#at least when she is trying to bust it down with her hallucination she tells us its an hallucination!

[saddest-girl-in-the-whole-world]

Harrow isn't really that much of an unreliable narrator, she just gets one guys name wrong and doesn't get what god's deal is, literally who hasn't been there

[bustybounty]

A cosplayer orders a replica of Samus’ zero suit (the cosplay classic) from a rather underground tailor. Few have heard of them, yet all the reviews are downright obsessive in their praise for their work.

She finally gets what they were talking about when she slips it on and turns into the spitting image of the bounty hunter herself, even down to the long silky golden locks, luscious plump lips, and the extreme hourglass shape that makes it damn near impossible to move.

Rana has gotten home, and she's ready to try on the zero suit that tailor made for her. It looked so realistic, something like a carbon copy of everything she imagined it to be like if they took the game and made it real...

She'd finally be able to cosplay her favorite character, and maybe even head to a convention once she felt comfortable wearing it! But first, she needed to know why it was considered such a high quality product - why everything that tailor made was rated 5 stars, yet still having his store so...underground, per se.

She started putting the suit on, feet first, the legs, the arms, the hands, and then pulled the zipper on its back slowly but surely. Though as she did that last step, it felt as if her hand was slipping...was the zipper shrinking? Wait...she couldn't feel any zipper. But the suit WAS fully on. What was going on? "Huh? How am I supposed to take it off if the zipper is gone--wait what's happening?!"

As she was looking behind herself, she sees that the hair that only extended as far as her shoulders was increasing in length. It was flowing beautifully across her back, turning into a different shade...blonde?

Something she could also see from looking behind herself was that her butt was looking a little...larger? No, she shook her head and closed her eyes, slapping her face. "What is...Oh...my...gosh." She looked down and saw her chest covering her field of view enough to not allow her to even see her feet anymore.

The suit's sock like covering of the feet transformed into high heel boots as well, which only made her look taller - after all, she was putting on inches in height too, not just in bust and hip size!

"I'm...growing...like her! This will be the perfect cosplay...but this must be some kind of hallucination...there's no way...these breasts, this butt..." She said, groping herself, bouncing her hefty tits up and down, then smacking her booty, realizing she was still growing vertically and more voluptuous. As she talked, her voice seemed a bit different too, mostly because of the sudden change from her thin lips to these big, plump, luscious, bimbo lips that were really akin to Samus's own...

She tried to hold herself on high heels, but she was not used to them, and with the amount of new weight on her body, she rapidly fell on her knees. Her gigantic boobs touched the floor in front of her, and her extremely thick thighs and butt touched the floor behind her. They were still growing across the ground too, and the extending legs, the swelling curves, the increasing height up until she was 6'3 made her head stand taller even though she wasn't moving in that position. She was still on her knees.

"How do I...how do I even get up though?? And if there's no zipper anymore...this suit doesn't even FEEL that tight...it feels natural...like glue to my skin, like it's part of me almost... oh god my hair is so pretty like hers...I can throw out the wig I was planning on using for the cosplay...I can't believe this is all...ME...Was this why that tailor had such crazed reviews? I mean...I did tell him I wanted to look like my idol, for a cosplay...I didn't think he'd make it THIS realistic..."

Moving around, trying to drag herself to her feet, she staggered, barely being able to waddle. She was done growing, but her curves nearly touched the ground even in that state. This size was completely unmatched on Earth...at least naturally. "How am I going to move...I hate it, but I LOVE it, the way I chose such a curvaceous idol to cosplay... damn...how does she do it??" It was clear Nara still remained conscious of who she was, and still had some traits that made it clear she had been transformed to look as much like Samus as possible, but this wasn't a 1 to 1.

As was made obvious by a deep, unintentionally sultry voice coming from behind her. She wasn't as alone as she thought.

"You simply don't have the genes, the training or athleticism to handle that size. You don't look bad though." The voice came from...none other than Samus Aran?? She was right there! She was real! She was even more beautiful in person! And despite being just as big as Nara, she easily carried her weight around, circling around Nara's helpless body with fast walking in her heels!

"S-Samus??? I must really be dreaming..." Nara could only mutter those words out of pure shock.

The plump bimbo lips of the blonde bounty hunter formed a smirk as she assured Nara it was no dream. "It isn't a dream. I just don't like showing myself in person to most. Though you are a dedicated fan." She got in front of Nara, and pressed her gigantic tits against hers as they stared eye to eye. Nara blushed deeply, Samus handled this with confidence. "The zero suit you have on...it's impressive for the technology of this planet. I'm not from Earth as you know, the places I grew up in had far more advanced tech. Something that isn't easy to replicate. So your zero suit isn't like mine, it doesn't have compression modules, anti gravity systems, and...I got carried away. What I meant to say is, THERE is a way to remove it without a zipper. I can do it with mine just with a thought, but yours might be harder to remove...until you find out...you'll have to learn how to be like me."

Samus said, she didn't even worry that others could actually confuse her for the 'real' Samus as most people thought she was just a fictional character, and those that didn't knew she didn't have this much of a hard time with her curves. "I must go now." Samus did a backflip, her enormous curves wobbling dramatically as what she did seemed completely impossible, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

"I...wow...okay...Nara...focus...walk to your phone, you have a tailor to praise...and maybe you need to look at obscure forums for girls with obscene curves too... I get her genes and training are different but seeing her do a backflip with so much weight strapped on her chest and back, as if they were weightless, especially now that I'm EXPERIENCING it first hand...ahhh...I really really love her so much...If she hadn't left so early...maybe I'd...have gotten the courage...to ask...for a...steamier encounter...heh...hehe..." She blushed and stopped thinking, the arousal of the whole situation finally hitting her mind full force, no longer being delayed like before.

I wonder if it is a coincidence or how the person who asked this knows I love Samus so much too. Maybe they just saw one of my posts about her in the past or maybe they know me...Either way, hope you all enjoy a much longer read <3

[zmediaoutlet]

what is your stance on the "amelia or at least sams life with her was only a hallucination his already damaged psyche conjured up after suffering a psychotic break"-theory?

umm not a fan. Like... not for me, at all. But the way I'm not a fan has evolved a little over the years, haha, so to expand --

I get why people are into it. I mean, the filming choices are so batshit weird (why that gross golden vaseline filter? why drop in flashbacks every time Jared looked constipated in the main timeline?) that it's easy to go It Was All A Dream, no matter how cheesy that is.

Goof-ass cinematography aside, though, I know the reason a lot of people want to reject it out of hand is that "Sam would have looked for Dean." I get it; it's tough that he didn't. But there's a difference between Sam should have looked and Sam necessarily must have, and the fact that he didn't is so OOC we have to invent a full on AU for him. I mean, for one thing, the actual canon information as presented doesn't contravene the idea that Sam did actually try but failed, and gave up* after failing. He was alone with a busted car, zero help (Bobby dead, angels not listening, demons not answering the phone, etc), and had no idea if Dean was dead or just winked from existence (because why would he assume that he went to Purgatory?). With zero leads and dead ends at every turn, it's very easy to insert like a month of him failing and then he hits a dog -- and then, because he feels intensely guilty, telling Dean that he didn't really try, because his efforts were so paltry that he can't even count them as trying.

...but even that isn't really that much of an argument. One thing that I find happens a lot with the Winchesters in fandom discussions, but especially with Sam, is like... not allowing them the dignity of their choices. Which -- like, duh, they're fictional characters, they're written a certain way. But there's a real tendency to leap to OOC claims or "the writers don't know what they're doing!!" whenever it's something we wish the character wouldn't have done because we don't like it. But like... that's not how characters work. Characters do shit I don't like all the time; it doesn't mean they didn't do it, and that I shouldn't try to fold even that disliked thing into my conception of who the character is. (Important caveat: there's a great post by astolat that talks about the venn diagrams of audience belief and canonicity in texts with multiple writers that makes this more complicated. Still, I think that variability comes in small details as she mentions in that post, or indeed dumb little moments of Jensen improv in spn canon, rather than whole-ass plot arc decisions.)

Sam stopped looking for/didn't look for Dean when he disappeared. That's interesting. Kinda sucks, and the show and Sam himself point out multiple times that it kinda sucks, but that doesn't make it uninteresting or OOC, especially given the Sam we have who is nigh indomitable. The fact that it was his choice speaks to a Sam who's really just... beaten down. And why wouldn't he be? Slings and arrows from birth all the way to age 27 when he threw himself into the worse torture imaginable -- then he got saved, hallegoddamnlujah, and he thought maybe he'd be there with Dean, living a life he could choose for once instead of one he'd been forced into by destiny -- and then it was just another apocalypse, and enemies on all sides, and every friend and ally and hope just torn away, one by one. It's a miracle he got to keep the car. I can see that Sam, in that last torn circumstance, just -- going into hiding. He hits a dog and then inertia keeps him in one place, spinning his wheels. He meets a girl and she kinda sucks but she's prickly and rude and not-samey enough to prod him back up into life, and at that point it's been months and Dean's gone and he thinks, if this is life I guess I can live it. He can't go back to the shell of a life he loved with Dean and it's just... too much. He's always been very, very good at putting one foot in front of the other. (It's why he manages to live after the finale.)

Now, does Sam regret that choice, such as it was? Sure. (Not that I think he could've changed anything about it.) Doesn't mean he didn't make it. It also beautifully informs the arc of that year, moving from one choice to another -- from abdicating responsibility to taking on the ultimate responsibility. And it's really really REALLY interesting to me in the long-form story spn tells about Sam and the Most Interesting Long-form Character Development Ever. He's a startling advocate for his own agency and holds it in tight reins; I'm not interested in pretending he isn't, either for Martyr!Sam headcanons or any strong weird wincest-only stanning. Plus, Amelia-the-mistress as parallel for Benny-the-mistress is just too good to give up.

s8's awesome. It doesn't need weird St. Elsewhere headcanons to make it somehow excusable.

[pastelmumu]

~~~~~~~

Yandere!Sadistic! Ticci Toby x Child!Sister!Reader

You were around 11 years old when Lyra died, you were very sad because you were close to her, You would lock yourself in your room for days on end when your dad would start yelling and screaming, he threw a beer bottle at you once and it left a huge scar across you leg, it felt like hell.

But Connie wouldn't kick him out or call the police; which made you angry but you felt that she was afraid of what he might do.

You were afraid of Toby, but you loved him, and didnt make fun of him unlike the other kids; you would stay in his room when he has his episodes, but sometimes you'll get hurt in the process.

When he isnt feeling well, you would look after him and make food, but sometimes he gets irritated and angry when you would try to tell him not to do certain things and throw thing sst you, one time he threw a picture at your face, you had to get small stitches, and from that day on Connie would look after him.

You were 12 when Tiby lost his sanity after Connie died, you were in your room when you heard your dad and toby fighting in the living room, in fear; you tried climbing out the window, but the door busted open, you saw Toby in your father's blood, he looked at you with an insane look as he held his hatchet in his right hand, he came rushing towards you but you fell out the window, you landed in a Bush safely but Toby was crushing down the stairs, you got up and started running towards the next door neighbor as Toby came out the front door, "Help! Help me Please!"

You ran as fast as you could; ignoring the rocks and pebbles penetrating your foot, you reached a person door and you frantically knocked; "Please open the door!" A middle aged woman opened the door with a worried look on her face.

"Hello Honey are you ok?" You cried and you hugged her, you heard Toby's footsteps get closer, as you looked around he didnt have his hatchet, and he looked....clean?

"Hello Ma'am, Sorry about Y/N, they are just scared of our Dad" He said as he walked behind you and started to squeeze your shoulders harshly, "Oh...its ok" She said uncertain; "Yeah. Y/N hasn't been very well, Mentally at least, she seems to hallucinate things when she thinks shes in danger.." Toby said, you tried to speak up before Toby tughented his grip, "Oh, would you guys like to stay for the night?" She offered as she stepped aside, "Oh, yes please" Toby answered as she walked away, he then looked at you with a Sadistic look in his eyes, "You need to learn how to obey...once we get home, you'll need to relearn how to walk.."

[selfawarejester]

So, someone requested a fic where Blue Team rescues a Child!Reader from a war zone, but unfortunately Tumblr ate the ask. If you’re the one who requested it, please enjoy!

EDIT: found a screenshot! @simp-for-fictional-men-only, hope you like this!

Blue Team x Child!Reader (Halo)

It’s been a long “day”, even by Spartan standards.

Blue Team had been trying to repel Covenant forces on an Outer Colonies planet for over a week… but it hadn’t been enough. Command had called an evacuation, and after destroying a base to help the efforts, Blue Team had been ordered to help with final evacuation calls in the nearest town.

On the Pelican ride to town, there was a brief moment where they thought it was a waste of resources to send Spartans for an evacuation op, especially because the other Spartan teams were still doing the best they could to strike back at the Covenant; not necessarily to stop them anymore, just to hold them back long enough for the civilians to escape and maybe a little revenge. The events of the week, coupled with the guilt of their brothers and sisters still risking their lives, weighed on them heavily.

But at the end of the day, they’re glad they did: they found a group in the Rec center, a dozen people in the boroughs, twenty in an apartment complex — the Marines wouldn’t have been able to lift most of the wreckage that blocked them from escaping.

By the time they’d gotten to the outskirts of town, Blue Team had been left alone to sweep through the dead town. Chief considered just going to meet up with the Marines — surely, they could match the pace of the overloaded Troop Transports — and this area was just dilapidated factories and shady looking establishments that had long since been stampeded.

But a need to fulfil his task to completion stayed his hand… and thank god it did.

At first, it was just soft sniffles that sounded from the inside of the rundown factory. Chief and Kelly, who’d partnered up to search this side of the district, thought it was one of the many Jackals that had been posted in the previous sector wandering, or a Grunt that had been left behind after the Jackals had entertained themselves (in which case, they should probably put the thing out of its misery), so they go inside.

Chief goes first, moving carefully through the debris so as to not dislodge the wreckage, or disturb the corpses of the few soldiers and more civilians. He retrieves their dog tags, securing them in one of the compartments of the MJOLNIR, and Kelly follows, stepping where he does.

Slowly, the sound becomes louder and louder, wheezing and snotty sobbing. Definitely an injured Grunt, he thinks. It’s coming from under a slab of concrete propped up against a wall. Kelly flanks to the right, while Chief goes to the left. He signals that he’ll lift it on the count of three, and grips the edge of the slab. When the slab gets tossed aside, Kelly raises her shotgun, pointing directly at the small figure.

You shriek and bury your head in your knees, pulled up to your chest. You couldn’t believe that after all the gross, awful things you’d had to sit through, holed up in this corner, you were just going to die.

But when nothing happens for a solid five seconds, you chance a peek over your knees and gasp. S-117 and S-087 are emblazoned across the chests of the armored giants… Spartans.

Kelly and Chief exchange confused gazes, having no idea how to deal with children. The last ones they’d had any interaction with was the Castoffs on Netherop, but they were more feral gremlins than they had been children.

(Kelly and Fred still aren’t entirely sure that the whole incident wasn’t a heat-induced hallucination.)

John really doesn’t want to go through another episode like it, but on the other hand, it would be easier if you were pelting rocks at them.

Kelly, being the more personable of the two, kneels to your height (or as close as a Spartan could get) and softly calls. “You don’t have to be scared. We’re here to help.”

You knew that — they were Spartans! The greatest heroes Humanity ever possessed! You were just shocked that you were getting rescued by them.

“Y-you’re Spartans.” You whisper dumbly, but you couldn’t help it! How are you supposed to be cool when you grew up with Master Chief’s action figure on your nightstand. “Like Master Chief.”

You can’t see it, but John can sense Kelly’s smirk as she looks over at him and points. “Well, that’s the man himself.”

* Oh no. By the way your wet, moved eyes stare up at him, it seems you’re a fan.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!! You hope your pterodactyl screeching wasn’t external.

“Whoa.” This couldn’t be real. You’d passed out from exhaustion, and were dreaming all of this. That could be the only possibility!

John knows that this is the part where he says something witty or inspiring… but he really doesn’t know what to say, so he just awkwardly clears his throat. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head violently, a burning need to not disappoint your childhood hero, and clamber up to your feet… only to wince and lean against the wall, something sticky on your leg.

Now that you’re standing, he can see the dried blood around your ankle. “Hold still!” All the softness is gone from Kelly’s tone as she works on bandaging you up, but you don’t mind, appreciating how careful she’s being.

Co-ordinating with Linda, who informs him that there are patrols scouting the areas — probably only to get any survivors, and not to catch them, but they should still move — and Fred, who tells him that the convoy is flying off-planet via Pelicans in half an hour, John makes some quick calculations.

With the pace you’d set, hobbling alongside Kelly, whimpering every time you put your weight on your left foot, it would take them at least an hour. Too long.

“Whoa…” The sound comes unbidden from Fred when Kelly emerges, with you clutching at her hip, all bloody and dirty. A pang of sympathy strikes as he looks around and realizes all that you must have seen. He was well aware that normal children weren’t nearly as resilient as he and his siblings had been.

“….” He stays silent as you arrive in front of him, staring up at him with slight apprehension, heart racing as he tries to think of something to say — and for some reason, he lands on an awkward, weirdly Southern-sounding. “Hey champ!”

John and Kelly both shoot him weird looks, and he wants to dig a hole and die, when they hear it.

A small giggle falls from your lips, tiny hands covering your mouth as you try not to laugh. Fred sighs in relief, but his anxiety returns when Kelly’s joking voice comes over the comms saying “Well, I guess we know who’s taking care of them.”

Linda drops out of nowhere, and nearly scares you to death as you shriek and bump into John, holding his leg tightly. You don’t really notice how he freezes, confused again.

“…sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, you think with a pout and drop from Chief’s leg, careful of your own busted ankle.

“That’s Linda, that’s Fred and I’m Kelly. You can just call him Chief. What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N.”

“Alright. We won��t be able to make it if you’re walking, so you need to get on one of our backs.” Chief tells you, straight to business. “Which one of us do you feel comfortable with?”

He’s really hoping you pick Kelly or Fred. It wouldn’t exactly be a burden, you’re much tinier than the full grown people he’s had to carry out of a war zone, and you’re handling it much better as well, even though you’re barely ten years old.

“Um…” You look shyly up at Fred. “If you don’t really mind…”

*Aw. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Fred beckons you over, and hoists you up between his shoulders, giving you the rundown on what to do if people start shooting, and to hold on tight when he tells you to.

*You’re much more considerate than the freaked out VIPs he’s had to extract. But he still feels you twitch every time the wind causes something to clatter, so he decides to strike up conversation.

“So how did you wind up there?” It’s not until afterwards that he realizes that, unlike soldiers, civilians aren’t comfortable discussing stuff like that. But you answer that it was your dad’s factory, explaining that it was Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

The Spartans, specifically Kelly, asked you questions about it, having never heard of it themselves. After all, military settings rarely allowed such breaches of protocol.

You only trailed off as you got to the part where he told you to hide, and Fred lets it be.

When you finally get to the convoy, a nurse hurriedly tries to pull you away from the Spartans to help out, apologizing for not doing it sooner when Fred tells her it’s fine and that you can stay. After all, Kelly had fixed you up well, and you seemed terrified at the prospect of being left alone.

All that was left to do was fly up to the ship in outer orbit, with the rest of the survivors. Since there were such few Pelicans, everyone had been crammed into them, military and civilians alike. You’d simply wandered onto the one they’d been on, sandwiched between Chief and Fred.

Chief watches you picking at your shorts, and suddenly remembers the chocolate bar Sgt. Johnson keeps giving him - “you’re not yourself when you’re hungry, Chief” He’d snicker and then leave, Chief just standing there, not understanding the reference - but hey, chocolate was chocolate.

“Here. You did well.” Your eyes go wide, and for a second he thinks you’re going to refuse, but then you snatch it out of his hand and snarf it down. This is how it must feel to watch him eat.

“You’re going to like it up there.” Fred chimes in when your gaze starts getting distant again. “Space is really cool.”

In a twist of fate, you find one of your best friends when you arrive on the ship. Their parents promise to take care of you, and thank the Spartans.

When they start directing the survivors to their quarters, you hug every Spartan, even Linda… or their legs, since you couldn’t reach anything else. (Thankfully, you telegraph it pretty well, so they don’t accidentally smack you or something.)

John just stiffens and then nods, Fred pats you on the head awkwardly and shuffles away (he was very shocked by the affection), Kelly laughs and claps you on the shoulder, and Linda just hums and pets you on the head like a dog, walking away afterwards.

You go on to be a Marine yourself, finding yourself on the Halo campaign, where Chief and Cortana save you once more. You’re surprised he still remembers you.

You leave a bar of the same brand he gave you at his shrine, giving a heartfelt eulogy and catching up momentarily with the other members of Blue Team before you all leave again.

You almost faint when he shows up at Requiem, though. Don’t feel bad, as Lasky fanboys behind Chief for the whole campaign.

Palmer corrals you and Lasky into a break room to make fun of your behavior after it’s all over.

[stayextrafrosty]

All That I Want Is to Finally Be Honest

Summary: 3x09 coda. Michael creates a truth serum in an attempt to help Liz get information out of Jones. He has no one to test it on so he injects himself. Well, he doesn’t expect Alex to come visit. And while they’ve been talking about things more, there’s still stuff Michael needs to say.

A/N: When I say this is porn with feelings… I mean that in the most intense way. The emotions come out full force here. Title taken from the song "Back To U" by SLANDER. This was supposed to be done before 3x10 but alas.

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

-

“I told you, Ortecho. The serum is done but I need to test it. Are you a willing subject?” Michael said as he swirled the liquid in the beaker.

“I told you I’m busy making more of the alien suppressant. Call Isobel. She’s been itching for things to do.” Michael snorted and hung up the phone. He knew she was right. Isobel had been poking her nose into everything Michael and Liz had been working on. She offered to help but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do under the circumstances. But maybe it would be a good idea to put her under oath for a little bit.

He reached for the phone in his pocket, groaning when he saw the ‘no service’ message. This bunker was so hit or miss with it these days. He wished he could send actual thoughts to Isobel as opposed to just feelings over long distances.

Carefully setting the beaker in a holder, he stepped away from the table, wiping the sweat from his palms on his jeans. He climbed up the ladder, pushing the hatch open with his mind. The sun nearly blinded him as cool air whipped around him. He sat himself on the edge of the hole, waiting for his phone to connect again.

As soon as it did, it buzzed a few times as text messages came in. Three separate messages from Isobel spit balling theories and asking if he needed anything from her. He had tried to tell her to get some rest but she was determined to be the one to take Jones down. She had planned a date with some new girl in town but every time Michael asked about it she said there were other things to focus on.

Date.

He and Alex had made plans but of course they got interrupted. By a machine of all things. A machine that made him hallucinate Michael’s mom. Practically throwing every single doubt about them in his mind right back in his face. Alex didn’t want to tell him the full extent of the things she had said. The things he was thinking. Michael understood for the most part. He wasn’t keeping things from him to be cruel. Just the opposite. Alex was trying to protect him. Alex was always protecting him.

Michael sent a quick message back to Isobel about the serum and how he needed help testing it. The phone buzzed again in his hand and he couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. He was only thankful Sanders wasn’t around to tease him about it. Alex’s name was at the top of the new message. He tapped the notification to re-open their conversation. He wanted to pretend he didn’t spend the time rereading their conversations since Michael had kissed him. Until then, Michael had thought Alex wasn’t the type to use emojis, but they were being sprinkled throughout more messages.

‘Hope your day is going well’ followed by a blushing smiley face. Michael laughed and shook his head.

‘It would be better if I could see you’ he sent back. He started to climb back down the ladder but his phone buzzed again. He opened the message, being greeted by Alex’s small smile and half lidded eyes as he rested his head on his arm on his desk. He wasn’t fully recovered and Michael could tell. But even with the dark circles, he was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Michael had tried to get him to take a few days off but Alex was insistent. He swore that he would only work on the machine in the way they discussed from now on. And Michael was pretty sure Eduardo was now watching him.

The soft smile still made his heart flutter. This is real. They could casually send pictures of themselves and it wasn’t weird. Michael could see Alex whenever he wanted. And god he loved him. He loved him so much he could jump out of his skin every time he heard his name. There was a twitch in his fingers that told him only to touch Alex. Hold him close and never let go.

“You’re gunna fall if you keep standin’ on the ladder like that!” Michael jumped at Sanders voice. The old man had his eye brow raised and arms crossed as he stood outside of the office trailer.

“Just trying to get some fresh air,” Michael called back as a gust of cold wind whipped through the yard. Sanders shook his head and moved back into the trailer. Michael climbed down the ladder but left the cover off, hoping that would let his phone continue to get service.

He began filling syringes with the serum. His phone buzzed on the table and he briefly glanced at it to see Isobel’s response. She had found something to occupy her time apparently; investigating a lead about where the new alien had disappeared to.

Michael sighed and looked at the needles. He supposed he could just test it on himself. But if it worked properly (which it should) would Sanders really want to listen to all of the stories he had kept secret all this time?

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he mumbled to himself. Picking up one of the syringes, he watched the green liquid shift. He slipped his flannel off his shoulders, tossing it onto the table. The black t-shirt he wore underneath didn’t do much to keep the cold from the open hatch from sinking in. He pushed a small amount of the serum out of the needle before slipping it into his arm.

“Mad scientists always test on themselves, right?” he asked nobody as he set the empty tube back on the table.

He felt nothing as he walked around the bunker, tapping a pen on the notebook in his hand. Had it really been a bust? Maybe he needed to use more of the powder. He used significantly less than Liz did in her alien killing poison but maybe he needed just a bit more to influence the prefrontal cortex.

He mumbled a curse as he made a note. He didn’t have time to remake this crap a million times. Jones was out there and who knew—

A wave of dizziness washed over him, sending him to his knees. He tried to pull himself up by grabbing the table but the room spun. He missed every attempt to grab the metal edge. Black creeped in at the edge of his vision. He let himself collapse to the floor and he rolled onto his back. Michael fought to keep his eyes open for as long as possible but the promise of sleep was too tempting.

-

“—rin! Guerin! Come on wake up. Don’t you dare leave me now… Michael!”

Alex’s voice was distant, like he was underwater. There was a feint pressure floating across his upper body, poking and prodding. His head radiated pain but it was slowly fading. He began to feel like he was floating as opposed to the hard surface he had been laying on. But at least feeling was starting to return to his body.

“Michael, please. I’m begging you to open your eyes. Twitch your fingers. Scrunch your nose. Anything.” Alex was louder now, as though coming from right above him. He finally oriented himself enough to recognize that his head was elevated. A trembling hand held his own, obviously trying to stop shaking by squeezing harder. Something wet dripped onto his cheek.

“Damnit, Michael!” Alex choked out a sob. Michael summoned all the energy he could and squeezed his hand. He heard Alex gasp above him and then he was squeezing back. Another hand brushed hair off his forehead and traced down the side of his face. Michael would have shuddered at the feeling of his hands but he still didn’t have much movement in his body.

Instead he swallowed and tried to make some kid of sound. Any word that would sooth Alex. He just ended up with a clipped groan. Still Alex seemed to release a sigh of relief.

“Michael. Can you hear me? Are you ok?” Michael just made another strangled sound and gave a barely there squeeze to his hand. He focused his efforts to opening his eyes instead. He wanted to see Alex.

The dim lights above him still felt too bright and everything was blurry. He could vaguely make out the form of Alex’s head bent over him. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog in front of his eyes. As his focus sharpened, he met Alex’s wide eyes. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and a small smile found its way to his lips.

“I’m ok,” Michael managed to croak out. Then Alex was bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Michael would have responded but he was pulling away too soon.

“Wait… do it again,” Michael mumbled. Alex shook his head.

“Let’s at least get you sitting up.” He groaned as Alex lifted his shoulders and helped him turn so he could lean against the counter. Michael noticed his position on his knees. How long had he been sitting like that with his head in his lap? It was probably uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. He moved sluggishly to grab Alex’s arm and pull him off his knees to a sitting position next to him.

“You don’t have to worry about me so much. But I love that you do.” Michael wanted to correct himself. Take back the second part. It was still too soon.

“What happened? Did someone come hurt you?” The new anger in his voice was barely contained. Michael blew extra air out of his nose in a laugh and shook his head.

“No. I stuck myself with a serum I’ve been working on for Liz. I needed a guinea pig and no other alien was around. I think I used too much of the yellow powder and knocked myself out. No big deal.” He reached over to rest a hand on Alex’s thigh and squeezed gently. “There’s no need to be angry. But the fact that you are makes me love you more.” Stop talking! He was screaming at himself.

Alex sucked in a breath and turned his face away, but Michael caught the blush that overtook his cheeks. He let himself slide to the side, resting his own head on Alex’s shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment and the fog in his head continued to clear.

“What kind of serum was it?” Alex asked quietly.

“Supposed to be a truth serum. The idea was that once we over power Jones, we stick him with it and he tells us all the secrets of the universe. How to swap Max and Jones back into their proper bodies. History of our home planet and the War. Stuff about us.” He knew that this was more information than he was asking for but he couldn’t stop talking. “Did you know I’m immune to fire? That was a hell of a discovery. Spent the better part of a day setting my hand on fire to see if it did anything. Never did. There really was an irony in you telling me that you’d burn the world down for me.”

“Michael…”

“Sure you’d burn the world but did you ever consider I would walk through fire for you? That maybe the world is already burning but it doesn’t matter because I can withstand it all. Just for you.”

Suddenly a hand was covering his mouth and Alex was staring at him so intently Michael thought he might be reading his mind. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes and his breathing was shaky, as though Michael had overwhelmed him.

“I.. think the serum works,” Alex said quietly. Michael wrapped his fingers around his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from his mouth, but not too far.

“I love you, Alex.” He pulled his hand back to his lips, pressing them to his palm. “And I should have said that to you so much earlier.”

Michael could see the way Alex fought against the smile. He breathed out a half laugh and looked anywhere except him.

“Tell me that when you haven’t drugged yourself,” Alex teased gently.

“Alex, I can’t lie.”

“I know. But I want you to tell me when you’re ready.”

Michael kissed his palm again, then moved his hand slowly down his cheek and placed it on the back of his neck. Alex slipped his fingers into his curls, nails scratching lightly at his head.

“I want to kiss you,” Michael said softly, cupping Alex’s jaw and running his thumbs over his cheeks. He let one go just far enough to press against his bottom lip, pulling it down. Alex’s lips parted as his hand threaded through Michael’s hair tightened.

“You don’t have to ask, you know,” he responded, breathless.

Michael couldn’t help the shudder that ran down his spine. He leaned forward, resting his head against Alex, just breathing in the smell of him. He brushed their lips together and Alex gasped. The small sound sent a thrill through Michael. His heart fluttered and his stomach twisted with nerves.

“I want you,” Michael mumbled.

“You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His body trembled as the words warmed every part of his body. Need settled between his legs as he rolled himself to straddle Alex’s thighs. His free hand landed on Michael’s hip as the hand in his hair tugged him closer, brushing their lips against each other again.

Michael hadn’t been this nervous about intimacy in years. This was Alex after all. They communicate with bodies and moans. It’s the way they understand each other. They always fit together so well. Filling in the cracks of each other and making something more beautiful than when they were apart.

Alex was the one who closed the distance between them, capturing Michael’s lips, stoking the fire under his skin. He moaned softly, pressing his hips against Alex.

They had kept their kisses chaste since the night at the Pony, neither wanting to rush into this before they knew where they were going. But Michael had been craving Alex for almost three years. To have him wrapped in his arms as sweat eased the movement of their bodies. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He couldn’t.

Alex tugged on his hair with one hand and his t-shirt with the other. Michael’s hands were moving down to the unbuttoned flannel. He shoved it off his shoulders to expose the white shirt underneath. Alex only released him to chuck the shirt somewhere to the side before he was grabbing at the hem of his shirt and pushing it up.

Michael separated for a moment as he gripped Alex’s shoulders, running his fingers over the collar of his shirt. He felt the cool press of metal and remembered the dog tags Alex had taken to wearing.

His mind wandered to the way they would move against Alex’s chest. The way they would intensify the feeling of Michael’s warm fingers as he traced the chain on his skin. He groaned as he also realized that it was something he couldhave.

Michael kissed Alex again, grinding down against him. He wanted to make sure he knew just how badly he wanted him. Alex shoved his hands under his shirt, fingers splayed over his stomach and then moving to his sides and eventually his back. Alex scratched him lightly as he pulled him closer, encouraging the movement of his hips more.

He shuddered and cursed against his lips. He felt like a teenager again. Like he might come undone without even getting their pants off.

“Wait,” Michael mumbled, breathless. Alex pulled away immediately, looking almost scared that he had done something wrong. Michael smiled warmly at him before crushing their lips together one last time. He only held it for a couple seconds before he was pushing himself off the floor. He grabbed Alex’s hands on the way up, using his telekinesis to help lift him to his feet also. Alex looked around, shocked in a way. Michael was a bit startled too. The pollen was supposed to suppress their powers. Maybe the amount he used was too small to have a real effect. Instead of pointing this out, Michael just chuckled and pushed Alex back against the edge of the counter, head dipping to place wet kisses over his neck.

“Come to my trailer,” he said against his throat. “If I’m going to show you just how much I love you, I’ll at least do it in a proper bed.” Alex’s head fell back as Michael’s mouth moved. But he nodded quickly.

Michael forced himself away from Alex, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the ladder. He let Alex climb out first, following closely behind. He shut the cover to the bunker with hardly a glance behind him. He flung the trailer door open next and all but shoved Alex inside, though still cautious of his leg.

Not that Alex was any more patient than he was. Alex grabbed him by his shirt, pulling their bodies flush against each other as Michael locked the door with his mind. Michael’s arms wrapped around his waist as their lips came together again. Alex whimpered as his tongue teased his lip. Michael tugged it between his teeth, groaning at the way it made Alex melt against him.

Alex’s hands dragged down his chest to the hem of his shirt again, yanking it up. They only separated for a moment as Michael finished removing the garment. Michael shoved him backwards onto his bed. He smiled down at him and watched hungrily as he rushed to undo the button on his jeans. All of this the same path they had taken three years ago. But it was different now. Neither was going to run away.

Michael crawled onto the bed, settling between Alex’s thighs as he pushed his shirt up and over his head before capturing his mouth again. They sighed against each other’s lips as their skin moved together effortlessly. The cool metal of the dog tags Alex was wearing shocked Michael, but that only made him want to press closer.

Fingers pulled at his hair and then scratched down his back until they reached the top of his jeans. Michael’s mouth fell open in a silent moan as Alex traced the hem around to the belt buckle. He fumbled with the strap for a moment before he yanked it free and immediately popped the button on his jeans.

Michael shifted back to his knees to admire the beautiful man below him. His face was red, lips swollen and wet as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes were half lidded as he ran his fingers over Michael’s abs and tried to pull him back down by the hem of his jeans. As much as he wanted to go with whatever Alex wanted, he wanted to take it slow. The temptation to just throw all their clothing off and get Alex moaning taunted him. But they could do that any time. No. Michael was determined to show him exactly what he thought of him.

He took Alex’s hands in his, threading their fingers together and pressing them down next to his head. Leaning down again, he kissed Alex slowly, only just barely running his tongue over the seem of his lips. A small whine bubbled up from Alex’s throat as his fingers squeezed Michael’s. Michael rubbed his hips against Alex and they both gasped at the friction.

“I need you,” Alex panted out. Michael hushed him gently as he trailed his lips over his jaw to his neck. Alex’s body arched against him as he sucked at his pulse point. Once he was satisfied with the mark, he moved down past his collarbone and hovered over his heart, breathing over the skin before pressing his mouth against him softly.

He slipped his hands out of Alex’s, letting his fingers just ghost over his arms. Michael continued his movement down his body, leaving small, wet kisses in his wake. His hands followed the same path through the hair on his chest as his mouth worked over his stomach to the trail of hair leading down from his belly button.

“I can never come up with the words to tell you how perfect you are,” Michael breathed against his skin. He pressed his forehead against the bottom of Alex’s ribs as he dragged his fingers down to the hem of his jeans. He felt Alex’s hands run through his hair, scratching and tugging. Michael slipped his fingers into the waistband and began pulling the fabric down.

“Michael, wait,” Alex said. He froze and looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. “Let me take off the prosthesis first.” He pushed himself up to his elbows before Michael stopped him.

“If you’ll let me, I can take it off for you.” Alex’s shoulders sagged as a small smile found it’s way to his face. He nodded slowly and took Michael’s hand, pulling it to his mouth to press a couple chaste kisses to his fingers.

Michael slipped to his knees on the floor. He rolled Alex’s pant leg up, exposing the metal and plastic. He worked quickly with Alex watching him, undoing straps and tugging gently. He set the leg to the side carefully, leaning it against the wall.

He looked back up at Alex and hoped that he didn’t blush from the soft look he was getting from him. He rolled the sock off his stump and set it to the side with the prosthesis. He watched Alex through his eye lashes as he pressed kisses to his knee.

Alex gasped softly and pushed himself up completely so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took Michael’s face in his hands tenderly, brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones. Michael ran his hands up his legs to his waist and over his stomach. His fingers brushed against the metal of the dog tags when he got to his chest.

He dragged one hand back down to Alex’s hip. The other he let catch on the metal chain. He met Alex’s gaze as their heavy breathing mingled between them. Then Michael tugged on the chain, firmly pulling Alex down toward him.

He pushed himself up at the same time, mouths coming together with a chorus of moans and gasps. Their tongues tasted each other as Michael pushed himself up and Alex back on the bed. Alex’s hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as their bodies would allow.

Michael braced himself with one hand while the other ran down Alex’s body to the waist of his pants again. He grabbed and tugged both the jeans and underwear over his hips. Alex, lifted himself so he could bring them down to his thighs.

He pulled away from Alex to finish removing his clothes, tossing them somewhere to the side. Michael licked his lips as he took in every beautiful inch of him. The firm muscles barely hidden beneath the soft skin. He touched his thighs, the hair tickling his hands. He moved slowly up his thighs and to his hips where his hardness rested between his legs.

Michael avoided touching his cock, instead focusing on massaging everything else around it. He dug his fingers into the soft spot on his hips. Alex rolled toward his touch, sighing blissfully. And he couldn’t help himself, leaning down to press featherlight kisses to the v just below his abs. Alex made a small whimpering sound as he pulled at his own hair.

“So amazing…” Michael mumbled as he continued his line of kisses up over his abs. “Beautiful and strong…” Alex gasped out his name when his hands scratched up his sides and to his arms to hold them above his head. “You were made for me, Alex. I was made to touch you, to kiss you, to live for you, to love you.”

Michael kissed his way back up to his chest, inhaling his scent and hoping that it would be left on his own skin for days. He pressed his tongue over Alex’s nipple briefly before kissing across his chest to the other one. Alex arched his back, pressing his member against Michael’s abs and rubbing. He chuckled.

“Touching you was always the most rewarding part,” he said sweetly before running the tip of his tongue up over his chest and neck and back to his lips. He left only a few centimeters between them as he spoke, “You’re so responsive. I can’t help but want to take you apart.”

“Kiss me, Michael. Now,” Alex ordered. Michael would never deny him anything. Not unless that was the plan. It was about both of them this time. He could play with him in the future. Michael slid his mouth over Alex’s, not being able to stop the smile.

They had a future. And this was only the first of all the ways he would be allowed to love him.

Michael released Alex’s arms and ran his fingers back down his torso to his hips. He pressed the length of his body against him. Alex wrapped his arms around his neck, licking into his mouth and nipping at his lip. Michael moaned softly and rocked his hips against him.

He released Alex to push his own pants and underwear to his knees before kicking them off. He let most of his weight collapse on top of Alex, rolling his hips to rub them against each other. They moaned together as a shudder ran down Michael’s spine.

Alex untangled one of his arms to reach between them. He wrapped his hand around both of them, stroking slowly. Michel groaned into his mouth as his arms started to shake from the effort of holding himself up. He tore himself away from Alex, knowing that if he let this continue, he would finish before even getting inside him. He sat back on his knees, tracing a pattern through the hair on his chest and down to his cock.

He pushed Alex’s hand away from them gently. His panting only increased as Michael took his legs and bent them back slightly. Michael slid down his body so that his mouth hovered over Alex’s now twitching member. Every breath that brushed over him made it jump in anticipation.

He felt Alex’s hand in his hair and looked up at him through his eyelashes. His mouth hung open as his eyes begged for any sort of stimulation. A small bead of precum sat at the tip, threatening to roll down the side.

“You’re so perfect,” Michael said just before taking Alex into his mouth for the first time in years. The salty taste of him was better than he remembered as he slipped most of the way down his shaft. Alex jerked and gasped, tugging on his hair to pull him closer. Michael groaned around him, feeling the way Alex’s fingers tightened again.

Michael rubbed the back of his thighs as he bobbed his head up and down, pushing them open so he could have better access. He let his tongue tease around the head as he slipped further with every down stroke.

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex pleaded. He looked up at him to meet his eyes. He felt the shudder run through Alex’s body as he gasped and twisted his other hand into the sheets on the bed. Then Michael sank down again, taking him to the back of his throat and burying his nose in the short hair at the base.

Alex’s hips jerked up and Michael suppressed his gag reflex by gripping his thighs harder. Alex tugged his already swollen bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes fluttered closed and head fell back. Michael wanted to imprint the image of him blissed out into his brain.

He lifted his head until just the tip with in his mouth before sinking back down in one movement. Alex cried out in pleasure as his fingers pulled on Michael’s hair again. He continued the pattern a few more times before pulling off completely. Alex whined in protest. Michael chuckled and smirked up at him. Then he trailed the tip of his tongue down his length and over his balls, sucking one into his mouth briefly before moving to his ass.

Alex’s back arched again as he tried to press closer to Michael’s tongue. He mumbled something incomprehensible when he started teasing his rim. Michael shifted his hands down to his ass, spreading him open.

“Not… enough…” Alex panted out. Michael nipped at the skin of his ass lightly.

“Just be patient, darlin’,” he said sweetly before pressing a kiss to his skin. Then he pressed his tongue flat against his hole while his thumb pushed just past the rim. Alex’s hips rocked more as small moans slipped from his lips.

Michael worked his thumb in slowly, letting the tip of his tongue slip in alongside it. He pressed against Alex’s walls, urging him open. Alex groaned from above him and grabbed handfuls of his hair, yanking him back up his body to crush their mouths together. Michael didn’t exactly fight hard against it.

He kept his fingers at his hole, slipping his middle finger in and out of him teasingly. Alex bit at his lips and shoved his tongue into his mouth. It stole Michael’s breath away, feeling the desperation he poured into the kiss. He only hoped Alex could feel the same from him. He didn’t get the chance to reciprocate for long because Alex pulled away, instead pressing their foreheads together.

“Tell me you have lube,” he said, voice shaking and breathy.

“Of course.” Michael reached out with his mind to the lowest drawer under the sink. He floated the bottle toward them and dropped it on the bed. “You saying you didn’t like my attentions?” he teased with a smile.

“I liked it too much,” Alex said, brushing their lips together and rocking his hips against Michael’s fingers. “I need to feel you inside me again. To be as close to you as possible. To lose track of where I end and you begin.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face. Michael would do anything for Alex. Bend to his every whim and request.

So he removed his finger from Alex’s hole and instead wrapped his arm around his waist and the other around his back. He pulled him up so he was sitting on his thighs as Michael kneeled on the bed. Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him close.

Michael kissed him again, soft and slow. He gripped Alex’s skin, digging his fingers into the muscle. Alex sighed and held him tighter in return. When he was sure he was balanced on his thighs, he reached for the bottle and flicked the cap open. Realizing he was going to need to hands, he pulled his lips away from Alex. There was a small noise of protest that Michael silenced with a quick peck.

“Hold on to me,” he breathed over his lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting go.”

He released Alex slowly as their lips slipped over each other again. Michael squeezed a small amount of lube on his fingers. He rubbed it around for a moment before finding Alex’s entrance again. Alex gasped as his fingers prodded the opening.

There was little resistance to the first finger from Michael’s earlier attention. The lube made the second finger slip in just as easily. Alex sighed his name as his hips started rocking slowly. The friction against Michael’s own cock was wholly welcome, making him moan.

Michael twisted and pressed his fingers inside him, looking for the sweet spot he knew would earn him more noises. Alex’s mouth fell open when he finally found it and he could only grin as he swallowed the moan that tumbled from his lips. He massaged his prostate. A few soft strokes followed by a firm press.

Alex’s cock twitched and throbbed against his with every movement. As much as Michael wanted to continue like this until Alex made a mess of them both, he didn’t want to wait anymore. He pulled his fingers out slowly, giving one more teasing press to the spot.

Michael grabbed the lube bottle again, pouring more onto his fingers. He snapped the lid closed and tossed it to the side, hardly registering the sound of it falling to the floor. He carefully shifted Alex back so he could cover his cock in the lube.

Once fully coated, he pulled back to rest his forehead against Alex’s. They both panted as they met each other’s eyes. Michael wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You want this?” he asked a final time. Alex just beamed at him before pulling him back in for a searing kiss.

“Yes. I need you, Michael.”

Michael could only groan in response, claiming his lips again. He lowered Alex back to the bed and he almost immediately wrapped his legs around his waist. With his free hand, Michael guided his cock to Alex’s hole. He pressed himself against the rim, slowly rolling his hips until the tip entered him.

Michael saw stars behind his eyes as he tried to keep his movements slow. The temptation to bury himself in the warmth of Alex was overwhelming. Their moans overlapped as he pushed farther in. He nearly fell forward, needing to brace himself using the arm that had been hold Alex.

“I love you, Michael,” Alex suddenly rushed out. Michael’s eyes opened to meet Alex’s. He had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on his face. His eyes were half lidded but still completely focused on Michael. “I love you,” he repeated.

His heart soared higher than ever. He never thought he would know this kind of joy. But the man wrapped in his arms was offering it so openly and completely. No extra conditions. Just all the love he could possibly give.

A tear spilled down Michael’s face as he pushed himself completely into Alex. Their mouths fell open and Alex refused to look away from him. He pulled out slightly and pushed in again, this time hearing the moans fall from his own lips.

“God, Alex…” he sighed, letting his head fall to his shoulder as he continued the steady thrusting of his hips.

Michael pressed his lips to his shoulder before sucking on the spot, massaging a mark into his skin. Alex moaned softly as his hips came up to meet Michael’s next thrust. He scratched his nails up and down Michael’s back, distracting him from his rhythm. His hips jerked forward roughly once, making them both gasp at the feeling.

He picked up his rhythm again, moving faster, starting to chase the high that comes with orgasm. Alex clenched around him, moving his own hips in time with Michael. He stopped holding back his moans, instead letting them vibrate over Alex’s skin.

He could feel Alex’s heartbeat from where their chests were pressed together. It pounded just as hard as his own. Possibly threatening to burst from how full of love it was. Alex’s moans were music to his ears. Small plea’s begging for more finally registered in his brain. And he would never deny Alex.

“I’m so close, Michael,” he whined next to his ear. Michael was on the edge too. So he pulled his head from Alex’s shoulder and kissed him again as he sped up his hips again, trying to match the racing of his heartbeat.

He had lost track of his body. He could only feel Alex wrapped around him, fitting perfectly against his skin. Michael ground his hips against Alex’s ass, breaking his even pattern in an effort to feel more of him.

After that he didn’t know what came over him. His hand was pressing to Alex’s chest as his hips only got rougher and more erratic. He could feel the heat rippling out from his hand. Alex cried out and arched against him, one of his own hands moving to cover Michael’s.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” he panted out.

“Michael!” He felt the spasm of his body against his own, then the warmth of the liquid running between them.

His own orgasm rushed up to him, no time to even consider pulling out. Not that he even wanted to. His hips thrust forward roughly, burying him inside of Alex as his cock emptied. A long moan accompanied each of his last thrusts until he was shaking from the overstimulation.

Michael collapsed against Alex, laying his head against his chest. Alex’s free hand pet his hair gently as their breathing started to even out. Michael dozed and Alex’s occasional snores let him know he wasn’t the only one. It couldn’t have been that long because the mess between them hadn’t dried.

He pulled his eyes open to see his hand placed firmly over Alex’s heart and his hand still covering Michael’s. He lifted his hand slowly and the bright pink, iridescent handprint seemed to ripple with Alex’s breathing.

“You could have warned me how intense it would be,” Alex said quietly, a light and content tone to his voice. Michael pushed himself up slightly to see his face. The sweet smile that always made his heart flutter was back and internally he sighed in relief.

“Had I known it was going to be I would have,” he said, lifting a finger brush over his cheek. “I’m sorry for the handprint. I didn’t—” Alex pulled him in and kissed him, stopping his apology.

“I’m so happy, Michael. About everything. I love you so much,” he said when he pulled away. Michael smiled at him and pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering just slightly when he pulled away.

“I love you, Alex.” Alex held his face gently with a fondness glittering in his eyes.

“I told you to wait until the serum had worn off,” he joked. The fog in his mind had completely vanished though he couldn’t quite remember when. He was still pouring his heart out to Alex but it was because he wanted to. He never wanted to hide anything from him. He never wanted to lie to him.

“It wore off already. I don’t feel the need to say everything I’m thinking,” he said, inching closer to Alex’s lips again. “But I still want to tell you everything. Because right now, all I can think about is you.”

[shyrose57]

More Syndicate Minors.

Quackity becomes president after Phil pretty much tosses Tubbo at Techno and Tommy and said ‘work out your issues or no cake’, which leads to some less than stellar moments and some absolutely hilarious ones.

Butcher arc unfortunately still happens.

But you also get gems like Tubbo and Tommy frantically stuffing themselves in too small crevices and chests to hide when somebody searches the house. Like Tubbo will be nervously sweating from where he’s stuffed into a cabinet while Quackity goes through, and Tommy will be folded into the small space under Techno’s bed silently swearing while watching Dream walk by.

Tubbo is technically a wanted man, after his “desertion” of L’manberg, thanks to Quackity deciding that as a former president, he knew way too much about L’manberg to just be allowed to head off wherever he wanted. So uh, now there’s a bounty on his head.

Dnret becomes an actual underground house, considering two to five teenagers all sleep there, depending on the day. It expands to be just a bit smaller than Techno’s house, width wise, with the first room, as well as the second dug directly underneath it, but the following six rooms dug under it are much bigger. All the kids get their own rooms, with the extras acting as storage, and a living room. The original room acts mostly as a decoy room and storage.

Purpled originally only goes to Techno’s to check on Tommy and Tubbo. He feels some sense of responsibility and companionship with them, due to being tossed into this whole thing as kids. And y’know-he had least, had his mercenary training to fall back on. They had to learn in a literal war. 

Anyway, he goes to make sure they’re still kicking, possibly cause some problems for Techno if they aren’t, and finds himself sitting down for a drink and snacks while talking with the two. 

He decides to come by more often. It’s kind of nice, not always having to watch your back for threats-here, he knows Technoblade wouldn’t let any close, with his younger siblings nearby.

Ranboo going there pretty much happens the same, just a little quicker. He’s more or less a reluctant member of the Butcher army, realizes Tommy and Tubbo are there, and brings back Techno’s weapons to appease him so he can check on the two. Then he continues to do it, Techno becomes reluctantly fond of him, and when the whole ‘attempted execution’ happens via Quackity, Tommy and Techno bust him out and cause some minor terrorism while they’re at it.

Phil just finds Drista hanging around Logstedshire looking for Tommy, and being a bit worried, and promptly invites her over for lunch on the condition she doesn’t tell her brother that Tommy’s there. Drista, always up for a little mayhem and secret keeping, agrees, and quickly becomes a very common visitor.

Niki still joins the Syndicate, but only after a lot of therapy, via Ghostbur...which, originally is less than great, because she’s half-convinced he’s a hallucination, but he does his best to make her take care of herself, and eventually drags Phil into it.

And thus, Niki is adopted, and becomes resident big sister, getting her own healing arc, and stuff.

Might also toss Jack in there too, after Puffy smacks him with therapy. he and Tubbo have a nice dynamic.

Snowchester still exist, but it’s not overly far from Techno’s house. Kind of, but not really. It was really just made because Tubbo wanted something to do, the kids kind of wanted places to sleep that didn’t involve crawling through four rooms and a house in order to get fresh air, and Jack and Niki needed a place to stay, that wasn’t the Stronghold or their less than healthy other places. Puffy also eventually moves in there, once she decides to team up with the Syndicate to get rid of the Egg.

One time Quackity did manage to catch Tubbo and try to drag him back to L’manberg less than kindly. Neither Techno or Phil had the chance to intervene before the other minors were on him-they can be surprisingly intimidating when they want to make a point.

Quackity didn’t bother Tubbo for a long time after that.

All the kids get their pets. And more, because now nobody’s gonna mess with them, less they face the wraith of the Angel of Death, and the Blood God.

Techno is a tired older sibling, who keeps getting more siblings and roommates every time he looks away from his dad for one minute, because Philza has decided he will adopt whoever he chooses, and that will be all minors within his radius...or on the Smp in general.

Punz is Purpled’s older brother. He’s pretty distant with the other, but still cares for him, and is glad he’s found a place he feels safe. Was attempting to bond with him more when he got snagged by the Egg, which definitely contributes to the Syndicate’s hatred for it.

Nobody knows what the heck Friend is besides not a sheep, but she seems fairly friendly, and y’know, she makes Ghostbur happy, so they won’t complain about the possibly eldritch/immortal sheep.

Raccoon hybrid Tommy, wolf hybrid Purpled, and moobloom hybrid Tubbo.

Michael still gets adopted, and Tommy is forever offended that Techno is the favorite Uncle.

[musette22]

Burning For You

Title: Burning For You Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan) Rating: Teen and up Word count: 3.1k A/N: Written for Evanstan Week day 6, a late fill for the Alternate Universe prompt. This silly piece of fluff is entirely inspired by the wonder that is the Mountain Lodge candle from the Yankee Candle Company. Yes, the one that inspired this iconic Tumblr post. The one that smells like Chris Evans. 

I was lucky enough to receive one as a gift from the wonderful @howdoyousleep3 and my life hasn't been the same since I smelled it for the first time. Thank you for introducing me to such delights baby K, ilyyy 💖 Also BIG thank you to the @evanstanweek​ team and to my beautiful beta @rainbowsandcoconut who came up with the outline for this fic when I told her my idea! Love you, boo 😘

Summary: Evanstan AU. Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

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“Listen, D. You’ve gotta smell this candle.” Sebastian leans in closer, nearly knocking over his - third - glass of red. “You know I’m not usually a scented candle kinda guy, but this one…” He closes his eyes and tips back his head, an expression of pure bliss on his face. “Incredible. Glorious. Magnificent.”

“You look like you’re about to pull a Meg Ryan in When Harry met Sally over there, Seb.”

Sebastian straightens, giving Deirdre a meaningful look across the table at the low-key SoHo bar they’re having drinks at. “You kid, but I’m this close. It’s that good, not even exaggerating.”

“Sure you’re not,” Deirdre huffs, lifting her glass and taking a sizeable gulp of her Cosmopolitan.

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Sebastian shrugs. “You know, I pity you for not having experienced the delights of the Mountain Lodge candle, really. If you knew what it smelled like, you’d be singing its praises too, believe me.”

Deirdre rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Fine, I’ll bite. What does it smell like, Sebastian, pray tell.”

Sebastian sits up eagerly. “It smells…” he starts, “like an evening in that lodge in the Green Mountains we rented with the others a couple of years ago. Remember that? How it felt to relax by the fire after a long day of hiking, the scent of cedarwood and toasted marshmallows in the air?”

“Hmmm,” Deirdre agrees. “That was nice, yeah. But hardly worth busting a nut over, I’d say.”

Sebastian holds up a single finger. “I'm not done. Because this candle doesn’t just smell like the lodge, it also smells like the lumberjack living at the lodge.”

Deirdre frowns. “There was no lumberjack living at the –”

“The metaphorical lumberjack, D, god. Work with me here a little.”

“Oh right, okay. Gotcha.”

“It smells,” Sebastian continues, undeterred, “like soft, worn flannel. Like beard oil and a hint of clean sweat. It smells like a big, strong, gorgeous man who just got done hewing a ginormous tree with his massive axe and cutting it down into firewood, which he’s now using to light the very fireplace in front of which he’ll make sweet, sweet love to you, on the rug that’s actually the skin of a bear that attacked his rescue dog and which this man fought off and killed with his own bare hands.”

“Whooofffff,” Deirdre says, fanning herself with a napkin. “Fine, I’m starting to see the attraction.”

“It smells…” Sebastian goes on, pausing for dramatic effect before delivering his clincher, “like Chris Evans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Deirdre groans loudly, sagging back in her chair. “Ughh, shoulda known this was coming. For chrissake, Sebastian, you literally cannot go even one night without bringing up Chris Evans, can you?”

“I totally can,” Sebastian protests, like the mature, professional, Times-employed literary critic he is. “But you don’t understand, D. This candle, it’s actually like they bottled the very essence of Chris Evans and then infused a candle with it. It’s life-changing.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a permanent boner for Chris Evans, you wanna marry him and have his little bearded babies, tell me something I don’t know,” Deirdre sighs, draining the last of her drink and immediately starting to look around for the waiter to order a new one. Distantly, Sebastian notices the song playing in the background changing to The Smith’s ‘Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want'. Ah, if only.

“Listen to me,” Sebastian insists, unconsciously starting to speak louder, like he’s some small-town preacher trying to make his ignorant clergy see the light. “Deirdre, darling, you’re one of my oldest friends. I wouldn’t lie to you. I swear, when you smell this candle, you too will feel like you’re being engulfed in the embrace of the brilliant, spectacular, totally unique smokeshow that goes by the name of Chris Evans. It’s as if the man himself is wrapping those huge, muscled arms of his around you, crushing you to his wide chest as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck while his beard brushes your temple and you inhale his masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat, I swear to god – D, are you even listening?”

At some point during the last part of Sebastian’s homily, Deirdre’s eyes drifted to a point over his right shoulder and got stuck there.

“Did you just- zone out?” Sebastian asks indignantly, waving a hand in front of her face. She doesn’t even blink. “Hello? Earth to Deirdre.”

“Seb,” Deirdre says, still not looking at Sebastian.

“Oh, I see,” Sebastian barrels on. “Here I am, pouring my heart out, telling you I found a candle that smells exactly like the man of my dreams and you’re just… What are you doing, actually? Are you okay?”

At this point, Deirdre’s eyes have gone comically round, mouth hanging open just a little. “Sebastian,” she repeats, more urgently now – and just as he’s turning his head to find out what put that dumbfounded look on her face, someone nearby clears their throat.

Sebastian startles, looking up at the man who’s appeared next to their table.

“Hi,” the man says in a deep, rich voice.

A deep, rich voice that Sebastian knows all too well. A deep, rich voice that belongs to none other than Chris Evans, Hollywood heartthrob and actual smokeshow, himself.

Oh.

Sebastian gapes while Chris, dressed in dark wash jeans, a red flannel shirt and a brown shearling jacket, smiles at him patiently. He’s all soft-looking beard and strong nose and bulging biceps and long, lean legs, and Sebastian has died and gone to heaven.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Chris says, “but was just sitting a table over and I couldn’t help but overhear.”

And from one moment to the next, Sebastian crashes forcefully back to earth. His whole body goes cold, the blood draining from his face so quickly he feels dizzy with it.

Fuck. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. There is no way this is actually happening.

Except it is.

Sebastian had just been extremely, loudly and publicly horny about the very guy that’s standing next to him right now. The guy who is no doubt about to give Sebastian a piece of his mind at best, and a right hook to the jaw at worst. And honestly, he’d deserve it.

Since Sebastian wouldn’t even know where to begin apologizing, he says nothing. Just keeps staring at Chris in ever-growing horror, his pulse pounding in his ears so loudly it almost drowns out the miserable sound of Morrissey still pleading in the background.

Chris clears his throat. “So,” he says, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “This candle smells like me, huh?”

Sebastian groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Shit. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- Oh my god, please, please, please just forget you heard any of that.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Puzzled, Sebastian chances a glance at Chris from between his fingers. He’s partly still covering his face out of embarrassment, and partly because Chris is so gorgeous in real life that Sebastian isn’t sure he could look at him directly without spontaneously combusting. It’s like staring at the fucking sun. He doesn’t seem too angry, though, thank god. In fact, there’s an amused twinkle in his blue eyes that makes Sebastian’s shoulders relax infinitesimally.

“Because it was incredibly inappropriate?” Sebastian suggests, honestly a bit confused about having to explain this to him.

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “It sounded pretty great. Kinda want to smell it for myself now.”

For some unfathomable reason – probably because unexpectedly seeing his long-time celebrity crush in the flesh broke his brain, Sebastian blurts out, “Oh, I don’t have it with me. It’s back at my apartment.”

Slowly, Chris raises a single eyebrow. The look sends a shiver straight down Sebastian’s spine, from the crown of his head right down to his toes. “Is it now?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replies breathlessly.

Chris’s gaze drops down to Sebastian’s brown leather boots before slowly travelling back up to his face. “I gotta say, normally someone would at least have to buy me dinner first, but…” He trails off, looking Sebastian straight in the eye before finishing, “I am really curious about this candle.”

“You are?” Sebastian says dumbly, and then “Ow!” when Deirdre delivers an impressively precise kick to his shin under the table. He turns to give her a betrayed look, but when he meets her eyes, with which she’s clearly trying very hard to communicate something to him, he finally catches on. “Oh!” Sebastian whips back around to Chris, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I- you- you mean like…” He swallows hard. “You wanna come back to my place to, uh, smell the candle?”

Although Chris’s expression remains amused, there’s a hint of trepidation there as well. “Sure,” he says, smiling crookedly. “If… that’s something you’re up for?”

Sebastian’s mind races. The way he sees it, there are two possibilities. Either Chris Evans is actually standing here in the flesh, propositioning him, or Sebastian hit his head in the bathroom earlier and is actually just lying on the dirty tile floor, hallucinating as a result of severe head trauma. The second option seems by far the most likely, but then, his shin does hurt like a sonuvabitch.

Well, fuck.

Sebastian clears his throat and sits up straighter, running a hand through his longish hair. “I mean, yeah, that’s- wow. That. That would be okay with me, uh huh. You mean like, now?”

“If that works for you?”

Without thinking, Sebastian says, “Well, I’m here with Deirdre –” before letting out another sharp yelp as said Deirdre crushes his toes under her heel. “Jesus, D!”

Deirdre ignores him. “Ohhh, would you look at the time,” she exclaims, holding up her wrist which very much doesn’t have a watch on it. “Boy, it’s much later than I thought. I really oughta get going, early start tomorrow.” She yawns theatrically, then grabs her purse and throws down two twenties on the table. “It was lovely seeing you, Sebastian, Chris… Evans,” she adds, with a wooden nod in Chris’s direction. “Hope you two have a lovely evening, bye now!”

And she’s gone.

They both stare after her for a second, and then Chris chuckles – a low sound that reverberates pleasantly in Sebastian’s chest. “Well,” Chris says, turning back towards him. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Chris.”

Sebastian stands, taking Chris’s hand, which is warm and big and ever so slightly calloused, and exactly like Sebastian always imagined. “Yeah, I know,” he says, because he’s cool like that. And then, in a show of bravura that surprises even himself, Sebastian holds Chris’s gaze, tilts his head a fraction, and says, “So uh, my place?”

Chris smiles, casually dropping a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover their drinks, before taking a step to the side to let Sebastian pass. “Lead the way,” he says, lightly resting his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back as they make their way towards the exit.

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It’s only once they’re outside and the cold February night air manages to cool down Sebastian’s overheated brain somewhat that it occurs to him to ask if Chris wasn’t at the bar with anyone.

“I met a friend for drinks but he just left,” Chris explains. “I was just waiting for the bill when I overheard you guys.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have any other plans?” Sebastian asks, because he’s nothing if not a self-sabotaging idiot.

They’re still standing outside the bar, the golden light radiating from a nearby lamppost decorated with a cluster of luminous orbs making Chris look softer, somehow. Still a Hollywood heartthrob, but also charmingly human. Unfortunately, it does absolutely nothing to make Sebastian any less infatuated. If anything, it only endears Chris to him more, which he really didn’t think was possible.

“Not really, no,” Chris replies, amusement in his tone. “I was just gonna go back to my hotel and read for a bit.”

Sebastian perks up at the mention of his area of expertise. “Oh, yeah? What’re you reading?”

“I haven’t started it yet, but it’s this history of space travel? I read a great review of it in the Times the other day, so I thought I’d give it a go.” With a self-deprecating smile, Chris adds, “I’m kind of a space nerd.”

Sebastian blinks. “Not ‘To Infinity and Beyond’, by any chance?”

“That’s the one,” Chris confirms. “You know it?”

“I wrote the review.”

Chris’s eyes go round. “You did not.”

In lieu of replying, Sebastian digs up his wallet from his pocket, takes out his Times-employee card and holds it up for Chris’s inspection.

“Huh,” Chris says, studying the card. “What are the odds.” When his eyes turn back to Sebastian’s, he suddenly breaks out into a grin, wide and boyish. “Well, I guess that explains a thing or two.”

“How do you mean?” Sebastian frowns.

“I mean, that review was brilliantly written so you clearly have a way with words.” With a sly look, Chris goes on, “which explains your colorful descriptions of that candle earlier. The masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat was especially vivid.”

Sebastian groans, dragging a hand down over his face. “Jesus Christ, this is so embarrassing.”

Chris eyes shine with genuine mirth as he laughs, “Hey, come on, don’t worry about it.” He takes a step closer, ducking his head to try and catch Sebastian’s eyes, which are now firmly fixed on the pavement in an attempt to conjure up a hole to swallow him. “Call me a narcissist, but I didn’t exactly hate overhearing a gorgeous guy describing me as the man of his dreams.”

“Oh god,” Sebastian mutters, feeling himself turn a fetching shade of crimson. Trying to hide his blush, he turns around abruptly and nearly walks into the lamppost.

Chris, his savior, his knight in shining armor, manages to grab him by the back of his coat just in time to avoid the imminent collision. Sebastian still stumbles, but strong, capable arms wrapping securely around his waist keep him upright.

Carefully, Sebastian turns in Chris’s embrace so they’re facing each other, though he can’t quite make himself look Chris in the eye yet. “I’m guessing you caught on to this by now,” Sebastian tells the St Christopher pendant resting on Chris’s sternum, “but I’m kind of a disaster.”

Chris just hums, lifting a hand to tilt up Sebastian’s chin with his index finger, a small smile playing on his lips. “A beautiful one, though,” he whispers into the negligible space between them, before he closes that space and presses soft, full lips to Sebastian’s own.

Sebastian can’t suppress the small sound that escapes him when their lips meet, eyes closing on instinct as he lets himself sink into the kiss. Lets Chris take charge and coax open Sebastian’s mouth by running the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips. Sebastian doesn’t think twice about letting him in. When their tongues touch, sweet and soft and languid, he trembles, pressing closer. Chris tastes a little like beer, and while Sebastian’s never been overly fond of beer, it takes approximately two seconds of being kissed by the hottest man on the planet for it to magically turn into Sebastian’s new favorite taste. Ever.

The kiss starts off slow; a little cautious maybe, as if Chris still isn’t entirely sure it’s welcomed. But then Sebastian’s hands find their way to Chris’s waist, fingers gripping tightly, and Chris slides a hand into Sebastian’s hair, angling his head gently to the left to deepen the kiss – and suddenly, Sebastian’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. He moans, relishing the feel of Chris's soft beard scratching at his clean-shaven cheeks, and way Chris takes control of the kiss, like something right out of every embarrassing fantasy he's ever had.

When Chris hums against his lips, as if he’s enjoying this just as much as Sebastian is, Sebastian’s knees go all weak and useless. It’s a good thing that Chris is there, tightening his left arm around his waist and pulling him more securely against the hard lines of his own body – which actually doesn’t do a thing to help Sebastian’s current knee situation. He whimpers, curling his hands into the fabric of Chris’s coat to anchor himself.

When Chris finally breaks the kiss, he doesn’t go far. His breathing has deepened, warm puffs of air caressing Sebastian’s tingling, wet lips. Sebastian exhales shakily. The way his head is spinning might be partially due to the wine, but it's definitely mostly because of Chris sweeping him off his feet with his smooth, movie star ways.

Needing a moment to gain his composure before he speaks, Sebastian buries his face in the crook of Chris’s neck, taking a deep, steadying breath –

Oh.

“I fucking knew it,” he groans.

Sebastian feels rather than hears Chris’s quiet laugh; feels the vibrations of it shake his broad chest under Sebastian’s palms. “Yeah? Do I really smell like your candle?”

“Better,” Sebastian mutters. On instinct, he presses his lips against Chris’s exposed neck, eliciting a shiver from him.

“You know,” Chris rumbles into Sebastian’s ear. “I still think I need to smell this magical thing for myself. Make sure you’re not just flattering me to get into my pants, y'know?”

Christ.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods. “Definitely, good thinking. Empirical evidence is paramount. In fact, it’s totally possible I’m just mixing things up right now because my brain’s all” – he makes a poof motion with his hands, trusting Chris will get his drift – “so I think maybe I’ll need to do some comparative research.”

Chris tilts his head in though. “Hands-on research?”

“I think that’s best, yes,” Sebastian concurs.

“Right. Well, out of the two of us, you’re definitely the higher educated one, so I’m just gonna take your word for that.” After a beat, Chris adds, “as long as I get to test a theory or two of my own.”

“Oh?” Sebastian licks his lips. “Such as?”

The wicked glint in Chris’s eyes is the only warning he gets before Chris is sliding his hand back into Sebastian’s hair and giving it a firm, experimental tug.

“Ah,” Sebastian breathes, his eyelids fluttering, the blood rushing south so fast he feels dizzy – again.

Chris grins smugly. “Such as that.”

“Okay,” Sebastian croaks. “Yeah, that seems fair.” Wasting no more time, he reaches out to grab Chris’s free hand and starts to pull him along the pavement in the direction of his apartment.

Chris, laughing as he squeezes Sebastian’s hand, follows closely behind.  

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[flightlessangelwings]

Good Enough For You

Billy Russo x gn!Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Well today was a shit day.

First, you were passed up for the promotion at your job after you busted your ass for weeks. You poured your heart and all of your free time into your job, and you were turned down in favor of Brad. Fucking Brad, who did the bare minimum and got all the praise in the world. Whatever, you would get over it after you’ve had time to cool off. Maybe it was the kick you needed to finally look for another job somewhere that would appreciate you more.

What really got to you though, was the phone call you got when you came home. As soon as you closed your door, the last person on the planet you wanted to talk to called: your mother. Calls from her were rare these days, but that was how you liked it. With a heavy sigh, you answered as prepared yourself to get chewed out for the next twenty minutes. You never had the best relationship with your mother, and the hurtful words she said to you as a child still haunted you to this day.

You finally hung up after what felt like forever as you fought back tears. Today was Friday too, it was supposed to be a good day. You let out a deep breath as you steadied your emotions and then you decided to go out to the bar for a drink. Or two.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled to yourself as you changed out of your work cloths and into your favorite pair of jeans and a nice top. If you were going to go out and get shitfaced, you were at least going to look good; you had to boost your confidence somehow. After a last glance in the mirror, you headed out to the bar.

This bar held so many memories for you, but you hadn’t been by in some time. It was a comfort place for you, so you kept it for special times, and it was just what the doctor ordered as a remedy for a rough day. You sat at the bar by yourself with your drink in your hand as you used the alcohol and your happy memories from here to cheer yourself up. After about four drinks, it started to work. 

By far the best memory of this place was when you met a certain someone. You had come here one night years ago with some friends when the most handsome man you ever saw came up to you. You thought it was a joke at first, or that you were hallucinating, because no one that good looking would actually have sought you out. The handsome stranger introduced himself as Billy Russo, and the two of you ended up talking until last call.

A smile came across your face as you thought about that night. Normally you would brush off advances from strangers, but something about Billy’s energy just pulled you to him. And he was so much more than just a pretty face too; he was smart, funny, and charismatic. Before he called a car for you, you exchanged numbers so you could keep in touch, which you did. After about a week of texting, you ended up at his place for the night.

That was the one and only time you had slept with Billy, and what a night that was. After that, you both tried to make things work, but things just weren’t going to fall into place for you two. You stayed friends, and you were grateful for that, but the more you talked to him, the more you fell for him. And you could tell that he didn’t feel the same way about you. He only saw you as a friend. So if that was how he stayed in your life, you told yourself you’d be satisfied with that.

But, the more you drank, the more the thought actually upset you. Maybe it was just something else to add to the pile today, but you found yourself longing for Billy in a way that you hadn’t let yourself feel in over a year. You looked around the bar, and you considered approaching someone random to take home for the night to forget about your troubles, but no one appealed to you.

You finished off another drink as you laughed at yourself. It wouldn’t be the first time you found yourself a Billy substitute. You flagged down the bartender for another drink to drown out your mind.

“Here you go dear,” the bartender said as he set the glass down, “But this is your last one. I’m cutting you off.”

You answered him with a pout, but you knew he was right. You had been sitting at that bar for hours, and you lost track of how many drinks you had. Oh well, it’s not like you got like this often. So you finished your drink, set your money down at the bar and set out into the night. Maybe the many drinks did go to your head, because when you flagged down a cab, the address you gave was not your own.

A knock at the door made Billy jump out of his thoughts. He glanced down at the corner of his laptop to check the time to find it was around 1:00 am. With furrowed brows, he put the computer down and went to open the door only to be met with your glazed-over face. You leaned against the frame, and could barely hold yourself upright.

Billy gave you a soft, but subtly devious smile, “Had a good night I take it?” he teased as he let you in.

“Hope I didn’t wake you,” you tried to keep yourself from slurring, but you couldn’t tell how good a job you did at that.

“Nah, just doing some work,” he motioned over to the open laptop on the coffee table as he guided you over to the couch, “Let me get you some water. You smell like a liquor store.”

“You like it,” you retorted with a wink as you let yourself collapse down onto his luxurious couch. You heard him chuckle but you couldn’t make out what he said after that since the moment you sat down, your head started to spin. You closed your eyes and leaned back until you heard the sound of glass on the table.

“You alright there?” he ended with your name and sat down next to you.

“Fine,” you mumbled before you reached for the water and chugged all of it.

“That is a familiar sight,” he teased.

Once you finished the water, you felt so much better. It wasn’t enough to sober you up, but it at least helped the room to stop spinning, “Thanks,” you couldn’t meet his gaze as you gently set the glass back down. You let out a deep exhale as all the feelings you tried to bury suddenly came rushing back.

Billy said your name to get your attention, “Everything alright? You look like you have a lot on your mind,” he asked once you finally turned to look at him. He couldn’t quite place the look on your face, but it was strange for you to not look him in the eye.

“Fine,” you answered too quickly. You paused for a moment before you let out a heavy sigh as Billy continued to stare at you, unsatisfied with your answer, “Rough day.”

“You want to talk about it?”

You looked into his dark eyes as if you were looking for the answer to an unasked question in them. When you didn’t say anything, Billy said your name again, but this time it was in a much softer tone. That was all it took for you to break.

“Why am I never good enough?” you finally said, your voice cracking.

“What?” Billy was thrown with the question, “Who said that?” he moved to put his hand on your thigh to try to comfort you.

“I’m never good enough. For anyone,” you raised your voice without meaning to, “I got passed up again for the promotion at work, even though I busted my ass off for it. Then, I had to listen to my mother tell me for the thousandth time that I’m a disappointment and how much I let her down…” your voice fell off as the tears you tried so hard to keep back fell down your cheek. You slumped forward and buried your face in your hands.

Billy didn’t know what to say, so he just rubbed your back and let you cry it out. When he finally opened his mouth to say something, you cut him off without meaning to.

“I’m not even good enough for you,” you said.

That made Billy’s mouth drop open, “What? Wh-when did I ever say that?”

You dropped your hands, but you didn’t turn to face him, “You didn’t say it exactly, but I can tell. Why else wouldn’t we have worked out?” you glanced over your shoulder at him before you continued your drunken ramble, “I mean, I’m absolutely falling for you, but I know you don’t feel the same way about me. And I mean, why would you? You’re so out of my league it’s not even funny. You don’t have to say the words for me to know that I’m not good enough for you,” with that, you tried to stand back up but you were still completely trashed, so you quickly lost your footing.

Billy was fast to react, and leapt up to catch you in his arms. He held you up with a strong grip as you clutched onto his shirt. Neither of you said anything, and your tears stopped themselves as you looked into his eyes. 

“I should go,” you said after several moments of silence. You tried to break out of his grip, but Billy held you firmly in place.

“I’m not letting you back out on the street when you’re like this,” he told you in a firm voice that left no room for negotiation. 

You stayed still in his arms, and neither of you tried to move at all. Your eyes glanced down to his lips and before you realized your own movements, you placed your lips on his. Billy leaned into the kiss at first, but he broke it off before it went too far.

“You’re drunk,” he said your name again, “I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret. And I can’t go taking advantage of beautiful drunk people now can I?”

You didn’t seem to react to his words, and Billy chucked it up to how wasted you were. So without another word, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you to his bedroom. You stayed silent, and he figured you passed out when he picked you up.

And you did for a moment. The warmth and strength of his grasp was comforting, and in your alcoholic haze, you instantly fell asleep. You only woke up when you felt your body shift again. A chill ran up your body when you felt the loss of contact, and you let out a little whine.

“Sleep,” he whispered, “I’ll take the couch,” he touched your head tenderly.

“Stay? Please,” you opened your eyes enough to see him stand over you.

Billy let out a sigh, but what you couldn’t see was the hint of a smile on his face, “Alright,” and with that you felt the bed shift as he settled in next to you.

Once you felt the warmth of his body next to you, you instantly fell back asleep. The covers didn’t even make it up past your waist before you let them go and went limp. Billy watched you sleep for a few minutes to make sure you were still breathing before he pulled the blanket all the way up to tuck you in. He brushed his fingers over your face as he admired you.

“If you only knew,” Billy spoke softly before he laid himself down next to you. How nice it felt to sleep next to you again.

The sunlight on your face woke you up the next morning, and you immediately felt the effects of your binge from the night before. You groaned as you rolled over, or tried to. A weight around your midsection kept you pinned down. Confused, you looked around and realized that you were not in your apartment. Nor were you wearing any more than your undergarments.

Oh no.

Slowly, you turned your head and you couldn’t hide your surprise when you saw who slept next to you. Billy was still asleep, and he had an arm wrapped around your waist. You jumped with a gasp, which startled him awake. Immediately, Billy went from fast asleep to full alert.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he inspected your face. 

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. It didn’t help that you noticed then that Billy did not have a shirt on. You felt your face heat up and you buried your face in your hands, “Oh no,” you mumbled.

He laughed, “Don’t remember last night, do you?”

You shook your head, but did not lift it from your hands, “No,” you looked up at him after another deep breath, “What did I do?” You asked him with sad, pathetic eyes.

“We didn’t have sex if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied in a light-hearted tone, “Although you wouldn’t have said no,” he added with a wink.

You felt your face heat up and you collapsed back into the sheets in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

Billy placed a hand on your shoulder, “Don’t be. I’m glad you ended up here instead of God knows where,” when you didn’t answer he continued, “I’ll go make coffee, and I’ll get you some aspirin for the headache I’m sure you’ve got right now. Feel free to grab one of my T-shirts, I’m sure it’s more comfortable than the top you wore last night.” With that he slid out of bed and out of the bedroom.

Once you were sure you were alone, you sighed heavily. “Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. How did you end up here? The last thing you remember was sitting at the bar alone, wallowing in self pity, then you got a cab home. Or at least you thought you did. Maybe your wandering mind acted on it’s own and drunk you didn’t resist the urge to see Billy. 

The more you tried to wrack your brain, the more your head hurt. With a groan, you rolled out of Billy’s bed and picked up one of his shirts that he had laid out. Your jeans were on the floor, and you figured you must have taken them off when you got into his bed. Once you were dressed, you slowly made your way out into the kitchen.

You shielded your eyes from the light as you made your way through the penthouse. Was it always this bright in here? 

“Morning sunshine,” Billy’s painfully cheerful voice broke through your misery.

“Must you be so loud?” You winced as you sat down at a stool on the kitchen island and crashed your head down to the cool marble.

“Sorry I couldn’t help it,” he spoke in a softer voice, but you could still hear the chuckle behind it. “Here,” you heard the sound of something being pushed across the counter.

You peaked up to see a glass of water and two pills in front of you. “Thanks,” you mumbled as you took them and drained the glass. Once you set it down, Billy placed a hot cup of coffee in its place. You stared at it with furrowed brows before you asked, “What happened last night?”

Billy’s face dropped, “You showed up at my door drunk at 1 am,” he said simply.

You clenched your jaw. You could tell he was holding something back, but you also didn’t want to push it. You caused enough trouble for him as it was, “Sorry,” you said sheepishly. 

“Hey, I already told you it’s fine. You seemed like you needed a friend anyway,” Billy’s voice was lined with compassion, and it made you wonder what you said to him.

“I had a bad day yesterday, and I went to drink my sorrows away,” you explained.

He nodded, “You did mention your work and your mother.”

“I did?” You tried your best to bring your memories back. As you sat there with your face scrunched in concentration, everything suddenly came back to you. Your eyes went wide at the realization and you couldn’t hide your shocked expression.

Billy looked down sheepishly; he knew exactly what your face meant.

“Billy I’m so sorry,” you choked back a sob, feeling newly guilty, “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. When he met your eyes and saw the sadness there, he quickly corrected himself, “I didn’t mean to sound like that.” Billy came around the counter to sit next to you and he took your hands in his, “But let me tell you this: you absolutely are enough. You’re more than enough, actually.”

You bit your lip, “I should go. I don’t want to make things worse,” you tried to pull your hands away, but Billy kept his grip firm on your hands. “Billy,” you whispered as you looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Wait, just listen to me ok?” 

There was something in his voice that made your heart ache. You nodded and braced yourself for the most painful rejection of your life. 

“You and I have been friends for a long time,” he said your name so sweetly, “And I know we tried the whole relationship thing but we never quite got it right.”

You swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything.

“Don’t get me wrong, the sex was great,” he cracked a smile, “And I wish more than anything I could make it work.”

You looked at him in confusion at his emphasis on the “I” part. You always thought it was your fault you never worked as more than friends. 

“I know you said last night that you think you’re not enough for me. But that couldn’t be further from the truth,” Billy paused to let out a heavy sigh, “The truth is I’m not good enough for you.”

The gasp escaped your lips before you even registered your thoughts, “What?”

Billy looked at you like he was a lost puppy, and you’d never seen him look this vulnerable before. “I’m not the perfect man you think I am. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I can buy you anything you want, yeah, but I can’t drag you into the dark part of my life like that. You’ll find things you won’t like at all. I can’t do that to you. I’ve been selfish enough to stay friends with you because I can’t stand the thought of not having you in my life at all, but you deserve better than me.” 

His thoughts echoed your own in so many ways, and his word hit you like a train. You never expected this at all. You squeezed his hands before you spoke, “I guess I’ve been selfish too, because I can’t bear the thought of not having you in my life either. And nobody is perfect, Billy. You and I both know that,” you paused and let out a sigh, “But where do we go from here now?”

Billy shrugged and looked down at your connected hands. The tension in the room was palpable as neither of you could think of what to say next. 

You shook one of your hands free to cup his face and make him look back at you, “Can I ask a favor of you?”

He nodded and swallowed hard; it was his turn to be nervous.

“Can you let me decide for myself who I think I deserve?” You let out a soft chuckle, “Maybe we are meant for each other, just since we both think the other deserves more.”

Billy cracked a half a smile as he leaned into your touch more. The room was silent for a moment, but this time it felt more comfortable. “Can I ask you a favor now?” He finally asked.

“Of course,” you replied softly as you gazed into his dark eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your face slowly lit up before you nodded. Very tentatively, Billy leaned forward and placed his lips on yours. His free hand came to rest on your hip and he pulled you in even closer. The hand that you had on his face moved to behind his neck and you grabbed a hold on his hair. You soon deepened the kiss and parted your lips for his tongue, which he was happy to oblige.

Each of you dragged the kiss on for as long as possible. Both of your buried feelings and suppressed passions exploded in this kiss, and neither of you wanted it to end. When you finally broke away for air, you stayed as close as you could to him. You couldn’t help but smile at Billy, and he beamed back at you. Nothing in the world meant more to him than your smile, and he was happy to see it again.

“I should show up at your door drunk more often,” you quipped.

“How about I take you out for a drink instead? Maybe even dinner?” He replied with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’d like that,” you replied in a flirty tone. It turned out that your drunken mistake ended up being the best thing to happen to both of you. 

~

Notes: This is my first time writing for Billy, so I hope I got his character well. I’d really like to write for him more, so I’ll proally open requests soon. Character taglists are always open, so just comment or send me a message if you’d like to be added :)

[themadauthorshatter]

... This is going to be more triggering than my Sanders Sides Beetlejuice AU, and I deeply apologize.

This is a Happy Tree Friends story I've thought about and it got inspired by a scene in the Asylum season of American Horror Story.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR PTSD, AVERSION THERAPY, FORCED/DELIBERATE TRIGGERING OF PTSD AND HALLUCINATIONS, ISOLATION, BEING HELD CAPTIVE/HOSTAGE, ANIMAL DEATH, AND A LOT OF OTHER THINGS!!!!

PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

Additional note: I'm visualizing the characters as human, so don'tbe caught off guard when I bring up a character's hair or complexion. It makes this story easier for me to picture in my head, that's just how I work. And this is mostly TV perspective, so thought I'd tell you that, too.

We begin with the sun rising and a new day starting, how lovely. No one is fully awake, but two people are and they are having a race.

Who's against who?

Simple.

It's Flippy on his feet and Splendid in the air to see who's faster on which and they're neck and neck in this.

Flippy sees Splendid next to him and asks if he's holding back, because this is not the fastest Flippy can run.

Splendid jokes that maybe it is because this is the SLOWEST he's flown in a long time.

Flippy laughs and kicks it into maximum overdrive, full on sprinting as fast as he can, even faking a turn to throw Splendid off his flight. While he stays on his intended path, and shouts that Splendid fell for it, Splendid calls him a cheating bastard.

Flippy laughs and contunues sprinting until he stops on a sidewalk in the town.

How lovely because Splendid is sitting on the wood of one of the telephone poles and waves at him.

Flippy pants and asks how Splendid both beat him and got up there.

Splendid simply floats down and claims it's just a hop, skip, and leap of faith.

And no cheating, which he points out.

Flippy clarifies that he actually DID NOT cheat. He would've gotten some of kryptonut and put it in his pocket, if he really wanted to.

Splendid gasps that he wouldn't, but Flippy shrugs and says he knows a guy, so don't tempt him.

The two share a laugh, but Flippy freezes as he hears a nearby woodpecker.

Splendid spots it and comments on the lovely avian specimen.

That's when a knife is thrown and (TV perspective) off screen kills the bird.

Splendid sees Flippy threw it and has 'killer instinct' eyes.

Thank goodness it's just them and there's no one else around because just as Flippy readies another knife, Splendid grabs him and flies to a hill, fast enough to get there within a minute or so, but not so fast that Flippy dies from the velocity.

It snowed a little bit, but it's enough for Splendid to toss Flippy into.

The cold instantly snaps him out of it and Flippy quickly looks around and asks where they are.

Splendid shrugs and answers the hill, and the realization sets in as Flippy's face drops, groaning and putting his hands over his face.

Splendid sits next to him as Flippy asks if 'it' happened again.

It did, but there was no one outside, so at least it got stopped before anyone got hurt.

Flippy is still crestfallen and rests his head on his arms, which are on his knees.

Splendid asks if he really can't control when he flips out, and Flippy confirms that as much as he can, but he still can't, mainly because when he feels like there's nothing to worry about, he remembers how he got comfortable and confident before and it ruined everything.

And he can't control the world or what randomly happens.

If his instincts say he's in danger, he's using thise same instuncts to keep himself safe.

Splendid digests those words as Flippy takes a breath and stands up, thanking him for the race and apologizes for talking his ear off and snapping on him.

Splendid stands as well and asks if Flippy needs help getting home, to which Flippy politely declines, not wanting to beat Splendid in another race. Splendid narrows his eyes and dares Flippy to repeat that, but Flippy chuckles and says he'll see him around before leaving.

Splendid watches him go and gets to thinking. He and Flippy have been friends for a while, and this stuff with flipping out and all that has been bothering him for a long time. He'd also been informed that Flippy went to Lumpy for help, but it failed miserably, so he was left to deal with it using the medicine he'd been prescribed. Beyond that, nothing seems to have helped him.

He also remembers how he had once had a doctor friend that helped people with addiction and talked with him about how some people aren't addicted to substances, but to feelings or emotions, as a comfort thing.

We don't get any more thoughts because we return to Flippy as he lets himself inside and leans against the door, very much upset with the fact that he lost it in front of one of his friends, especially one loke Splendid, who he rarely flips out on.

And it doesn't help that he hasn't lost it in a very long time.

Because his instincts are going haywire and he just needs to know HOW bad his episodes get, Flippy gets up, grabs a couple party poppers that were left over from a party he was fashionably late to(he had to do a check-in/catch up call with one of his army higher ups so they knew he was okay), and goes down to a basement, one that has a hatch door in the floor rather than a regular door.

He locks it behind him and goes down to a fully concrete basement that has holes and scratches in the concrete, because he's strong.

Here's where that deliberate triggering of trauma and an additional blackout Trigger Warnings come in, because Flippy sets up a camera, that's recoeding, takes one of the party poppers, and squeezes his eyes shut as he pulls the string and sets it off.

Flippy instantly starts seeing that he's back on the battlefield and not in his own basement, and hyperventilates as he sees an enemy standing over him, smirking and gun ready.

Flippy stares up at this enemy, but that fear melts into anger and throws himself into his enemy, landing next to a gun, which he uses to take this enemy out.

No time to relax because he gets grazed by another enemy soldier.

He smiles and chuckles, readying the gun and a knife from his leg before he races forward.

We don't see anything happen, save for black, but we fade to see Flippy coming to on the floor, sweaty, bruised, and knuckles bloody.

He groans and pushes himself up, rubbing his head for a minute before he finally looks around the basement.

The walls and floor are worse than before, but at least the camera is still intake.

Flippy gets up and stops the camera, sitting down as he reminds it back until plays it.

There's no battlefield, no enemies, no threats at all. In the video, Flippy pops the party popper, and clutches his head as he curls into the ground.

He hyperventilates and looks up backing away from someone that isn't even there. At least before he throws himself into the wall a makes a small shelf of knives fall. He mimes shooting the person before grabbing numerous knives and racing toward and hitting the wall and stabbing the wall, even punching and kicking it.

That explains the busted knuckles and bruises.

We don't see the rest of the video, but we do see Flippy's face grow more distressed and upset as he keeps watching himself fight nothing and just beat himself instead.

It is not easy to watch at all.

The video eventually ends with Flippy passing out on the floor, where we caught up with him.

Flippy puts the camera away and leans against the wall.

Guess he's a lot worse than he thought.

He sighs and rests his head against his knees.

Guess he's not leaving the house today either.

Time jump to a week or so later!

It's bright and sunny, and we're checking in on Flaky now as she struggles with some groceries; it originally started as a trip for shampoo and a new toothbrush, but it became a food run as well because she got hungry. She can't really see where she's going, but is trying her best, okay?

Carrying five bags at once a was huge mistake because she trips on a rock and almost falls down.

Almost, because Flippy catches her and helps her back to her feet.

Flaky shrieks and asks who it is.

Flippy decides to mess with her and lowers his voice, asking for either a hello or her life.

Flaky gasps and says he'll get a shoe to his shin, if he doesn't watch himself.

Flippy chuckles and asks if she skipped breakfast again, seeing all the bags she has. Flaky, turning to look at him, corrects him: she DID eat breakfast, but lunch was calling and she couldn't leave it on voice-mail.

Flippy, following along with the analogy, takes a bag or two and advices she try to learn how to BLOCK those calls when they drain her wallet.

Flaky hums, but thanks him for helping, and for the wallet he got her; it's sleek, but holds a lot of money and cards. Or card, which Flippy mutters as they walk to Flaky's house.

Flaky kicks at him, but they half walk, half run to Flaky's house. Once they arrive, Flaky thanks him again for the help and says she'll have a potatoe, butcher beef, apple soup/curry waiting for him next time he comes over.

Flippy chuckles and agrees, countering he'll bring her a cake SMOTHERED in sugar, cubes, chunks, powered, candy, caramel, all that garbage so that her teeth fall out and he can help her get METAL teeth instead.

Flaky sets down her groceries and stamps her foot, saying Flippy is not her father.

They still hug each other and Flippy leaves, telling her to take care of herself.

He continues on his walk and pays attention to the birds that are singing and wind blowing through the trees.

No time to fully appreciate it because Splendid turns a corner and Flippy waves him over, much to the superhero's delight.

They quickly touch in and ask how the other has been before Flippy interests Splendid for another race, 'the only rule is win' edition.

Splendid has a better idea: coffee. He had just finished some errands and was on his way home when he and Flippy ran into each other.

The invite seems iffy, but Flippy accepts, not wanting to run off like last time.

They walk and Splendid's smile drops a little, which draws Flippy's attention, the ex-soldier asking if everything's okay.

Splendid nods, saying everything's fine. He's just had some stuff on his mind that he can talk about when they get to his house.

Flippy stops for a second and watches Splendid continue walking, following behind more cautiously.

Cut to Splendid's house as the superhero fixes himself and his guest some coffee, though Flippy is slow to drink his because it doesn't smell like black coffee.

When asked, Splendid explains that the grounds were a little stale. He'd bought some that was fresh, but didn't want the old stuff to go to waste.

It calms Flippy enough for him to take a drink of coffee. He also asks what's been eating at Splendid, even apologizing for leaving him hanging last week.

Splendid shakes his head. Water under the bridge, everyone has their moments.

Speaking of moments, Splanedid asks if Flippy's been better since their race.

He shrugs, admitting that he's had worse happen, but that still doesn't make it good or even okay.

Splendid asks if he's ever gotten help for his 'issues' and Flippy asks back if he thinks Lumpy is really as good at everything as he thinks. Splendid supposes not, all things considered.

Done with the interview, and taking a drink of more coffee, because he's tired, Flippy asks what Splendid's deal REALLY is, and why he's so interested in Flippy's personal issues.

Splendid gives it to him straight: he's noticed that Flippy's trauma is bothering him on a pretty big level, and it has him worried for his friend, not because he can hurt people, but because he's seeing how unhappy Flippy is, and how much it tolls on him. He's had SOME experience with people who've had similar problems to Flippy's and there's a sort of therapy that's helped them. Granted, he knows Flippy doesn't enjoy flipping out, but, in a sick sense, his mind and body do. And there's a way to trick his mind into pushing his instincts away and leaving him with a normal life.

Flippy keeps his head propped up on an arm and finishes his coffee, so tired that he's barely listening and is instead asking for a fresh mug, because he doesn't understand either.

Splendid only takes his empty mug and suggests he's probably had enough coffee; he'll be up all night, if he drinks more than one cup and, as he's already said, Lumpy is a terrible doctor and will say he's about to die and overlook that he's just high of caffeine.

Flippy laughs and shakes his head, asking if Splendid is a better doctor and scoffing that he can take Lumpy.

He stops laughing when he sees that Splendid is straight faced and looks a little apologetic.

Yeah. Heavily delayed, 'oh shit!' moment for Flippy, who now realizes that there was something IN his coffee; he knows what stale coffee tastes like because he once suffered through a month of the stuff.

And he can't flip out on Splendid because he's too tired, so he's left to try running for the door.

That fails, too, so he can only pull and push himself away from Splendid, who apologizes for lying and for making Flippy go into such a panic, all the same he's just trying to help him and hopes he both forgives him and understands where he's coming from.

Flippy only keeps trying to get away, weakly telling Splendid to stay away from him.

From Flippy's blurry and world-spinny eyes, Splendid is the General from the Tiger Bomb mission, said General kneeling in front of him and smirking as Flippy knocks out with a sigh/groan.

Flippy doesn't wake up until MUCH later. He's got a splitting headache and, upon seeing all of the white-ish walls around him, sighs that he really must've fucked himself up when he set off that party popper, rubbing his head as he does so.

That's when he notices the handcuff and chain on his wrist, one that keeps him chained to one of the walls. He checks his other hand and sees that there's an identical handcuff on his wrist, also connecting him to the wall.

Not a dream.

Before Flippy can lose it, he sees a door open and Splendid walk in, looking very sheepish despite being the stronger of the two at the moment.

Before he can get any words out, Flippy charges toward him, at least until he's stopped by the chains.

It still makes Splendid jump back; powers be damned, if Flippy's mad at you, your days are numbered.

Splendid, from his place against the opposite wall, asks quite stupidly if Flippy's mad.

No. He's not mad at all. He's having the best damn day of his life, thank you for asking.

Sarcasm. All sarcasm that Splendid misses and is relieved by.

That relief vanished when Flippy charges again, pulling the handcuffs enough to make himself bleed.

Flippy demands to know what the hell is going on and why he's handcuffed in a padded cell.

When Flippy starts pulling a little too hard, like he's pulling hard enough to dent the chain links out of place, Splendid acts fast and aims a spray bottle at Flippy, and sprays water on him.

When Flippy backs down, Splendid repeats what he said upstairs, especially apologizing for not explaining how he was going to help him.

Flippy banks up, stands down, and sits down criss-crossstyle, which makes Splendid let out a sigh of relief, following his friend so they're sitting across from each other.

Flippy asks what EXACTLY Splendid was thinking when he drugged Flippy's coffee and then took Flippy to a loaded cell in his basement.

Splendid explains that he was just thinking and didn't regard what would have happened, even admitting that drugging the coffee wasn't his best or first plan; somehow sneaking up behind him with a nasty was, but that seemed insulting to Flippy's skills, so he thought about just working him out with races and exercise until Flippy passed out. That seemed like the most painful option, and the most tiring because wherever Flippy would fall would be unpredictable, so he just went south putting something in his coffee so he'd go unconscious for a little while.

Flippy takes all of this in and asks why Splendid didn't just ASK him to try this treatment he was babbling about earlier and Splendid admits that it's used for addicts to help them stop using whatever substance they're on. It's a pretty brutal technique, but it has worked.

The brutal part has Flippy concerned, so he asks what that means.

Splendid stops beating around the brush: aversion therapy. Using old war footage and medicine to make Flippy not want to go on a rampage whenever he gets triggeres.

Flippy stares at Splendid for a minute before taking off his boot and throwing it at him, asking if he's out of his damn mind.

That's not how his 'issues' work. Aversion therapy is meant to change another person so they AVERT away from something. Besides, what if they go through the therapy and Flippy's ordered backninto service, but ends up dead because he can't rely on his instincts?

Problem solved already because, as Splendid points out, Flippy's on a paid leave; his job is to stay OUT of the army now.

Flippy readies his other boot and Splendid backs down. Yes, he could've been more open about this to him. Yes, the whole chained to the wall in a basement thing is WAY too far. Yes, he should have told him as soon as he can, and he's sorry he didn't.

Flippy calms down and asks why he thinks it will work. No offense, but this is already working less than anythung Lumpy did, and the fool hypnotized himself into being a chicken.

Splendid admits he isn't sure, but he still wants to try to help.

Flippy asks what he'll do if he refuses to try this therapy. He's already on pills.

Splendid shrugs and says that while he'll be disappointed, he'll understand and won't be mad. Again, he just wants to help his friend and this is something that's worked for other people, not the chaining to the wall thing, but the aversion and sensory friendly environment, hence the padded room that isn't white, just a very light grey mixed with some blue, which is a calming color.

Flippy considers it for a minute before askung Splendid if he absolutely knows what he's doing.

Splendid nods. It took him a little freshing up and some review from a friend of his, yes. He knows what he's doing.

Flippy eyes him for a second before nodding, agreeing. Despite not saying it out loud, he wants to live life without worrying about killing everyone or snapping because his old instincts getting the better of him.

But stipulates that as soon as things get REALLY bad, they're calling this whole thing off and won't have anything to do with each other after that point.

Splendid rightfully agrees to those terms and tells Flippy to follow him to another room.

Flippy holds up his hands, reminding him of the handcuffs.

Those come off and the two leave the room, Flippy hoping Splendid was good on his word that he knew what he was doing.

Splendid shares a similar sentiment, instead hopi g that he can help his friend have a normal life.

[wind-goddess-eri]

Joker’s Wild (Shang Tsung x Reader) Chapter 2

Ok there is a small bit of smut but its more of an manipulation.  soooo yeah. I hope y’all like it.  Joker is a dick and we all know this.

Weeks pass, and everyone eventually forgot about the whole thing that happened. Everyone except for you. It was almost as if a silent spell had been placed over everyone's mind to purposefully forget the incident even happened. For you, dreams, hallucinations and daydreams of The Joker were slowly breaking you down into a slight insanity. Something you hadn't had in a while. The insecurity you felt, as you laid on the ground, you thought, "What did that card mean?"

As you wondered curiously you spaces out. A few moments pass and you heard Mileena's voice, "Hey Y/N, hey Lord Shang." Not knowing Shang Tsung was there, you looked over to meet his smoldering, handsome eyes. You feel somewhat safe now that he is there with you. "Hey, what are you doing here?" you asks Mileena. Mileena merely shrugged at first. "I was walking around and remembered that I had to go get Bi-Han," she replies. That would somewhat explain why Sub-Zero wasn't around right now.

"Oh cool, where is Bi-Han by the way?" you asked.

You notices Mileena rubbing her stomach that is making hunger noises, indicating that she hadn't eaten all day. It was around 3 in the afternoon. "You didn't eat him did you? you asked your friend with a smirk on your face. "NO! He went to get food for all of us."

You and Shang go to her house, which was a block away from where Bi-Han was getting food. It's a decent sized apartment that had 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. Usually Mileena did the cooking. "Make yourself at home."

"I'm going to take a shower," you tells the sorcerer looking at him with lustful eyes. His mere presence got her hot and going. "Okay dear, I love you," he whispered in your ear. Just as he was about to kiss you his phone rang with an unknown number on it. He turned away to answer it, wondering who it might have been.

You made your way to the bathroom, turned on the shower, got undressed and went in. Then you start to think about her past. A past you didn't want anybody that didn't already know it to know about it. You starts thinking about an old flame that was never put to rest. A flame that matched no other flame she'd felt before, and possibly never would. As the water gently trailed down your breast, going down your stomach, you thought to yourself, "Could this be real?" You go into deep thought, deeper than ever before. Trying to sort out confusion that has set itself in your mind. "I'm scared. What is happening to me?" you whispered to no one in particular, mostly yourself.

As you sits there in the shower, water pouring on your head, drenching your hair and down you back, you pondered. You thought of your life with him. What it was like. It seemed strange and too good to be true. As you sat there, trying to warm up, wet, and alone, you wanted him to be there with you. You opened your eyes and looked up. Three emotions passed your mind: surprise, confusion and anger.

There he was, The Joker, fully clothed, in the shower getting soaked to the bone. His hair was more of a mess than normal. It made you realize why the water wasn't hitting as it should have been. It wasn't directly touching you. You asked The Joker in the order of your emotions, "How did you....?? Where did you...??? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN THE SHOWER!!!??"

The Joker looks at you and said, "I've been here...waiting for you. There's no need to be frightened. I am surprised that you didn't notice me," he adds causally. You looked at him in disgust. "I am not ascared of you, okay," you told him, trying to cram two words together; afraid and scared. "You look stressed," he tells you with a condescending tone in his voice.

"Get the hell out of my shower and hand me a towel," you told him a bit pissed. You turned the shower off and held out you arm and Joker hands you the towel. There was no way you were going to finish it with him in there. As you puts the towel on, getting out of the shower you asked him, "How did you get in here?" He simply replies, shrugging as if it were obvious, "The door was unlocked." you thought about it for a minute and very alert you asked with fear behind her eyes, "Where's Shang?"

The Joker was talking to you, trying to convince you to go back with him. His life was just not as chaotic without you, and he lived for chaos, for chaos brought peace and logic, no matter what people said. "Get the hell out of here! Don't do this!" You cried out to anyone who could hear. He wouldn't let you leave the bathroom and you didn't know where or what happened to Shang.

"Come on. It won't hurt. Just remember all the good old times when I would tie you up and have my way with you." He grabs your face with one hand and with the other hand he holds a knife. "Look at me!" He yells at you getting your attention. When you do, you can't move at all. Then he kisses you. He forces his tongue in your mouth...you have no choice but to do this. He stops and he looks at you.

"This is so unnecessary," You say. You looked back and say with a quiver in your voice, unsure on what exactly is happening. He steps forward and kisses you so passionately that your body just gives in. There was no more will to fight him, because in your reality, there never was a chance. In a little part of your mind, you doesn't want this to end. You dropped your towel and wrapped your arms around him.

Quicker than you thought possible, The Joker had managed to strip his jacket off and slowly reveal his purple and green suit. The suspenders were the first thing you had grabbed and tore from his body as his gentle but strong hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt. When that was thrown from his body along with the suspenders, you both went for his pants, rushing to remove his last piece of clothing to at least satisfy the both of them. Socks and shoes would remain, keeping him from actually removing his pants. Of course that would be the last thing that would be in their way, he never wore underpants.

Completely and utterly amazed at his shirtless form, you bore witness to not only the scars he'd gained by living the life that he has always lived by, but also the scars that you'd given him. It confused her as to why something as trivial as hurting him and having the scars to prove it turned you on. Before another thought even crossed your mind, he pushed you down to the floor and crossed the threshold that joined their bodies. For you, the sensation was like it was before; no one would be able to match it because of his uncanny ability to know your very thoughts on the actions they did together. As he penetrates you, you moans and looked at him with pleasure in your eyes. You felt like you was floating as he thrusts, moans and kind of laughs in passion. He'd always done this, mixing business with pleasure. In fact, this probably was business. Last minute business that included sex like no other. Harder and harder he dove into your cave that he'd touched with his light so many times before. Only now, you didn't really belong to him anymore, which made it the forbidden fruit that he needed to take, taste and devour. The last thing you saw before your peak hit was your eyes traveling to from the ceiling to the window, thinking how wrong and bitter sweet this was.

Then Mileena and Bi-Han bust in the door. The Joker was no were to be found. He left a card on the counter top next to the sink. Sub-zero runs over to you, grabbing a towel to cover you with it. Mileena reads the card out load, "You almost caught me. HA HA HA!!!!"

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 68

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It was one of those old crush dreams. And I could tell it was a dream. It had Weiss in it and she was wearing her old Beacon era outfit so I knew it was fake. That it wasn't real. It put the dream in that odd category of semi-lucid.

I was dealing with the Boarbatusk in Ports's old classroom. I was using my old sword. I felt small as I fought it.

"Save that kid!" Weiss shouted down at me. It was disorientating like she was shouting through molasses. "Jaune, save him."

I turned away from where she was alone in the seats calling to me. There was this kid down in the pit with me. I couldn't make out his face. It was that kind of dream. Colors blurred and I slew the professor's Boarbatusk.

Instead of dissolving into ash it turned into a matted mess of worms and centipedes. They overran the kid who called out something as a centipede slid over his wrists and locked tight.

I took a step forward but my legs got wrapped up by one of the Grimm worms. It wrapped over my flesh and the slime it left behind stung me.

A centipede wrapped around both my wrists and locked tight. It looked at me. It made a smug, Grimm face at me.

I tried to scream as the bugs ran over my body.

I woke up trying to scream but it only came out as a meek groan. I couldn't move and my wrists and legs still burned where the bugs had touched me.

I was awake enough to know what I was going through. Sleep paralysis, they called it. I drooled on myself a little and couldn't shut my mouth as I lay in the cot they'd stuck me in.

I waited and eventually I was able to move again. I sat up. An orderly came by in the hospital. They had to check on us every thirty minutes just in case one of us tried to commit suicide. That was the kind of ward I was stuck in. It seriously sucked.

I stood up, tired of being watched from the doorway when the nurses came by. They hadn't taken my armor or my huntsman clothes. That told me that they wanted me comfortable. Just so long as I wasn't dangerous.

I was still dangerous. I had my gods damn semblance. Nothing could take that from me.

I striped the clothes off and hung it all next to the sink as I stepped into the in suite shower and washed myself down. I felt fucking disgusting and my dream had left me shaking. My wrists and legs burned still.

Sleep didn't even hit the same anymore.

I couldn't trust it. I couldn't trust in my mind while I rested. I wasn't allowed to rest. It fucking sucked. Plus they took my weed from me and I hadn't had the chance to talk to a doctor who could prescribe something real for me.

All I had was reality. Cold and sober even in the hot shower. At least Neo could bust me out anytime I wanted, basically. They'd taken my scroll too so I couldn't call her but she'd be around. I might just take her up on it, too.

They had me locked in this place. This hospital had us under watch from the doorways at all times even through the night so my rest wouldn't have been restful even if I didn't have the nightmares.

I scrubbed at my eyes hard and thought about the people I was doing this for. Ruby. Weiss. Yang. Blake. My old friends. I had to give this a try otherwise I was a coward. Otherwise I wanted to be sick.

I picked at the inside of my ear as I stood in the shower. I could feel things crawling around beneath my skin. The shower water pounded against the ground and with it came the whispering sound of Mother's voice.

“Come to me… lend me your strength…”

I shuddered.

“I have a favor to ask you, child. Run. Run away.”

I wanted to slam my head into the shower tile wall. I hosed myself off with the little soaps they'd provided me and tried to relax as best as I could. It wasn't working so great. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to smoke. I wanted to die. I wanted to see my friends.

My feelings were all bottled and mixed up into a hue of utter nothingness.

It was still fairly late and I was sure I wouldn't get any more sleep tonight. Nothing good would happen to my thoughts if I did. That was when she got me. While I was sleeping I was vulnerable to her.

I was so fucking unsafe and had been for a long time. A month or more. Ever since that day I'd murdered my own friends nothing had gone my way. The things I'd learned about myself only dragged me down.

I hated it. I hated being alive. For the thousandth time I cursed Merlot who'd doomed me to this existence without a care in the world. My creator… I would make him pay. He would suffer for bringing me into this world and dooming me to be tortured so. I could feel her fingers on the surface of my mind.

They were surgical and touched me so gently but they were there, digging deep into my thoughts like tentacles. It would feel so good to give in to them. It could be everything I ever wanted.

"Mr. Arc? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I called out to the nurse outside of the bathroom. "I'm the same as I've always been," I whispered in a quieter tone.

I could get through this. I was a hunter damnit. That meant something to me.

Does it?

The voice questioning me was my own. And it had a good point. All my dreams about being a hunter were fake. It was as fake as my name. It was given to me by an alien goddess.

She was working her way into me. She was breaking me down. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it up. It felt like water against a rock. Eventually it would erode. Except the rock was my mind. It was my psyche pit against hers.

"Can I get you anything Mr. Arc?"

"Something to help me relax and sleep?" I asked back.

"Just a moment." The male nurse walked away. He came back and placed a pill on a counter. "It's Clonazepam, just let it dissolve under your tongue. It should help with anxiety and sleep."

"Thanks," I breathed.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I savored the rough feel of the towel against my skin. The cloth was low quality and boy it felt good. I took the pill and let it dissolve under my tongue. It was incredibly sweet to the taste. I swallowed.

I immediately felt a little more relaxed but it was a bit more relaxed about being mind raped. There was only so much the drugs could do, surely. I was in it for real and I was in deep.

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"So tell me about what brings you in here Mr. Arc." My counselor was a woman. Middling height with brown hair and green eyes. She looked trustworthy. A strong jaw and high cheek bones made her classically good looking, too. She was maybe fifty, maybe a bit older. She didn’t have the good looks of a hunter, though.

Dr. Caulbaugh was her name. And after a short introduction I was supposed to share with her my deepest darkest secrets. It was necessary for this thing to work.

"The general didn't tell you anything?" I asked. We were locked alone in a room. If I so chose I could rip her in half. Probably not a good sign that I was thinking like that. But I was.

"No, he didn't. It's up to you what you share with me. But the more honest you can be the better we can make things for you." She smiled at me and picked a pen at the corner of her mouth. An actual pen as opposed to a data pad.

"And you work with hunters?" I asked.

"Primarily. My background is in trauma victims. The overlap, I think, would surprise you."

“Not really.” As far as trauma went hunters had to be up there. Between killing people and watching their friends die day in and day out there was a lot of trauma to be had. I maybe knew a thing or two about that. I nodded and flushed out my half cape in the chair. I swept it behind me."That's why you lot let me keep my armor and clothes."

"Hunters are more comfortable in their wear. And armor isn't exactly a threat." She smiled again, trying to disarm me. That's the real reason she let me keep my cloak, armor, and clothes. That's the real reason I wasn't in a gown.

I kept nodding anyway.  

"Please, tell me about yourself, Mr. Arc."

"My father was a test tube and my 'mother,'" I gave the word quotation marks. "Was an incubator. I was created in a laboratory by a scientist named Merlot from the genetic material of a woman named Salem. My other mother."

"You're serious?" Her jaw dropped a little. It shouldn't have been outside the range of possibility. Especially in a technophilic place like Atlas.

I nodded again.

"Okay." She started writing.

"I'm biologically twenty but I'm chronological three or four."

"Oh my gods." She swore a little. She seemed a little shocked. I had been too, though. So there was that.

"Yeah. I joined Beacon academy when I was 'seventeen.' I was there when the academy went down. My partner was killed in the action. Her name was Pyrrha."

"Okay." She murmured scrawling at her clipboard.

"I killed for the first time maybe nine months after that. I just ripped this bandit in half."

"How many people have you killed?"

"I've lost count. Maybe a hundred. Maybe more," I confessed. "A lot of people."

"Okay. Alright." She kept writing frantically. "You're very young to have such a high body count."

"You've met other four year olds with a higher body count than me?" I laughed.

"N-no."  She mumbled. She picked the pen at the corner of her mouth. A nervous habit, maybe.

"Sorry. Bad joke."

"No, please go on."

"I was there when Haven was attacked. A month ago or so. Not sure if you heard about it."

"I hadn't…"

"I'm sure some details are classified. But while I was there my Mother, Salem took control over my mind. She made me kill two of my friends."

"You mean, like with a semblance?"

"Kinda," I shrugged. "I bet details about my Mother are classified above top secret. I'm sure I can't share much with you."

"That's alright."

"And ever since then I've had tactile, visual, and auditory hallucinations. I hear her voice. I see shadows. I feel bugs crawling around in my face and in my eyes."

"I see. I see. Then what happened after Haven?"

"I found my 'father's' laboratory. That's where I learned the truth about me. I had fake memories, you see. Then I came here."

"From Mistral?"

"I snuck into the country. Report me."

"I'm not going to report you."

"I was so worried you would," I said facetiously. "So what do you think, doc? Do I have PTSD?"

"Almost certainly," she was still writing very quickly. "Mr. Arc you have quite the tale to tell."

"Do I make your list of top ten weirdest patients or what?"

"You just might." She laughed. "Have you ever tried to take your own life?"

"Just after I killed my friends at Haven I tried to kill myself."

"What happened?"

"Couldn't focus. My aura wouldn't let me." I squeezed a fist as I recalled the memory. I inhaled deeply and tried to relax like I was about to try it again now.

"I see. I want to run through some mood scales with you. Is that alright?"

"Sure." I shrugged. I had no idea what those were.

"Now I want you to tell me if you've experienced these things over the past month. If you've experienced it all of the days, most of the days, half of the days, a few of the days, or none of the days."

"Shoot."

"Feeling down, depressed or hopeless?" She asked.

"All of the days."

"Feeling like a failure, like you've let yourself down?" She went on.

"All of the days. My father classified me as a failure of an experiment, even."

"Feeling like you'd be better off dead or having thoughts of hurting yourself?" She was unrelenting.

"All of the days."

"Poor appetite or the reverse, over eating?"

"A few of the days."

"Poor sleep or the opposite, getting too much sleep?"

"All of the days."

"Which one?"

"I have nightmares from Mother. I can't sleep. I'm even afraid of sleeping. She gets me while I sleep."

She wrote notes on her clipboard. "How have you been sleeping since you arrived?"

"Poorly."

"Okay, I'll prescribe you something for that. Next scale. Moving too slow, to the point someone would have noticed or the opposite, being more fidgety than usual?"

"None of the days."

"Fear or worrying about a great many subjects?"

"All of the days."

"Well Mr. Arc…"

"What? Never had a mind controlled patient before?"

"I can't say that I have. It seems to me you don't believe I'll be able to treat you."

"That's because I'm not actually crazy. I have someone else in my head."

"I don't think you're crazy Mr. Arc. That's not what PTSD is. I'm going to get you started on some of our atypical antipsychotics. They'll help stabilize your mood and you should notice the effects immediately."

"Which one?"

"It's called Asenapine. Have you heard of it?" She asked.

"No." I shook my head. I hadn't heard of any of the medications. I was no expert. My brain was in this woman's hands. I had to just trust her.

"Well it should help stabilize you. I want to run a genetics test on you to see which medications you'll respond best to in the meantime."

"I'm willing to bet my genetics are classified."

"Because of your origin?"

"Yeah. Because of my creation."

"Well I'll see about getting through on those. In the meantime I'm keeping you on Clonazepam and Asenapine."

"And you think that'll help?"

"Well it's not an exact science but we should be able to find a medication combination that works for you," she returned.

"We'll see, doc. I'm told you're who I should talk to about being released. About getting my weapon back, too."

"You hunters are all about getting your weapons. You're not ready to leave here, Mr. Arc. I'm putting you in for a three day hold."

"Three days?"

"Three days minimum. It's my professional opinion that you need serious help. You don't need a weapon in your hands right now."

"I could be doing real serious good. I could be saving lives."

"You could also be taking them."

"That's the job. That's what hunters are for. Let alone what I am for. I was made to kill people. I think. I’m not sure."

"You mentioned your friends. What were their names?"

"Ren and Nora." She looked over her board at me, looking deadly serious.

"Unless you want there to be more like that you'll remain calm and go through the therapies I recommend."

"Very well."

"You still seem doubtful. That sort of obstinacy is counter productive to your treatment. A large part of it is your belief."

"I'm being mind controlled. There's no cure for that. And the things I am? Where I came from? That shit's permanent."

"This mind control event is where your psychosis started? It's why you resorted to marijuana?"

"Maybe. There might have been psychosis before.."

"Then let us help you Mr. Arc. This isn't forever. You'll be back out in the field. It's my firm belief that your stay here is temporary. Have faith in the treatments. I think we can make some serious progress with your psychosis."

"I agreed to this in the first place."

"Then have faith. You're not doomed, Mr. Arc."

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-WG

[kyndaris]

Shadows of the Mind

Red-rimmed eyes stared back at me. Disgusted to see how low I had fallen, I splashed cold water onto my face – hoping against hope that it would also wash away my addiction. No such luck.

Studying my reflection, I ran a tired hand over the stubble that I should have shaved off yesterday morning…or had it been the day before last? Time blurred when sleep was taken out of the equation. And it had been a long while since I had rested my head on a pillow.

Yet though I craved the comforts of a warm bed, the only beating thought in my head was the same refrain I had heard a million times before: just one more. After all, what could it hurt? I was already late. Even if they didn’t fire me today, I would not be long for the chopping block when the next review came up.

A better man would have done more when his wife and their two children had threatened to leave because of the nights spent in the casino. A better man would probably have talked it out and made steps for self-improvement. When the accident happened, a better man might have used the opportunity to finally turn over a new leaf. Or, perhaps, a better man would have poured all their energy into digging into the truth of the situation.

But I was not a better man.

When I could not afford to continue gambling away my money at the slot machines, I turned to drink to drown out the pain. Kicked out of the house that had cost me two decades of labour and bleeding money from the debts that had gone unpaid, I was at the end of my rope.

The yellow eye in the centre of my left palm looked up at me. Judgement writ clear.

I blinked and the image disappeared. My hand was pink flesh once again. No sign of an eye anywhere. Had I just dreamed it? Or was there something more sinister? Linked, perhaps, to the work I was doing? How else could I explain the cadavers that were brought in with ridges of scales and webbed toes.

It should not have come as a surprise. There had always been rumours of a curse being laid on the small seaside town since time immemorial. Folk tales, mostly, to scare kids into behaving.

But what if it was all true? It would explain the accident. There was no way that Morgan would have missed the turn. She had always been a careful driver, particularly when there was heavy fog. And the kids were in the back…

The police had stopped by the house and had asked plenty of questions. Did I have any suspicions that she might have had suicidal thoughts or that she was not coping in any way? The idea was ludicrous. I told the officers as such. ‘Morgan would never have done it on purpose. Our kids meant the world to her. Hell, she had been heading to her parents – nowhere near the promontory…’

A sharp slap to the face brought me out of my spiralling thoughts. God. I was losing my mind and there was nothing I could do about it. One of the side effects, probably, from the antidepressants and anxiety tablets I had been prescribed.

I reached for the bottle. Twisted the lid. Two small capsules popped out into my cupped hand. Within seconds, I had swallowed them dry.

As I felt them slide down my throat, I risked one more glance at the mirror. My clothes were crinkled, dark bags rested under my eyes and the tuft of hair I still had would do little to cover my encroaching baldness. In one word I looked like shit.

Still, I had seen worse. And I found that I didn’t much care whether I lost my job today or in the near future.

I was tired of fighting. Easier to submit to the inevitable once it came. Whether that was the drugs I had taken, I couldn’t say. The fog that descended over my mind made it hard to think about it too much. Maybe that was good. At the very least I would not have to combat the crippling anxiety that would have come with it.

Gambling had taken away my family. It had taken away the roof over my head and the food to line my stomach. Soon, it would take my life. One way or another.

Within minutes I left the small cramped flat and took the rickety lift down to the rundown carpark. A tan overcoat was tastefully slung over my right arm in the hope that it would give me a modicum of respectability. I only prayed that no-one looked too closely at the frayed sleeves and the weathered scuff marks. In my other hand, I carried a battered leather briefcase that I had dug out of the closet. As I reached in for the keys to the bucket of bolts that I called a car, I realised that I had forgotten my security pass.

Cursing under my breath, I dumped most of my belongings into the passenger side seat and raced up the stairs rather than wait for the lift. Legs burning and puffing hard, I stopped at the second floor to catch my breath. Just as an errant chastisement was once again about to regale me with all my failures up to that absolute second, I mustered up what remained of my strength and staggered up the remaining flight of stairs to my two-bedroom unit.

It was then a simple matter of busting open the door and nabbing the pass sat on what could not reasonably be considered a proper dining table – an elevated plastic chair with three stools around it. Oh, how far the mighty had fallen. If only my old friends could see me now…

But I had lost most anyone that would have cared to offer any sort of aid for my self-inflicted plight.

By the time I pulled up at the security gate, I was ten minutes late. The guard took his time checking my pass and confirming my name in the system. He reminded me of a raven with his sharp beak-like nose and the shifty glint in his small beady black eyes as he looked at my face and then the computer screen with needless scrutiny.

‘Everything appears to be in order, Mister Hinds,’ he said. His voice was unusually nasally, almost high-pitched, for a man of his size and girth. ‘Be sure to clock in on time tomorrow. I’ve had journalists sniffing up here the last few days, trying to sneak in. You know how it is when it comes to the work that goes on. Probably know it better than I do.’

I nodded and made to retrieve my security pass. ‘No need to tell me twice. I’ll be doubly sure to set the alarm to a quarter to seven,’ I replied with a polite smile. ‘Thank you for your exemplary work, Horace. Doing us all proud.’

Once the gate was up, I pushed my car into gear. It trundled through, picking up speed as soon as I reached the main building and the carpark resting underneath. Built forty years ago, it was an impressive creation of concrete. Passing under the awning as I entered the carpark, I could barely make out any windows on the exterior. Appropriate, considering the secrets that we kept hidden away from prying eyes.

When I finally arrived at the laboratory, after changing into my white lab coat in one of the only sterile areas of the facility, it was ten minutes to eleven. Already a migraine had formed behind my eyes, throbbing with each beat of my heart. All I wanted to do was to take a sip of smooth whiskey to ease away the pain. Except, of course, I didn’t even have enough money to buy a pint at the local pub, let alone anything stronger.

Before I could entertain my fantasy further, Gladstone strode in from the far door. “Good to see you actually make it out of bed, Hinds,’ he said, barely looking up from his notes on the clipboard. ‘We need you downstairs. One of the,’ he hesitated slightly as he looked for a word to describe the subjects that were kept in less than humane holding cells, ‘creatures had a little incident last night. Look into it.’

Just like that, I was dismissed.

Orders given, Gladstone sat at a free desk, his eyes never leaving whatever was on his clipboard as he tapped his pen arrhythmically against it. Maybe it was my overactive imagination or perhaps it was my sleep deprived brain, but I could not help but compare Gladstone to a big cat, just waiting to pounce upon the unwary. Surely, the elongated teeth and sharp curling fingernails were due to the fact that I had been awake for the last thirty-six hours.

With a great shake of my head, I picked up my belongings and made for the far door from whence Gladstone had come through.

As I made my way down, my footsteps on the metal steps echoed through the concrete well. There was naught in this passageway to dampen sound. Austere and spartan had been the design choices when it came to top-secret laboratories nestled a few miles away from town.

Deeper and deeper and deeper I went. It was as if I was descending into the bowels of the Earth.

My only companion was a small wispish ball of bluish light, shaped into an amalgamation of an eyeball and wings. I knew I should have been disturbed by the sudden evolution in my hallucinations. Yet, I could not find the strength inside me to care. After all, what were a few demons and devils from myths and legends, when I had seen men who had sprouted bat wings and women with large bulbous eyes with gills beginning to form on their necks?

Besides, it seemed harmless anyways. Staying always three feet behind me. For a brief moment, I came to a stop at a landing and eyed it for a few seconds, daring it to attack, before shrugging my shoulders when it remained docile, impossibly hovering in place.

How exceedingly odd.

Knowing that it was not real, I did not reach for it. Even as I tried to rationally explain the phenomena floating beside me with science. In the end, I simply chalked it up to the drugs and thought no more on the matter.

Something strange was happening and it was my job to find the answers. It mattered not that I was wracked with guilt and grief. Gladstone, for one, couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that I did what I was paid for. Nothing more. Nothing less.

As I stepped through the pressurised doors and into the decontamination unit, I turned my addled mind to the task at hand. With great effort, I managed to rouse it from its stupor. By the time I emerged into the top-secret containment area, I was as focused and sharp as I was ever going to be with soporific drugs pumping through my veins. Which, to be fair, wasn’t much. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open as I stumbled forward, one hand blindly reaching for a wall to steady myself as I adjusted to the change in temperature and lighting.

‘Hinds! Thank God you’re here. I’ve tried my best to stabilise it but this is beyond my skills.’ Pritchard rushed towards me, her hands covered in a deep shade of blue and a frantic look in her eyes. ‘You know what’ll happen if we were to lose it. And I’d rather not have my head on a pike.’

‘Show me.’

We headed deeper, passing by huge containment units filled with all manner of strange creatures and monsters. Many had been found washed up on the beaches dotted along the western coast. Some had been hostile, attacking anyone or anything nearby. Others had been positively docile, more curious than dangerous.

Even their appearances varied. I had seen several that looked like they had stepped out from my worst nightmare. There was no word to describe the monstrosities. Videos I had glimpsed showed unspeakable terrors – a mix of tentacles and shapeless horrors. Bringing them back to the facility was never an option. The casualty numbers had been astronomical. We were fortunate when the retrieval team returned with footage.

Should the retrieval team manage to subdue one of these creatures, which they did on a rare occasion, they were almost always dead upon delivery. And utterly useless for our research.

Imagine what we could learn if we actually had a living breathing monster before us! The knowledge that we would have at our fingertips!

Most of what my team and I had been able to study were specimens that were mostly humanoid in appearance. One had stood out in my memory had looked like a man that I had seen on a Missing Persons poster that had been hanging outside one of the telegraph poles near my flat. The only difference had been the ridges of scales that had lined his jaw and knuckles as well as the yellowish tint to his eyes.

It had been clear that he had been in the midst of metamorphosis. How or why had remained a mystery. We had kept him in isolation, unsure how best to classify him.

Unfortunately, he had not survived long in captivity. I had been the one to discover his body one rare morning when I was actually sober a few days before Morgan’s ill-fated attempt to leave me. Suffice it to say, there was naught we could do to revive the man. The autopsy, too, had failed to pinpoint the exact cause of death. Those thoughts had consumed me prior to my gambling binge. And all I had wanted was a distraction to escape the realities of my job.

Pritchard led me to a small enclosed room. It was filled with a variety of medical equipment. At the centre of the room was a cot. Two nurses were crowded around it, their eyes fixed on the heart monitor as it beeped erratically. They looked up as we entered.

‘How’s it looking?’ said Pritchard.

‘Not good, Laura,’ answered Lopez as he rose to his feet and made some space. He was a tall burly fellow and sported long hair that was tied into a neat ponytail. If I did not know him, I would have said he looked out of place, dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat. Despite his appearance (which would better fit a wrestling ring), he was one of the best nurses I had worked with. Professional and exacting, I could always count on Lopez on following my instructions to the letter.

‘Do you know what happened?’

Lopez shook his head. ‘Escape gone wrong? The security team found it in the early hours of the morning. It was already bleeding. Then it tried to attack one of the men. In a panic, one of the junior officers shot it. The rest is what you can see.’

Head pounding with the onset of a hangover, I pressed my thumbs into my temples. Things were rapidly going wrong and I needed to make a decision. Time was of the essence. I could not afford to second guess myself or watch as a life slipped from my fingers just because the only thing I could think about, given the emergency, was how good whisky on the rocks would taste on my parched tongue.

~

Time passed. I could not say how long we worked until we managed to stabilise the creature until I glanced at my wristwatch and saw the time. Over the course of minutes that had seemed like hours, and hours that had seemed like days, we struggled to keep it alive. It fought us tooth and nail. I suffered two scratches on my right arm and Pritchard was sporting a cut lip. It was as if it would rather death than another moment in captivity in a holding cell. A part of my sympathised with it. What was a life confined to four walls and where strange men dressed all in white came to poke and prod you?

Sweat dotting my brow, I managed to inject tranquiliser into the creature, as the rest of the team – Pritchard and the two nurses held it down. Once it took effect, we all exchanged exhausted smiles. Standing back up, I glanced at the machines recording its vitals.

‘Keep it sedated. The sutures should hold but better not risk it,’ I said to Pritchard as I dabbed at my forehead with the back of my sleeve.

‘Hinds, you’re a lifesaver.’

I shook my head. ‘We aren’t out of the woods yet. Keep an eye on the equipment. Message me if anything changes.’ Pulling off my gloves, I added, ‘I’m going to grab something to eat. Oh, and Pritchard, tell Gladstone that I can’t keep doing this. I’m a scientist. Not a bloody surgeon.’

With that, I stepped out of the cramped tiny room that we had been in for the four hours. As I did so, my stomach grumbled. A reminder that I had not eaten anything substantial for a good long while. It was a torturous trek back up the stairs. By the time I reached the top, my knees were aching and it hurt to breathe.

Why didn’t anyone think to build a bloody lift? What if an incident happened down in containment and we needed to flee for our lives? The monsters would get us all before we even made it up one flight. Except, maybe, Lopez. He looked like someone that ran marathons on the weekends. Working as a nurse in a top-secret facility was wasted on him.

Once I was able to inhale without an accompanying twinge of pain, I gingerly passed into the main laboratory. Gladstone was still seated at his desk. His eyes barely flickered as I walked by. ‘Would it be a safe assumption that the situation has been rectified, Hinds?’

I stopped at the exit, my stomach twisting itself into a knot as it sought any type of sustenance. ‘For the time being. Sir, if I may, how long must we continue to prolong their torment? These experiments are not humane. And who’s to say when the next incident may occur. Lives will be lost.’

‘You grow bold, Hinds. However, it is not your place to question the orders you are given. You need money, yes? What would your wife and children think if you came back home with no job to support their ever-growing needs? The solution here is simple. You do as you’re told.’

‘Sir, they’re—’ I closed my mouth, thinking better of it. Of course, Gladstone had forgotten the funeral. He was a man focused on results, never mind the means. The people he worked with were not colleagues or humans with lives that varied from the complex to the very simple. They were tools. Nothing more. Even now he was still intently reading through the data that had been collated over several months. On occasion, he would stop and make a brief annotation.

Were it not for the drugs, I might have strangled the indifferent bastard. As it was, I could barely summon the energy to remain on my feet. My entire body seemed to shake terribly and I desperately hoped Gladstone would not notice. God forbid what would happen if he, for once in his life, was actually aware of those around him.

‘Is there a reason that you are still here, Hinds?’ The dismissal was clear in his voice. And I gladly welcomed it with both arms.

‘No, sir. Apologies, sir.’ I left quickly, hardly daring to look over my shoulder as I made my exit.

The corridors of the facility were a dull grey. Given the nature of the research conducted within its walls, there had been no need for bombastic decorations. No potted plants lined the atrium. No colour broke up the endless shades of concrete. If there was one word I would use to describe my place of employment it would be utilitarian.

Though it was past the normal lunch hour, the cafeteria was still bustling with staff. Grabbing up a tray, I joined the queue, grabbed the first thing that would fill my stomach and headed to a table near the back of the hall where I could remain, hopefully unobserved, for as long as I desired. After all, I had told Pritchard to message me if anything changed. Beyond that, I needed time for myself.

~

Perhaps it was the fact that this was the first time that I had a full stomach in days, or that I was thoroughly exhausted after a sleepless night, or that the afternoon sun shining through the frosted glass made the spot I had claimed my own so warm and cosy. My eyes closed. Before I knew it, I was adrift on the seas of sleep and darkness consumed me.

At first, I did not realise that I was dreaming. Once more, I was back in the house that we had first bought when we moved to the town. It was not a mansion I had promised the kids, but it did have an excellent view of the sea. One that I usually tended to enjoy on the rare Sunday afternoons that I was actually at home. Unfortunately, the sky was overcast and from my vantage point, I could see the waves crashing onto the beach with a vicious ferocity.

‘Tom, you’re going to catch a cold standing out there in this weather. Why don’t you come in?’

I turned around. Standing near the glass sliding door was Morgan, a concerned look on her face. She was all rugged up, a shawl draped over her shoulders. In her hands, she cradled a mug of hot steaming coffee. I joined her. With a smile on my lips as I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek as I took the offered mug.

‘Thank you for always looking out for me, darling,’ I whispered into her ear before cheekily nibbling on her lower lobe and trailed a finger down her neck.

‘Stop that, Tom,’ said Morgan, though her body language belied her words as she pressed up against my chest. ‘Not in front of the June and Jasper.’

��And why ever not? They’re old enough to know about these things.’

She twirled around in my arms and lightly pressed her lips against mine. Before I could deepen it, Morgan pulled away, and flashed me an enigmatic smile. ‘That may be true, but there are some things, Tom, that are better left in the bedroom.’

I chased after her. Morgan had always been such a tease, even back when we had first dated in university. She squealed when I picked her up by her legs just before she managed to slip inside. The impulse to ravish her there and then thrummed through me. Grinning from ear to ear, I marched across the threshold. My destination: the bedroom.

As I stepped through, the scene before me changed. Morgan vanished from my arms. Blinking, it took me several moments to realise that I was now in the kitchen. The lights were off. Tableware had been smashed to a thousand tiny pieces and crockery was strewn across the floor.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear crying. Immediately, I recognised the memory for what it was. And though I wanted to find Morgan and comfort her for all the pain I had caused her, I found myself rooted to the spot, breathing heavily as if I had just run a marathon. My hands were clenched tight into fists and I resisted the urge to punch the marble countertop.

It was then that I realised that I was still holding onto a bottle of whiskey. Carefully, I placed it back on the kitchen countertop. There was no point in wasting good alcohol. Even in anger.

What I really needed was space and time to clear my head.

Glancing down at the mess that Morgan and I had made, I made a mental note to clean it all up when I came back. Then, once tempers had cooled, we would sit down and hash things out. I dared not think about the inevitable fight we would have once she learned that I had left to gamble away more money on the slot machines in the local pub. What she did not know would not hurt her.

Besides, I deserved it. What did it matter if I spent a few hundred dollars? This was the money I earned from my labours up at the lab. How it was used was up to me.

I grabbed the keys from where they hung on hooks next to the door. It would only be a short drive down into the town centre. Then, it would be only a few hours of watching the slots spin. In my bones, I knew that luck would be on my side. Today would be when I won the jackpot. Lucky 7s all the way through. And then I could leave my job and everything that it entailed.

With a resounding slam, the front door shut behind me.

As it did, the world once more swirled around me. It took several moments to realise that I was facing the front door rather than the street. A sudden feeling of dread filled my stomach. At that moment, I knew what memory had been pulled to the fore.

Despite my attempts to fight the course of destiny, my body was not my own. My hands fumbled for the house keys. In the pre-dawn light, I struggled to identify the right key. Each one I used never quite seemed to fit. Why was it so hard to open my own goddamn front door? There were only two locks for fuck’s sake.

Had I really drunk that much? Frustrated, I gave the door a kick, expecting that I’d break a toe for my efforts.

The door crashed open. It had been unlocked. Surprised, I chanced a glance inside. Everything was a mess. Clothes and books and papers lay on the ground. I knew what had happened and I wanted desperately to leave. To turn tail and get back into my car that was parked on the street rather than the garage. Or to chase after them, praying that, somehow, I’d be able to save them before they met their inevitable demise at the bottom of a cliff.

But the inexorable march of fate would not allow me to make the smart choice. It was like I was in a horror film and trapped in the body of the characters. How many times had I screamed at the screen, telling the blonde cheerleader to run instead of investigating further?

Just like those that came before, I cautiously entered the house. ‘Hello?’

My first stop was the living room. Turning the corner, I spotted upended furniture and streaks of red along the walls. There was not a soul to be seen. No sign that anyone was in the house that we had lived in for the last three years. What terrified me the most was the fact that neither the kids nor Morgan answered my entreaties.

A chill went down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Behind me, the creaking of floorboards warned me of someone’s approach. Immediately, I whirled around, arms up. I didn’t know if I could fight off my assailant. After all, I was a researcher. Ever since I was young, the best words to describe me were tall and gangly. I had never been much for sport, preferring to stay indoors than being out in the sun where I would be more likely to suffer injury.

The thing before me could hardly be described as human. As my gaze alighted on its hideous form, I recoiled – both mentally and physically. I knew then that my trip down memory lane was ended and the nightmare begun.

It looked like it had three misshapen heads. Three pairs of discoloured eyes blinked up at me. Instead of hands, it sported crooked claws, the nails of which were chipped and terrifyingly long.  

‘Tom,’ it croaked in a broken chorus of voices. ‘Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom!’ Morgan. June. Jasper. Three melded into one.

I backed away. Until my back hit wall. It came closer, claws outstretched. No. No. No. No. This could not be happening. This wasn’t real. It was a dream. A nightmare. I closed my eyes and willed myself to just wake up. All I needed to do was just wake up. WAKE THE BLOODY FUCK UP!

‘Help me,’ moaned the abomination. After all, that was what it was. Something so twisted that it ought not to exist in the waking world. ‘Heeeeeelp us!’

Cracking open one eyelid, I discovered that nothing had changed. Only that the creature now had me pinned to the wall of the living room. It was so close, the smell of it so exceedingly rank that the urge to gag was overwhelming. I was trapped with nowhere to run.

It slunk ever closer on unsteady legs. One foot scraped along the floor. Or was it a tail? Scaly, twisted, I dared not risk another glance. Instead, I screwed my eyes up tight again, wishing and praying in equal measure that I would wake up.

Something slimy alighted on my cheek. I batted it away, choking back the scream that threatened to escape. None of it was real, I reminded myself. I only needed to wake up. Slowly, but surely, it became a mantra. My one lifeline in a world gone mad.

As something gripped my shoulder, I flinched from the touch.

Breathe, Tom, breathe. It’s just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream…

‘Hinds! Hinds! Wake up!’

It was the sting from the slap that finally tore apart the complex tapestry that my subconscious mind had woven. I blearily blinked up at Pritchard, confused and scared in equal measure. The last tendrils of the nightmare still clung to my thoughts.  I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.

A moment passed. Then two. As I took in the empty cafeteria and the late afternoon sun fading into the horizon, I realised that I had been asleep for far too long. Unsteadily, I rose to my feet and mumbled an apology.

‘Has something happened?’ I asked, running a weary hand over my face. My eyes felt like they had been gummed together and my head was pounding. What was worse was the sudden dryness and stickiness that pervaded my mouth. It was as if I had eaten taffy. My tongue darted out to moisten my chapped lips but it little to soothe my discomfort.

What I wouldn’t give for eight hours of undisturbed slumber.

Pritchard opened her mouth, then closed it. A few moments passed in silence. Unable to stifle it, I let out a particularly leonine yawn. When next she spoke, her gaze fixed a few inches above my shoulder, I knew it wasn’t what she had initially intended to say. ‘You don’t look well, Hinds. P-perhaps I can go tell Gladstone? I’m sure he’ll understand.’

‘What do you mean?’

She wrung her hands and forced a smile to her face. ‘It’s really not much, Hinds. Gladstone was just looking for any and all volunteers for something. We are at the stage where we’re on the cusp of discovering something new. And honestly, while your expertise would be welcome should things go awry, it’s fine if you wish to decline. That’s not to say, of course, that your presence wouldn’t be appreciated. I know that this is something that you’ve been wanting to be witness to for a long time coming. I just thought that you looked tired and a little pale in the face, is all.’

Her remarks had hit far closer to the truth than I would have liked. It was as if Pritchard saw through the thin façade I had erected at work. I didn’t like it. Nobody had cared before. Why now?

I realised too late that the quiet had stretched too long between us. ‘I’m fine. Really,’ I said, hoping to fill the void with idle chatter. ‘You saw me. A little nap was all I needed. Now, where are we expected?’

The look Pritchard threw my way said that I had done little to persuade her. And though I could her innate curiosity wishing to dig further into my personal affairs, she had the wisdom to hold back. For that, I was thankful.

~

In silence, we headed back to the laboratory and the containment area. When we arrived, the presentation had already begun. Sneaking in, I felt the weight of Gladstone’s gaze on the back of my head as it bored a hole right into my skull. Gladstone never much liked interruptions. Nor did he suffer individuals that were late to one of his meetings. It meant unnecessary repetition.

I kept my head low as I took my seat near the back and glanced at the whiteboard. On it was a picture that had been blown up almost a thousand times. It did not look like much – a mess of pixelated flesh. A new acquisition, perhaps?

‘As I was saying, the next few days will be crucial. We will need to act fast if we wish to secure the specimen and bring it back here for observation and research. This may be our one chance to show the world that our work has not been in vain,’ said Gladstone. He looked down at his palm cards and pushed his glasses further up his nose. ‘Remember: this mission is top-secret. If we manage to pull this off, we will be making history. Now, are there any questions?’

My hand shot straight up. There were a thousand things I wanted to ask. Why weren’t the retrieval team being sent out? What had I missed that the strict procedures that we were meant to follow were being tossed out the window?

A flash of frustration flitted across Gladstone’s face as he spotted my waving hand before he managed to school his expression into one of disdain and disinterest. ‘Yes, Hinds? What is it?’

‘Why are you sending us? We’re scientists. Don’t we have trained men to handle situations like this?’

He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘If you had been here for the briefing earlier instead of who knows where, you would know that the situation is delicate. Timing is of the essence. Our current teams are unavailable. As such, the powers that be made the decision to have any willing staff join in this mission. Now, if there is nothing else, I must leave. There are preparations that I need to see to before departure.’

Gladstone straightened his lab coat and then stalked out of the room. I chased after him, a thousand different enquiries in mind. Before I had even rose halfway off my chair, I felt someone tug at my sleeves. I turned around, ready to snap the head off anyone stupid enough to stop me.

Couldn’t they see that I was trying my very best to make sure that we weren’t all walking into a death trap? That I was looking out for everyone involved? A sudden spear of pain shot through my head and my hands were clammy. In my chest, my heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest.

Shit. How long had it been since I last took my pills? Was it already time for another dose?

Pritchard had a look in her eyes as she mutely shook her head. Was it a sign not to aggravate Gladstone any further? I couldn’t tell. Why couldn’t humans just explicitly say what they wanted instead of dancing around the subject? If Morgan had—

No. Best not go there.

I lowered back on the chair. ‘What?’ My tone came out a little brisker than I had anticipated.

‘There’s no need to be like that, Hinds,’ hissed Pritchard. ‘I warned you, didn’t I? Told you explicitly that you didn’t need to come. But you, of course, being all macho, said that “you were fine.”’

My cheeks flushed red and I looked away. Words sprang to the tip of my tongue but I choked them down. I knew when I had been properly chastised. Pritchard was right. It had been my own stubbornness not to ask further. And when Gladstone had sprung, I had been caught off-guard. Stupid, really. I should have known something was wrong from the start.

This had been no normal meeting amongst scientists. It had been a war council.

As I brooded over everything that I knew, silence filled the gap. ‘You can’t really be serious about participating in this madness, Pritchard,’ I said finally. With some effort, I forced my gaze to meet hers.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t see any way out of this, Hinds. A lot of the others are in the same boat. If Gladstone says “jump” we respond with “how high?”’

I swore under my breath. ‘We know nothing about this…thing. How can he be so sure that it’ll be docile?” I asked, motioning to the picture that sat centre stage on the whiteboard. Looking at it, I could not repress the shudder that went through my entire body at the sight of the horror. This was no creature of the Earth. Neither human or part of the animal kingdom. It was an abomination, plain and simple – something wholly alien and terrible and unspeakable.

Years of research, completing my doctorate thesis on bioengineering and eugenics, and here I was chasing monsters. I was meant to find a way to elongate the human lifespan. This was not it.

True, the possibilities of the research had been enticing at first. I had been ecstatic when I first joined, believing that the sea creatures could be the key to unlocking the final mysteries of what I had sought for so long. But the more I saw and learned, the less it seemed my dream would come to fruition. Gladstone’s goal had diverged. We were no longer pursuing science for the betterment of society. Instead, we were trying to unearth something that should have remained closed.

‘We don’t,’ said Pritchard as she flashed me an ironic and sad smile before she rose to her feet.

As she made her way across the room with her fellow scientists, her hand lingered a while on my shoulder. I watched her round the corner and disappear from view. Another person I had failed to save. Glancing back at the whiteboard and the aberrant creature displayed on it, I made the only decision I could given the circumstances.

~

For hours I had tossed and turned, but sleep continued to elude me. The cot beneath me creaking with every movement. Frustrated, I finally settled on my back and stared up at the dimly lit steel roof of the truck I now found myself in. Around me, I heard the other volunteers shift in their sleep. Some were snoring, somehow falling asleep though the truck shook and rattled. But I knew a good number were probably lying awake just as I was.

Perhaps they were pondering their life choices, wondering where they had gone wrong and regretting their decision to volunteer. Or maybe they were fretting on what the future might bring.

Had I not volunteered, I would have been in my small cramped apartment and downing can after can of beer. Elsewise, I might have spent an evening at the pub, nursing one good drink until the early hours of the morning as I ruminated on why I had not gone with the others in my team. And if the bartender pitied me enough, they might have slipped me another.

It would have been another round of bad choices, culminating in me stumbling to my bed and falling into it head-first and still fully-clothed – unable to shake off the ghosts that haunted me still.

At least, by choosing this, I was doing something and making a difference. Whether it helped or not, I couldn’t say.

The only kick I had got was seeing the shock on Pritchard’s face when she saw me board with one of the tan duffel bags, that had been stuffed with amenities that had been handed out, slung over one shoulder for the overnight trip. I had flashed her a weary grin before I made my way over to the cot that I’d been assigned.

Tomorrow was an early start. If I wanted to be any help to the team, I needed rest.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, Morgan and June and Jasper appeared before me. Their faces as pale as the moon, their mouths open wide in a soundless scream as they beat against the windows of the car.

I jolted straight up, my breathing harsh and loud in my ears. One hand flew to my chest, hoping to calm my heart that was thundering a wild tattoo. Shit. Fucking goddammit. Where was a bottle of vodka when you needed it? Why hadn’t he thought to return to his apartment to pick up his pills before coming here? Two angry fists thumped against the too-soft cot.

‘Hinds?’ The whispery voice was filled with concern. Had I woken her up? A mixture of guilt and frustration bubbled through me. I didn’t dare turn towards her, knowing that my face was an open book.

‘It’s nothing,’ I said tersely. ‘Go back to sleep, Pritchard.’

‘You can talk to me, you know,’ she persisted. ‘Like we used to. Back when Morgan was ali—'

‘I said I’m fine.’ In the silence that fell across the entirety of the truck, I hated how loud I sounded. God, why couldn’t people just leave me alone?

Behind me, I heard Pritchard settle back into her cot. Minutes passed. Slowly, but surely, the snores resumed. I lay back down, the cot creaking as I adjusted my weight, and stared up at the roof. Finally, when exhaustion tugged at my bones, I closed my eyes and let the movement of the truck lull me into a fitful slumber, haunted by images of the restless dead.

~

As the six of us disembarked, we were greeted by a grey overcast sky on a grey pebble beach. Two tents had been set up on the sand. Not too far away were stacks of metal crates. Our supplies had been offloaded first – water, food and weapons. The thought of wielding a gun had my stomach doing somersaults and I hoped there would be something more substantial than cheese and crackers, though I didn’t feel particularly hungry.

What I really wanted, more than anything else, was a can of something cool on my tongue. Preferably a pint of lager, but anything would do.

Something brusquely brushed against my arm. I whirled around, a harsh condescending reprimand on the tip of my tongue, when I caught sight of Pritchard. It was obvious from one glance that she had not slept well. Like mine, her eyes had dark bags underneath. And there was something jittery in the way she moved. She did not smile at me. Instead, she gave me an incidental nod of acknowledgement as a greeting.

A few moments passed before I had the foresight to close my mouth, lest anything fly in. Pritchard said nothing before she joined the rest of the team near the tents. It was like a huge pit yawned between us. One that was both shared history and the pain that we had endured. But I knew that the distance between us was mostly my own creation. Over the past year, it had seemed like she had been above it all. Unshakeable. Ever-loyal to Gladstone. Whereas I had been bitter about my loss and thrown myself into whatever self-destructive behaviours that I could.

But what if she had been just as hurt and in pain as I had been?

Pritchard and Morgan had been quite close, though they came from two different worlds. There had been family picnics and barbeques and a host of various activities that had slowly petered out when my addictions had taken hold. And though Pritchard did not know the exact nature of the rift between my family and I, she had been intuitive enough to know that something was wrong.

Maybe if she had intervened earlier, things would have been different. A part of me resented that she had never reached out. How much would have changed by just one act of kindness?

Stop it, Tom. There’s no point in going over old ground. You’ve a job to do, I chided myself. Find the specimen. Take it in. Go home. Easy as pie.

Gladstone had only just begun his well-rehearsed spiel when I joined them. His eyes narrowed when they alighted on me. I flashed him a grin and gave him a jaunty wave, knowing that it would irk him. He pushed up his glasses and turned away, refusing to rise to the bait. It was a rare moment of wisdom from the man. Or perhaps Gladstone was more concerned about the success of the mission than exchanging petty barbs.

It certainly seemed that way as he droned on in his officious voice, once again going over the extraction procedures and the likely dangers that might be encountered. Perhaps there was more going on behind closed doors if the sweat on his brow and the frantic patter to his words were anything to go by.

As I lowered my hand, I startled at the lidless reptilian eye that stared up at me. A spear of cold fear shot through my heart. Gingerly, I reached out and poked it with the index finger. It didn’t even flinch at the touch. Yet, the moment I made contact, it seemed as if my finger went straight through. I poked it again, feeling only warm flesh as well as a light pain as I scraped skin. Another hallucination. And yet it looked so real.

The world seemed to spin around me.

I staggered over to one side, leaning against the metal crates for support. A moment to breathe. That was all that I needed.

Breathe in…two…three…four…

Out…two…three…four…

Okay. I could do this. Just because I hadn’t taken anything in the last twelve hours didn’t feel I wouldn’t feel any lingering side effects. Maybe it was a sign of withdrawal. What had the doctor said? I wracked my brain, trying to recall the conversation that we had shared nearly a month or two ago.

The memory was piecemeal. Nothing seemed connected.

Frustrated, I shook my head to clear my thoughts and cracked open an eye. This was going nowhere. And if Gladstone knew what was happening, he would see me as a liability. Not that I cared, of course, what the man thought. It was merely my pride on the line.

As I steadied myself for the day ahead, I saw movement at the periphery of my vision. I turned towards the tents and the supply crates. At first, I couldn’t make out anything beyond the norm. And then, I saw them. On the boxes were translucent worm-like creatures. Hundreds. Everywhere. They stretched out towards me, as if sensing my warmth and the life pumping through my veins.

Something slimy and disgusting touched my leg. Then, before I could do anything, it seemed to slither up it.

I jumped, yelping at the top of my voice. It felt like they were all over me and I needed to get them off. I brushed at my arms and slapped at my trouser pants, panic overriding nearly everything.

Shit. Shit. Shit! Had I got them all? Were any still crawling on me?

Eyes turned towards me, taking in the spectacle that I represented. I barely noticed. Consumed by the immediate threat to my person. What would they do? Burrow into my skin? Destroy me from the inside out? I did not want to go out like that. No. My death should be my own choosing.

I did not hear the screams until it was too late.

By the time that I heard the warning, I had almost no time to react. Before I knew it, I found myself face-down in the dirt and there was a piercing pain in my head. For several heartbeats, I lay on the ground stunned as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Were we under attack? Who would fire upon us? And why?

That was when the sound of gunfire filled the air. A shrill screech answered in kind, filled with pain and fear. Head throbbing, I clasped my hands over my ears, unable to bear it. It seemed to go on for hours. Until finally, it stopped.

Blessed relief swept through my body. Slowly, I rose to my feet, dizzy and disorientated. I scanned the beach, my gaze alighting on the tents, somehow untouched, and the body that lay across the pebbles. Heart in my throat, I raced towards it. The short brown locks a familiar sight.

No. No. No. No.

Pritchard was still breathing, albeit shallowly when I reached her. Eyes closed, she looked like she was asleep. I shook her as gently as I could, hoping to awaken her. She did not stir. ‘Come on, Pritchard. Wake up!’

No response. I brushed away her hair and caught a sight of iridescent scales along her brow. They had formed a ridge and were cold to the touch. I recoiled even as I tried to squash the disgust that welled up. The implications supported one of the many theories that had been floated around the laboratory. Had she always been one from the start or had this been a recent transformation?

Could it be contagious?

I dared not think too long on it. Pritchard was hurt. There weren’t any obvious wounds but for what reason would she be lying here insensate when moments before she had been alert, fit and healthy. Unlike me, she had readily volunteered to be a part of Gladstone’s mission.

It was then that I thought to stop and ponder. Where were the others? Glancing around the ruins of the makeshift camp, I could see no sign of the other scientists. Thankfully, I could not make out any immediate dangers either. Pritchard would be safe. For now.

With some effort, I scooped her into my arms. It would not do to have her out in the open and on the hard stones. I nearly tripped on one of the tent pegs when I finally put her down. She did not stir.

Nearby, one of the metal crates sat open, the lid askew. Inside were three or four rifles. I would have liked to have believed that Gladstone would not have provided live rounds. We were a motley crew of scientists and nurses – prone to sitting at desks and conducting experiments, not battlefields. If the ‘specimen’ we sought was not as docile as initially reported, it was entirely possible they would have provided tranquilisers.

But that was not what I had heard earlier. Nor did it seem that the creature that we were after would go quietly.

Behind me, I heard another round of gunfire. Without thinking, I grabbed the first gun I could reach. It almost slipped from my hands. Nothing felt right in my grip. The butt bit into my shoulder. The trigger seemed too far away for my finger. How did someone use these things? It felt unwieldy and far too heavy.

Still, if it meant that I could put a stop to whatever was happening, I would take the opportunity offered to me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of colour and movement to my left. I hurried towards it, weapon up. Though I did not know squat about sight-lines, the basic concept of using a gun was simple. Point and shoot. It would have to do. After all, someone needed to bring this whole thing to a close. Once and for all. Whether that was putting down the specimen or cutting down Gladstone – I couldn’t say. But the insanity that had gripped the laboratory – that had infiltrated my family and the town – needed to reach its final conclusion.

Up ahead, I caught a glimpse of one of the scientists. His name eluded me. It didn’t matter. At the sound of my approach from behind, he whirled around, gun at the ready. There was a crazed look in his eyes, one that implied alarm or panic or both. His face was deathly pale. From just a casual glance, I could see that some injury had caused his nose to bleed.

‘Name!’ he demanded. ‘Don’t lie. I’ll know. All the others…they lied because they weren’t real. Please. I need someone to be real!’ The desperation in his voice sent a chill down my spine. It niggled a part of my brain that said something wasn’t quite right.  

‘Hinds! Tom Hinds. I’m one of you. Us. And I’m real. As real as can be,’ I said, taking a cautious step forward and trying to appear as friendly as was possible. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on?’

It was as if he did not hear me. As if he were lost in his own world. That was when realisation struck me.

As soon as his finger twitched, I immediately fell prone on the ground. Bullets whizzed over my head. Fuck! I grappled to swing my gun around. Time seemed to slow. Every wasted movement seemed to bring my impending doom ever closer. The man stomped forward. He snarled at the air above me, his lips stretched over his teeth. It was animalistic and territorial.

‘You can’t run from me now. You’re one of them, aren’t you? Well, say something!’

I kept silent – unsure if any answer I provided would placate the man. It was as if he had taken some form of hallucinogenic. The symptoms were all there. He was talking and interacting with something that wasn’t real. That he was carrying a weapon made it all the more complicated.

Desperately, I tried to crawl away. Something had happened to him. I couldn’t say what. Minutes ago, he had been listening patiently to Gladstone, the next…

There was a pregnant pause and then the man cried out in alarm and something dropped to the ground. I risked a glance over my shoulder. He was cradling his arm.  Blood dripped from a new gash. And then, before he could reach for his weapon, he was thrown thirty feet away. He landed with a crunch and remained still.

I scanned the deserted beach, trying to make sense of what I had witnessed. There was no sign of his assailant. A terrible idea gripped me. What if the—No. I quickly shoved the thought to the back of my mind as I scrambled up to my feet, a sudden pounding behind my eyes.

There was no sense in trying to make sense of the impossible. It would only serve to pull me down an endless spiral – straight into the abyss. I needed to find the ‘specimen’ and put a stop to all this madness.

As I scoured the beach for Gladstone, I stumbled upon two harrowing encounters. One was Lopez. Just like the nameless scientist before him, he seemed unaware of my presence. Lost in his own world, gun cast aside, it almost looked like he was trying to settle into a domesticated life atop the rocks even as the waves threatened to knock him down. When I tried to talk to him, he knocked me aside as if I as just the buzzing of a fly in his ear.

Stunned and confused, I watched as he continued to speak in Tagalog to people that were not there. From the distress on his face, it appeared as if he was embroiled in a domestic argument. It was uncanny and disturbing.

Yet, no matter how many times I tried, I could not wake him from the delusions that gripped him. It was on my last attempt that I was pushed aside that I saw the rogue wave building up. Too late, I shouted my warning. But it was as if he did not hear a word. I watched, in mute horror, as the wave crashed into him and dragged him out to sea.

Another soul I had failed to save.

The second person I met on that lonely beach was Patricia Hastings. Though we had not worked together in the past, I knew Patricia from the work she had done on genetic modification. Her reputation proceeded her in academic circles, mired though it was in controversy. In the last few years, the media had portrayed her as an overly ambitious woman driven only by the thirst of knowledge and what could be done, ethics be damned.

With her back facing me, I had, at first, thought that she had escaped whatever ailment that had afflicted the others. But as I cautiously approached, I realised that something was wrong. Patricia stood as still as a statue. Her eyes moved from left to right and back again as if she was tracking something. In fact, she barely seemed to blink. When I waved my arm in front of her face, she did not respond.

Just as I turned to leave, Patricia uttered a low guttural moan. She took one step forward before collapsing to the ground. When I reached her, her eyes were still open – endlessly tracking whatever it was she was seeing. A cursory examination revealed that her heartbeat was slower than average and she felt a tad bit colder.

For several terrifying minutes, I debated my next actions. I could not, in good conscience, leave her unattended. What if she was suffering from a stroke or a seizure? How could I leave her here?

The other part of my brain, however, whispered that the only way to solve the problem was to track down the ‘specimen’ and kill it. There had been numerous reports from the retrieval team that many of the men had experienced both auditory and visual hallucinations. Some had even killed themselves.

While the creatures that we had experimented on in the lab had demonstrated any such abilities, it was clear that we were facing a much greater threat than Gladstone had advised us in the briefings.

In the end, cold ruthless logic won through. There was naught I could do for Patricia. For all I knew, killing the monstrosity would free the others from whatever power had ensnared their senses.

What I dared not consider was why I had not been affected.

For twenty odd minutes, I searched high and low for where Gladstone might have disappeared to. But the beach was empty of all save a few of the volunteer task force.

As I rounded the headland, the sea roaring beside me, I spotted spatters of blue on the rocks. Some of it was still wet. Bending down, I touched it with a finger. Many of the creatures that we had experimented upon had blood rich in iron. Perhaps, because, many were still humanoid in appearance. The one Gladstone had sent us to chase, however, was different. It was possible that it might share more similarities with cephalopods or certain species of fish.

For the first time in a long while, excitement thrummed through me. If this was true, then we might have stumbled upon something ground-breaking. This discovery was sure to push our understanding of the human genome. Diseases might be cured. Cancer would just be a footnote in medical history! We would finally show the naysayers the power of science. Finally, we could refine what God had created and fix the flaws in our own design!

The possibilities were endless! Gladstone was too small in his focus. If we could only uncover the secrets behind these creatures, the secrets we could uncover…

At what cost, though? If these creatures were sentient, what right did I have to take experiment on them? At what point would it be okay to cross that line? The thought gave me pause and sobered me from the grandiose ideals that gripped me. Was it worth the lives of everyone dear to me? What about my ever-slipping sanity? I could not keep doing these things. Cutting into their bodies, trying to figure out their physiology…what had any of that accomplished over the last four years?

Murderer. Butcher.

I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. Find Gladstone. Find the specimen.

~

The sun had begun to set, the chill wind biting into my bones, when I spotted the cave cut into the side of the cliff. Just outside the entrance, on the huge plateau, was a huge spray of blue. Mixed in was one set of boot prints. If I was right, that meant Gladstone had followed after the specimen. I hurried into the cave, gun at the ready. There was no telling what I would encounter inside. For all I knew, Gladstone might have killed the abomination. Or, perhaps, the reverse was true.

I told myself it didn’t matter.

One way or another, this would end.

Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I stalked into the gloom. Far ahead, I heard the drip drop of water hitting rock. As for Gladstone or the monster, there was no sign.

I continued forward, my eyes adjusting to the dim light that filtered through. A part of me worried what would happen if I did not find Gladstone or the specimen before nightfall. Foremost in my thoughts were Patria Hasting and Laura Pritchard. With a concerted effort, I shook my head to clear it of my fears. I would cross that bridge when I got there.

Distracted, I did not see that the passageway sloped downwards. I stepped into air and felt my heart lurch as I tipped forward. A frightened cry left my lips, arms pinwheeling.

As the ground rushed up towards me, I managed to catch myself on the slippery rocks. The heels of my palm barked with pain, along with my knees. I took a shuddering breath in to steady myself. Felt it leave. And then took another breath even as I began to play a familiar refrain within the confines of my brain. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. God. I had been so stupid!

If that hadn’t tipped Gladstone or the creature off…

I scrambled back to my feet and dusted myself off before taking a look at my new surroundings. The cavern was huge. Ahead, I saw the path branch into three separate openings. Centred above the crossroads a narrow shaft allowed the fading light of the afternoon in. It did little against the darkness.

Which way to go?

There was no sign or clue as to which way they had gone. But instead of trusting to luck, I waited. Closing my eyes, I strained my ears for the slightest sound. I’d look like a fool but it was my one recourse. If they had thought I had fallen, perhaps they would drop their guard and make a mistake that I could capitalise on.

Seconds bled into minutes. It was as if the entire world was holdings its breath.

Somewhere in the darkness, I heard a strange scuffling sound. A feral grin stretched across my face as I dashed towards the opening on my right. Within moments, whoever was in front realised their mistake. They broke into a run, the pitter-patter of their footsteps echoing through the cavern.

I raced after them, lungs burning and legs threatening to buckle out from beneath me. Still, I pressed on. I could not afford to lose the opportunity before me.

Movement ahead lent a burst of speed and suddenly, we emerged into another open area. The last vestiges of sunlight filtered through, casting the large lake in a rainbow of colour. At the centre of the subterranean waterway was a small platform, on which sat a forgotten shrine made of driftwood and refuse.

Ensnared by the beauty of the scene before me, I forgot, for the briefest of moments, what had led me there. Until, an elbow flew straight for my nose. There was a loud crunch and a sudden intense pain. Blood spurted. The world seemed to shift in and out of focus as I tried to stem the flow.

And then Gladstone was running down towards the lake and the shrine at the centre. He looked over his shoulder, the expression on his face was a mixture of fear and spite. The thin strands of hair on his head were dull and greasy, plastered to his scalp. His clothes were tattered. In his hands, he held a strange box-like object.

Fuelled by rage, I grabbed hold of my rifle. I aimed down the sights. I pulled the trigger and a burst of gunfire exploded from the other end. The shots went wild, missing by a wide margin. Gladstone risked another glance over his shoulder, a smirk on his smarmy face. God. How I wanted to wipe it off. Pritchard did not deserve the hell he had put her through. Nor had any of the others.

Cursing under my breath, I gave chase.

I cornered him in front of the shrine, weapon at the ready. At this range, there was no way I would miss. A stitch was forming in my side but I refused to acknowledge it as I wheezed – desperately trying to get air in my lungs.

‘It’s over, Gladstone!’ I panted, dying for a drink or a smoke or something that would take the edge off the pain. ‘I don’t know what you intended to do, but it ends now.’

Gladstone turned around. ‘Hinds,’ he sneered, slicking back his hair with one hand. ‘Why am I not surprised? You’ve been a thorn in my side since the moment you joined the team.’

‘This isn’t a negotiation. I have the gun.’ I made a show of tightening my finger on the trigger. ‘Put down the box, Gladstone. Surrender. Once we put down the creature, everything can go back to normal and—’

It began as a chuckle. Before I knew it, Gladstone was doubled over with laughter. His free hand, slapping his knee.

‘What’s so funny?’ I demanded. ‘Stop fucking laughing!’ God, I wanted to hurt him so bad. If only I could march up to him, hit him in the stomach with the butt of the rifle…

Gladstone straightened and wiped the tears from the corner of his eye. ‘Ah, Hinds. Always dreaming too small.’

‘Cut the cryptic shit, Gladstone. You were never a proper scientist. Instead, you were a small insignificant man with delusions of grandeur. A middle-management pencil pusher. That’s what you’ve always been. And what you’ll always be. The life of an academic too hard and difficult for you, eh?’

I watched as his face went red and his posture go rigid. ‘You know nothing about me,’ he snarled. ‘All the years that I poured into my research and the price I’ve paid to keep my project…this project afloat. So, don’t try and get up on that high horse of yours and preach to me.’

‘Yeah, well, this project is being shut down.’

‘You’re too late. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The Elder Gods are coming. When they step through the veil and into our world, I’ll be waiting. Ever loyal. Along with the Herald. To be rewarded for my service and dedication to the cause.’ Madness gleamed from his eyes as he let out a low chuckle. ‘Even though you tried to pull me down, I rose. Triumphant.’

Before I could stop him, he turned and slammed the box-like object down onto a small pedestal in front of the shrine. A dark glow began to emanate from the shrine, pulsing with power and evil intent.

The air grew heavy. Oppressive. There was a sudden ringing in my ears. It was sharp and insistent, bringing me to my knees.

My finger tugged at the trigger. Before I could cut Gladstone down, the world around me warped and fell away. Suddenly, I was surrounded by four white padded walls. Orderlies banged against the sealed metal door. They wanted to get in. To stop me from what I had to do. My heart thudded in my chest. I couldn’t let them stop me. To sedate me. To drug me.

I screwed my eyes up tight, grit my teeth and forced myself to calm. It was the same old nightmare that I had experienced again and again after Morgan, June and Jasper had taken that ill-fated drive up towards the cliff. I focused on the dirt beneath my boots, the weight of the rifle in my hands, the ebb and flow of the water…

Hesitantly, I cracked open one eye. I was back in the cavern. Good. Still standing a few metres away was Gladstone. He was crouched over the box, mumbling under his breath. The glow had faded and his body language screamed thwarted ambition. I caught only a few words. Something about ancient texts and a prophecy. I gave it no heed as I squeezed the trigger and felt the impact of the stock thumping into my shoulder.

Gladstone fell.

For a single moment, it felt as if a weight was lifted from my shoulders and everything was right again with the world. But then the box began to throb once more. I watched in horror as it slowly began to float in the air and spin and spin and spin. A rip formed in the air just above the shrine. It was dark and cold and menacing. Something reached through and the mere sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned. And ran.

To stay would have only sealed my doom.

Breathless, I emerged from the cave and into a tempest. The winds raged and the sea roiled as if in answer to what Gladstone had unleashed.

There was nowhere to hide. No place that was safe from their wrath. I could not say how I knew that fact. Only that I did. Still, there was Hastings to think of. And Pritchard too. None of them had asked for this. If I could save them then perhaps there was still hope for me still.

Something struck me from behind and I was flung to the ground, the rifle flying into the water. Pain thrummed through every part of my body except for my right arm, which seemed to be non-responsive. I staggered to my feet and kept going. Death waited but I would not go into that sweet oblivion without a fight.

Each step sapped what little of my strength remained. The distance from where I was and the tents seemed to grow. I fell to my knees, exhaustion weighing down my limbs. Though I shouted at myself to move, my body refused to acknowledge my commands. I lay on the pebbles and stared up at the storm as lightning flashed and rain peppered my face.

I could not say how long I stayed there as oblivion tempted me with sweet release. It would be so easy to simply let go. After all, I had tried to do good in the world. My intentions had been for the noblest of reasons. Surely, whoever manned the pearly gates would see that and consider me worthy of entering Elysium.  

A siren song pulled me from my thoughts. I craned my neck towards the rising waves and saw what must have been a final gift. Morgan, June and Jasper – whole and without blemish. With the last remaining ounce of strength that I had, I crawled towards them. It couldn’t be. And yet, it was. Right before my very eyes.

The unshed tears that I had refused to let fall burned as I made my way into the surf.

Finally, I could be reunited with them. With that thought in mind, I allowed myself to sink into the soft embrace of the water and let it carry me away.

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 3

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: Happy Friday!! Here’s a new chapter, as promised!

Chapter 8

It was the morning after the Governor had attacked the prison and Gloria had not woken up yet. Daryl was sitting on the steps just outside the cell she was resting in while Glenn went to check up on her wound. Color in her face had returned and she did not have a fever, which was a good sign. Relieved to see that she is going to pull through, he leaves the cell.

“Hey, Glenn.” Daryl calls out to him when he sees the other man leaving the cell.

“Hm?” Glenn turns around to face Daryl.

Daryl nods pointedly over to Gloria’s cell, “how’s she?”

“Still asleep, but no fever and she’s not as pale, so I think she’ll be okay.” Glenn says, then he sighs, “Daryl, you remember what I told you about hurting her?”

Daryl purses his lips and nods, “Yeah.” 

“You hurt her really bad, man. I don’t even know how long it’s gonna take for her to warm up to you again.” Glenn says with a frown.

“Yeah I know... I know I messed up.” Daryl says, looking down, guilty and ashamed.

Glenn sees his guilty expression then goes up to him and gently pats his shoulder, “hey, regardless, I’m glad you’re back. And now that you’re here, you can make it up to her.” 

He smiles softly at Daryl then turns to leave but before he walks out of the cell block, Glenn glances back at him, “And seriously, keep your brother in check.” 

Daryl scoffs at him and nods as Glenn leaves the cell block. A few hours pass and Daryl had gone back to the perch to lie down, but he wasn’t able to sleep. Not with Gloria still passed out from her injury, Glenn’s words did comfort him a little but worry and guilt still ate at him. In the cell, Gloria finally wakes up with a dull thumping pain in her shoulder, not letting her forget that she had gotten shot. She winces slightly as she sits up on the bed and gets up. She goes to the kitchen area outside the cell block to get herself a glass of water. 

“Oh, would ya look at that, she lives!” a familiar voice calls out, stopping her in her tracks.

Gloria turns in the direction of the voice and sees Merle sitting on top of one of the tables, smirking at her. She blinks at him, confused. Was she still passed out and dreaming or was she hallucinating? Or was Merle actually there?

“What, no hello? No ‘how ya doin’ ol’ Merle’?” he chuckles. 

His words register in her mind and she realizes that he actually is there, he’s real and still being a conceited little shit. Her memory seems to come back to her as she remembers that he’s also the one who nearly killed Glenn, this made her blood boil.

“And why the hell would I say hi to you when you almost killed my brother?” Gloria scoffs at him.

“For the record, I saved all y'all asses jus’ the other day, so we’re even.” Merle says as he leans forward, “and if ya ain’ gon’ thank me for tha’ ya should at least show me some respect. Don’ even know why I busted my ass to save y'all when ya jus’ left me on that damn roof.”

Gloria rolls her eyes at him, “do you need a reminder that I stayed with you on that roof? And for your information, they went back for us, Rick, Glenn, Daryl, T-Dog, they did. Oh wait, nevermind, you locked me up in that damn closet and ditched me, so how the hell would you know?! And for your information, if you didn’t leave, you would have never gotten separated from the group in the fucking first place, asshole!”

“They only went back ‘cause o’ you! Not me! They didn’ give a shit ‘bout me! And neither do you! Ya only stayed back ‘cause ya got the hots for my baby brother.” he smirks at this and chirps mockingly, “oh yeah, heard yer bro telling mine that ya love him.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I do love Daryl, but I shouldn’t. I should have never let myself get close to him. I should have just left you on that roof alone and Daryl should’ve died trying to find you in that fucking city!” Gloria snaps, seething in anger at the man in front of her, she misses the split second falter on Merle’s face.

Merle lets out a whistle, “‘ooh, tha’s cold! Ain’ that cold, baby brother?” he looks in the direction of the cell block. 

Gloria glances over in the direction of the cell block as well and sees Daryl in the doorway looking at her. Blinking away the tears forming in her eyes, she looks back at Merle, glaring at him.

“It’s only a matter of time before Rick and Glenn kick you out of here,” she then directs her words to Daryl, “and when that time comes, you’re just going to follow him out again.”

Without another word or waiting for a response from either Dixon, Gloria storms out of the prison. She looks up to the watch tower and sees that Maggie is there for her watch shift. Gloria decides that she needs to let out her anger physically so she goes over to the gate of the courtyard and opens it, closing it behind her and proceeds to clear up the walkers left by the Governor. She hauls the already dead walkers into the van that ran through the gate as a walker approaches her from behind, snarling. Glancing over her shoulder, Gloria unsheaths her dagger and swings it into the walker’s skull, killing it instantly. She yanks the dagger out and lets the walker fall to the ground. Looking at the dagger in her hands, she sighs as she remembers the moment Daryl had given them to her all that time ago back in the quarry camp. 

“Now’s not the time...” Gloria sighs to herself, brushing away the memory.

She continues picking up walkers and tossing them into the van, killing any that came too close or just weren’t dead but laying on the ground, groaning and snarling up at her. Hearing footsteps approaching her from behind, Gloria instinctively swings her good arm back with her dagger armed only to be caught by the person who approached her, Daryl. The two share a brief eye contact just before Gloria yanks her arm out of his grip and continues to clean up the courtyard. Without saying anything, Daryl helps her load the walkers into the van but not without noticing her wince when she uses her injured shoulder to pull at the walkers. 

“Ya shouldn’ be out here doin’ this with that injury.” Daryl calls out to her.

His words stop her in her actions, then glares at him, “don’t pretend you care about me, Daryl.”

Daryl sighs at that, “I do care ‘bout ya.”

“Oh really?” Gloria rolls her eyes and scoffs, “is that why you left? Because you care so goddamn much?!”

“Hey, if ya had to choose between Glenn and this group, ya would have done the same thing!” Daryl raised his voice at her, getting frustrated.

“No! I wouldn’t! I would have tried harder than you ever did to get them all to come back! You say Glenn didn’t want Merle to come with us to the prison but that’s just your excuse because where is Merle now, huh?! He’s inside the damn prison with us whether Glenn likes it or not!” Gloria yells at him, her chest heaving as she tries not to cry again, “If anything I would have at least tried to come back and say goodbye, but I guess I don’t deserve that because that’s how much you care about me.” 

Daryl looks down, biting his lip, not knowing what to say to her anymore. He knew he messed up big time, and he hated himself for it. He knew he might never be forgiven for leaving her so the only thing he can do is make sure she’s safe and protected. Daryl watches as she continues hauling walkers into the van but turns around to notice that their argument had drawn in more walkers to them. 

“Hey, we should head back.” Daryl says, gesturing to the walkers starting to surround them.

Gloria looks around and sees what he’s talking about then drops the dead walker she was holding to the ground. She doesn’t wait for Daryl as she walks back towards the prison as Daryl follows her anyway. He rushes forward to open the gate for her as well as the door to the prison for her to go in first, closing both after himself. 

“Hershel!” Daryl calls out for the vet who comes out of the cell block with his crutches, then gestures to Gloria; Daryl saw that she was bleeding through her bandage. 

“Gloria, sit down.” Hershel instructs her.

She does so with a sigh as she lets Hershel inspect her wound. He unwraps the bandage and sighs softly when he sees that she’s torn the wound open. 

“Maggie, I need you to get me some fresh bandages, please.” Hershel orders his daughter as he cleans up the blood on Gloria’s shoulder. 

Maggie nods and heads into the cell block to get bandages as Glenn comes out of the cell block, a frown on his face. 

“What the hell were you doing out there? The courtyard is full of walkers, you shouldn’t even be outside with your injury!” Glenn lectured, worry and frustration written all over his face.

“I just wanted to kill something, okay?!” Gloria didn’t mean to snap at him, but she was in pain, in more ways than one. 

Glenn sighs at her response but doesn’t say anything more, backing off. Maggie comes back out with the bandages and Hershel takes them. He proceeds to patch up her wound again. 

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you, Gloria.” Hershel says with a smile. 

Gloria furrows her eyebrows together, confused, “for what?” 

“I saw how you took it upon yourself to distract those walkers so Glenn could get to me, you risked your life to save mine.” Hershel smiles warmly.

“I did what any one of us would have done, we can’t risk losing you.” she tells him, returning his smile.

“We can’t risk losing you either.” Hershel says with a chuckle.

Gloria grins then adds, “well I guess that’s why you’re patching me up so well.” 

This makes Hershel laugh and the mood in the room lightens up. Daryl’s lips curl into a small smile as he sees her smile again. Gloria looks over to Maggie who’s smiling gratefully at her then she mouths the words ‘thank you’ to which Gloria smiles and nods. 

“Dad!” the door opens and Carl rushes inside, “Andrea’s outside!”

The announcement alerts everyone, worried that it’s the Governor returning for another attack against the prison. Apparently, Andrea got away from the farm alive and had been surviving with Michonne until they found Woodbury. Daryl, Rick, and Glenn ready their weapons and rush out of the building. Glenn ordered Gloria to stay inside with the others as they went out. Soon, they brought Andrea inside the building. They all look warily at her as she looks around the prison.

“You’ve all been staying here?” Andrea asks in awe, looking around at the group surrounding her. 

“Yeah.” Rick says simply, eyeing her.

Her eyes land on Beth as she’s holding baby Judith, “Oh my god... is that...” she then looks around, seemingly to try and find Lori then her face softens when she doesn’t see her, then turns to look at Rick, “Rick, I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah...” Rick sighs then takes a breath, “I didn’t think you were here to catch up.” 

Andrea sighs, “no, I’m not. I’m here to talk you guys out of fighting with Phillip.”

“Phillip?” Gloria raises an eyebrow.

“You know him as the Governor, I know him as Phillip.” Andrea states, “I don’t want this to turn into a war.”

“It already has.” Rick tells her, “when he decided to take his people here and shoot at us, he already declared a war.”

“He said you shot first.” Andrea says defensively. 

“O’ course he’d say that, wants to look like the victim in front o’ his woman so ya can give him some good lovin’.” Merle coos with a grimace. 

Gloria looks at Andrea with a look of judgement, “you’re sleeping with the Governor?” Andrea glances at her and looks away, confirming her words then Gloria scoffs under her breath, “of course you are.”

Gloria’s last words anger Andrea as she looks straight at Gloria, “you’ve always had a problem with me, haven’t you?”

“Of course I’ve always had a problem with you.” Gloria stands up from the table, “you’re always doing stupid shit that jeopardizes the group. Do I need to remind you of the time you shot and almost killed Daryl? Or maybe you need to remember when you left Beth alone to slice up her own wrist. And now you’re sleeping with our enemy, who by the way, shot me, and you expect to waltz into our territory and tell us to not kill your precious boyfriend. So yeah, I’m always going to have a problem with you.” 

Gloria looks like she’s going to pounce on Andrea from how worked up she was getting and knowing his sister, Glenn held her back. She was breathing heavily as she glared at Andrea who was now looking away from Gloria, knowing deep down everything she said was valid. She then looks to Rick with a pleading expression.

“You shouldn’t fight this war, Rick. You can’t, you won’t win. They have more fire power and people, plus there are innocent people in Woodbury.” Andrea tried to reason.

“Yeah, well those ‘innocent people’ were cheering me and Merle to kill each other in some messed up arena.” Daryl scoffs, “ya can go back and tell ‘Phillip’ that the next time I see him, I’m gonna take his other eye.”

“I’ll try to arrange something with him so you can all negotiate something, okay?” Andrea looks at Rick.

“What makes you think that this man even wants to negotiate?” Hershel points out, frowning.

“He’s not who you guys think he is. A war isn’t what he wants, he-” Andrea is cut off by Rick.

“Go ahead and set up your meeting, if he wants to negotiate, great! If not, he’ll get exactly what he asked for. A war.” Rick tells her. 

Having a verbal confirmation from Rick that he was willing to go meet with the Governor was enough for Andrea to leave. She told the group that she’ll let them know when and where the meeting will take place. The group’s reunion with Andrea did not ease their minds about the Governor, it only heightened their worries because now they knew he had a larger army and more weapons. The next few days were definitely going to be burdening for the group as they prepare for the war to come. 

---

Next Chapter

A lot of yelling in this one haha! Do you guys agree with what Gloria said to Daryl? Is she right for being upset at him? Please let me know what you think! Next one will be up on Monday~! 

I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep​ | @letsstarsfalling​ | @molethemollie​ | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox​ | @womanup22​ | @jodiereedus22​

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Ghost Jungkook Reaction| You bump into him and can now see him pt. 3

pt.1  pt. 2   final

The next morning you wake up and Jungkook isn’t next to you. You sit up, calling out his name.

“Jungkook? Are you here?” He phases through the wall and laughs at you.

“I mean where else would I be? I can’t leave you know.” 

“Oh...sorry I forgot.” 

“It’s alright you don’t need to apologize. I’m used to it by now. And having you here helps anyway.” He offers you a small smile and you smile back. “So any big plans for today?”

“Well I was going to go get a coffee and then I was thinking maybe we could try and figure out where your friends are.” His eyes widen slightly.

“You were serious yesterday?”

“Of course I was. I would do anything to make you happy don’t you know that?” His grin only grows wider.

“Ah, you’re too sweet to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone like you in my life. Or, well my after life? I don’t know this whole thing still confuses me.”

“It’s alright. We’ll figure it out together.” You hold your hand out and Jungkook takes yours, allowing his hand to be solid for a few moments so he can feel your warmth on his skin. 

“Alright, go get your coffee. I know how you get when you don’t have some caffeine to wake you up.” You chuckle at that and reluctantly let go of his hand and walk out the door. You’re heading into the cafe when someone bumps right into you, spilling their tea on your shirt.

“Oh my god I am so sorry!” 

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it. This is an old shirt and I’m still kind of in my pajamas so I don’t really care if it’s ruined.” 

“But now your going to get cold because your shirt is wet.” 

“It's okay. Really, I promise it’s fine. You seem like a really nice person I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” 

“Can I at least buy you your drink as an apology?” 

“Sure. That’s fine.” You both walk into the cafe together. You order your favorite drink as the man orders himself another tea. You turn to thank him for his kindness. 

“Thank you for the drink.”

“No problem it’s the least I could do. I’m Hoseok by the way.” He holds his hand out to shake yours.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.”  You place your hand in his. It doesn’t even register that this is Jungkook’s Hoseok until all the color drains from his face when he eyes your bracelet.

“Where did you get that?” His grip tightens on your hand, it’s almost bruising and the cheerful smile on his face is gone. 

“U-um. I-”

“I said where the hell did you get that?!”

“Wait, you're Hoseok.”

“I am. And you have 5 seconds to answer me before I-” 

“You’re Jungkook’s friend. Right?” He drops your hand as if it burns him.

“How the hell do you know that? Did you steal that from somewhere? Are you stalking me?”

“Jungkook gave it to me.” 

“Bullshit. Stop lying this is really fucked up. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m y/n.. Jungkook’s... roommate I guess?”

“Stop talking about him like he’s still here he’s dead!” He’s shouting at you now and everyone in the cafe is staring at the two of you.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk?”

“Not until you tell me truth.”

“I just did!” 

“You’re fucking crazy.” You see tears forming in his eyes as he turns on his heels and runs out of the cafe. You don’t hesitate to chase after him. 

“You’re Jung Hoseok! You majored in dance with Jungkook and Jimin! You all have these matching bracelets with you initials on them. Taehyung and Jimin made them for you all.” He stops in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. You see his shoulders shaking and can hear quiet sobs escaping from him.

“How do you know all that? Who.. what..” He turns around and faces you and you see the saddened look on his face.

“It’s a long story. Can we talk maybe?” He hesitates for a moment but nods. You spot a bench a ways up the sidewalk and motion for him to follow you. You both sit down, drinks in hand but remaining full. 

“I was telling you the truth you know? Jungkook.. Listen I don’t exactly know how all of this happened but one day I came home drunk and bumped into him and suddenly I could see him. I thought the place was haunted and I almost left, but he begged me to stay with him. Apparently after people touch him they can see him and every other tenant left his apartment because they were afraid of it being haunted.”

“He's been alone all this time? Oh god..” His voice cracks as fresh tears spring from his eyes. 

“Hey it’s not your fault. If it makes you feel any better I’ve been with him for a few months and I have no intention of leaving. He’s actually really sweet. He makes me breakfast sometimes and always has my pajamas on my bed for me when I get home. And he’s hilarious. And his cute bunny smile is adorable the way is eyes sparkle.. Oh sorry I’m rambling.” Hoseok chuckles. 

“That sounds like Jungkook alright.. You seem quite fond of him.”

“He kind of has a way of working his way into your heart you know?” 

“Oh trust me. I know. He was the baby of our group we used to spoil him rotten.” You giggle at that. “So you know then? What happened?”

“I do.. he’s really worried about Jimin. How is he?”

“He’s um... managing in his own way I guess.”

“Is he overworking himself? Jungkook wanted me to make sure he was still eating and getting plenty of rest and not throwing himself into his dance like he does when he’s upset about something.”

“Ah, it’s the exact opposite actually. He refuses to dance at all anymore. He says it’s the reason his best friend was taken from him and he can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s so sad.. Do you think getting to see him again would help?”

“I think having Jungkook knock some sense into him would definitely be helpful. He always seemed to be able to get through to him.”

“And what about you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to see him?”

“Can I really?”

“I think so. I think you just have to touch where he is standing and then you should be able to. That’s how it worked for me. The first day we met was actually..” You laugh at the memory. “It was funny. I thought he was a hallucination and told him to leave me alone but he kept talking nonstop until I would acknowledge him.” Hoseok bursts out laughing at that. 

“That definitely sounds like our bratty maknae... I would love to see him. I think maybe I should just come first. Not that I don’t believe you, but the others are going to be harder to convince than me and I think if the both of us talk to them they’ll be more willing to listen.” 

“Okay. You wanna go now?” 

“Please.” You stand up and begin walking to the apartment. Along the way Hoseok shares memories and funny stories he has with Jungkook and you find yourself becoming even more fond of him. He was such a sweet person and loved by so many and he truly loved his friends more than anything. As you approach the apartment door Hoseok freezes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah it’s just.. I haven't seen or heard him in so long this just feels like a dream. I keep thinking I am going to wake up.” You squeeze his hand encouragingly. 

“It’s okay. I understand. Whenever you’re ready.” Hoseok takes a deep breath and nods. You open the door and Hoseok stands off to the side to collect his thoughts. Immediately you are granted by the sight of a flustered Jungkook pacing around the apartment. 

“Y/n! Thank God you were gone for so long! I was so fucking worried I thought something happened to you.” 

“I’m sorry Jungkook! I didn’t mean to make you worry but I have a good reason for being late.”

“You sure as hell better. I almost had a heart attack and died again because of you.” You laugh and look out into the hallway.

“Are you ready?” Hoseok nods and steps into view.

“H-Hobi hyung?” Jungkook collapses onto the ground and stares at him in shock.

“Jungkook? Is he here?”

“He is he’s just a little overwhelmed I think.” You bend over to where he is sitting.

“Y/n.. how did you-?”

“He bumped into me at the coffee shop and saw your bracelet.”

“Jungkookie? Is it okay if I..?” Jungkook nods frantically. 

“He says it’s okay. Give me your hand.” You grab onto Hoseok and lead him so his fingers brush against Jungkook’s outstretched hand. You can tell the exact moment Hoseok is able to see him as he bursts into tears. They both sit there crying and you badly wish you could comfort them both but you don’t want to intrude.

“Kookie I can’t believe this. I can actually see you. I kind of thought y/n was crazy.”

“Hey!” Jungkook and Hoseok both laugh at your offended expression.

“It’s good to see you again hyung. How are you?”

“I’m managing. How are you?” Jungkook’s voice lowers a few octaves so you don’t hear what he says. 

“Much better now that y/n is here and is staying with me. She’s wonderful hyung.” Hoseok smiles at that. 

“She seems very sweet.” 

“How are the others? How is Jimin?” Both of your expressions fall. 

“What? Did something happen to him is he okay? Did he over work himself again? I swear I will bust out of this apartment-”

“No no Jungkook that’s not it. He kind of well.. stopped dancing. He said it reminds him too much of you and what happened and he blames dancing for your death. He said if he wouldn’t have made you stay late at practice with him this never would have happened.”

“So he blames himself? But Hobi it wasn’t his fault.”

“I know that, Kookie. We all do except for him.”

“I have to see him. And all of them. I need them to know that I am okay and I need them all to know what happened to me wasn’t their fault and I don’t blame any of them one bit. Especially not Jimin.” 

“Okay. I think it might take me a little bit to convince them. Y/n offered to help with that though too.” Jungkook looks at you and his gaze softens. 

“Y/n.. you’ve seriously done so much for me already just by bringing Hoseok here you don’t have to go to bring the others if you don’t want to. I know some of them aren’t going to be as warm to the idea and might say hurtful things to you if they think you’re lying.”

“That’s why I’ll be with her too. Coming from a complete stranger yeah, it does seem kind of crazy but if both of us go I think they’ll believe us.” Jungkook stands up abruptly. 

“Y/n can you get me a pen and paper please?” You open the desk drawer and grab the objects. Jungkook begins scribbling something on the paper before he phases back out and the pen and paper fall to the floor. You grab the note and read it. 

Hyungs please believe y/n and Hobi. They are telling the truth they aren’t crazy and I really need to see you all. -Kookie.  There’s a drawing of a bunny with a thick eyebrow next to his name and you can’t help but think it’s cute.

“Who’s this little guy?”

“Oh.. that’s Kooky. I kind of always drew this pink bunny because everyone always said my smile reminded them of one.” 

“That’s adorable! I’d pinch your cheek right now if I could.”

“For once I am glad that you can’t touch me all the time.”  You giggle at that as does he. Hoseok loudly clears his throat, as if to remind you both he’s still here. 

“Sorry hyung.” 

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m just glad to see you're happy.” 

“So when do you want to go see the others?”

“Well, I think everyone is busy today. Tomorrow is Saturday so they all have off. No classes or work. I’ll text everyone and ask them to meet me at my apartment tomorrow. I’ll give you the address so you can come too. Say around noon?”

“That works for me.” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow y/n. And hopefully you too Jungkook.” 

“Yep. I’ll be here.” Hoseok waves and walks to the front door, he looks over his shoulder one more time and smiles at Jungkook before he opens the door and walks out.  Jungkook lets out a breath he wasn't aware he’d been holding. 

“You okay, Kookie?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Just... wow I wasn’t expecting that at all. I didn’t think you’d find him so quick.”

“I didn’t either. Kind of seems like the universe is working in your favor for once right?”

“I think it always has been. Everything happens for a reason. If I wouldn’t have died I probably never would have met you.” 

“I just wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

“Me too, jagi.” The endearing petname just slips out and Jungkook immediately looks away shyly. You smile at him and walk toward the couch, sitting down and patting the space next to you.

“What do you want to watch?”

“Can we watch Your Name? It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really?! Me too I adore that movie so much. I actually have the blu ray. I’d love to watch it with you.” You two spend the rest of the day watching Jungkook’s favorite movies and you find that you both actually have very similar tastes. You’re halfway into the 3rd Studio Ghibli movie of the night when your head lulls over and you fall asleep. Jungkook smiles fondly at you, getting up to your bedroom and grabbing your blanket to throw over top of you. He allows himself the indulgence of running his fingers through your hair to brush it out of your face. He can’t help himself from leaning down and kissing your forehead tenderly. He loves the warm feeling of your skin against his lips. He wonders what it would feel like to actually kiss you but he banishes the thought immediately. After Saturday if everything goes well he might not even be here anymore. He might finally be able to move on and rest in peace. But would he really be at peace? He asks himself this question, if he’s ready to give up seeing you. And he honestly doesn’t know the answer. 

[keldae]

These Dreams Of You

could be considered a follow-up to this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s in his apartment on Coruscant -- a place he hasn’t set foot in for almost a year. This feeling of warm comfort, of languidly rolling over in his bed, is one that he’s almost forgotten about entirely. He frowns -- why does this feel so strange?

But then he sees her in his bed next to him, curled up on her side, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. He smiles and leans in to nuzzle her nose, and for a second, everything feels perfect -- or almost perfect, anyway. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and gentle.

“Theron.” How does her voice make his name sound so good? She smiles at his caresses, all but purring. “I miss this.”

“I miss you,” Theron whispers, and wonders where that thought came from. How could something be wrong in this moment of blissful comfort?

Xaja shifts slightly, her smile fading. Theron can feel the tendrils of dark, painful grief snaking back into this moment before she speaks again. “I need you, Theron. Please…”

“How could you need me?” Theron reaches to caress her cheek, frowning. “You’re--” You’re dead, floats through his mind, and now he remembers why this doesn’t feel right, and he wishes he could forget it again.

Fear flickers through Xaja’s eyes as she seems to shrink under his hand. “Theron, hurry, please. He’s… he’s hurting me again...”

“What? Who’s hurting you?” Theron tries to grab her shoulder, and panics when his hand goes right through her like she’s made of mist. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know…” Her voice is quiet, but he can’t tell if that’s because she’s fading away from him, or if it’s due to the tears he can hear her trying to hold back. He desperately reaches for her again as she cries out for him, as the apartment around them suddenly grows dark and terrible. He can hear a cruel laugh in the background, one that reminds him too vividly of Yavin IV and Ziost. “Theron, help me, please!”

With a ragged gasp, Theron jerked himself upward, for a second panicking until he recognized his surroundings. This wasn’t Coruscant… this was the sketchy back-alley hovel he’d taken up residence in on Zakuul, deep in the Old World where the Knights weren’t likely to look for an offworld spy. The narrow bed he laid on was cold, sheets strewn in all directions from his restless movements. And when he reached his hand out to where Xaja should have been at his side, he felt nothing but a hard mattress and a cold, painful grief.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. Over two years after Xaja’s murder at Zakuul’s hands, and the grief hadn’t eased at all. If anything, his nightmares about her were getting more and more vivid. He wasn’t sure yet if this was better or worse than the ones he’d been having previously, the ones where his overactive brain decided to imagine what her final moments alone before her death had been like.

At least being alone in the dark as he was, with only Tee-Seven for company, there was no one to witness the tears on his unshaven cheeks, or the shuddering of his hunched shoulders as he tried to smother the grief again. He balefully frowned at the chronometer on his ocular display -- two in the morning, local time. He had a feeling he wouldn't be going back to sleep tonight, not with the lingering fear and grief drowning him.

"These dreams of you are gonna drive me mad," he finally mumbled as he wiped a hand over his eyes and took a shaky breath. He'd all but given up meditating, given how the Force seemed to have drop kicked him over the last couple of years, but maybe trying again now would calm him down after the nightmare. Leaving the bed, he knelt in front of the window that looked out over the Eternal Swamp beyond the city walls. He then closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as he tried settling into the patterns Master Zho had taught him. In, and out… in, and out… in, and out--

Help me, Theron. Please!

Theron swore and flopped onto his back as Xaja's voice whispered in the back of his mind. "Never mind," he groaned, "I've already gone mad." When he had said he would have done anything to hear Xaja speak to him again, he hadn't meant being haunted into insanity by dreams of her. It shouldn't have been you. It should never have been you…

"Fuck, I miss you," he brokenly whispered to the empty air above him. "I want you back." He bitterly snorted. "Why can't I hallucinate you lying beside me where you belonged?" If this was the Force's way of giving her back to him in some form, it was a cruel comfort. He was pretty sure this counted as proof that the Force hated him personally.

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbled, squeezing his eyes closed as he felt tears trickling down his skin again. A low hum emitted from the corner -- no doubt Tee-Seven offering his concern -- but he couldn’t respond. He could only shake his head. "I need you back, Xaja. Never should’ve let you go to begin with. This just... hurts too much without you." He took in a shuddering breath. "I don't know what to do without you here."

So much for not getting attached, he thought with a snort of sarcastic amusement. He tried to tell himself to not risk it with the pretty Jedi during their time together on Rishi or Yavin IV, and that was even during happier times when she had still lived, a bright spot in his galaxy. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to smother down his grief and tried to think about something else… anything that had the hope of getting his mind off of Xaja, his dreams of her, and the regrets he carried with him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, as he was sipping a mug of lukewarm caf and scowling at his datapad, he gave a start at Tee-Seven’s sudden beep of warning. The droid’s sensors had picked up someone walking down the alley toward Theron’s cramped residence -- someone walking quietly, but not exactly sneaking about. Frowning, Theron got to his feet, setting the caf down and reaching for his blaster. No one should have known he was here; no one had reason to be knocking on his door, the raps echoing in the stillness of the apartment.

Cautiously, Theron cracked the door open -- and a second later, wasn’t sure if he was relieved his visitor wasn’t one of Marcus’ operatives coming to track him down, or more uneasy that this was an Imperial asset looking him in the eye. “Nine,” he sighed, easing his grip on his blaster. Cipher Nine might be a notorious sociopath and an infamous Imperial spy, but Theron was at least reasonably sure that the old man wasn’t here to end him. If Reanden Taerich had wanted him dead, he could have killed him easily enough on Nar Shaddaa last year.

“You’re a pain in the ass to track down, you know that?” Reanden dryly said by way of greeting, shifting his hands into his jacket pockets. The older spy’s hair had gotten more grey in the last three years, and there were new lines on his face, but those calculating dark eyes were still as sharp and piercing as ever.

“Apparently still too easy,” Theron grumbled. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. What the blazes had Cipher-kriffing-Nine been looking for him for? He settled for a direct approach. “What brings you out here?”

Reanden paused, dark eyes glancing to the alley for a moment. “That’s a conversion best not had out here,” he finally said, his voice low. “You mind?”

Barely keeping from rolling his eyes, Theron stepped back to allow the old man inside. His tone was acerbic as he gestured to the shabby room. "Make yourself at home." The door was secured behind him.

Turning, he watched Reanden survey the one-room apartment with its scarce furnishings, lazily shrugging one shoulder. "I've seen worse," the old spy as he sat in the one chair in the room. Somewhat surprised to not hear a snarky comment from the old timer, Theron found himself sitting on the bed as Tee-Seven started happily beeping upon recognizing their visitor. Even more surprising, he watched as the elder man patted the droid’s chassis with something approaching affection. "So this is where you ended up."

"Busted him off Coruscant when I left," Theron shrugged casually. "He was being wasted in a military hangar."

"Same time you took the Serenity?" Reanden offered a tired smirk as Theron started. "Heard about that through the vine."

"... Xaja would have hated her ship being left to rust in a hangar," Theron protested, for a second certain that the old man was ready to tear him a new one for stealing -- no, liberating -- his late daughter’s starship.

"She would have," Reanden agreed, his voice quiet, sombre, and definitely not the verbal fight Theron had been expecting. “Definitely the Corellian in her.” 

Theron frowned as the old spy looked down at his hands, the normal snarky demeanour fading into a familiar heartache. “You didn’t sneak onto Zakuul for a social call, old timer,” he finally said. “And you definitely didn’t drop in to catch up with me.”

“Bite me, kid,” Reanden muttered, glaring up at Theron for a second before seemingly standing down and sighing. “There’s a lot of people searching for your hide in particular, but, no, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here on unrelated business -- only just figured out you were onworld about two hours ago.”

“And you tracked me down because…?”

“Because I figured you’d have a personal interest in this.” Reanden unflinchingly met Theron’s gaze when the younger spy frowned in confusion at him. “Sorand… has a theory that he’s asked me to look into, and I believe Lana will only be a couple of steps behind me on this.”

A personal interest for Theron that Cipher Nine would be involved with… and on Zakuul…? Maybe, he thought, the old man had an idea to kill Arcann directly for what he’d done to Xaja. And Darth Imperius was clever, with his own reasons to hate Zakuul -- perhaps father and son had figured out a plan. Or had Korin gotten into something? “What’s up? You find some sort of a vulnerability in that half-metallic bastard?”

“Not yet.” Reanden opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, paused, then shook his head. “What do you know about Force bonds, kid?”

Theron frowned in confusion. This was not where he’d expected this conversation to go. “Not a lot. Connections that form between Force-users, usually people close to each other.”

“Like a student and their teacher; a parent and child,” Reanden slowly agreed, “or siblings.” Theron felt his frown deepen as the older man looked at him. “Sorand had... formed a bond with Xaja, presumably some time during the Revanite incident. He’s been having intermittent dreams since…well, since the attack; they’ve been getting more intense over the past few months.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristic sign of anxiety that Theron wasn’t used to seeing from him. The next statement left in a rush: “He believes there’s a chance that Xaja might have survived the attack. He suspects that if she's still alive, she’s probably on Zakuul, and she's in some sort of danger that he can't identify.”

For a second, Theron felt hope flare within his chest, his heart in his throat -- then reality kicked back in, and he felt his shoulders slump. “Dreams? If dreams were real, Taerich, I’d be piloting a Hutt pleasure barge overrun with gizka. The only dreams coming true now are nightmares.” He blindly gestured with one hand toward the wall, and the Spire beyond it, as if to prove his point. "You saw those reports of what happened to Marr’s fleet. There's no chance she made it."

"He swears up and down that he can feel her, or at least feel something where his bond with her was -- and he says it feels nothing like the broken bond he had with his mum.” Reanden grimaced, shifting forward in the seat. He rested his elbows on his thighs, fingers interlaced over his knees. “Look, I'm about as Force-sensitive as you and have no idea what a bond is supposed to feel like, but I trust my kid. He wouldn’t… offer hope where there isn’t any. He’s not that cruel." He shrugged. "At the least, I promised him I would do some snooping. Figured you'd be interested."

Sorand was a pretty sane, reasonable Sith, Theron knew. Unless the siege on Dromund Kaas had driven him completely insane… but Reanden, even with his clear biases toward his surviving children, should have been able to recognize that. So if Cipher Nine thought Imperius' hunch concerning a long-dead Jedi was worth investigating…

But if they're wrong? Theron raked a hand down his face as he stood up and paced to the window, then back again. "I can't do this," he heard himself whisper. "Getting my hopes up, and then finding out it was a false hope… I can't do that and lose her again." He had done that enough with the first reports of the infamous Outlander assassin, whispers of whom indicated they matched Xaja's description, unless there were other tiny, feisty redheaded women with blazing green eyes and blue lightsabers. Nothing had come out of that.

"What makes you think I can?" When Theron glanced over, he was struck by the tangible grief in Reanden's dark eyes, the sorrow making itself evident in the stoop of his shoulders. This wasn’t the Cipher Nine of legend, infamous saboteur and assassin -- this was a grief-stricken father. "My children mean everything to me, my daughter included. I need a confirmation, one way or another."

"Fuck," Theron muttered as he stared out the window for a moment longer, then finally looked back at Reanden. "If he's wrong and we're chasing a false hope, and she's still de-- still gone…"

"And if he's right, and Xaja's alive and in some sort of distress? Could you live with yourself if you didn't even try to help her?"

Help me, please…

Theron groaned and sat back down on the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. Weird coincidence that Nine would show up with this new theory after last night's dream, he thought, and felt himself frown. The Force didn't operate in coincidences like this, did it? He wished he had Master Zho's guidance right then -- or Hells, even his mother. Somehow, he felt like Satele would at least offer some sort of advice. And he would take any answers he could get right now.

"I... dreamed about her last night," he heard himself admit quietly, before his brain quite caught up to his mouth. "It was different than the normal nightmares about her. She was… she was scared, and kept saying 'he's hurting me'. She didn't say who 'he' was, but…" He bitterly laughed and raked his hand through his hair. "And now I'm hearing her voice in the back of my head. I think I'm losing it."

When he finally looked back at Reanden, the older man was frowning in thought, clearly considering what Theron said. "Sorand thinks he felt her fear too," he added at length. "Said he could feel pain and cold -- thinks they might have been from her end of the bond. He didn't say anything about her being hurt by anyone though. I haven't been in contact with Korin, so I don't know if he's having dreams too."

"And you haven't…?"

"Pfft. Do I look like the type of person to have dreams from the Force?"

"You're as likely as me, old timer."

"One of us didn't get thirteen years of Jedi mind training as a kid." Reanden shrugged. "Not to mention you've been onworld longer. If Sorand's right, and Xaja's here, proximity probably can't hurt."

The idea that maybe, just maybe, Xaja was somewhere on this damned rock turned the spark of hope into a tiny flame in his chest. Theron closed his eyes against the sudden desperate yearning to have her in his arms right then, and for a moment was grateful Reanden couldn't sense his feelings. "You've got some sort of plan for looking, right?"

"I've got about forty percent of a plan," Reanden acknowledged. "You and Tee-Seven share what you've turned up so far, and we might have more of a plan before Lana turns up."

"Forty percent isn't much of a plan," Theron dubiously pointed out, not mentioning he was pretty sure he only had about five percent of a plan to search for Xaja himself… and only thirty percent of a plan to kill Arcann, which was rapidly being bumped down the priority list.

"This coming from the guy who blew up a Sith warship in his underwear."

"Never gonna live that down, am I?" Theron asked with a sigh as he made his way to the computer console, ignoring Reanden's smirk. "I've been doing recon around the Spire for the last few months…"