onthehalfshell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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riverviewlogs2017-04-21 05:49 pm
onthehalfshell) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-04-21 05:49 pm
[Open] - Wikus's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month
who: Wikus and ANYBODY
what: Wikus makes a scene in public. Repeatedly
when: Mid-April on
where: Various
warnings: Body horror, gruesome nightmares, bad feelings.
1. Sleep isn't for the weak - Around town
Wikus hasn't been sleeping well.
There's several reasons for it, starting with the physical discomfort. It's not even pain a lot of the time - though occasionally he gets strange cramps in his muscles or guts, sharp enough to wake him. Mostly it's an itching under his remaining skin that can't be scratched, and he doesn't want to scratch anyway because it will probably mean more blood on his sheets. Or it's the tenderness where new exoskeleton is poking through, uncomfortable to put weight on, or his irritated flesh chafing against the sheets. Sometimes it's impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
When he does manage to get comfortable, then he has to deal with the existential dread. It usually hits just as he's dozing off, like a hypnic jerk, the sudden fear that if he falls asleep he'll wake up a completely different person, completely transformed, not himself anymore. It leaves him clutching his pillow, heart pounding with adrenaline, and sometimes the feeling lasts for hours.
But despite those issues, he does manage to sleep on occasion. Sometimes it's in his actual bed, maybe even at night like a regular person. More often it's when exhaustion catches up to him at random locations.
Most commonly he can be found passed out in awkward positions in Floor 8’s living room chairs, having nodded off while watching television or reading. But not all his impromptu naps are kept to a semi-private space. He can doze off anywhere he sits still for a few minutes: at coffee shops, or restaurant tables, in the library or the hospital waiting room, even on park benches when he stops for a rest. Sometimes he snores.
Unfortunately for him, falling asleep doesn't mean getting any rest, because that's when the nightmares come. Often they're just memories: the moment he first saw his mutant hand and the struggle that followed; his mistreatment in the labs underneath MNU; so many people exploding into sprays of flesh and blood from the gun in his hand...
Sometimes the memories turn into twisted versions of events where he didn't manage to narrowly escape various horrible fates: being strapped down and dissected alive, somehow never falling unconscious even as they carefully pull out all of his organs, not even when he feels the buzz of a saw cutting open his skull-
Or he'll be held captive by the Nigerians again, forced to watch and feel as they slice off his arm, leaving him to bleed out on the ground as they cook up his alien flesh to feed to Obesandjo.
But the worst, the absolute worst...
Wikis stands in front of the burning shack, watching Prawn eggs burst, pop, pop, pop, laughing with Thomas and Trent. Nothing out of the normal, just another day on the job, why would he care it's just Prawns, they're just aborting.
"Wikus!" It's Tania's, calling to him. She's among the burning eggs, her body strung up like the rotting cow, filthy tubes piercing her swollen belly, clearly pregnant. "Wikus please!"
But he doesn't seem to notice, or doesn't care. He's just doing his job, just hanging out with the boys. Tania's pleas get louder as she burns, and he doesn't care, and then her belly bursts-
Sleeping in public is pretty embarrassing. Having nightmares in public is mortifying. If he's lucky he just jolts awake, skin pale, damp with sweat, breathing heavy. If he's unlucky he'll come to thrashing and screaming, or with a heaving stomach that has him rushing for the nearest bathroom or trash bin.
He'd rather nobody saw him like that, but in a populated city it's inevitable.
2. Skin crawling good time - From Nature to Hearth Restaurant
Wikus hisses as the persistent itching in his scalp shifts into a sharp pinching sensation and he's suddenly assaulted with the scent (or is it taste?) of blood. It's a bit of an odd change, since his sense of smell had been half-dead for awhile, like with a cold but without the stuffiness.
He lets his spoon sit in the meaty bowl of stew he's eating and lifts his human hand ( though it's now got a few dark patches of alien skin) to push under his hood and rub at his head. He keeps his fully alien hand under the table.
His fingers scrape against his scalp, searching for the source of discomfort. He's completely bald now, having decided it would look better to shave off the patchy remnants of his hair. Now his head is just a mix of pale skin, irritated red skin, and nobs of exoskeleton. And now-
Something under his scalp twitches, and he barely manages to smother a startled shout. He can feel the movement under his fingertips, and as a sensation like a spasming muscle.
Swearing under his breath, Wikus quickly abandons his meal and heads for the men's room.
Looking into the mirror, he pushed back his hood to get a good look at his head. Two patches of chitin run from his temples to the top of his skull, surrounded by split and swollen skin. And trailing from the left patch, there's now a small raised ridge of skin, following the curve of his scalp. As he watches, the ridge twitches, accompanied by a spike of that pinching sensation.
"Fok!" His hands slam against the sink, making the mirror rattle. Then, after a few heavy breaths, he lifts his hand back to his scalp. Gripping the edge of the sink tightly with his alien hand, his human fingers begin to worry at the line where shell gives way to flesh, scraping and prodding, pushing under.
Throat tight, teeth clenched, breathing rapidly through his nose, he can only make a choked grunt of distress as his fingers close around something hard, smooth, and thin. Steeling himself further, he very carefully begins to ease what's almost certainly an antenna out from under his scalp.
One inch, two inch- Wikus begins to whine. It's ingrown all the way to the back of his skull, he can feel it sliding out from under his skin.
Five inch, six inch- He keeps up a constant litany of "Fok, fok, fok, fok..." under his breath, trying not to hyperventilate.
Nine inch, ten inch- At almost a foot long, the entire antenna slips free, splattering the mirror with drops of blood as it springs into a forward position. Suddenly he can smell/taste everything.
He pauses for a moment to stare at his reflection, new appendage twitching in the air. Then he begins swearing in earnest.
3. Guy cries over fireflies - Somewhere inside of the city
Insomnia means Wikus often finds himself out at odd hours of the day. Going for a walk at 4am? Why not. The city is quieter then anyway. Fewer people to run into.
So he's on his way home as the sun begins to rise, and is witness to the sudden swarm of rainbow lights that descends upon the city.
"That's new," he mumbles to himself, pausing to watch the little dancing lights. It's... really pretty. Beautiful. He wishes Tania could see it...
One of the little blue motes descends towards him, and he realizes it's some sort of firefly. Slowly, he holds out his right hand and the bug actually lands in it! Wikus's mouth quirks into a half-smile. It's kind of cute, for a bug.
Until it goes and bites him.
"Ow! You little-"
The grief hits him like a punch to the gut, intense enough make him double over. He isn't exactly in a great mental state at the best of times lately, and suddenly all the pain and guilt and homesickness boils up inside of him, forcing itself out of him in a scream.
"Oh God, oh fok." His chest is so tight it hurts to breathe and tears are already running down his face. "Tania-! I can't- I'm sorry, I'm so fokken sorry-!"
He slowly crumples to the ground in the middle of the sidewalk, forehead pressed to the pavement, and begins to sob. None of that soft sobbing either. He's full out bawling, like he hasn't done since he broke his leg as a child.
Life just doesn't let up, does it?
4. Wildcard! If you have any ideas, just hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
MonkeysInPants or PM!
what: Wikus makes a scene in public. Repeatedly
when: Mid-April on
where: Various
warnings: Body horror, gruesome nightmares, bad feelings.
1. Sleep isn't for the weak - Around town
Wikus hasn't been sleeping well.
There's several reasons for it, starting with the physical discomfort. It's not even pain a lot of the time - though occasionally he gets strange cramps in his muscles or guts, sharp enough to wake him. Mostly it's an itching under his remaining skin that can't be scratched, and he doesn't want to scratch anyway because it will probably mean more blood on his sheets. Or it's the tenderness where new exoskeleton is poking through, uncomfortable to put weight on, or his irritated flesh chafing against the sheets. Sometimes it's impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
When he does manage to get comfortable, then he has to deal with the existential dread. It usually hits just as he's dozing off, like a hypnic jerk, the sudden fear that if he falls asleep he'll wake up a completely different person, completely transformed, not himself anymore. It leaves him clutching his pillow, heart pounding with adrenaline, and sometimes the feeling lasts for hours.
But despite those issues, he does manage to sleep on occasion. Sometimes it's in his actual bed, maybe even at night like a regular person. More often it's when exhaustion catches up to him at random locations.
Most commonly he can be found passed out in awkward positions in Floor 8’s living room chairs, having nodded off while watching television or reading. But not all his impromptu naps are kept to a semi-private space. He can doze off anywhere he sits still for a few minutes: at coffee shops, or restaurant tables, in the library or the hospital waiting room, even on park benches when he stops for a rest. Sometimes he snores.
Unfortunately for him, falling asleep doesn't mean getting any rest, because that's when the nightmares come. Often they're just memories: the moment he first saw his mutant hand and the struggle that followed; his mistreatment in the labs underneath MNU; so many people exploding into sprays of flesh and blood from the gun in his hand...
Sometimes the memories turn into twisted versions of events where he didn't manage to narrowly escape various horrible fates: being strapped down and dissected alive, somehow never falling unconscious even as they carefully pull out all of his organs, not even when he feels the buzz of a saw cutting open his skull-
Or he'll be held captive by the Nigerians again, forced to watch and feel as they slice off his arm, leaving him to bleed out on the ground as they cook up his alien flesh to feed to Obesandjo.
But the worst, the absolute worst...
Wikis stands in front of the burning shack, watching Prawn eggs burst, pop, pop, pop, laughing with Thomas and Trent. Nothing out of the normal, just another day on the job, why would he care it's just Prawns, they're just aborting.
"Wikus!" It's Tania's, calling to him. She's among the burning eggs, her body strung up like the rotting cow, filthy tubes piercing her swollen belly, clearly pregnant. "Wikus please!"
But he doesn't seem to notice, or doesn't care. He's just doing his job, just hanging out with the boys. Tania's pleas get louder as she burns, and he doesn't care, and then her belly bursts-
Sleeping in public is pretty embarrassing. Having nightmares in public is mortifying. If he's lucky he just jolts awake, skin pale, damp with sweat, breathing heavy. If he's unlucky he'll come to thrashing and screaming, or with a heaving stomach that has him rushing for the nearest bathroom or trash bin.
He'd rather nobody saw him like that, but in a populated city it's inevitable.
2. Skin crawling good time - From Nature to Hearth Restaurant
Wikus hisses as the persistent itching in his scalp shifts into a sharp pinching sensation and he's suddenly assaulted with the scent (or is it taste?) of blood. It's a bit of an odd change, since his sense of smell had been half-dead for awhile, like with a cold but without the stuffiness.
He lets his spoon sit in the meaty bowl of stew he's eating and lifts his human hand ( though it's now got a few dark patches of alien skin) to push under his hood and rub at his head. He keeps his fully alien hand under the table.
His fingers scrape against his scalp, searching for the source of discomfort. He's completely bald now, having decided it would look better to shave off the patchy remnants of his hair. Now his head is just a mix of pale skin, irritated red skin, and nobs of exoskeleton. And now-
Something under his scalp twitches, and he barely manages to smother a startled shout. He can feel the movement under his fingertips, and as a sensation like a spasming muscle.
Swearing under his breath, Wikus quickly abandons his meal and heads for the men's room.
Looking into the mirror, he pushed back his hood to get a good look at his head. Two patches of chitin run from his temples to the top of his skull, surrounded by split and swollen skin. And trailing from the left patch, there's now a small raised ridge of skin, following the curve of his scalp. As he watches, the ridge twitches, accompanied by a spike of that pinching sensation.
"Fok!" His hands slam against the sink, making the mirror rattle. Then, after a few heavy breaths, he lifts his hand back to his scalp. Gripping the edge of the sink tightly with his alien hand, his human fingers begin to worry at the line where shell gives way to flesh, scraping and prodding, pushing under.
Throat tight, teeth clenched, breathing rapidly through his nose, he can only make a choked grunt of distress as his fingers close around something hard, smooth, and thin. Steeling himself further, he very carefully begins to ease what's almost certainly an antenna out from under his scalp.
One inch, two inch- Wikus begins to whine. It's ingrown all the way to the back of his skull, he can feel it sliding out from under his skin.
Five inch, six inch- He keeps up a constant litany of "Fok, fok, fok, fok..." under his breath, trying not to hyperventilate.
Nine inch, ten inch- At almost a foot long, the entire antenna slips free, splattering the mirror with drops of blood as it springs into a forward position. Suddenly he can smell/taste everything.
He pauses for a moment to stare at his reflection, new appendage twitching in the air. Then he begins swearing in earnest.
3. Guy cries over fireflies - Somewhere inside of the city
Insomnia means Wikus often finds himself out at odd hours of the day. Going for a walk at 4am? Why not. The city is quieter then anyway. Fewer people to run into.
So he's on his way home as the sun begins to rise, and is witness to the sudden swarm of rainbow lights that descends upon the city.
"That's new," he mumbles to himself, pausing to watch the little dancing lights. It's... really pretty. Beautiful. He wishes Tania could see it...
One of the little blue motes descends towards him, and he realizes it's some sort of firefly. Slowly, he holds out his right hand and the bug actually lands in it! Wikus's mouth quirks into a half-smile. It's kind of cute, for a bug.
Until it goes and bites him.
"Ow! You little-"
The grief hits him like a punch to the gut, intense enough make him double over. He isn't exactly in a great mental state at the best of times lately, and suddenly all the pain and guilt and homesickness boils up inside of him, forcing itself out of him in a scream.
"Oh God, oh fok." His chest is so tight it hurts to breathe and tears are already running down his face. "Tania-! I can't- I'm sorry, I'm so fokken sorry-!"
He slowly crumples to the ground in the middle of the sidewalk, forehead pressed to the pavement, and begins to sob. None of that soft sobbing either. He's full out bawling, like he hasn't done since he broke his leg as a child.
Life just doesn't let up, does it?
4. Wildcard! If you have any ideas, just hit me up at
no subject
But he heaves a sigh and decides to talk about his diet because it's easier than thinking about his nightmares.
"I can't do dairy and grains, everything else is still fine though it doesn't all taste right. Nothing new that isn't disgusting." Like raw meat. Or cat food.
no subject
"Hey, you'd fit right in in So Cal." Southern California was all about the gluten free, or free range glutens, or whatever.
no subject
And because Wikus is determined at the moment to be the gloom against Scott's sunshine... "I don't fit anywhere anymore."
no subject
But that other? Oh, he's got an answer for that. "None of us does, here, right? I mean, this is not like California. Just saying."
no subject
But he doesn't want a new start. He wants his old life back, where things weren't perfect but at least he had Tania... His stomach turns a little as he remembers his latest nightmare.
"I don't even fit in my own skin anymore, man. It's hard to be more out of place than that."
no subject
Okay...that sounds a little bit less like the spirit, though. "Look, man. I'm...yeah. I'm not really great at all this psychology stuff." SHOCKING, right? "Just, you know, sometimes when everything sucks, all you can do is just put your head down and keep going forward. And figure something's gotta change and 50/50 odds it might change for the better." Okay, probably 40/60, but hey.
no subject
It's just... Hard to be positive when your dreams are reminding you of just how horrible a person you might actually be.
He opens his eyes again without really looking at anything, and promptly details the conversation.
"Do you still love her? Your ex-wife, I mean."