it wasn’t hard to guess. But like I said. No hard feelings. You think I haven’t done shit? I wasn’t branded for no fuckin’ reason. It was because I got caught selling Stormbeck playthings to a higher bidder. So.”

Gavin went pale. “You sold—”

Isaac fell back a step, pulling Gavin and Sam with him. “Let’s—”

The man raised his hands. “Holy shit, here’s a good first impression. I did it so I could feed my little sister and her kid. And I didn’t exactly enjoy it. And once I escaped, I didn’t start again. Fuck, I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Zachariah. “Well, I might have entirely fucked this up. Sorry. But I would like to help you out, still.”

Zachariah stood frozen, his eyes darting between the man and Sam. “I… um…”

“Start over, maybe? My name’s Brandon.” Brandon held out a hand and shook Zachariah’s. “Good to meet you, man.”

Zachariah’s hand swallowed Brandon’s, but his was shaking. He squeezed Brandon’s hand in a quick handshake. “You too, Brandon,” he said, shuffling his feet.

“And you guys, too,” Brandon said, his relaxed demeanor slightly giving way. He held out his hand for Gavin to shake.

“Gavin Uriah,” Gavin said, his eyes still downcast.

“Yup,” Brandon said with a nod. He held out his hand to Sam.

“Sam,” they said, their mouth turning down at the corners. They kept their arms folded awkwardly across their chest.

“Sweet.” Brandon didn’t skip a beat. He reached out to shake Isaac’s hand.

“Isaac Moore,” Isaac said flatly. He only barely held himself back from grinding Brandon’s knuckles together in his grip. Instead, he released his hand quickly, so he would be able to reach for his gun if it turned out he needed it.

“Okay, cool,” Brandon said, rubbing his hands together and glancing at the four of them. “It really is my bad for bringing up the plaything… thing. Not exactly something I’m proud of and it’s honestly not something I bring up a lot. If you don’t feel good about moving forward, totally cool. But…” He peered at Zachariah’s tattoo again, taking a step to the side as if to look at it from a different angle. “I think this is totally doable, depending on what you go with.”

Anger and distrust churned in Isaac’s gut. The door called to him, but more than that; this entire town felt absolutely crawling with people he couldn’t – or shouldn’t – trust. Just being in the same room with someone who had sold stolen playthings made him sick to his stomach, and to know that this same man had also brought up the Stormbecks knowing who it was that stood in front of him…

After everything Gavin has been through, after having that history carved into his fucking arm…

“What do you think, Zachariah? It’s up to you,” came Sam’s voice, winding through his distrust – and below the distrust, as there always was, was fear.

Zachariah wrung his hands and looked to each of them in turn. “Um… I would… really like to have it covered,” he said weakly.

“Then let’s stay and have it covered,” Sam said with a nod. They glanced at Isaac, and he felt their gaze like an admonishment.

He forced himself to nod back, forced his shoulders to relax.

“Okay,” Brandon said with a gusty exhale. “Sounds good. Um. I do a lot of my designs freehand as long as they’re simple, but I have the stuff to do a stencil too. So. If you don’t have any ideas, um…” He pulled up a stool and sat down. Everyone else remained standing. Brandon didn’t seem to notice. “What kind of things do you do? What do you enjoy?”

“Um…” Zachariah spread his hands. “I don’t… really know. I uh… I played soccer with my siblings, but that was more for them.”

“Hm. Okay. What else?”

Zachariah glanced at Sam and blushed a furious red. “I like… Sam,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard.

“No go. I don’t do couple’s tattoos.” Brandon waved the idea away. “Used to be bad luck in case you broke up. Now I don’t do it in case one of you dies.”

Isaac let out a sound like he’d been punched.

“Way less likely up here, but a superstition is a superstition,” Brandon said with a shrug. “Let’s think of something else.”

“Um…” Zachariah twisted his hands together. “Finn and Ellis have… a cat that’s really friendly, and I like him…?”

“Mm, could be promising,” Brandon said. “What are the main colors?”

“Oh, he’s all black,” Sam said with a grin.

Brandon leapt up from the stool. “Bingo,” he said, and went to his table of supplies. He paused and glanced back at Zachariah and lifted his eyebrows. “Does that work? Black cat tattoo?”

“You… can really make this work?” Zachariah murmured, glancing to the others hopefully and back to Brandon.

“Sure thing,” Brandon said. He pulled on some gloves and began preparing the tattoo gun. “Only thing to settle is payment.”

Isaac’s stomach dropped. “We don’t have any—”

“Yeah, I know, nobody does,” Brandon said with a good-natured wave of his hand. “But I have a small tree that’s been about to fall over in my yard for a few months. I don’t have a car to pull it over and I don’t have the strength or… frankly, the fuckin’ time to chop it into firewood when it does go. Help me pull it over, then give me like four hours of chopping? Whatever amount of wood that makes?”

“Th-that’s it?” Zachariah said softly. “That’s… all you want?”

“Yeah, dude,” Brandon said with a snort. “Believe me, it’s worth it to me.”

“I can start tomorrow,” Zachariah breathed.

“You’ll start once this is healed,” Brandon laughed. “You don’t want a tattoo this big getting infected. Especially not up here where I don’t have a lot of the stuff I would need to treat it.”

“Thank…” Zachariah swallowed hard and sank into the tattoo chair. “Thank you.”

Brandon turned around and rolled his tray of supplies closer to the tray. “Oh yup, just make yourself comfortable. I already wiped the chair down before you got here.” He gestured to the stools along the wall. “The rest of you want to have a seat?”

“Thanks,” Sam said, and gave Zachariah a reassuring squeeze on his arm. They and Gavin each went to a stool and sat down.

“I’ll stand,” Isaac said coldly.

Brandon shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sit down if you feel woozy.” He poured disinfectant over a cloth and smoothed it over Zachariah’s exposed shoulder. “Did the old tattoo heal okay?”

“Um, yeah,” Zachariah mumbled. “Just a little itching. The Storm— um. They gave me a good tattoo cream for the healing process.”

“At least there’s that,” Brandon said with a one-shoulder shrug, peering at the tattoo again. “Let me just…” He uncapped a black marker and drew a few swooping lines across Zachariah’s shoulder. “There. That’ll be the general idea. Like I said, I can add more detail if you want, but…” He stripped off his gloves and passed Zachariah a mirror. “Take a look. Do you—”

“How did you do that?” Zachariah whispered, eyes wide, staring in awe at the mirror in his hand.

Sam jumped up off their stool. “They me see,” they said, grinning. They stared at the drawing on Zachariah’s shoulder. “I… wow. I didn’t… so you’ll fill in that part and that part?” They held out their left hand to point.

“Okay, now I have to see,” Gavin said as he slid off his stool, too. His eyes widened as he looked at Zachariah’s shoulder. “It’ll be…�� He wet his lips. “It’ll be like it was never there.”

Isaac ground his teeth and stepped around Zachariah, unable to contain his curiosity. The drawing was simple, but the lines were clear; once they were filled in, the image of Nata curled on Zachariah’s shoulder would fully cover the black Stormbeck crest that marred it now. Peeks of Zachariah’s skin would even show through to show the cat’s eyes, nose, and whiskers, and his tail curled around Zachariah’s bicep.

“I love it,” Zachariah rasped. “Seriously, I… I love it. Let’s do it.”

Brandon clapped his hands together. “Awesome. Let’s do it.” He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and switched on the tattoo gun, dipping the tip of it into the small pot of jet-black ink beside him. “We’ll take this at your pace, okay? Shouldn’t take too too long, but if you need me to slow down or if you need to just tap out, no problem. We can always go again another time.”

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. Tap out?

Zachariah nodded vigorously and pushed out a slow breath. Sam pulled their stool forward and reached out, taking his other hand. Isaac watched in confusion. They’re acting like he’s about to give birth, what—

The needle touched Zachariah’s skin and he let out a hiss.

Isaac fell a step forward, his eyes fixed on the needle in Brandon’s hand. “Does that hurt?” he said, before he could stop himself.

“It’s…” Zachariah’s eyes went wide and he stared up at Isaac. “N-no,” he stammered. “No. It doesn’t. I… it’s not that bad, I promise it’s—”

“But it hurts,” Isaac said weakly. “Right? Like, does it always hurt?” He could feel Sam’s gaze on his face, but he ignored it.

Brandon wiped his mouth on his shoulder. “Depends on the person, and on the body part getting tattooed. And on what’s being done. But yeah, tattooing hurts, man. It’s needles going into your skin at like 10,000 times a second.” He chuckled and glanced up at Isaac. He immediately sobered when he saw the expression on Isaac’s face.

“Do you…” Isaac swallowed dryly. “Do you tattoo over scars?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Brandon said, and turned back to his work. “I work in the North. If I didn’t work with scars, I wouldn’t have a job.”

“I mean… do you…” Isaac’s hand shook as he fumbled for his sleeve. He wordlessly pulled his sleeve up to reveal the scars at his wrist and forearm.

Brandon paused his tattooing and looked at Isaac’s arm. He looked for a long time, so long that Isaac flushed with embarrassment and yanked his sleeve back down. Then, Brandon drew in a deep breath and said, “Of course I do work over those kinds of scars, man. But I can’t tattoo over broken skin. You’re gonna have to stop doing that if you want any work done by me.” Without another word, he turned back to Zachariah. He switched on the machine again and deftly moved it over Zachariah’s skin, wiping, tattooing, wiping, tattooing.

Isaac fell a step back and sank onto the stool next to Gavin. His scars prickled where the air had touched them. Still, as he watched Brandon work, he imagined how it might feel to have a needle slide into his skin 10,000 times per minute leaving ink in its wake, making designs instead of scars. He shivered as Gavin slid his fingertips against his palm and laced their fingers together.

“You doing okay?” Sam said gently.

“Yeah,” Zachariah said with a tight smile. “Really, it’s not bad at all.”

“Damn,” Brandon murmured, as if to himself. “This is gonna be a really cool piece.”

Continued here

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[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

I need to hug Isaac :(

[virusgeist]

Just me and the neverending battle with sleep 🧍

[dgct2]

I locked that monster up.

3.06 In Quo Ego Vado Vos

[themnmovieman]

Movie Review ~ Cellphone

A production that falters at every turn, coming up short of even the most forgiving of standards. The streaming equivalent of a butt dial.

Cellphone Synopsis:  In the wake of losing her fiancé, Wynne’s world spirals into uncertainty when chilling glimpses of her own fate begin haunting her cell phone screen. Racing against an ominous countdown, the stakes couldn’t be higher—failure means not just losing her future, but losing her life..Stars: Whitney Rose Pynn, Justin Jackson, Jared Noble, Isaac Versaw, Katherine Barber, Malcolm…

[jengapuzzles]

DACRE MONTGOMERY. HE/HIM / have you ever heard of weightless by all time low, well, it describes ISAAC GREY to a tee! the twenty-eight year old, gym instructor was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say he is more closed off or more strong instead? anyway, they remind me of football, band shirts, popcorn and beer. , maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

background.

he was only very young when he and his brother dexter got separated through foster care system and leaving isaac to fend for himself in a world that might not be what he had hoped or wanted. it got him to feel that he had to fight for everything he wanted, strength being the shield he had to put up to not get too hurt. he's lived his entire life thinking of his next move, and when he could finally live by himself, handle life as it came without having the authorities decide for him. being reunited with his brother was the highlight of his life, something that makes him stay where he knows dexter will be close, even if he doesn't always love the overprotectiveness from his older brother.

looks && health.

eyes:: blue. tattoos:: his zodiac sign above his hip, a flower on his left butt cheek (drunken tattoo). piercings:: none. body type:: 180cm, muscular, very strong. drugs and drinking:: drinking but not much. mental health:: ptsd. sexuality:: bisexual.

career && dreams.

isaac works in a gym where he gets to do what he loves the most - workout for a pay and make sure others get leaned bodies as well. he's very into building the perfect body, wanting to always make sure he works out right, eats right and keep a good sleep schedule to keep himself healthy. one day he hope to own his own gym, an entire chain of gyms all over the country, known for being inclusive and great for health.

the now.

isaac isn't unfriendly, shy or anything of the sort - but he is difficult to get close to. many people think they know a poster child, not the actual real person behind the persona that he often puts up to maybe not have to deal with what others might think of him. his brother means the absolute world to him, along with a few selected close friends, and he is happy to keep by himself as he tries to figure out life and what he can be. he is just scared of turning 30 and feel he hasn't accomplished enough in life.