Fic WIP bit
Mar. 13th, 2022 06:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
viridian5 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
escapefromrealityIt's another entirely different piece of my “Kann denn Liebe Sünde sein?” WIP.
Schuldig is having an existential crisis.
It used to be that if I wanted someone to do something for me or if I wanted to fuck them, I’d just *make* them do it and often liked it better, preferred it, if they didn’t want to, because it made me feel powerful to be able to force them like they were my puppets. Watching them suffer under it or fight it to no avail and thinking I might have permanently traumatized someone felt good. Recently though, if they didn’t want to or didn’t want me already, I wouldn’t touch them, wouldn’t even really *want* to have them unless I changed their mind in a natural, human way.
When and why did this switch? Was it just about getting older, surviving long enough to get older, or being free of Eszett and its influence? Was this just from a change inside me or someone else’s sway? It couldn’t just be about moving out of Chez Schwarz because I know it started before then, but it’d definitely gotten more emphatic afterward. This couldn’t be about me spending more time with Aya.
I used to fuck with people or telepathically make changes to them for about the reason I figured graffiti artists did what they did, tagging people to leave a legacy, show the world I existed and exert my will on it, prove I had the power to do things. Sometimes to destroy something I thought was too clean or beautiful. Knowing that I could do something to someone that could ruin their entire life forever just with a thought had tasted so sweet to me. But lately that felt... almost petty, maybe immature, maybe even desperate. Too easy, unchallenging, but also trying too hard and being too much of a mustache-twirling cartoon villain.
If Brad knew about these thoughts, he might accuse me of becoming weak and soft, and I didn’t want to hear that.
I wanted to be wanted. I wanted people to see my worth and respect me on their own because they saw me. That sounded a bit less weak, soft, squishy, altruistic, and pathetic, right?
A lot of people in my life had treated me like I was an object, a possession to be owned, used, and thrown away when they thought I was used up, and I’d treated people the same way, partly in response to that. If no one respected or cared for me, why would I give these gifts to anyone else? They didn’t deserve better or more than I did. But maybe I’d get back what I put out if I tried.
Or maybe not. I could try it for a little while and stop if it didn’t pay off.
Brad would probably say that if I had the time to have an existential crisis, I had too much free time on my hands, free time being a luxury that, what, I didn’t deserve? If so, he could fuck off.
Telepaths should do an inventory of their personality and urges now and then to figure out where things came from, what was yours and what might have been grafted, and try to root out harmful or unwanted traits, invasive species, though this kind of introspection can be difficult and painful. It’d be best to make some record of these observations, so you can keep track and look back to see when a particular item had been introduced, but Eszett had made that difficult because if a telepath wrote it down on paper or in a computer file or whatever and they found it, they’d use it against you. You could try to memorize it but they might break into your mind and read it, *change* it, and make use of it. Telepaths being telepaths, a record kept in your mind might change or shift without you realizing it; that was the whole reason you should make one! So, I never had a reliable record while I’d been with Eszett. Never had one while I lived with Schwarz or even when I lived with just Brad. If Brad found something like that, I didn’t trust him not take advantage of it, and me; I wouldn’t even feel surprised or betrayed because we’d both been raised and trained to do these kinds of things. Being my telepath’s anchor as well, he could particularly fuck me up with any knowledge he gained.
Maybe, now that I lived by myself, I should start keeping a written record.
Schuldig is having an existential crisis.
It used to be that if I wanted someone to do something for me or if I wanted to fuck them, I’d just *make* them do it and often liked it better, preferred it, if they didn’t want to, because it made me feel powerful to be able to force them like they were my puppets. Watching them suffer under it or fight it to no avail and thinking I might have permanently traumatized someone felt good. Recently though, if they didn’t want to or didn’t want me already, I wouldn’t touch them, wouldn’t even really *want* to have them unless I changed their mind in a natural, human way.
When and why did this switch? Was it just about getting older, surviving long enough to get older, or being free of Eszett and its influence? Was this just from a change inside me or someone else’s sway? It couldn’t just be about moving out of Chez Schwarz because I know it started before then, but it’d definitely gotten more emphatic afterward. This couldn’t be about me spending more time with Aya.
I used to fuck with people or telepathically make changes to them for about the reason I figured graffiti artists did what they did, tagging people to leave a legacy, show the world I existed and exert my will on it, prove I had the power to do things. Sometimes to destroy something I thought was too clean or beautiful. Knowing that I could do something to someone that could ruin their entire life forever just with a thought had tasted so sweet to me. But lately that felt... almost petty, maybe immature, maybe even desperate. Too easy, unchallenging, but also trying too hard and being too much of a mustache-twirling cartoon villain.
If Brad knew about these thoughts, he might accuse me of becoming weak and soft, and I didn’t want to hear that.
I wanted to be wanted. I wanted people to see my worth and respect me on their own because they saw me. That sounded a bit less weak, soft, squishy, altruistic, and pathetic, right?
A lot of people in my life had treated me like I was an object, a possession to be owned, used, and thrown away when they thought I was used up, and I’d treated people the same way, partly in response to that. If no one respected or cared for me, why would I give these gifts to anyone else? They didn’t deserve better or more than I did. But maybe I’d get back what I put out if I tried.
Or maybe not. I could try it for a little while and stop if it didn’t pay off.
Brad would probably say that if I had the time to have an existential crisis, I had too much free time on my hands, free time being a luxury that, what, I didn’t deserve? If so, he could fuck off.
Telepaths should do an inventory of their personality and urges now and then to figure out where things came from, what was yours and what might have been grafted, and try to root out harmful or unwanted traits, invasive species, though this kind of introspection can be difficult and painful. It’d be best to make some record of these observations, so you can keep track and look back to see when a particular item had been introduced, but Eszett had made that difficult because if a telepath wrote it down on paper or in a computer file or whatever and they found it, they’d use it against you. You could try to memorize it but they might break into your mind and read it, *change* it, and make use of it. Telepaths being telepaths, a record kept in your mind might change or shift without you realizing it; that was the whole reason you should make one! So, I never had a reliable record while I’d been with Eszett. Never had one while I lived with Schwarz or even when I lived with just Brad. If Brad found something like that, I didn’t trust him not take advantage of it, and me; I wouldn’t even feel surprised or betrayed because we’d both been raised and trained to do these kinds of things. Being my telepath’s anchor as well, he could particularly fuck me up with any knowledge he gained.
Maybe, now that I lived by myself, I should start keeping a written record.
