#lima syndrom

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - Here and back again

CW: Elliot's mother having a tough time, guilt, stalking

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The bags had piled up outside the building now, a cluttered mess between a yard sale and bulk trash, and Evelyn still wasn't done yet. Done with the packing, the cleaning, the endless calls to that son-of-a-bitch landlord, but not this. Box by box she lifted out of the small apartment and with the rabbit long gone, it was soon left empty.

What now looked more like a wasteland made from drywall used to be Elliot's whole pride, the first station of his new life.

Even though the neighborhood was more than shady and the rooms overpriced, they had been ecstatic when he finally could afford to live on his own, not only because it was about time he freed himself from their two-room fleabox, but to also give him back some confidence. It had worked, sure, at least until now.

She was quick to organize the change in housing, it wasn't even New Year's Eve yet and everything had gone smoothly so far, before the double rent continued to eat up the money they didn't have.

Evelyn was told to watch out, so illuminated by neon lights she struggled to carry all the weight at once, her back twisting and bending into grotesque angles to safely maneuver down the staircase. Spine against the rail, feet searching carefully for the next step, she was at least useful for something.

Elliot's mood had taken a dip in the last few days. Every hour, the nurses checked up on them and every hour he seemed to give up all the strength left in him. 

Not that it was hopeless, no, she knew she could help. She, of all people, understood what was stashed deep down inside of him. She was there to help if her boy would just finally talk.

When he did, he begged her not to go alone, to at least ask her brothers to aid her. So much fear didn't fit her son. Nevertheless, it was practically pouring out of him, every waking second he-

She caught herself, again. Feet placed firmly onto the dirty concrete, she had nearly slipped down the few stairs that kept her from leaving.

This won't be forever, we didn't lose him.

Maybe his father had more luck. The days he was out on the road now grew into weeks...

Keep it together, just a bit more. We have no space for self-pity.

Mountains of clothing, all neatly folded and stacked into the cardboard, joined each other. Evelyn had saved the trip to her car for last, uncertain how risky multiple rounds would be for her. Maybe her son's warnings weren't in vain, even in broad daylight, nobody knew for sure.

The world had become a madhouse, but that didn't mean she belonged in one.

What couldn't be sold and given away was free to take; and why not: any shirt with tight sleeves was out of question now. Zippers, gloves - even his favorite sweater with the buttons at the front - they had to go.

She hoped to keep it stashed away somewhere, all his stuff, so she could return it to him again. No space for that either.

Piling the boxes on top of each other, Evelyn stepped out onto the cluttered sidewalk, the rough edges of the carton already digging into her fingers. She only had to make it down the street to her car, followed by a half-hour drive home.

Maybe there was time to decorate before they could bring Elliot home; his room had to be a gentle welcome after weeks between drips and resident physicians.

Whatever came next, she had to make it easy for him.

"Oh, ma'am, let me help you with that!" a bright voice suddenly called to her from behind.

That's how people get robbed, probably.

"I'll manage," she responded dryly, not slowing down for even a second, "don't worry!"

Just a few more steps kept her separated from her destination; the stomps echoed up to the back of her neck, but she was nearly done with all of-

Accompanied by a smack, the upper box slipped down onto the wet cement and what had been so carefully wrapped up now soaked in the dirty excrement of the city.

Not even this she could do right.

As Evelyn came to a stop, she fought to keep the tears back, tried to think of the happy moments, not what waited for her after she locked the remains of her son away. Through the veil of blurred tears, she made out the person who had caught up by now, already bent over the pavement and started to place the worn-out books and few shirts back together.

"Thank you," she mumbled weakly, not sure how much she trusted her voice.

The head full of wild curls looked back up at her, a friendly smile on the lips: "No problem, ma'am. I can carry this for you, my pleasure!"

He was tall, not as tall as her, but that rarely happens anyway. It'll be fine, she supposed, and felt the urge to hit herself for being so rude, mistrusting or whatever gnawed its way through her chest.

Evelyn returned the smile and signaled the stranger to walk the last few meters with her.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, it's quite slippery out, so I guessed you could use a helping hand. We look out for each other here."

"Ah," she continued to chit-chat, too tired to stop herself, "you live around this place too?"

He walked right next to her, as if he already knew where to go... Come on, don't be like that. Besides, enough people had arrived at the street meanwhile, so what was there to worry about?

He looked pensive for a short second, then explained how he stayed just a few blocks further down. It made sense to Evelyn, he did look like he belonged. Between bald treetops and dirty snow, she questioned how she had become so bitter.

"Well, you don't seem to stay for long anymore," the man ripped her back to reality, as they stopped in front of her car, "I hope the move is not too far, the fuel prices are going crazy lately."

The quick glance he took at her license plate betrayed him, though.

So you do want to rob me, boy, just not right now.

He was free to do so, honestly, nothing more to get here besides scrap metal.

"Very far, actually, upcountry. I'll miss the sea."

"Oh." The stranger looked like she just slapped him across the face: "Well...good luck, then."

He let his eyes wander back to the building, as if he just detected the pile of leftover plastic bags laying next to some kind of alley. All carefully placed down in the last hour.

"Thank you, truly. Maybe you find something useful in there," Evelyn shrugged the exhaustion away, "The smoothie maker behind the ironing board, if you like. I don't know if it's still working, couldn't get it going."

With him distracted for a moment, she took the chance to bring the car door between them and the boxes onto the backseat. Enough small talk for today.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a safe drive...", the stranger whispered vacantly, before taking another intense glance at the back of her car. A weird man, yet helpful. Whatever.

She was done, at least for today.

As she pulled out of the tight parking space and onto the street, the tension eased from her jaw and hunched shoulders. Evelyn knew her family had to weather through what would follow, one step at a time, they could make it work - together.

--------

Plenty of clothes, nothing flashy or with print. All the wool sweaters felt very quaint, but he could help him with that too. Put something nice on that body.

One or two high-school textbooks were stuck between them, geography and history of all things. Flipping through the trash bags on the side of the road, he hoped for a more...personal discovery.

A diary? Maybe old photos, if he was lucky.

Upcountry, huh? The pressure under his heart made him swallow thickly. Please give me more time.

His thumb slipped over a stack of old piano booklets, bound by a frail rubber band. To use again soon, he hoped.

Rearranging the bulk trash and fitting everything that appeared worth it into his own bag, he knew how this looked in the long run. Nobody had to know that they had met today, it would only upset Elliot even more.

He really is that delicate, he thought with a smile, not intending to stop his scavenging until he had the most valuable treasures gathered in one place. Anything to keep him close.

Morris would give them back, eventually, maybe, when he finally got his hands on what he was looking for.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[dangeroustaintedflawed]

kate moss for glamour france, 1992 ౨ৎ⋆˚｡♱⋆ ‎ ‎

[saigoat]

Being tortured to the point of passing out cold, then in a haze as they regain consciousness, see they are cradled in the lap of their tormentor. Skin clammy and crawling as a bloody hand cards through greasy, limp hair. The unwanted tender touch would be etched in their memory for the rest of their life. In months of agony, it was the one solitary moment of softness. Some part of them wants more, some part loathes themselves for it.

[dreamysnowangel444]

Me and the girls fr🎀

[maniccherrygirl]

[itg1rl-xx]

were just girls 🎀

[777inpieces]

[cherrybby0923]

[shakaprio]

hey girlies!! i’m jen and am looking for more moots💝

some of my interests:

• my fav shows are arrested development, succession, and satc

• i listen to mostly lana del rey, sabrina carpenter, and faye webster!

• i love any genre of music but adore 60s love songs or any kind of peaceful songs

• foods that are always in are sushi, mango ice cream, and raspberries

like and i’ll follow back :)

[demure-bambi]

[thehomicidalbaby]

I don’t believe love is love without Stockholm Syndrome.

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 9

CW: regretful Whumper, Lima syndrom, trauma, paranoia

PART 8 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 10

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things had gone worse during the short break they took from each other. Morris came back to look at him, silent and frantic, while gathering his luggage.

Everything went by quickly after that, Elliot being lifted from the mattress and stashed away in the Civic's backseat, waiting to be picked up. He couldn't overhear the mysterious call Morris made in the next room, but whoever he spoke to made quite an impact on his behavior. Amber; she had to be it this time. He deserved to live after all, the high court decided.

Wordlessly, Morris had joined him in the car just moments later. Quiet curses roamed through the space between, his eyes always fixed on the man in the windshield's reflection. 

It felt like a dream, entering the daylight again. Melting snow coated the meadows and industrial structures that slipped past them with anxious pace, hinting at the first signs of winter. It's Sunday, he realized, the first Advent.

Just a few more rehearsals, and their performance would be flawless. He couldn't wait to see the joy they always brought to the audience, the more reserved admirers of their art had their own way to express that.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop. Elliot faintly recognized the area, a few miles away from suburbia; he was closer to home than he imagined. As he admired the gentle blanket of white that glazed the street, an ice-cold gust of air surprised him. Morris pushed himself out of the driver's side to open the rear door, with a firm grab on his coat collar, he was pulled out to stand.

"Up you go, Ell!"

The soft crunch of snow underneath felt surreal, like it didn't belong there. Swaying lightly in the frosty breeze, boiling up from the inside but breathing out nothing more than little clouds, Elliot was held up by strong hands.

It was Advent Sunday in the deserted wilderness, nobody in sight. A perfect place to get rid of someone.

With a painful frown in his features, Morris continued to search for eye contact and was rewarded with a glassy stare. He prayed to never meet him again, to be something else than the stopgap.

"Ell, you're a decent guy. I wished we had met under nicer circumstances."

Silence. Elliot thought about spring, and his mother. He doesn't call often enough.

"I will end your life, if any of this gets to the authorities."

Nodding synchronously to his heartbeat, he didn't dare to take the chance.

It's a trick, he's going to put a bullet into my head the second I turn around. The fact that Morris was way more fond of everything that could stab didn't convince him otherwise. It's a trick.

"I thought - you know, I had this whole plan made up... Fuck! It's going to be okay." Pulling the sad piece of dried up cotton out of his pocket, Morris began draping the scarf around Elliot's neck, back to its original purpose. Fingers plucked at it, fluffing it up and around to offer the best protection.

"Listen, it doesn't matter how you feel about me right now, the second you're downtown, you need to go to a hospital."

"Yeah." A caw was all he would get out anymore.

"Nonono, listen. You go to the ER and tell them you, I don't know, slammed your hand in a car door. They won't believe a word, but that doesn't matter. Stick to that story, and they will stop asking eventually." 

Morris had other worries right now, planning to delete all his unnoticed messages before anyone would lay an eye on it, a witness to his failure.

"Don't call her, okay? That's not your problem anymore."

Amber didn't use to be his problem for quite a while, actually, not until two days ago. He had pressed her and the little quirks she brought far away, the walls had ripped open now, bleeding inside and out.

Brown eyes dead focused on the asphalt, skin red with infection.

"Okay?"

Only nodding, again.

"Two miles, this way," Morris whispered closely and pointed to the steeple in the distance. It was a fast gesture, nearly over in a blink of an eye, but Elliot could still sense the firm hug Morris gave him, pressing into his shoulders to send shockwaves down his spine.

"In another life, I'm sure we would've had a great time together, right?" Putting the phone back into Elliot's pocket, Amber's number deleted just in case, he held the weak figure at his waist to keep it upright. There was a lot to say, an apology or maybe just a lonely goodbye, but nothing came over Morris' lips.

The pressure left Elliot, standing on his own. It would happen any second, he knew that now, a quick stab between the ribs to let it all out. Morris wouldn't drag this out, he was a decent man too, after all. Watching the sky, blues and grays mixing together in the morning sun, he waited for the end of his suffering.

The motor that never stopped running sounded so far away suddenly, just a buzz in the shell of his ear. He waited.

I don't call mom often enough, really.

Through the back mirror, Morris traced the abandoned man at the edge of the road. He looked so tiny against the open nature, vulnerable to the forces of nature.

Even if he had the nerve left to look at the license plates, he seemed to pass on this opportunity. They would be changed in the near future anyway. Before making it around a curve, he could see how his legs started to stumble forward, too bruised and stiff to bend correctly, but still going. He was expected back home; at least that he had to get right, the rest was irrelevant.

--------

Elliot couldn't remember how he made it back to his apartment building, the world drifted around him in a blur of colors. At one point, he carried himself into a subway station, leaning against the handrails like a wasted lunatic. 

He heard laughter far away, normally anxious it could be about him, but these thoughts were nowhere near. He was glad nobody spoke to him, no help, no nervous interest. Morris would be back, and everyone who suspected foul play regarding the injuries put themselves at the same risk he lived through.

Just me, just me and nobody else. Nobody can know-

Struggling to get the door open, his forehead pressed violently against the wood to keep balance, until the keys finally slipped in to enter the only place left untainted. With a clumsy kick of his foot, it slammed shut again.

Elliot would have fallen asleep, if a silent hop hadn't greeted him near instantly. It felt wrong to have Ginkgo's soft hair next to his agony-ridden body, her noiseless presence coming over him in a wave of peace. She must have been starving by now, neglected for days.

What am I even good for?

Silently apologizing over and over again, he let his unmarked hand pet over her back, smearing wayward fluids all through her precious gray-brown fur. Any minute now, it's not safe.

So caught in his fear he tasted at the back of his throat, he tried to remember something that was promised just a few minutes earlier.

The rabbit's tiny snout nibbled and licked at his elbow, kissing away some scattered drops of blood. Oh, I forgot the yogurt drops.

Half of him wasn't present anymore, gone with time. He was a stain on the mattress, a pool on the bathroom floor. It's a trick, he will come back again. Lost in the feverish heat of his own grimy body, he continued to lay still, only being roused by Ginkgo from time to time. 

I need to feed her.

Acting on autopilot again, his body moved towards the pantry. He watched himself fill her bowl up with fresh water along with hay and her usual muesli, ending the basic task by sitting next to her on the floor, breathing heavily. 

"You're okay," he gasped, not sure who of the two he meant, "you're going to be okay!"

The whole left side of his body was numb, its mere existence scrapped from the mind's perception, like it didn't belong to him.

He needed to prepare for his captor's return: barricade the door, get a knife - a hammer, anything to protect himself. Later, his screaming muscles dictated, letting the husk of a person sink into the ground beneath.

Elliot was allowed to rest now, although his suffering was for nothing. Alas, that's the nature of it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump, @whatwasmyprevioususername

[dangeroustaintedflawed]

[monbellesweetheart]

To my mutuals💋💋

[girlbloggerinterrupted222]

me showing my classmates what perfume and deodorant is

[kadextra]

Some q!Bad quotes from earlier that I really liked and think give a good peek into the character’s mind ^^

“I don’t want to die. yet.”

“The line is: do I care about it or not? and if I don’t, then it’s okay to cross it.”

“Ron is family now, so it’s different! before he was family- well, you know…. but now he’s family.”

“I don’t want to cross lines either, I wanted to find an amicable way of getting the eggs back, but I have accepted… that we have to cross the line. that’s what makes it necessary.”

“Why wasn’t it okay? It worked out! And I needed to do it to help get the eggs back!”

“Whatever paths we need to take to reach that destination, I’m willing to take. I made up my mind about that.”

“I’ve got nothing left to lose, they took everything from me. :)”

“It’s gonna be the death of someone...”

“I’m expendable, Baghera. if it helps get the eggs back, helps me get my kids back, then I am.”

“It’s hard. It’s hard, hurting the ones you care about. But it’s necessary.”

“I just miss them... *voice breaking* I just miss them so much, I just want them back… *big sigh, shaking head* Alright! Happy face! :D”

“When does a house stop feeling like a home?”

“We need to find all the eggs. For our family, and our extended family, so we can help them. I’m seeing it. everybody is slowly being eaten up… devoured, like the whole server is in decline, just sliding down a slope.”

“Can we trust anyone else to be willing to do what needs to be done? ….no.”