#story: tadikm

[tired-of-being-nice]

the sound

*emerges from finals covered in blood* IM ALIVE *throws this down* *leaves*

anyway, enjoy a little showing of how coren is kept in line!

cws: brainwashing/conditioning, sensory overload (sort of), willing brainwashing

Coren's head isn't working right. It feels all floaty, not quite attached to its body. By the time it got back to where it was supposed to be it was already late in the day and it was too exhausted to give a proper explanation of why it was so late and what it was doing last night. It just begged forgiveness as much as it could when it couldn't think in coherent sentences, much less speak, and now it's sitting on a chair putting all its strength into staying upright and waiting patiently to be told what its punishment is.

It hopes it's the noise. It really, really hopes that. Not just because the alternative is being alone and it can't bear being alone, but because it's so tired and it can't think straight and the noise will help with that, it always does. It'll fix Coren. Make them able to do their job again. Coren wants to be able to do a good job. They want to so badly.

Its head hurts so terribly, which is good, because if it didn't it thinks it would probably slide right off the chair and collapse onto the ground, but it hurts, it hurts so much, the lights are too bright in here and their thoughts are chasing each other in circles and their ears are starting to ring–

"–ren? Coren?" 

Coren blinks and squints at the blurry figure in front of them until it resolves into the shape of Erica, their...manager, or handler, or whatever it is you want to call her.

"Hi, Erica," they mumble. "I don't feel good."

"I can tell that," Erica says with a raised eyebrow, and Coren shrinks back in shame. "What are you holding?"

Coren turns their head to stare at the spatula clutched in their hand. "I, um...dunno."

Erica sighs. "Well, I don't have time to pry it away now. Come on. We've decided you need some more time with the Sound."

Coren perks up immediately and follows behind Erica obediently, mustering their protesting body through the few steps with the promise of soon, soon, soon.

The noise room is empty and white and clean, and Erica shoves Coren inside in a way they'd protest usually but today are grateful for.

The door shuts behind them, and there's a slight click from the speakers, and then the Sound comes on.

It's like white noise but more, resounding, near-deafening, filling the room and your mind until you can't hear yourself think, let alone scream.

(They did use to scream, didn't they? They almost remember that, every time they come in here. But it never sticks— the sound takes it away, and besides, they don't want to remember something so unpleasant.)

Coren sighs, slumping bonelessly to the floor, a dazed smile spreading across their face. The noise drowns out any thoughts, rises and falls in waves, crashing against Coren's brain and gently smoothing away all the pesky contradictory thoughts that had been nagging at them. The ache of starvation fades from their limbs, and the haze of sleepiness melts from their mind. Everything is fine. Everything is alright. 

(but milo–) shhhh (but i have to–) shhhhhh (i'm still hungry–) shhhh (i can't rememb–) shhhhhhhh

This is so nice. Coren doesn't need to worry now. What was there to worry about, anyway? They're safe. The Company has them. The Company loves them.

Their fingers loosen, and the spatula drops from their hand, forgotten.

that's right! it was an EMOTIONALLY SIGNIFICANT SPATULA this whole time! haha!

taglist: @whumpsoda @snakebites-and-ink

[tired-of-being-nice]

breaking point

Erica watches through the window as Coren dozes on the floor with a fond smile on her face. They're so easy to handle nowadays. They practically ask for it. It's especially delightful considering how hard they'd fought it at first.

God, they'd fought. They'd tried so hard to resist. They had sung at first, loud angry songs of rebellion, and then any songs at all, nursery rhymes, lullabies, and then back up to screaming and then, as their voice started to go, an endless stream of nonsense chatter, anything to keep the noise out of their head.

None of it worked, of course. It only delayed the inevitable. Still, they'd held out longer then most, and she'll always fondly recall the moment they finally broke, their weak voice finally giving out as they slumped to the ground. They'd just had the strength to raise their head and look up, and the look of horror and desperation and, below it, awful resignation– oh, it was delicious.

Milo didn't have a single breaking point, that they can recall. It was more like a slow wearing down, a series of blows chipping their spirit away.

Losing Coren was the first blow, of course. But there was some time after that when they still had hope, still thought that maybe if they stuck it out long enough, they could get their friend back. They can't really recall when they stopped hoping. Maybe they never did. But it definitely faded, became more and more of a distant fantasy and less a tangible possibility, and meanwhile their hours got longer and longer and they had less and less time outside of work until one day they realized they hadn't slept for more than 3 hours in at least a week and were so tired they couldn't even feel mad about it.

But, you know. That was fine, actually. Already they could barely remember what being well-rested felt like, so it wasn't like they were missing much. And they needed to stay, to be able to keep an eye on Coren, to keep trying to think of a way to get them back.

When Coren hadn't recognized them, that was a bit of a blow, but not too much of an obstacle. But when it had actually attacked them, without provocation even, just because it seemed to think it was fun, that had been— for a bit, Milo really thought that was it. There was no coming back from that.

And yet they'd still stayed, because... because, at that point, they didn't know what else to do. They'd gotten so used to their endless, mindnumbing routine, so worn down by ages of just wait it out and hope, that even with no hope left they couldn't muster up the energy to actually do anything about it.

Sometimes they think that going down fighting would have been better than this.

Ray never had a breaking point, because Ray has never needed to be broken. Ray has never done anything wrong, ever. Ray cannot do anything wrong. She knows how easily one single slip-up can ruin a person, and she refuses to let that be her. He is perfect, and he will remain perfect, and he will not break. He will not.

He won't. He won't. He won't.

She can't.

[tired-of-being-nice]

waiting for the bus

hiii <3 i'm working on some longer and more actively whumpy stuff but in the meantime! here's ray and milo failing terribly at being anywhere remotely near normal. i like their weird dynamic a lot i hope you do too

"The bus isn't coming," Milo observes.

Ray, huddled against the cold wall of the bus stop, says "Please don't make small talk."

"I'm not," Milo says. "I'm stating an important fact. The bus is..." They check their phone. "10 minutes late."

"Well, I don't see what you want me to do about it," Ray says. 

"I'm not saying you have to do anything about it, I just— ugh. Never mind."

Ray turns their head to look sidelong at Milo. "You're shaking. How much sleep did you get last night?"

"If you insist on pointing out my weaknesses, I'm not sitting with you on the bus anymore," Milo says. After a pause, they add "Four hours."

"Hm," Ray says. "Well, better than three."

"True," Milo says.

Ray glances at them again. They're sitting upright, staring resolutely into the darkness as if they can summon the bus through sheer force of will.

He clears his throat. "If you want to, you can...lie down a bit. On me."

"What would I owe you?" Milo says, completely neutrally but a little too quickly to seem truly uninterested.

Ray hesitates for a long moment before saying "...In this instance, nothing. I think it would be...mutually beneficial."

Milo nods, just once, and then very slowly leans over to rest their head on Ray's shoulder. Ray, willing herself to be calm, breathes slowly and reviews the facts.

Fact: Human beings need a certain amount of physical contact with other humans for proper mental health upkeep. Fact: He has not had physical contact with another human being in three days. Assumption: Milo likely is in a similar position. Conclusion: This is a mutually beneficial arrangement that does not need to hold any sort of sentimental significance whatsoever.

Nevertheless, it also feels really nice.

Milo hums to themself. "I'm glad our interests align on this."

"Me too," Ray says.

"I hope the bus comes soon."

Ray sighs. "Me too."

Milo yawns. "If I fall asleep before the bus gets here, will you wake me up?"

"No," Ray says, and then "...Okay, yes, but you'll owe me."

"Got it," Milo says. "I'll—" They yawn again. "I'll try not to."

"Good luck," Ray says.

taglist! @whumpsoda @snakebites-and-ink

[tired-of-being-nice]

the american dream is killing me - masterlist

hello and welcome! this story is what's currently holding my brain in a vice grip. if you like dystopian society, brainwashed people and their ex-best-friends who are trying not to miss them, really sad guys hanging out in alleyways, and no one getting any sleep, then oh BOY are you in the right place!

title is a placeholder (unless i end up liking it)- it's a reference to the green day song of the same name :)

milo uses they/them, coren uses they/it, & ray uses he/him and she/her!

chronological story (with numbers indicating order of writing, and emojis indicating pov! 💚 is milo, 💙 is coren, 💛 is ray. stories connected by commas are directly following each other)

flashback/backstory:

first meeting (#16, 💚)

blood-stained tiles (#6, day 14 of febuwhump, 💚), who did this to you (#7, day 15, 💚), & came back wrong (#8, day 16, 💚)

breaking point (#19, 💚💙💛)

current arc

man vs. society (#11, conflict whump challenge, 💚)

helpless (#1, day 1 of febuwhump, 💚)

solitary confinement (#2, day 2, 💙)

obedience (#3, day 4, 💙)

hide and seek (#4, day 7, 💙)

semi-conscious (#5, day 12, 💙)

too weak to move (#9, day 18, 💙) & please don't (#10, day 19, 💙)

weapon (#12, 💙), "because i care about you" (#13, day 24, 💚), "help them" (#14, day 26, 💛), not allowed to die (#15, day 29, 💚), rude awakening (#17, 💙), the sound (#18, 💙)

[tired-of-being-nice]

baby milo and coren because i was having a rough day today and needed it. look at them! so small! so happy! so unaware of any bad things that might happen in future!

picrew

[tired-of-being-nice]

wait what i never did an actual oc intros post. OOPS. let me remedy that

basic worldbuilding summary: Generic Corporate Dystopia Hellworld. characters live in a massive builtup urban sprawl with different sectors more or less owned by various companies. you get basically one choice in life and it's choosing who to sell your soul to. some of these places are worse than others... or at least bad in more interesting ways

milo - they/them

the unfortunate protagonist (?). coren's childhood best friend. tried to go undercover with them to find a way to break out of the system but ended up getting sucked in and is now firmly trapped, being slowly ground down by monotony and loneliness. strength: resilience, for better or for worse. weakness: has not slept in like a week.

coren - they/it

milo's childhood best friend! was determined to find a way to rebel and get free. unfortunately the company they chose to go undercover at was doing some interesting experiments and they happened to present an excellent target for guinea pig. they are essentially brainwashed, although it's mostly a matter of induced amnesia and has to be reinforced regularly. they work in employee retention, aka "chasing down anyone who tries to escape and dragging them back". they think this is very fun and they're having a great time :) as long as they can't feel pain. strength: resistance to any level of violence. weakness: crumbles when treated with any kind of gentleness.

ray - he/she

works for the same place milo does. never had any aspirations to get crushed, really, so she's doing just fine. never had any heart to get broken or any willpower to get crushed, so he hasn't lost anything. she has put everything into being the best she can possibly be in hopes of attaining a reward. what the reward is he doesn't know. strength: secret talent for piano. weakness: touch starvation and protestant guilt.

[tired-of-being-nice]

[ID: A post from @/absolutelybatty reading "Unethical polyamory not in the sense that the partners aren't consenting to multiple relationships but in the sense that they kill people as a group". End ID.]

relationship goals for my miserable beloveds tbh