#fuck projection lit by gas lighting

[subtlesolitude-tailoredtaste]

This is I cannot emphasize this enough CRUCIAL life lesson. No matter who, what, where you are. No matter how close this other people are. It will destroy you mind/body/spirit surgical destruction.

🚨⏰

🪫🔌🔋

🕳️🧗🏾‍♀️

📌🧿

🧠🔨

adapting yourself to satisfy the expectations of other people will destroy you

[absolutefilthimsosorry]

Spoilers for DnP Incohearent!!!!

I’m having so much fun trying to solve these that I made a list to keep track! Message if you can help me fill in any I’m missing or if I’ve got any wrong!!!

Also lmk if you see any I’ve missed!! I’m going to keep updating this and have it unrebloggable but you can reblog this post to have a link to it!

These are all gathered from this post and this post so check the notes on those first to try to solve them then look here if you need answers!

Sow march cheer ray = so much cherry

Wee nay urn for uke oye yer tub = we’ve never fucked on youtube?

Ta fold in fig = the golden pig

Feed hay hid eho = vday video

Tat he won ape hit morse him he = daddy want a bit more simmy

Watt ken ice hay = what can I say

North key bus teabag king = naughty busty baking

Fool tie enter nit hobo / fall tie mint her nepo moe / fault aye mint earn are ohm owe/ foul thyme inch hermit hole mold = full time internet homo

Cumin mile aid deed or = come in my ladydoor

Hum hay zinc tan = amazingdan

Elven ower fug sedge own = eleven hour fuck session

An berry moth ribeye adam stir = and every month we buy a hamster

March rest array = Manchester eye

Cyst herding yell = sister daniel

Add a ding teps = editing tips

Cop dubai khaki luna = topped by kakuna

Late eat tore = ladydoor

Half tugger etch two eggs cyst = have the courage to exist

Perish she end wink = Parisian twink

Coal ten big/ goal then pick = golden pig

Cyst ordain yell = sister daniel

Train youth inks = try new things

Gay mean moss/ gain ink mass = gamingmas

Soften need = soft and neat

A wools lied = owl slide

Topper bought them hill = top or bottom Phil

Coat fit firenze = golf with friends???

Few ours pig meow fits = viewers pick my outfits

Read less tar = red lester

Eye eight soup igloo = I ate super glue

Insight youth era too walls = inside you there are two wolves

Mine amy stan = my name is Dan

Clap hella = glabella

Hiss teeth rent = hits different

Eel eyes apron kay kiss = Eliza pancakes

See pram haze ink bra jet = super amazing project

Feels lie yawn = phils lion

Fuel ease snot dawn fair = Phil is not on fire

Jaw shush ear son = josh hutcherson

Ball bull him tour food = bauble in your foot?

Sure eck = shrek

High ate dust = hiatus

Add a dink deps = editing tips

Ga hay shoom air age = gay shoe marriage

Pope eat plate aim = poppy playtime

Eat aches stu = it takes two

Goo gal few ed = google feud

Baze ick lee eye meg ay = basically I’m gay

Ko min yout ti ew = coming out to you

Ender knit subvert grew oop = internet support group

Phylis turn yar a sheen yes = PHIL LESTER YOU’RE A GENIUS

With Audi intern yet wean ed brr wood halve mat = without the internet we never would have met

Gum ban yins drool I’ve = companions through life

Reed sons wide answer flail = reasons why dans a fail

Ewan dam ah some are reed = you and Dan are so married

Denver sis fill/ Denver cis full = Dan vs Phil

Or lawn huffing = all or nothing

Dunk rye core raft = don’t cry craft

Mortal jester roam and thick/ Morph adjust row antic = more than just romantic

So wall how debris poll light = swallow to be polite???

Oar hinge art = orange heart

Foray virgo em = forever home

Chai reel loop/ share real oob = cherry lube

Cad boyd anne = cat boy dan

Far turf ill lip = father philip

Tess lit hen ink = the slittening

Forth house indie rolled or touches = four thousand year old tortoises

Hey moth swish roundup floating = a month without uploading

Jam march let pet tea an farms = Je mange les petit enfants

Day lion howl tour = Dalien Howlter

Ima let all kit = I’m a little kit

Feel pearl lays shell ter = Phil plays shelter

Fewer blue key app ending = viewer spooky happenings

Hell low iam tour reel = hello I am Toriel

Laugh tuh gey mile kuh = left to get milk

Villas eek wreck why vuh = Phil’s secret wife

Footy strain gin said dent = ___ strange incident????

Snow core play sum = snokoplasm

Nope puts cereal sleeping mage innit = no but seriously imagine it

Tear rip pulling flu hence = terrible influence

Jeff why eye aisle hike vague liner = fyi I like vagina

Eggs intense all cry cis = existential crisis

List of contributors

@fletthewreck @dandp @deadandphilgames @manchesterau @thephouseplants @awrfhi @jonsaremembers @rachosaurusrex @dapgolf @dan-whoell @dnphobe @dreamingalto @steveandscraggy @phanbeats @danandfuckingjonlmao @pepper-pastry @yonpote @un-interactive-introvert @spaniel-trowel @sisterdanieldyke @queerdnp @morganadelacour @amid-fandoms @spectral-kitkat @goingpheral @angelzonearth @wdapteo @2009phan @dansevilpianotea

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education, Chapter 31

Masterlist link

Pacifica, California

October 2002

The smoke of Eddie's cigarette swirled around his face in the cool coastal air, joining the early morning fog swaddling the coast. The glow of its cherry cut through the haze and reflected in the dark orbs of his eyes. He took a deep drag and exhaled slowly. It had become a ritual...a meditation.

Eddie had never been a morning person...ever, but something changed lately. Being here, being alive after everything, being the hell out of Hawkins, made him cherish however many sunrises he still had left to witness in his life. Besides, the smoky vista and the rare black sand made him feel like some kind of dark wizard in a fantasy novel, surveying his alien domain.

Sure, now and then a beach runner would stomp by, ruining his musings as their footprints would mar the swath of charcoal-hued sand. Some neo-hippy would wave him a much-too-cheerful “good morning” while Eddie would just grin faintly around his cigarette, squint groggily, and raise his Garfield mug in a one-way toast.

What was it Hop always said? “Mornings are for coffee and contemplation.”

Damn straight, Hopper, Eddie thought with an amused snort.

Eddie cradled the warm ceramic. Stained and chipped and ugly as it was, he loved that mug. Wayne insisted he take it with him as the two wrestled with cardboard boxes and packing tape.

The bustle of packing and moving stilled for a moment as the two men faced each other with matching Munson smirks, fighting back tears as they realized that this was it. This was goodbye.

“I'll...I'll call. I promise,” Eddie croaked out, and sniffed, holding his tears at bay.

“I know. I know you will, son,” Wayne said patting him on his shoulder, sniffing as he also stubbornly refused to cry.

“...and I'll send you some hats and mugs for the collection. Every ugly piece-of-shit souvenir from every gas station and tourist trap between here and Nor Cal. I'll mail it to you.”

Wayne snorted and chuckled loudly.

“Come here, kid,” he said and they held each other tight, both unable to hold back tears any longer.

Eddie took a deep breath and held tightly to Wayne's jean jacket. It smelled like motor oil, black coffee, and Camels, just as it had when Wayne would hold him as a kid, consoling him when he was afraid or abandoned.

Some things never change, he thought.

-----

Eddie floated back to the present. His cigarette had fizzled its way down to the filter and his coffee had all been sipped away, revealing the witty quip, I hate Mondays, at the bottom of the mug.

He knew he should make his way back, but he wanted to stay out here a little longer, just until the fog lifted and the sky lit up a little more. So he sat down cross-legged in his pajama pants, waiting for the light to come.

-----

Hawkins Memorial Hospital

November, 2001

“Yes. I suppose you could frame it that way. However, medical techniques from our research are what saved your life and they're going to be what saves hers. But, of course there are conditions.”

Eddies brows shot up. “Conditions? You're willing to withhold life-saving medical attention, which she needs because of your project gone haywire in the first place, if we don't agree to your 'conditions'?” He scoffed, “What is wrong with you people?”

“Hear us out, Mr. Munson. If you don't, she will never wake up again,” she stated bluntly.

All he could do was gulp. They knew exactly where they had him, pressing a blade right through the most devastatingly vulnerable rend in his armor...his love for her.

“Alright...I'm listening.”

“Leave.”

“I beg your fucking pardon?” Eddie snipped back to the suited wall of assholes before him.

“Leave. Leave Hawkins and set up somewhere else. We'll provide both you and Leia a generous stipend for rest of both of your lives. Work or don't. Whatever you want to do, we don't care as long as you don't talk about what happened to you, or what kind of medical miracles it took to bring you both back from the dead. Let's just say there's a lot we'd rather not have to explain...again.

We'll visit to conduct periodic check ups, gather data, provide further medical care if required. But we'll need you both to leave Hawkins. We don't want to risk or invite questions or investigation from the public.”

Eddie's face went from confused to a wide shit-eating grin as it all came together.

“Ohhh. I get it, you're bribing us. You're trying to make it sound like you're willing to be benevolent patron saints in exchange for our cooperation, but it seems a lot more like Leia and I have you well and truly by the balls here.”

The lady's eye twitched beneath her immaculate veil of make up, and he knew he got to her. She said coolly. “Or we could simply remove this problem in other, more direct ways. Our organization knows how to make people disappear through much less charitable means.”

Eddie wiggled his head. “Oh no...see, we're too valuable for you to off us. We'd be your prized research subjects now. Lightning struck twice for you with me and Leia. Get rid of us and you get rid of decades of breakthroughs.”

He tapped his finger to his head as he stood up and smiled menacing to the agents. “I'm trailer trash, folks, but I'm not an idiot. And I'm not about to drop to my knees thanking you for giving us what we deserve after what you've put us through. And we killed your monster for you, by the way, you're welcome.”

The lady took a deep breath and clenched her jaw. She had a look that Eddie was deeply familiar with; the look of an angry authority figure trying to stay composed when they really want to smack the smug grin off his face.

But this wasn't principal Higgins. These were people with real, terrible, power and her next words reminded him of that.

“We've learned, over the years, that the carrot works a good deal better than the stick for getting what we want, but that doesn't mean we won't resort to the stick. Bear in mind, Mr. Munson, we haven't saved her yet, and we could glean a good deal of information from either of you as cadavers.”

That got him, the idea of Leia's body utterly lifeless on coroner's slab. He lurched forward like a rabid dog, but the others held his arms back.

Now the lady smiled her perfectly painted lips, unflinching satisfaction written across her features.

Gradually, Eddie's breath stilled. Finally he sighed and looked over to his beloved with a soft, desperate expression as he asked, “Can you really save her?”

The agent didn't expect to, but she felt a pang for him, for this couple, for the life they were fighting so hard for. She said, with surprising gentleness, “We'll do our best. You have my word.”

He snorted. “You'll forgive me if that doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot, agent whoever-you-are.”

He turned away and sat on the edge of Leia's bed, held her small warm hand and said, “Let's stop bullshitting each other. You already know I'd do anything to bring her back. So let's not waste anymore time.”

The agents nodded. Before Eddie knew it, he had signed some papers (the fine print of which he couldn't give a single shit about) and a frenzy of activity began around them.

@sweetsigyn @veemoon @elegantkoalapaper @little-wormwood

(Thank you so much for your patience, my dears! This should wrap up soon.)

[kira-bennett]

fucking stressed beyond belief right now

TL;DR: My savings? fucked. Family drama? Ongoing and getting worse. My health? Going down the fucking drain, apparently. The election? I really don't like waiting to find out if my friends and I are going to have our rights stripped away, or if we are going to be in danger because the fascists lost and think the answer to that is terrorism.

I'm going to put these in order of most to least important, but this is going to be a long one.

I am obviously extremely stressed about the election. I am a disabled (unilaterally deafblind) queer afab person whose friend group is made up almost entirely of people who are some variety of queer/neurodivergent/disabled/etc, and I am in a ruby red state. I desperately need Kamala to win because my local and state government isn't going to do anything to benefit my community, so I am 100% reliant on the federal government to restrict how badly they can fuck us over (or, you know, do things to help, but at this point I am willing to just accept "minimally fucked over.") My state is 100% ready to start stripping my friends and I of our rights as soon as they can, and if Trump wins they have the green light to do that, and I am fucking terrified of that happening. Between what he has done in the past, Project 2025, and what Trump himself has promised to do, I don't want to live in an America where Trump gets a 2nd term. You know what else I am terrified of? The fact that, if I get what I want and Kamala does win, these fascist assholes are going to throw a temper tantrum about it. We have already seen people threatened with machetes for voting, ballot boxes lit on fire, and bomb threats sent to polling places in GA. Just imagine how bad it will be when you tell these assholes they lost. I live in a state with 37 federally recognized active hate groups and I have run into members of 7 of them (thankfully, I have only had one coworker dumb enough to brag to me about being a member of one of these groups, and I don't work at that place anymore). (sidenote, but I highly recommend everyone familiarize yourself with the symbols associated with the hate groups active in your state). So even if Kamala wins the election and I don't have to worry about the president taking away my basic human rights, I have to go to work tomorrow and worry about these people looking to take their anger out on someone. I don't exactly look like a cis/straight/christian/republican woman, so I will probably look like a good target for them. I know two of my friends have to work tomorrow, so I have to worry about them being targeted (especially since they work nights and crime does tend to spike at night).

Now onto more personal issues. My sister decided to throw a full-blown temper tantrum over wanting to see a specific dentist for her jaw pain and, because she is one of my mom's favorites, my mom throws a fit until I just handed over the $2,250 for her to get her fucking dental splint and botox. This took a huge chunk out of my car savings ($1,500 from car savings, $750 from my "I get to actually go out and hang out with my friends now" fund). She promises she is going to pay me back, but given that she has "borrowed" $12k from me in just the past two years (so not counting the whole year when I first got a job, after being kept at home against my will mind you, and she took my card and spent anything that didn't go to bills/grandma's funeral payments) and hasn't paid any of it back (but can get mini fridges for my younger siblings rooms while complaining about her electric bill) I don't really have any hope of that happening unless a certain other family member (who I have contacted, and I am waiting to hear back from) pressures her into it. So now I'm just here, working on commission after commission hoping to make back my car money by the end of the year (although I may still have to ride out the whole commission season like this if I want my "fun with friends" fund back.) and find a way to convince her to give back my driving privileges or let me get lessons from someone else (something I also covered when I contacted that other family member). I know my mom is going to have a fit if that family member does choose to address this stuff with them, but I am left with no other choice. I can't just keep living in a hostage situation where I am led on by false promises while I watch her spoil other people, literally at my expense. I wish I could just throw a fit like they do where they hit, slam doors, break things, and yell at people until I get my way, but I have a feeling I wouldn't get the same results they do. Regardless of what happens, I am going to have to do "committing arson at Bath & Bodyworks" levels of burning the candle at both ends if I want to have any hope of having a car by the end of January. Now, there is some mental illness stuff that actually makes doing that much work easier for me (lets just say when I am home alone with no way of getting out for anything other than work, a part of my brain just starts compulsively working on anything to distract me from the fact that I am trapped here) but it's still a lot to have to deal with.

What isn't helping is that my health is just going down the toilet at a pretty rapid pace. I have always had issues with sleep, but I have started experiencing new difficulties with that, so sleep and I are almost entirely divorced. Additionally, I have been having issues eating, or, more accurately, my issues with eating have gotten worse. I have always experienced heartburn when I eat certain foods, but that used to be managed by just taking meds as needed/if I plan on eating something I know triggers a reaction. You know, normal people shit. Now it happens if I eat anything in any meaningful quantity, so I have been having to take more meds, and even then it doesn't always work. There have been too many nights in the past couple of weeks when I have to play "heart attack or heartburn." Additionally, I have been having issues just swallowing. This is a thing I have had issues with for a while. One of the downsides of not having a gag reflex is that sometimes things will just get stuck in your throat, and you just have to keep swallowing until it goes down. Before, it only happened every now and then. Now, it seems like it happens towards the end of every meal, and it's so fucking annoying. Thankfully, I should be getting my insurance card soon, so I should be able to get that checked out, but I still fucking hate it.

[neko-naruto]

your fuse is fireside

Summary: Cartman remembers

Warnings: burning to death, swearing, light gore, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: kenman week day 1!!! the prompt was 'alight' and i did not know what to do. title from Fireside by Arctic Monkeys. @kenmanweek2023 day ones fic, heres hoping I can finish a couple more, and if ya'll enjoy consider dropping a reblog or checking out the Ao3 port.

The first time Kenny was burnt to death he couldn't look at flames for weeks, but after that terrible death he got used to it. Dying as a general part of his existence, but it's fine, he'll just keep living and dying.

And no one will remember it.

Trampled, run over, struck by lightning, stabbed, exploded, drowned- the list goes on, and on, and on. He's experienced deaths that go beyond what most people consider plausible, his curse doesn't care about plausibility. He learned that a very long time ago, and then he was in limbo for a brief gap of time. Limbo sucked, trapped in this deep black void with nowhere to go and no one to speak too.

Now he can see the signs, he knows what's happening, and how it'll happen. It's a weird sixth sense he supposes, death premonition, what good it'll do him considering he can't avoid the deaths is beyond him. But at least nobody remembers when he dies, he can say whatever he wants too and nobody will remember it.

"Why did you bring me out here Kenny?" Cartman asked as he followed Kenny out to the smoke pit, "Fuck, it smells like a junkyard."

Gasoline. A gasoline spill in the high school smoke pit. Wow.

"Look, it's fucking, it's important," Kenny spat, taking steps back. The heel of his boot rested in the edge of the spill, a thin layer of opalescent fluid resting on the concrete. He was probably going to die like this, he has to act fast.

"Then spit it out," Cartman said, the heady scent of smoke on the air was getting to him. How he hated it. Despised it even. He's shocked he can handle being friends with Stan.

Kenny took another step back, reaching for the lighter in his pocket and the smoke almost finished. He reached to bring the flame to the tip, "Promise not to make fun of me?" He made sure to hold the lit edge away from the gas spill, he didn't want to go up in the flames of his own slip up.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Promise," Cartman said bitterly as he stared down his friend.

Kenny glanced to the goth kids out back, the spill made it all the way over to them. There's Henrietta, tapping away ashes, sparks trickling over to the gasoline. He took a deep breath, putting out the cigarette before taking a single puff and grabbing Cartman's hands, "I love you."

And as soon as he said it, the crackle of fire was quick to catch up to him. He reveled in the look on Cartman's face but he had to let go and push him away. The heat lapping at his skin and eating away the ratty fabric of his clothing and then the tarnished skin he wore daily was a home away from home. He didn't scream, he didn't need to, instead he just watched Cartman freak out as he died. The brunette didn't dare reach into the flames to try and recover Kenny who eventually collapsed when he ran out of frying blood and muscle to hold him upright.

Sparks gathered in his lung the entire time with every breath he took, he's pretty sure his lungs burst in an explosion of gore with all the oxygen to go off in flames like a bomb. He can distantly hear the goth kids flip out as his grasp slips further and further, he's gotten good at holding on for dear life. His wrecked remains are buried where they always are and he wakes up in the same bed he always does.

He has this nasty cough all the way too school, his lungs must've burst. When he looked in the mirror he had even more terribly jarring scars on his flesh, sure, one or two made you look cool, but the amount he had was just worrying. He was almost overheating by the time he made it to school, and his phone buzzed the second he reached wifi.

A text from Cartman, a location, and a time. Kenny starts over right away, not bothering to text back.

The stretch of hallway Cartman had called him up to was empty aside from the brunette who demanded his presence. He stood rather imposingly in the center of it all as Kenny walked up to him.

"What's up man?" The blonde asked, almost nervously.

Cartman took his hands in his own gently, "I love you too."

Red shoots up Kenny's face, that's an odd thing to say, even odder coming from Cartman. He swallows thickly, "What?"

"I," he gestured to his eye, "Love," he did the heart thing with his hands, "You," and finally he thrust a finger against Kenny's chest, "Can I make it any more clear?"

Kenny gave an awkward laugh, "Dude, this is like, entirely unprompted-"

"Is it Kenny!?" The snapping and aggressivness and even desperation on Cartman's tone was foreign, "Yesterday, in the smoke pit."

Kenny freezes up, "I died in the smoke pit."

"And you said you loved me, in the smoke pit," Cartman countered with, "So there's my answer, I love you too."

A comfortable break of silence falls over them.

Kenny gives a hum, holding out a hand, "Chem class, don't wanna be late."

Cartman takes Kenny's hand gingerly, clasping it tightly, "Yeah," He leans against the blonde, "Don't want to be late."

[morulezopelforever]

The Congressman and the Sea

After cluttering up AO3 with fics on #maurice, #call me by your name and #and then we danced I have now launched my first Fellow Travelers fic. Click on the link below and learn about Hawk's life after his divorce from Lucy and the memories that haunt him.

Here are some tidbits to tickle your tastebuds. Let's face it, we all love Hawk (though not always) and dear, adorable Skippy.

(Chapter 1)

On another occasion I said: ‘I’ll serve at the State Department until they get me a position overseas, and when I’ve sat that out I’ll quit and remain in the country where I was sent so that I can eat and drink whatever I want and fuck whomever I want with no one interfering.’

‘Can I come too?’ he asked, his sweet brown eyes full of light. ‘Please?’

He was my junior by ten years, his hair was shiny and dark-brown and he had an elegant, noble nose and the whitest of teeth. No girl would ever deign to look at such a plain-looking creature, but I  always saw beauty and extravagance where other humans didn’t.

I stroked his stubbled cheeks and kissed him. ‘No, dear, but of course you can come and visit. It’ll be fun.’

I’ll never forget the sad look he gave me then, the feel of his soft skin when he settled his head against my shoulder. My dear Skippy.

(Chapter 2)

The sand of Rehoboth Beach was so clean when Skippy and I had a stroll there. He had rolled up his pants and ran in and out of the surf uttering cries of delight. He picked up sea shells, stuffed them into his pockets and when he found a conch he held it to his ear.

‘Hello?’ he cried, drawing from his cigarette as if he were making a call at his office desk. ‘Is that you, Senator Hawk…What…? A weekend on your yacht in Acapulco…? Oh, that sounds swell…What, am I to bring my missus too? Now listen, Senator, I’ll leave her at home and then I’ll be all yours…Put your wife ashore in San Diego, will you? She won’t want for anything there, the place is full of muscular sailors and…Hello…? Senator, don’t hang up on me, please, faith and begorrah, aren’t you the fair prince awaiting me beyond the green hills of County Kerry…? Damn it, the line just went dead!’

He flung the conch into the sea while I stood there shaking with laughter. He was full of light and air, so beautiful, so young, and my fingers trembled when I snapped pictures of him.

(Chapter 3)

The apartment on Nineteenth Street had  large windows granting a breath-taking view of the Constitution Gardens. I spent many nights there claiming to Lucy that I was often too busy to commute all the way home or whenever I was out late anyway attending parties or dinners.

There was a large double mattress on the living room floor. The refrigerator and the gas stove in the kitchen still worked. The telephone had long been disconnected.

Tim gasped with joy when he entered the place for the first time. He loved the romantic, dark wallpaper and the teak floors. ‘I want to live here!’ he cried, which made us both laugh.

He soon turned the somber apartment into a home, dragging in bunches of flowers and putting them in Auntie’s crystal vases and spraying lavender or verbena scent onto the musty blankets.

We found a gramophone and some old records in a closet, and so we had music when we sat on the floor talking, smoking and sipping bourbon.

And, good God, his years of training as a boy scout and a soldier had made him into a chef. He fried steaks, sautéed potatoes in olive oil and garlic and whipped up the most extravagant salad dressings with fresh herbs, Dijon mustard and many things more. I provided the wine.

We dined on the floor using an old curtain for a tablecloth. The ceiling lights still worked, but he would never turn them on, also because he understood that no one should see from outside that this place was frequently used. He stuffed candles into empty bottles and lit them.

We were a couple in love, feeding one another tidbits and kissing every minute, with me pumping wine from my mouth into his and receiving dollops of chewed potato or haricots verts in return.

[titan-fodder]

Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema​ and @whats-her-quirk​ for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks​ for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax​ who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from. 

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*

Tephra -  pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.

VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*

*definitions taken from USGS website

4  Y E A R S  B E F O R E 

Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones. 

You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.

“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…

“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?” 

Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”

“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes. 

Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews. 

“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists. 

“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”

They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes. 

“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt. 

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”

“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further. 

“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…” 

You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes. 

Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into. 

The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin. 

Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.

The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes. 

“Great. The boy scout’s here.” 

“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”

“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”

“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”

“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.

Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”

“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”

“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.” 

You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife. 

He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish. 

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”

“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off. 

“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer. 

“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?” 

You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it. 

“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And, in the others?” 

He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”

Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him. 

At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye. 

And then, it stops. 

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you. 

The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…

The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago. 

“Was that…” 

Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.

"Supereruption."

3  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart. 

Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”

You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field. 

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused. 

“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers. 

“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”

“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him. 

Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.” 

A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves. 

Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them. 

“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you. 

His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”

It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.

Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance. 

You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma. 

The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle. 

It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place. 

As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in. 

It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid. 

It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore. 

Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule. 

One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then… 

"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you. 

"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."

You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."

"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."

"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.

Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation. 

And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic. 

"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper. 

"Not really. Survive, I guess." 

You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand. 

"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."

"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."

Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."

A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could. 

Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days). 

They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections. 

When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them. 

Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.

You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it. 

You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person. 

2  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.

“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.

“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”

At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.

He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”

Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”

“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).

“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.

Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”

“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.

Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.

“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”

Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”

Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.

“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”

The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.

“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.

“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”

Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.

“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”

“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.

“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.

Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.

“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.

“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”

“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.

“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.

“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”

Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.

“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”

“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"

“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.

“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.

“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”

“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”

“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”

In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”

Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.

“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”

“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”

“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”

Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.

“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”

“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”

All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.

Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”

Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”

None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.

Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.

“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.

You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”

He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.

Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.

Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.

But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).

Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.

“Exhausted.”

He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.

“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”

“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.

“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.

“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”

This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.

“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”

And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.

Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.

“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.

Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.

“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.

“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

 “Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”

Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.

“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”

“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.

You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.

The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…

“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.

“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.

Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.

It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.

And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.

Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?

You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:

Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?

You can’t imagine anything does.

1  Y E A R  B E F O R E

The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium. 

"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."

A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility. 

"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."

As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder. 

You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing. 

Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd. 

"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to. 

You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes. 

"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"

"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself. 

Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."

"Embarrassing, is what it is." 

It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow. 

As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run. 

It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy. 

With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong. 

Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?" 

Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."

"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."

"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."

"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."

He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain. 

The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite. 

"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend. 

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."

Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth. 

"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb. 

Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself. 

The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings. 

You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?" 

Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd. 

"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?" 

You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows. 

"Stop."

"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!" 

"You're thinking things, though."

"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."

You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over. 

"Hange!" 

"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?" 

You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis. 

"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."

"How do you know he wants to come back?" 

You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."

*

It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached. 

Not the way you are here.

Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated. 

It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects. 

You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts. 

"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him. 

The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply. 

It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time. 

"You think this would be ready in a year?"

Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years." 

You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in. 

Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."

You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?" 

"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."

"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."

"So are you."

His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science. 

To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong. 

"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?" 

"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?" 

Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare. 

You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.

A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long. 

It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames. 

6  M O N T H S  B E F O R E 

Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up. 

The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting. 

The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night. 

Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike. 

The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.

"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."

"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can." 

"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."

Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect. 

"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."

"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."

"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."

Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park. 

You're found out before it can come to fruition, however. 

The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild. 

He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently. 

You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves. 

Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor. 

It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over. 

When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight. 

The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information. 

"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face. 

"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?" 

"Yes," Erwin answers first. 

Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."

The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage. 

Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves. 

You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias. 

As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough. 

"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin. 

The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales. 

"Levi..."

"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?" 

Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach. 

"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"

"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."

It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage. 

This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret. 

But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.

Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights. 

"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick. 

"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back. 

"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"

"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"

"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline. 

It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.

“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”

“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too. 

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”

“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”

“We—”

“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”

Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?

Quite possibly. 

You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.

But, that is not the case. 

Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”

Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter. 

Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”

He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been. 

Soon, it’ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction. 

That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.

The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”

Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”

“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”

He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”

“Yeah.”

One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him. 

S I X  W E E K S  B E F O R E

Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow. 

The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.

And, the owners have definitely prepared. 

Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind. 

You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel. 

His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry. 

"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement. 

You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."

"Tch." 

"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."

You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."

She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you. 

It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain. 

You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you. 

"How long did you work together?"

"Like, four years, give or take a few months."

"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."

"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."

"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."

Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud. 

You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall. 

"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead. 

You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans. 

Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—

You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you. 

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"

“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers. 

Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him. 

"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts. 

Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."

"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."

*

A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along. 

Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer. 

Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing. 

It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.

Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place. 

Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen. 

What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses. 

Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption. 

“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”

In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears. 

“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”

“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.

Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”

They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.

Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here. 

But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride. 

You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense. 

The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”

Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off. 

Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.

“Hey,” you start.

Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.

“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”

He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest. 

Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly. 

“What?”

You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.

You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…

“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”

He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious? 

Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife. 

You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses. 

“Maybe so…” 

Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance. 

He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you. 

Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.

Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.

You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right. 

“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”

“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.

“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”

Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”

You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him. 

Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him. 

“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips. 

Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless. 

“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?” 

Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.

Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.

“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake. 

You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.

He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking. 

His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.

Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock. 

Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.

“Oh, fu—”

Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit. 

“Mike—Mike—”

He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips. 

He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs. 

The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you. 

You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss. 

“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his. 

Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”

He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot. 

“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots. 

“Holy…”

He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god. 

That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length. 

The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him. 

You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally. 

He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit. 

“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face. 

You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”

“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”

You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.

Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.

Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles. 

Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”

Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”

He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch. 

“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist. 

He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”

“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”

Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time. 

Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.

You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.

Except maybe a supereruption, of course. 

E - D A Y 

It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes. 

“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”

And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence. 

“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement. 

As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”

You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.

The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up. 

“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”

The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening. 

You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.

The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map. 

Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”

“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”

You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.

Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.

You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself. 

He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand. 

There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.

Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.

“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.

“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”

“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”

“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”

“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”

You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun. 

It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered. 

1  M O N T H  A F T E R

Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out. 

Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising. 

News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike. 

And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing. 

They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm. 

Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last. 

You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.

And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw. 

That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.

You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month. 

“Need something, baby?”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”

You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head. 

It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.

But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”

He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see. 

“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”

Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”

Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!” 

Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”

“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”

He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”

You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”

And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor. 

Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further. 

It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it. 

You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.

He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips. 

Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth. 

“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement. 

Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria. 

“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.

Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”

Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?” 

Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking. 

Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”

Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”

“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”

A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.

“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”

Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely. 

“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.

Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”

You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”

“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes. 

Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”

He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock. 

He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.

It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same. 

The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”

“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal. 

“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”

Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”

Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child. 

4  Y E A R S  A F T E R

Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights. 

“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter. 

“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”

The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”

Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you. 

“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.

You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.

It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.

The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close. 

Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”

Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding. 

“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”

Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?” 

Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.

Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face. 

Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”

It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”

Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”

“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”

“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask. 

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.

“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”

“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference. 

All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that… 

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.

Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”

Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin. 

You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”

“Right.”

After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal. 

[freemanverse-mu]

Chapter 1 - Part 2

“Greetings, Mr. Freeman. It is good to see you in the flesh, once again.”

Gordon snapped to attention, as if coming out of a daze. All around him was a pitch black void, and he would have assumed his eyes were closed if he hadn’t looked down at himself. Despite there being no light source he could see his hands and body perfectly well, all still in his HEV suit. 

His HEV suit from Black Mesa...

Though his very last memory was of being on that tram as if it were only seconds ago he still felt a strange sense that time had passed. He had no way of knowing if it were true, or how much time it would have been.

His attention was drawn to echoing footsteps approaching him. As the sound faded into reality so too did streaks of light that seemed to indicate this place he was standing in was in motion. 

A familiar pair of glowing teal eyes swayed towards him before it’s owner’s form came into view. It was that pale man in the blue suit. Gordon’s jaw clenched in irritation. 

The pale man began to speak, and as soon as his voice broke the silence the two of them were no longer standing in that darkness but directly above the waves of an open ocean. 

“I must admit these circumstances are rather inopportune for me,” The man said.

There was not a hint of land on the horizon, only the grey-blue of an ocean like Earth’s. Gordon looked at the rolling waves below him. They were just high enough that at their peak it sprayed a light mist onto his boots. 

“I have many other obligations beyond you, you see,” he continued without pause. 

The slight smile on the speaker’s face made it clear he was slyly berating Gordon. The scientist’s own expression twisted into a grimace.

“However, I believe I’ve devised a solution that will solve both of our needs.” 

The man in the suit made a smooth gesture with his hand and faster than Gordon could blink they were both suddenly in a red desert in the dark of night. Overhead a beautiful band of stars lit the sands with a gentle glow. Gordon noticed the stars were instantly recognizable, the band being the Milky Way itself. Were they in fact on Earth?

“It will require a great amount of effort on your part, as well as a great deal of danger. I will provide no other opportunity than this.” The man in the suit folded his hands in front of him casually.

“Are you willing to earn your early retirement?” He smiled in that creepy way that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Gordon Freeman began to sign to his captor but his thoughts came faster than he could move. Though they weren’t audible it was somehow clearly conveyed to both of them.

[Whatever it takes] was what came out. Gordon set his jaw, looking on at the other man with an unwavering glare.

The scene around them began to fade into darkness. The other man raised his clasped hands in a fake gesture of being impressed.

“Whatever it takes? As always you demonstrate your decisiveness. Very well. Here is what I propose:” 

The scenery around them changed to the expanse of space, bright dots of stars all around them, and most notably a massive gas giant taking up most of the view. Dr. Freeman couldn’t help but look at it in awe. 

“Myself and my employers require the aid of specifically Gordon Freeman. Obviously, this is you. However…” another fake smile.

“You are not the ONLY Gordon Freeman.” Now his fingers pointed vaguely upwards to the innumerable stars. “Across time and space exist uncountable versions of yourself.”

This information was only slightly surprising to Gordon. The idea that it was true wasn’t implausible, but imagining what that would be like was difficult. 

“Just as one would ask someone under their employ to prepare and select someone to take over their position upon their retirement, so too am I requesting this.”

The fake smile didn’t shift in the slightest, but something about the tilt of the man’s head and the gleam in his eyes felt entirely sinister. 

Once again Gordon’s conscious thoughts seemed to be projected to both of them.

[ ...You want me to pick someone to take my place here? I won’t do that.] A slight look of horror crept onto the scientist’s face, not liking this proposition at all.

In an instant the beauty around them returned to that original void they had started in.

“That is, of course, your decision to make, Mr. Freeman. However, in the interest of myself and my employers the only reasonable way I could let you go would be to release you from your agreement… without releasing you from your agreement. Hm?”

The bastard’s smug grin infuriated Gordon. Yet he knew any action at this point would be futile. 

“You may be firm in your demand to be allowed to leave, but I am equally firm that this is the only situation in which that is possible.”

The tone in the thin man’s voice made it clear he was very serious about this. Gordon knew he didn’t have leverage in this negotiation, but his mind raced to find something, anything, he could say or do to avoid bringing others into this mess. His mess. 

Because this entity seemed to have complete power over his freedom he feared any hasty arguments would change his mind, leaving Gordon no options at all. 

The pale man in the suit raised his chin, holding up an authoritative finger for emphasis to his next statement.

“Here is what I require, and what you will need to look for in your replacement:”

“ Humility.  Focus.  Dignity.  Integrity.  Initiative.  Freedom.  Humanity.  Patience.  Ingenuity.  Impartiality.  Selflessness.  Independence. ”

Gordon narrowed his eyes as he watched the pale man bend down to pick up a briefcase next to his feet that hadn’t been there a moment before. 

Part of him wanted to completely ignore everything he’d just been told, but another part of him had already made a mental note of it and he felt shame creeping into his heart. 

The other man stood upright and carefully smoothed out the minor creases that had appeared on his suit. 

“I realize this is quite an extensive list, but now you see why you are not such an easy person to replace….hm?” He looked straight into Gordon’s eyes with an imperious expression. 

“Gordon Freeman cannot be lacking in any one of these variables.”

In that moment the smile left the speaker’s face, and Gordon felt his uncertainty grow.

This was wrong. There was no way he could doom someone to the fate he himself had already agreed to.

And yet…

His mind replayed the terrible events of Black Mesa. His coworkers, his friends, dead. Crushed by the very complex itself as it fell around them. Mutilated by creatures that sank their teeth into their flesh and took over their bodies. Mowed down by their own kind they had relied on to save them. Or by invaders who had given them no chance to surrender. 

And then… that massive creature that had been behind it all. Gordon had been able to kill it, but before he was able to return to the Lambda Complex to help the rest of the employees and families of Black Mesa escape, he had been brought here. By this man. This creature.

Anger washed over him. He needed to go back. People needed his help. And this asshole had forced him into servitude. For what? For who? Gordon didn’t fucking care. There were more important things that he needed to take care of. 

A doorway of white light appeared behind the man in the suit. He moved to the side and gestured with a hand indicating for Gordon to follow.

“Now, if you will step this way, Mr. Freeman. We can begin this trial.”

There must be a way out of this. He was certain this man was serious about this being the only chance he was offering to escape. Gordon could refuse… The man had indicated the option of remaining here was his own prerogative. 

Yet… there was a chance. 

There was a chance he could escape. And there was a chance he could avoid sealing another person’s fate. Another… Gordon Freeman’s fate. He wouldn’t know unless he took this chance.

And at the very back of his mind, the rational side of him that considered things faster than his heart did, a thought arose. If this man and his “employers” felt he could handle whatever job awaited him, then wouldn’t another Gordon Freeman also be able to handle it? 

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, making sure not to show a pained expression as he mentally stomped that thought down. Another Gordon Freeman would surely have people he loved and cared for just as he did. It wasn’t an option. It was not an option. 

Gordon shook away all hesitation left in him and stepped forward, past the man in the suit and into the door of light. 

He could see the man smiling out of the corner of his eye as he passed him. 

And then the door to the void of darkness shut behind him and he was left in a void of light. 

[gendercraft]

Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Seven: Miles]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore; the gore actually gets kinda intense here; let me know if i missed anything

Miles’ shoulders nearly popped out of their sockets as he gripped the ledge. 

He thanked God for his sudden interest in mountain climbing, awakened by his urban exploring as a teenager, as he swung his body to the slide, carefully scaling the ledge. If he fell, he’d break his leg, at best. His muscles screamed as he moved. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to continue until he made it to the next open window. He listened carefully. 

Dead silence. 

There was nowhere else to go. If the twins were still there, they would kill him. He grinded his teeth and forced through the strain in his muscles to swing himself over the ledge. 

The twins were gone. 

Breathing heavily, Miles allowed himself a moment of rest. 

There was a broken window next to him that led into a security room. He glanced at the sheet of paper on the counter. 

 MURKOFF CORP. P.G. MAINTENANCE MEMO 

 Proper Purge Gate maintenance is crucial to PROJECT WALRIDER security. Please refer to Murkoff Corp. Maintenance Manual MMPSMM180286 or seek guidance from a supervisor with the proper security clearance. 

 Miles scoffed and tossed it aside. Hopping back into the hall, the blood led him to a locked door labelled SHOWERS. He’d have to find the keycard. 

The decontamination chamber was broken, jerking a few inches closed then back open, the lights all off. Miles brought up his nightvision, coating his world in green, and stepped through into the equally dark hallway. The hall led to a walkway around another cellblock, blocked off by a railing and a grated screen. 

“NO!” Someone below yelled. “ARGH!” 

Miles shut off his night vision and pointed his camera to the lit cell block, where Chris Walker held a Variant up by their neck. He pulled, slowly, his muscles straining, until the skin around the man’s neck tore and blood spurt everywhere. Walker held the head up high as the body slumped to the ground. 

With shaking hands, Miles pulled out his notebook. 

 I can’t shake Chris Walker, the big ugly fucker who likes ripping off people’s heads. I hear him muttering about security protocols, containment. What if he’s not the problem? What if he’s trying to fix it? 

 At the end of the hall, he found the keycard on a dead security guard. He snatched it without touching the body and hurried back to the showers, where the reader beeped and let him inside. He brought up his night vision again and crept through. He wasn’t in the showers quite yet, instead an L-shaped hallway where lockers at the base of the L. As he moved towards the stem, open windows let in the thundering rain on the right side, on his left another grated wall. He got about halfway down the stem when one of the twins stepped through the darkness into the night vision. His machete glinted in the moonlight. 

Miles stopped. He took a few steps backwards. 

Thunk. Thunk. 

Footsteps. Behind him. 

Whoosh! He leapt out of the way just as the machete jabbed where his torso had been. Cornered between the twins, his heart slammed against his chest, his breathing coming out in huffs. 

Motherfucker. The only way was… 

Somehow, he found himself jumping out of another window to escape these… monsters. He caught himself on the ledge and nearly slipped on the rainwater, gasping and dangling his legs. 

Bracing his feet against the brick wall, he got a hold of himself. 

“My god. He vanished.” Leftie’s dry purr sounded through the window. 

“Vanished without a trace.” 

“I detect sarcasm.” 

“It was my intention.” 

Miles strafed across the ledge, trying not to look down. Not that he could see in the darkness. The only sense he managed was the cold rain against his back. 

“He thinks we’re assholes.” 

Yeah. 

Miles scaled the side of the building. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. His hand slipped against the rain, he hung by the fingers on his right hand. 

“Or stupid.” 

He groaned through his teeth as he slung his arm back over to grip the edge. Sweat and rain mixed. He made it to the next open window, and he just had to pray they wouldn’t see him swing inside. 

“Let’s pull him in and slit his belly open.” 

Miles gripped the ledge of the window. It took all his strength not to groan out as he dragged himself inside. He fell to the ground with a soft thump. 

“Wait. Just a moment.” 

Get up. Get up, Miles. Get up. 

He couldn’t move his arms. 

Come on Miles, get up. Before they see you. 

“What is it?” 

“I heard something.” 

He couldn’t get up. He flipped onto his back and pushed himself with his feet. If they saw him, maybe he’d get a few seconds headstart while they laughed. 

He made it to the end of the hall, which turned left, and flipped onto all fours, starting the run from below and slowly straightening up as he gained momentum. He used his wet keycard to get himself into the next hallway, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t feel safe stopping. Through another grated gate, he found a room with large tiled flooring and two large cells. 

And a chair in the centre. A chair with arm and leg restraints, a hole in the centre of the seat, and straps to the back. The wood was polished with blood. 

On the table, there was a piece of paper—a death certificate. 

 Please find attached a copy of the DEATH CERTIFICATE for RUDOLF G. WERNICKE, Murkoff Psychiatric Systems subcontractor no. 148616. No surviving family. 

 Length of residence in city or town where death occured: 0 years, 7 months 

How long in U.S., if of foreign birth: 55 years 

... 

Birthplace: Germany 

Date of Death: February 28th, 2009 

I hereby certify: 

that I attended deceased from June 4, 2003, to February 28, 2009 

that I saw him alive on February 27, 2009, that death occurred on the date stated above at 4:11 AM. 

 So despite being unequivocally dead, he still had a large enough effect on this place to bring it down from the inside. Was it just his research, his experiments? Were they that ‘good’ that they couldn’t die with him? 

Miles couldn’t help but believe the whistleblower would have more information. They had to meet. They had to put the story together, together. 

How could he find them? 

The patients. Someone would have to know. They could point Miles in the right direction. 

The patients that weren’t trying to kill him, at least. 

He left the room and continued carefully through the halls until he found another security room. About three quarters to the back of the room, there was a desk below an open air vent. Slamming the button to open the decontamination chamber, he was barely paying attention. Then the grunts came. 

Chris Walker stepped into the chamber, green gas surrounding him like whispering snakes. He pounded on the glass, once, twice, CRACK! Miles gasped and whipped around. He sprinted to the closed door, only to yank at the handle uselessly. Blood roared in his ears. It locked behind him?! 

He checked the other door, behind the desk, as the glass shattered. Locked as well. “FUCK!” He kicked it as hard as he could, not that that did anything besides maybe break one of his toes, and turned around. 

Walker climbed through the empty frame, broken glass digging into his skin and sticking there, huffing and snorting like a bull. He stood like one too, arms ready to catch Miles if he tried racing past, sat in a horse stance. Miles couldn’t get to that window. He couldn’t open the doors. 

He was trapped. 

Walker charged him. His footsteps thunked, shook the ceiling, slow and deliberate. Miles leapt out of the way as Walker swung his arms out. Miles looped around the desk, ran for the window, only for Walker to grab him by the back of his shirt. Miles choked against the neck, flailing and thrashing uselessly. 

Walker held him in the air by his throat. One hand gripped his hip. He was being pulled apart, skin stretching, straining, his vision turning black, his eyes watering. He flailed and kicked and thrashed and flailed until—SMACK! Walker dropped Miles and held his now-bleeding nose. It reawakened the pain in Miles’ toe, but he ignored it in favour of leaping onto the desk and into the air vent. It led him back into the hallway. Walker slammed on the door, and it was ready to come off its hinges. 

He made a dash for the decontamination chamber. It was close, he could make it. 

Swinging the grated door open, he charged through. Fire erupted from the chamber. Miles’ eyebrows furrowed, but he couldn’t stop moving, not with Walker right behind him. Maybe he could avoid the flames. Maybe he could— 

“FUCK!” 

Just as he reached it, it exploded, sending him flying through the nearby window and plummeting to the ground in the cell blocks. When he hit, it knocked all the wind out of him, nothing but strangled screams tearing from his throat. 

Something had broken his fall. Something had saved his life. 

With a choked sob, he looked down at the pile of mutilated body parts he’d landed on top of.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “The Shatter Protocol”

Lol I think you guys are going to totally hate me for this one. Its exciting tho, so there is that. Please don’t hunt me down in my sleep :)

“Commander on Deck!”

Commander Vir took a seat in the captain’s chair spinning around to face front, “Status report!” He barked hands gripped firmly to the seat arms jaw set.

“Rundi radar systems have detected twenty burg short cruisers and at least a dozen kree orbiting satellites, sir, its the whole fucking armada!”

“Keep yourself under control lieutenant! We’ve had worse.” And the way he said it made the crew almost believe him, “Are those satellites armed.”

There was a pause, “No sir, I don’t detect any weapons, mostly just power banks and mild warp capabilities.” 

Off to his left, Sunny had taken her seat at the weapons station, “All weapons systems online.”

“Order the first and fifth fighter squad to deploy.” He said, “Have them pull around back.” He turned to the communications officer, “Get the GA on the line and get me more ships! I don’t care if i have to sell my soul to the GA, but we need more firepower. We aren’t going to win this if we can’t flank them.”

“Yes sir.” He engaged the radar screen, and deployed the forward cameras even as the front blast shields closed over his line of vision, only to be replaced by a projected image of the same.

“Commander, burg warships moving into position.”

He clenched his teeth into a snarl, “Why won't these bastards just give up already.”

“Sir Kozlov and Ho have arrived, and are maneuvering into position.”

“Good. Get me the Burg command on the line. I want to talk to them.”

“Yes sir.”

He waited there for a moment, hands still resting lightly on the sides of his seat, though he did engage the manual controls with one thumb as he did so resting his feet lightly on the pedals and moving his hands to the control sticks.

A projected image appeared in his vision, and it was big and ugly, with too many legs, a couple of mandibles, and some twitching antennae. Commander Vir wished he could meet the thing in person, simply to spit in the creature’s face.

“Commander.” it hissed, it's sibilant clattering voice making him want to open up his skull and itch at his brain.

“I’m afraid you have e at somewhat of a disadvantage…. I don’t know your name.”

The creature hissed, “We are on equal playing fields, commander.” It placed a little emphasis on the last word.

Commander Vir kept his face neutral, “You and I have never been on equal playing fields.”

“I think we have.”

“Well no, you see because ever conflict humanity has had with the burg, we’ve won. Three times. Some of your peop’e were defeated by army ants, so forgive me if I am skeptical.”

INstead of flying into a fit of rage like he had become accustomed too, this creature simply chittered its mandibles, “That will change soon enough.”

“Don’t suppose I can convince you to surrender?”

“No, I don’t suppose you can.”

Commander Vir tapped his fingers  against the chair seat, “Than I suppose you will die like the rest of your predecessors.”

The burg commander, still calmly, “There are worse things than death, commander.” ANd then the line went dead.

Commander Vir frowned, but was cut off from his thoughts, “Sir, The burg ship is preparing to fire.” “Beginning evasive maneuvers.” At the back of the ship, the rear thrusters pulsed and they shot downwards jolting much of the crew in their seats. They couldn’t feel the projectile pass, as there was no blast radius in space, but the COmmander’s quick maneuver had stopped them from taking a round straight to the nose fo the ship.

“Sunny, fire when ready.”

“Yes sir, predictive engine has been booted.”

“Predictive engine?”

“Sunny flipped up the joystick on her weapons module, “Yes sir, I designed it for times just like this.”

Commander Vir watched nervously as she worked, finger twitching towards the trigger on his joysticks, but she was the weapons expert, it was time to let her work.

Two shots fired one slightly delayed from the other. The first of them aimed for the far right deck of the burg ship. It missed entirely as they maneuvered to the side and straight into the path of the second.

Commander Vir had never seen a hit so solid in his entire life.

He blinked in shock as pieces of debris exploded into space around the burg ship.

“Direct hit, sir.” She said. If she had had time to think, she would have been pleased with herself. The predictive engine she had spoken of earlier, was a piece of engineered software she had designed just for this occasion. It used probability, mathematics and fast calculation to determine the most likely course of action for a ship maneuver in comparison to a fired shot. In this way she could predict her target’s movement to an accuracy of 65% and almost up to 72% if she played her cards right.

Commander Vir tightened his hands on the joysticks, “What do you need me to do, Sunny.”

“You do whatever you need to, commander, and I will match you.”

She has sent off anther careful volley of shots, slowly rotating the guns in pairs of two to give the others time to cool off.

Bright white lights lit up the vast darkness of space as the two groups began firing back and forth at each other. The Celzex ship glowed an almost neon purple for a second before a massive discharge cut across the intervening space at speeds nearly incomprehensible.

A burg ship exploded, almost atomized on the spot.

The burg line broke, and dissolved into chaos breaking left and right. Commander Vir maneuvered his ship to the side, and cut forward, dancing the massive ship like a delicate ballet dancer across the stage of space.

As they cut by, Sunny armed close range ballistic cannons, sending a rapid onslaught of tungsten rods straight through the burg hull depressurizing an entire side of the ship. Captain Vir rolled to the side out of the way of another line of fire.

Outside, the fighters swarmed around his ship keeping burg fighters at bay. At a distance, the fight almost appeared like a swarm of bees around the head of a bear, one lumbering, the the others fast and graceful.

The burg tried to cut around to flank them from the back, but Captain Kozlov and Ho were waiting for them. The two crossed their firing fields, and decimated anyone who was stupid enough to enter. The Rundi ship covered the Celzex ship with it’s shielding, dropping it only on occasion when the Celzex’s weapons had charged back to full power.

Their weapons were slow, but when they hit, they absolutely decimated whatever they touched.

The ship shook as one of the burg fighters brought a line of rapid gunfire down their hull. Commander Vir cursed, knowing he could do nothing against an attack from such a small fighter.

Two more sharp blinks of light in the middle of space, and a Terasaki ship appeared escorted by another Rundi imperial.

Their appearance on the fighting stage was so sudden, the Burg had no time to react.

The Terasaki, as innovative as they were  shot off a projectile towards two burg ships. It missed entirely, or so it seemed unti l there was a bright pulse of blue light, and the two ships jolted suddenly sideways as the absolutely massive magnet pulled them together.

They did not remain their long as the Celzex took the opportunity blasting both ships and the Tesraki magnet into atoms.

However, while their shields had been momentarily down, the burg had fired another volley, and the rundi ship rocked violently to the side. At least six burg ships concentrated their attack on the limping cruiser as its shields flickered on and off. The concentration was too high, and commander Vir maneuvered around and back behind them as a pice of the RUndi shi was blasted off. Bodies were sucked out of the open compartment and into the vastness of space.

He was flanking them now having turned a full 180 from their their original position.

Sunny humed in pleasure.

On board the ship’s most powerful railguns fired in quick succession. Commander vir jolted in his seat as the huge weapons bounced the backwards forcing the rear thrusters to fire in response, keeping them steady.

The first round blasted apart the Burg shield, and the second round cut right into the burg engine bay.

He was almost blinded by the bright light as the ship seemed to atomize right there on the spot as the Burg warp core was perforated, and the half that did not atomize imploded. The sudden destabilization of the warp drive was powerful enough to create a rift in the airspace that immediately warped the back halves of two and the front halves of two burg warships into oblivion.

Debris Pelted their companions mostly warded off by shields, but some scored lucky hits on the ships that had already had their shields damaged.

The Celzex took care of the rest blasting an entire field of burg ships into powder.

That was when Commander Vir sensed something to be very very wrong. He didn’t know what for sure, but a pit had formed in his stomach causing his heart to drop into his pelvis. The battlefield around them was chaotic, the burg having switched sides.

He was in back now, and there seemed to be a lot less burg ships than originally.

But where…? He wasn’t sure what made him turn the ship around, but he did, and when he did he saw the reason for his sinking stomach.

“Commander come in do you read, we are sensing a power anomaly behind you.”

He barely heard the words that came over the coms, as he watched the final satellite drop into position in the ring, and when it did a massive pulse of blue power erupted from around them.

When his vision cleared, what lay before him, caused the pit in his stomach to bore it’s way out of his body, his metaphorical heart sinking onto the floor.

Desperately, he fired all thrusters full forward. 

The massive churning black abyss before them was powerful enough to warp space around it. Rings of light rolled at its edges pulsing around and over like a halo, though the center was of the deepest most malevolent black he had ever seen.

Screaming erupted on the bridge.

His ship jolted, and without his bidding slowly moving forward despite their full thrust backwards.

“FIRE THE WARP CORE NOW!” He screamed his hearing popping out to be replaced only with a ringing.

“FIRING WARP CORE.” One of the front panels of the harbinger broke off and went careening towards the black pit.

The ship’s hull screeched.

There was a sharp pulse, and then a jolt. That rent the air around them.

He almost passed out with the powerful wave of warp energy that blasted over the ship, and then died.

“WARP CORE MALFUNCTIONING!”

INside his heart was hammering, his throat was tight and his eyes stung. He stared at the gaping blackness before them and it’s swirling halo.

Comms lit up, “Commander we can’t get any closer, commander!”

It was at that moment he knew.

Suddenly, very suddenly his heart slowed, his breathing evened out. HIs eyes stopped prickling and despite his skin being cold he did not shake. He was still in the command chair as chaos reigned around him.

He heard himself speak as if from outside his own body, a voice that was calm, and decisive, and cool despite the hint of sadness that touched it. Though he did not shout, the power of his voice silenced the bridge, “Initiate the Shatter protocol.”

Everyone was silent.

“Everyone evacuate to the life pods and sealed decks immediately.” His seatbelt clicked into position, and he took a deep breath.

“But commander.”

“I said evacuate, now.” he did not raise his voice but the tone made it clear he would take no argument.

The crew stood from their seats.

Commander vir reached out and under his seat pressing a button that he had never wanted to press. Purple light blinked on around them.

Initiating shatter protocol.

The bridge crew filed out of the room as commander Vir stared stoically forward.

Please report to a restraint harness on an air locked deck or to the lifepods.

Commander Vir closed his eyes thinking “Conn, are you there?”

A soft voice, “Yes commander, I am here.”

“Can you get my dog-”

“Already done commander, she is safe with me.” 

“Conn.”

“Yes?”

“You know I never mean the things I say to you, right?”

“Yes, commander, I know.” 

The Bridge was almost completely empty now.

Shatter protocol to initiate in three minutes.

A hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, and saw sunny standing over him, her golden eyes wide with horror, “Adam, what are you doing!”

“Someone has to stay behind, Sunny. I have to manually fire them if I want everyone to make it out.”

“Bullshit.”

“Sunny, if you don’t leave right now I swear to god I will hate you for the rest of my life.” He locked eyes with her seeing the confusion and hurt there, “I will hate you because you will have murdered someone I loved.” She stared at him still not comprehending what he had said, but that was ok.

He stood allowing the seatbelt to disengage.

He stood Resting his hands on her upper arms pushing her slowly back towards the door.

When she wouldn’t move fast enough, he hugged her close pushing harder until the door was just behind them.

He turned his head to look up at her.

He leaned up moving onto the tips of his toes to reach sliding his hands onto the cool chest plate of her carapace.

She looked down at him confused, maybe scared.

He leaned up a little further bracing his toes against the steel, and shoved hard. 

Sunny stumbled back pitching to the floor as he raced forward and slammed his fist into the locking button.

The door slammed shut as Sunny leaped to her feet.

Sealing ship decks.

All around the ship powerful airlocked metal plates slid down from all the doors, locking each individual deck into an air right compartment.

He heard the metal snick into place behind the door in front of him.

A captain goes down with his ship

He turned and took his seat back in the captain’s chair back straight chin held high.

He reached down and pressed the button again.

Jettisoning Deck F

Once upon a time, some engineer somewhere had designed a plan for an event like this. Lifeboats and escape pods were ok for small numbers of people, but for large amounts at a short notice, it just wasn't viable. So they had designed it where the decks of the ships themselves were lifeboats.

In an event of an emergency the decs would be sealed off into airtight compartments and then, one by one, jettisoned backwards from the ship using all systems for external power.

OUt in space, the Harbinger broke apart starting from the back forward. Thousands of escape pods and chunks of the ship rocketed backwards all at once fracturing like a pane of glass.

Commander Vir felt the power and lurched slightly forward in his seat. The lights around him dimmed as the command deck was cut from power. As the thrusters vanished, there was nothing to keep him stable and he rocketed forward towards the gaping maw of the black abyss. 

HE rested his head back in his seat watching the hole grow wider before him. 

He thought of his mother, hoping she wouldn’t cry too much, of his father who had never lost a son. He thought of his brothers. He thought of Dr. Krill. He thought about his crew, and he thought about Sunny.

Nothing but blackness in his vision.

In the darkness of the bridge, he whispered one final phrase to ALL of them before the command deck spiraled into blackness and vanished.

I love you

[emceenb]

Small town living wine country sippen

Grapevine dreamin noma Cali pimpen

A dollar for ya feelings

Stack em to the ceilin ya know how I be chillin swerve around all these civilians

The backer gotta blitz the linemen gotta rift

We been burning gas up like you can catch em at the drifts

didn’t need to show her ass out but your friend say it’s so lit

I ain’t even tryna hate if you like it do ya thang

Down 8th street smoke a spliff off the traintracks

I was always into gutter shit cause we would always stare at maybachs

Life flips

Wine bottles from the last gig

Respect for all can’t fuck with no actress

Only exemption is if Emma Watson laying on my mattress

Local cats looking like worldstars it’s light camera action

Who’d da known I’d be here to film disaster

And maintain this project astral

Chorus

Bury my head in the sand a man without a plan is something I cannot understand

Unless it’s hip hop DJ or bboy stance

Graffiti art The OGs said we need those thangs

Came up with a new name to study the game

I been tryna show this New Age music is all the same

But maybe you been through this before

And won’t go through this again

Maybe Its just too old for you all to feel my pain

Prolly been too cold myself and your just being the same

Can’t you understand they’d put us all In a cage

While we killing each other sometimes it can feel like no way

So much built up rage can’t tell my own brother to change

I look at perspective of others like how the world look at me mayne

Feel like I been rapping 2 days

But im a completely different age

Blazing key to the city

My dream girl be whit-nay

Mood is kinda shitty

The work she did was gritty

The purse wasn’t too biggie

Got me thinking will I be doing open mics at 50

Microwave simmering my kidneys

Smoking out my insides like Sydney

Jumping in the deep end Like y’all let your fire come and get me

California Hoping for the world ray Charles say let’s see the MC

Game bred ready Like a flying Knee connecting

Ancestors around me Give me strength and my respect g

[dallas-owns-my-ass]

Let Them Talk

     Paring: Dally x Insecure! Reader

     Summary: Songfic based of the song Prom Queen by Beach Bunny. The reader feels insecure when people start talking about how she’s not as pretty as Dally’s ex’s.

     Warnings: swearing, insecurities, crying, smoking

------------------------------------------------------------------ 

     “Shut up, count your calories

     I never looked good in mom jeans”

      Laughter was the only thing to be heard coming from the group of young greasers. Two-Bit could never fail to raise our spirits. Johnny, Pony, Two-Bit, and I were walking to the DX to meet Soda and Steve during their break. Two-Bit tried to balance on a large stick he found, but unsuccessfully fell, causing the group to erupt in laughter once more. We crossed the road to walk into the DX to find Soda at one of the gas pumps with Tim Shepard and two members of his gang.

     “Hey Soda!” yelled Pony with a wave, gaining Soda’s attention.

     “Hey Pony” he hollered back.

     We went to join in on their banter, talking about everything from cars, to school, to girls.

     “Hey that’s Dally’s new girl right?” Tim asked, nodding at me. 

     Soda nodded in response, them going into their own separate conversation, while Ponyboy told us about school. But I was too focused on what Shepard had to say about me to listen to Pony.

     “She not bad, but Sylvia was a real looker. She had that blonde hair and was a lot skinnier. And she wore clothes where you could actually see her figure.” he joked.

     “Wish I, was like you

     Blue-eyed blondie, perfect body”

     Except it was far from a joke. I had long dark brown, almost black, curly hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a mocha complexion. I dressed like the guys in the gang too; leather jackets, cuffed skinny jeans, and converse. Why is he with me when he could be with someone like her? She was close to perfect with her straight, blonde hair, curvy but slim figure, and bright blue eyes. Her clothes were revealing, but they suited her. My figure was curvy, but more on the muscular side. I guess guys didn’t like that as much. 

     “Y/N”

     “Y/N” Ponyboy called again, snapping me out of my thoughts.

     “Oh sorry. I was daydreaming.”

     “Daydreaming about Dallas” Two-Bit mocked, bringing a light blush to my cheeks.

     “Oooh she’s blushing” Pony teased.

     “Yeah because she’s so in loveeee” Soda sang. Johnny even joined in with kissing noises. 

     “Shut up” I mumbled, now embarrassed, the blush on my cheeks growing.

      “They botherin’ you again doll?” said the familiar voice of Dallas Winston, as he slung an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close to him. 

     “Nah, we were just jokin’ around” I told him.

     “’Bout what?” 

     “Yeah why don’t you tell him Y/N?” Soda continued, wiggling his eyebrows.

     I smacked him on the arm. “It’s nothing, really.” 

     He raised his eyebrow but shrugged it off as he lit a cigarette. We walked out of the DX once Soda and Steve finished their shifts. I didn’t know where we were heading, probably the Curtis’s house. Tim Shepard’s words crossed my mind again. If he noticed that, everyone else probably did too, including Dally. 

    “Look I’mma head back to my place.” I told the group.

     “I got some school work to catch up on.”

     “Yeah like Y/N L/N ever does school work” Two-Bit remarked.

     “You just don’t wanna hang out with us no more” Johnny added on jokingly. I smiled at that.

     “Imma catch you guys later aii” I said as I began to walk off.

     “I’ll walk you” Dally said while throwing his arm over my shoulder.

     We didn’t usually walk in silence, but Dally was being a lot quieter today. And to be honest, I didn’t feel like talking. 

     “You wanna go on, umm, out tonight?” Dally asked 

     “But somewhere nice. Like one of them fancy Socs restaurants or something, with the fancy lights and stuff.”

     I smiled. He may not have been good at romantic gestures, but he tried, he really did.

     “You want to go to a Socs restaurant? You know you have to dress nice, Socs clothes and all that good stuff. I mean that’s assuming we don’t get jumped on our way there, you know?” I joked around with him. 

     “No I’m serious doll. You know I’d do anything for you.” he said giving me a quick kiss.

     “And wear something nice.” he said wiggling his eyebrows with a slight wink, as he walked off.

------------------------------

     “Maybe I should try harder

     You should lower your expectations

     I’m no quick curl barbie

     I was never cut out for prom queen”

     I almost tore apart my closet looking for something decent to wear. Well, something that looked decent on me. The clothes looked beautiful on the hangers. It was a beautiful dark red dress, that ended just above the knees. But the moment I put it on, I couldn’t help to feel overwhelmed by my insecurities. How it hugged my curves too tight, making my thighs look to big. Or the way it made my arms look in comparison to the rest of my body. I couldn’t explain it but it just made my arms look, weird, I guess. It would look beautiful on Sylvia. I thought of how the red would make her bright blue eyes pop out, and how the dress would only make her perfect figure more appealing. Getting frustrated, I ripped the dress off, and changed into one of Dally’s shirts, which went all the way past my knees, and went to go do my hair and makeup. 

     “If I get more pretty

     Do you think he will like me?”

     I tried to tame my curly hair, using a shit ton of gel and edge cream. I went to do my makeup, pulling out the brushes and other makeup crap. As I was applying the products, I couldn’t help but let my thoughts consume me. I couldn’t help it. The more I looked into the mirror, the more I worried about my appearance. If only I had a smaller nose. And rounder eyes. And if my lips were just a little bit more. . .  I broke down. Full on sobbing. Why was Dally even with me? He could get any girl he wanted. One who was prettier. One who was more girly. One who had more money, and less problems. 

     I jumped at the sudden hand on my shoulder. I turned around and was met with the eyes of Dallas Winston. I didn’t even hear him come in. I looked away, embarrassed. Dally had never seen me cry before. Nobody cries in front of Dallas Winston. Great. Now he probably thinks I’m some sensitive crybaby. 

     “Baby what happened? Did I do something wrong?” he asked softly, concern growing in his voice. 

     “hmm? Oh. No. Nothing’s wrong baby. I was just..” I said feeling kinda embarrassed. He didn’t buy it though, for he let out a long sigh. He pulled me out of the chair and into a hug.

     “Do you wanna talk about it?” he whispered.

     “No... yes.”

     “Disect, my insecurities

     I’m the deep end surgical project.

     It’s getting hard to breathe,

     There’s plastic wrap in my cheeks.”

     He pulled his arms off me, waiting for another response. I didn’t know what to say. How do you even explain that to someone, much less someone you love. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. He should just leave you. You don’t deserve him. He doesn’t love you. He can do better. 

     “Do you love me?” I blurted out. Fuck.  Out of all the things I could have said, that’s what I fucking chose. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. There was silence fora couple of seconds, then he spoke up. 

     “What are you talking about? You know I love you doll. Is that what’s bothering you? I know I don’t show it much, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that, right? I mean if it’s bothering you this much babe, I can change. Just why didn’t you tell me sooner baby?” I cut him off. 

     “Dally it’s not that. It’s just that... well I’m sure you’ve noticed, you know... compared to Sylvia, or anyone really, I’m not really that like... pretty or anything. And people talk and stuff, and I just think you could do better.” I mumbled that last part. He frowned.

     “Ya know none of that’s true doll? You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Anyone who says otherwise is crazy. And people are always gonna talk and shit, but you can’t even be compared to Sylvia. Sylvia’s a bitch. She cheated on me the first chance she got. But you’re the complete opposite. You’re a leader, and you don’t take shit from no one, especially me. I know it ain’t much but... I think you’re absolutely breathtaking. And man, I wish you could see yourself the way I did.” I smiled. Dallas Winston wasn’t always sweet, but when he was, you could see that he really meant it.

     “And you got a nice ass.” he said, going back to his usual self.

     “I fucking love you Dallas.” 

     “I know you do doll.” 

More Like This

[idga-buck]

use somebody || eight

pairing: harry x plus-size!reader

word count: 2,000

warnings: swearing

summary: the morning after, wink

challenge: @baezen​‘s the Other Guys Writing Challenge

previous // masterlist  // next

Harry woke the next morning to the sight of your back turned toward him, sleeping half on your stomach while clutching a pillow. Your hair was a mess, but he didn’t hesitate to brush some of it away, making room for his fingers to slide up the back of your neck. It was just enough movement for you to stir, turning to face him without opening your eyes.

“Good Morning, sunshine,” he whispered, shuffling his body across the mattress until you were close enough to hold. You responded, not with words, but by throwing one of your arms around his back, fingers immediately finding the hem of his t shirt to slip under. Your palm was a welcome warmth against bare skin. He smiled to himself and leaned in to press his lips between your eyebrows, chuckling to himself when they furrowed and tickled his nose. He hadn’t planned to fall back asleep, but with your fingers making tight little circles against his back and your breath warming his chin, the boy was out cold again in a matter of minutes.

Harry failed to savor the feeling of waking up next to someone, without the stink of regret or confusion spoiling the sweetness. So he wasn’t surprised to find himself alone in bed when he woke the second time that morning. When wandered out of your bedroom, he found you sitting cross legged on the couch in front of him, shorts riding up your thighs to reveal light dimples that would look better with his fingers digging into them as he-

“Hey, hey,” you called out, pulling from what was about to become a very saucy daydream. Fuck. He was a man with his fair share of morning wood experiences, but this level of fantasizing this early in the day was new. He tilted his chin up in a silent greeting and ambled over to join you, falling into you and the thick brown cushions like a rag doll. You fought the intrusion momentarily, but soon gave in and Harry sunk deeper into an unexpected comfort as his head landed against your thigh.

“You gonna run away to work again?” He asked casually, taking his time to get comfortable with one of his leg thrown over the back of the couch, the other bent at the knee with his foot on the floor.

“Comfy?” You looked down at him in an easily dissolved annoyance. He shifted once, mm twice more, before giving you a sarcastic thumbs up and folding his hands on his chest, head tilted back at an almost uncomfortable angle to smile up at you. You rolled your eyes, but answered him anyway. “No, not this time. I actually have the weekend off.” Harry’s face must have lit up like a child’s. The next thing he knew, you were laughing and he was launching himself off the sofa. “So now you’re leaving?” You called out after him as he made his way back into your bedroom.

“Yep,” he answered, spinning in his socks to find you up and following him around the corner. “But you’re coming too.”

“Am I?”

Harry was already pulling his jeans back on when you entered the room. Without him answering, you walked right through the bathroom and into the large closet on the other side, presumably to join him in the land of the clothed. When he was dressed, he started toward the bathroom before thinking better of it. He’d made himself quite comfortable in your presence already, but watching you get dressed for the day felt like skipping a few steps. Even if you hadn’t turned down any of his affection yet. At least not yet that day. You had the first time you slept together, but something felt different about last night. Harry didn’t spend too much time thinking about it, solely focused on making sure it happened again. Soon.

“Yeah,” he projected from his seat on the bed. Boy that felt familiar, but also brand new. “I gotta place near here, best burritos you’ve ever had in your life.” His promise echoed through the bathroom and soon you emerged, half dressed and looking at him like a mad man.

“You’re taking me out?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m hungry and I owe you a meal, maybe a couple.”

“You don’t owe me anythi-“

“Fine,” he stood and crossed the room, stopping in front of you with his hands on your arms. “I want to take you out. Is that okay with you?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so bold with a woman, but really is it bold when you’ve been dancing around each other for as long as you had?

You pondered the question for longer than he expected, but the second his grin started to wither in worry, your smile returned and brought his back to life. “Fine, I’d like that-“

“Great!”

“But I have to burst your bubble.” Harry frowned and gave you a hard look. “Wherever you think we’re going, I know a place with better burritos.”

“No way, José,” he said in an accent so awkward he physically cringed. “Besides, you don’t know where we’re going, it might be the same place.”

You looked at the shoes on his feet and shook your head. “We’re definitely not talking about the same place.” Without another word, you slipped by, leaving him alone in your bedroom and so so confused.

Harry found you standing in your kitchen, feet still bare as you stood halfway between the island and the refrigerator, shuffling ingredients from one hand to the other. He looked around the airy space, almost entirely white yet still homey and welcoming. “There is no way you cook in here.”

“Who do you think does it, then?” Your smile is real and it’s taunting him and Harry finds himself fresh out of clever quips, so he slides a wicker top stool to the other side of the island and makes himself comfortable. You work so efficiently, he has no room to argue with you. 

“Okay,” you turn to face him with a serious expression that makes him straighten in his seat. “I have to warn you, it’s so good, that you’ll probably fall in love with me.” His laughter carried across the counter. “I mean it,” you were trying not to smile, but it wasn’t working. “-but try to remember, Harry... it’s just your stomach, not your heart, okay?”

Clearly you are very comfortable in the kitchen, but it goes beyond that. Knife skills he’s only seen on tv, the blade rocking expertly over the thick butcher block as you feed green onions and red peppers under every quick pass with your fingers tucked for safety. When you ask if he wants breakfast or lunch and he says both, he stands to watch up close as you crack eggs into a bright green mixing bowl with one hand. Chopsticks are in the second drawer to his left, or so you tell him, gesturing with your elbow as you pull cheese and butter from the fridge. Harry is your beautiful assistant as you perform culinary magic on the gas burner. It clicks to life with a blue glow and the vegetables smell like heaven and you’re using the chopsticks to beat the eggs into the smallest fluffiest curd he’s ever seen and his hands are meeting yours on a plate to wrap a wide tortilla around everything that’s sliding out of your pan. You won’t let him eat until there’s a handsome pour of salsa over the dish and you’ve grated more cheese directly onto it. He doesn’t even see where you pull fresh parsley from, but he can smell it as your fingers tear leaves from stem in a garnish that shouldn’t look so at home on something as simple as a breakfast burrito. You spin the squared off plate on the counter and it stops in front of him. Again. Magic.

“I can’t eat this with my hands though,” he complains half heartedly and your eyes roll so hard he wonders how many of his jokes he can risk before your eyes are stuck in the back of your head. Without a word, the beautiful plate before him slides away and another appears with a jar of label free salsa on the side. “Much better.”

Harry joins you at the round dining table halfway between your kitchen and living room and dammit it all if you weren’t right. It’s the best burrito he’s ever had in his life, but with eggs and cheese, adding a gooeyness so decadent and delicious he doesn’t even notice the lack of meat. He doesn’t bother trying to mask his moans and feels little shame over palming his breakfast, stretching his neck out over the table so any droppings land on his plate instead of his lap. You don’t seem put off by it and even reach across to wipe something from higher on his cheek than the food should have been able to reach.

You’re a chef, he finally knows what you do for a living and it all comes together. How picky you were over Darius’ kitchen, how comfortable you were in your own. Even the connections you had at Taix, it fits. Harry isn’t pleased that it’s taken him this long to ask, but the big reveal is so delicious he quickly decides he doesn’t care. You laugh when he applauds your performance and you admit that it’s not always like that. In a kitchen, you don’t have time to plate or play, someone else does that and lately, you haven’t had an audience at all. He asks if you were showing off a bit and you don’t have to say anything for him to know it’s true. The suddenly meek way you look away from him is enough. It’s not what he’s come to expect from you, but he likes this part too. He can’t tell if it’s because you like him or because you love what you do. Maybe both. He hopes for both.

It’s probably rude, definitely tacky, but he’s already been naked for you, so he doesn’t think asking about the money is really off limits, but you stiffen slightly before answering. The answer is comfortable, like you’re happy to talk about it, but something is off. Maybe the way he asked?

“I’ve worked in… shit a lot of your big kitchens in town, under a lot of big names, talented guys. I appreciate it,” you said softly and he almost believed you. “But you don’t make anything for yourself when someone else’s name is on your coat, you know? It’ll always be Wolfgang Puck’s food, but they were my hands.” Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding about the big names. “So I left the commercial business a couple years ago.” Harry asked you to go on and learned that you were a personal chef. Obviously making great money and feeding some of LA’s pickiest eaters without all the flash. You took meetings with their fancy nutritionists, spiritualists, whoever, made up their meal plans, prepped dishes for them every week, and ran a whole business out of your own home. Very clearly out of his league.

“Anyone I know?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows and running his hip into yours as you loaded the dishwasher.

“I can’t tell you that,” you checked him back before bending slightly to add detergent. Harry dried his hands on a towel that he tossed lazily onto the counter before stepping up behind you. Your little jump at the surprise only pushed your ass into him and made him groan. Hands on your hips and back, Harry leaned over you, letting you feel all of him on your back. “Harry…”

“What?” He asked innocently, straightening himself out to follow your lead, but without fully removing himself from your body. His lips were on the side of your face, hands rubbing everything he could reach and despite the warning tone you used with him, he felt you leaning back into him, felt your fingers dig into his legs.

“Don’t you have to go soon?” You asked, but it was a breathless question as you guided one of his hands under your shirt to your chest. No bra this time and Harry fell forward, catching himself on your counter with his other hand to trap you between him and the white cupboard, squeezing and playing and letting the sounds of your quiet sigh spur him on. 

“What if I want to stay?” He asked into your shoulder and you turned to face him, his hand still in place up the front of your shirt, mouth now hovering over yours.

“Then stay.”

[transfluvial]

Henrik Koffmann meets the Devil

"Henrik?"

He woke up with a startled gasp. Confused, he looked around the room, feeling as if someone had put his insides through a meat grinder. It was brightly lit - in fact, so brightly he couldn't actually see much. He recognized two vaguely humanoid shapes, one sitting beside him and one at the edge of the room, near something he didn't know what to make of.

"I see you are having some difficulties to adapt," the person beside him remarked. "It is quite normal for you to feel this way, Mr. Koffmann. Most humans do."

Henrik groaned.

"Who the hell are you?", he spat out. "Where is this...?"

"Calm down, Henrik," said a very familiar voice. "I brought you here, don't you remember?"

"What...? Crow, is that you?"

He chuckled in response.

"It appears you are already familiar with my husband," the person who was not Crow said. "Then I'll leave the formalities behind us."

They moved their hand, and the room became way more plausibly lit.

"The light was hurting you, was it not?", they continued. "I apologise for that."

Henrik looked around the room once more. Crow was leaning against an old, wooden cabinetry with some bottles of alcohol and a few cups on it. The person - did they say they were Crow's husband? - smiled politely in their chair.

"My name is Astaroth," he said in a soothing voice, "although I am mostly referred to as just Roth around here."

Henrik felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could finally think clearly, and his memories came back in a torrent in his mind.

"Are you...?" he said to Roth, but couldn't manage to finish the phrase. No, that person couldn't be Lucifer, could he? "What are you?"

"A demon," he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Henrik could hear Crow scoffing in the background.

"Where am I?", he finally asked.

"You are in the Spiritual Plan, Henrik." Roth turned to his husband, "With the power of our Headmaster, Crocell has brought you here."

"You could say this is kind of a meeting room of ours," Crow remarked.

"I apologise for the delay in His arrival," Roth said. "I'm sure he'll be here soon enough."

"Alright," Henrik murmured, the absurdity of his situation having not yet dawned on him.

He tried looking behind his chair, but was pushed back in place by an invisible hand.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," Crow explained.

"Why?"

"It's just the usual procedure," Roth answered.

Realizing their guest was visibly very uncomfortable, the couple exchanged looks between one another, and then Roth cleared his throat.

"Would you enjoy a drink, Mr. Koffmann?"

Henrik took a while to notice someone was talking to him.

"Uh, what?", he said, his mind in a completely different place.

Roth smiled.

"Can I offer you a drink?" He made a subtle gesture with his head towards Crow. "We can get you pretty much anything you want."

Henrik nodded.

"Uh, whiskey, then."

"The same, love."

Crow promptly poured two cups of whiskey on a tray and took it to the two men sitting down.

"Our Headmaster..." Roth sighed. "He is unusually late today."

"You, uh, seem to be very close to him."

"Oh, yes, we are a triad, me, Crow and him."

"A... triad...?", Henrik repeated, incredulous.

"We have been together for a long time," Crow said in his matter-of-fact way of his. "Everything we do, we do together. Everything we plan, we plan together."

"We have taken a liking to you, Henrik. You're... different."

"Special."

Henrik grimaced at these words.

"I don't like where this is going...", he murmured to himself.

"Have we got the wrong of you, dear guest?", a voiced echoed in the room from behind them.

Both Crow and Roth smiled.

Henrik gasped loudly. He felt a shiver down his spine. Something had changed in the atmosphere of the room at His arrival - it felt as if it had suddenly been filled with some dense gas, and he found it hard to breathe.

"When I say this," He continued, as He approached them, "I don't mean it in the way that your father did it."

Another audible gasp escaped Henrik's lips.

"How could you possibly know that?", he spat between his teeth.

"Why wouldn't I?", He replied, amused. "Do you know who I am?"

"So you really are Lucifer." Henrik could barely muster anything out of his mouth.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Correct," he purred. "Do you know why you were called here, Henrik?"

"It looks like you have some sorta 'plan' for me?"

"You could say so." Lucifer sat right in front of him. "But only if you agree to it, of course. I don't plan on forcing you to do anything, Henrik. It's your choice."

"Bullshit. Can I choose to refuse?"

Lucifer shrugged.

"Are you willing to find out?"

"Nope." Henrik shook his head violently. "What's it gonna be?"

"Take it easy, child," He smiled. "I have a lot in mind for you. But, first, I'd want you to be my Consul, Henrik Koffmann."

Henrik's eyes shot open.

"Consul?" He couldn't help but burst in laughter. "Consul as in that kind of Consul?"

"Yes," Lucifer smiled patiently.

"You, uh, you do know I'm an antimage, don't you?"

"I do."

"So... Why?"

"Hmm, I have my own reasons. But I'd like to let you know that we have, indeed, been watching for a while."

"Wait, were you listening?"

"What I'm trying to say is," He raised his voice a bit, "I like you, Henrik. I really, really like you. And I like your sister."

"Henrietta?"

"I've had my eyes on her for a while, too..." Lucifer smiled. "She's really interesting."

"Okay, what the hell do you want to do with her?"

"Oh, the same as you. I want the both of you to be under my guidance."

"Guidance? Henrik raised an eyebrow.

"Precisely, guidance," Lucifer replied, staring at Henrik's eyes. "I think the both of you have an incredible potential, and I'd like to personally help you refine your skills."

"This is so hard to believe," Henrik sighed, his hands on his tempers.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Let us start by dropping these useless formalities, shall we?" He chuckled. "My name is Lucien Lefèvre. Please feel free to call me just Lucien, alright?"

Henrik nodded, speechless.

"These two," he gestured to the couple with his hands, "I'm afraid you already know them. They are my partners, and my dearest friends. Each one is a part of me on their own."

"You may want to think of the entity Lucifer as you know it as a junction of three of us, Henrik," Roth explained. "Although, for obvious reasons, our Headmaster claims the title alone."

Lucien nodded.

"I'd like to take you somewhere, Henrik." Lucien reached out his hand to Henrik. "Could I?"

Henrik shrugged. At that point, nothing could get more absurd than it already was. As soon as he took Lucien's hand, he was transported to another place.

He took a while to adjust to the sudden change, but he recovered way quicker than the first time. When he opened his eyes, he found the confused gaze of four other people - two ghouls, a vampire and... another person, whose species he couldn't recognize.

"Henrik...?", one of the ghouls called.

"Igor?!"

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?", a ghoul girl yelled, her hands on her hips.

All members of the triad laughed.

"These, Henrik, are the other ones I have gathered in this little project of mine," he gestured to each of them in order as he said their names, "Anastasia, Eleanor, River and Igor, whom you're already familiar with."

"Wait, these people aren't mages."

"Do they have to be?" Lucien chuckled. "The only one who's going to be officially part of my clan is you, though. Those are my esteemed allies, and also a small group of resistants."

"Who is she?", he pointed at River.

"She's just like your sister, Henrik. One of a kind. She and I have known each other since she was a child."

The woman blushed.

"My name is River Marlowe Simmons," she said, her voice surprisingly powerful. "I don't know who you are, but I have a feeling that we're going to see each other quite a bit from now on."

He could see the woman smile at him before, all of a sudden, she and the rest were gone, and they were all back at the tiny shed. Igor was sound asleep on the sofa.

"So, Koffmann," Lucien took a step into Henrik's personal space, "do you accept to be a part of my little project?"

"This is all the info I'm gonna get from you now, isn't it?"

Lucien nodded.

"If you accept, we'll naturally tell you more about all of this as we go on."

Henrik sustained Lucien's - Lucifer's - gaze with confidence he himself didn't know he had. It was all so damn absurd, he felt as if he was trapped in a fever dream.

But what else did he have, anyways? He'd lost everything he could've ever possibly wanted in his life, and his desire to get revenge on his father has never been bigger. Also, he could have Igor.

Fuck it, Lucifer himself was asking him to be part of his clan. That's all he had to know.

Without even a second more of hesitation, he shook Lucien's hand.

[alexanderlightweight]

Serendipity

(Part of the Roswell New Mexico Week 2019)

Prompt: If I could do it all over again 

His ship isn’t alive, not quite.  It’s not completely sentient or at least he doesn’t think it is.  Michael’s not sure about anything at this point, least of all the console that hums like music in his head.  Entropy and quiet until all he can hear is a voice that sounds like a song asking him, “would you live twice, the same life but different?”

“If I could do it all over again, could I change things?”  Michael asked, too tired to bother hiding the desperation in his voice.  “Could I fix things?  Could I save the people I love?”  His voice trailed off but his eyes begged, the question ‘could I make it so the people I loved stayed with me?’

“You could,” the voice replied.  “Anything is possible, the power I wield, the power we would use together.  It can both form and destroy worlds.”

“Then yes,” Michael said.  Something close to hope forming in his chest, “I would do it again, as many times as I had to.  Anything to make it different, to make it better.”  

The console remained silent but he could still feel the steady echo of it in his mind, “you wouldn’t have to go alone.  Together we have enough energy.  I will not be the same then, too fragmented and alone for too long.  Until we meet again, you could have help.  I can send two back.”

Michael’s whole body lit up, mind weaving scenarios as he grappled with who to take.  Who did he trust to do what needed to be done, who actually had the skills to have his back, to…. His mind blanked, his thoughts at war with each other.  

“How far back can we go?”

“A decade of these human years, possibly a little more but that is as far as my energy will go right now.”  

A decade, god but he wanted to take Isobel, he desperately needed her to be the one to have his back.  She couldn’t be though, the time they’d be going back too would be at the height of Noah messing with her brain and Noah was strong, strong enough that he’d notice her brain changing and strengthening.  They couldn’t afford to tip him off without a plan and Isobel would also want to tell Max everything, a Max who he was still close to but a Max who made the rules and hadn’t matured enough to realize they needed to work together.

Isobel also lacked the skills he needed most, skills that only one person he knew had.  The one person he’d desperately wanted a clean slate, a new beginning to which they could start over with.  

Michael cursed under his breath and his hand reached out, a bottle of acetone flying to him and he swallowed it greedily.  He needed to numb himself, to tear away the emotional side of him that begged to take Isobel or Liz, anyone but Alex.  

This could destroy him.  The possibility of having everything he wanted with Alex was being dangled in front of him and he couldn’t take it.  It would be selfish, to take that hope and make it a reality.  He needed Captain Manes.  He needed the Alex Manes who could hack into domestic and foreign military and government servers the way other people played solitaire.  

He needed an Alex Manes who could look Jesse Manes and feel nothing but disgust.  Most of all, Michael needed an Alex who knew how to make sure the Caulfield massacre never happened again.  He was too selfish and selfless to pick anyone else.  

Once again life screwed them over, ensuring that he and Alex couldn’t have each other, no matter how badly they wanted to.

“Can you safely send a human back?”  Michael asked, knowing he sounded unhinged and beyond caring.  “Can you swear to me on who and what I am to you,” -he still didn’t know why he was so important- “that it won’t harm Alex.  That sending him back will be safe for him?”

“Yes.”

“I need to talk to him then,” Michael reached for his phone, “I’ll have him come over.  He will if it’s important.”  Michael tried not to think about the fact that they’d barely spoken about anything other than work and saving Max and hunting down other possible branches of Project Shepherd in months.  

“I can reach him from here.  He is who you are most connected to on this planet, in all of the universe.  You bond will protect him.  There is no need to ask questions to which you are unsure of the answer.”

“I can’t just tear him apart from this time and this world without asking!”  Michael froze, suddenly realizing what he was doing.  He and Isobel had sworn to each other after Max had died, he couldn’t break that promise. They had promised not to make choices for each other, or do anything drastic without letting the other know.

“I will take that burden on myself.  I merely needed to know your willingness and who to send with you.  You will be protected now, this new world will be better.  You will make it so.”

The peace in his mind vanished and he shook his head, mouth forming the words ‘wait’ even as the console flashed and it was as though every star in the galaxy imploded.  A stunning ethereal light before it faded into darkness, flashes of memories flitting through his brain like pulses of electricity.

He remembered a ship, moving through space, being cradled by warm arms and then the comforting embrace of his pod.

Then, he woke up.

-

His first thought was one of confusion.  The air was dry and dusty, his tongue numb with a lingering hint of acetone at the back of his throat and his eyes heavy with an exhaustion that didn’t quite make sense.  He rolled over on his bed, uncomfortable and strangely hard only to hit his head again metal.  

Michael started up with a fit of flailing arms, panic making his breath come in and out in short heaving little gasps as he looked around.  He was in the middle of the desert, parked under a rising sun and curled in the back of his truck.  A lumpy pillow and blankets the bed and home he’d made for himself when he’d had nothing else, remnants of a life he hadn’t lived in almost he hadn’t slept on in almost a decade.  

“Fuck,” he muttered and brought his hands up to scrub at an unscruffed and soft cheek, “oh fuck.”  His hands, both completely intact and even the one that Max had healed -the one that had ached with pain and that would seize up unexpectedly as though it were still injured- it felt whole again.  Complete in a way that Max’s healing could never have made it.  

His hand shook.  

“I’m going to have very strong words with my ship when they’re rebuilt,” he muttered under his breath and if he weren’t already an alien, he might have thought this whole experience was an acetone induced nightmare.  As he rubbed at the muscles in his left hand, his mind wandered to Alex.  If he was already awake.  How he was dealing with this and if the ship had been true in it’s promise that Alex would be safe.  As he stretched out the joints in each of his unbroken fingers, he idly wondered how Alex was handling having his leg back.

The world crashed around him and Michael froze.

Despite the unfamilitary of a body a decade too young, Michael tore out of his truck-bed, ignoring the need for shoes and slammed the hatch before hauling himself into the cab.  In an instant he was driving, a manic gleam to his eyes and his heart beating a terrified staccato in his chest.

While the ship might have been honest in it’s promise not to harm Alex, even the ship couldn’t control how Alex handled the shock of both time travel and waking up with a limb he’d only just gotten used to missing.  Especially since Alex would have had no warning prior to waking up in his childhood- Michael swore, fervently.  Almost worse than either of those, he suddenly realized that not only would Alex be unprepared for either of the two events but that he was also waking up in his father’s house.  The thought of Alex, stuck under Jesse Mane’s roof in a body completely different to the one he’d had a decade down the road, made him press harder on the gas pedal.  

He just had to hope that at the end of the day, after he found Alex and explained to him what had happened, that Alex would still help him out.  Even if nothing else came of this new chance, he knew that he couldn't fix the future without Alex on his side.  

[tracies-tales]

I Spy

“Eat this, mother fucker!” Arina shouted, firing shots at the car ahead of them as she stood balanced on a motorcycle behind Daniella.

Daniella switched gears and yanked the handles, swerving into oncoming traffic as their targets returned fire. Arina lost her balance for a moment but caught herself on Daniella’s scarf, sitting back down to lock her arms around her waist. 

“Sorry Ari!” Daniella yelled over the roar of traffic, most of the oncoming vehicles blaring their horns as they careened down the wrong side of the highway.

“Don’t apologize to me and just focus on the goddamn road!” Arina shouted back. She took aim with her pistol again, aiming across the median at their adversary’s tires. 

The tinted back window of the sleek black vehicle rolled down to reveal a man pointing a gun back at them.

“Fuck me,” Arina said before it started firing. Luckily, Daniella pulled back onto the correct side of the highway, putting a semitruck between them and the bullets. 

Daniella asked, “How did we end up tailing these guys again?”

“That’s a question for Veronica,” Arina replied. “Now give me a proper shot!”

“Yes ma’am, Miss Grumpy Pants,” Dani grinned, revving the engine and zooming in front of the semi. 

The semi laid on his horn and was forced to start veering into the far right lane. This in turn made the car they were after step on the gas to avoid being knocked into the ditch. The lurch threw off the aim of the man in the backseat with the gun just long enough for Arina to fire, landing a hit on their front tire. The car swerved as the semi hit his brakes and drifted behind them.

Arina tried to shoot at their back tire but turned up with an empty clip. She groaned and reloaded a new one, but before she could start firing again, Daniella said, “We got company!” and cut through traffic as a car similar to the one they were in pursuit of started pulling up behind them. She took the exit ramp and dodged around other vehicles.

“What the hell are you doing? We’re gonna lose ‘em!” Arina shouted.

“We’re not gonna lose them,” Dani said, yanking both handles outward and then twisting them forward. The engine roared as the rear wheel split in two, making room for a lowering tailpipe. 

Arina whooped as the bike spat fire behind them, the activated boost making the motorcycle fly up the exit ramp and over the cross road. They landed on the ramp which led back onto the highway, the downward slope aiding in their acceleration. “This job is awesome!” Arina called.

Dani laughed, “Best in the world,” as they pulled up on the passenger side of their target.

Arina knocked on their window and said, “Would you just stop the fucking car already?”

When it rolled down, they were finally offered a view of the woman seated in the passenger seat. She was adorned in a black suit with gold trim. She peered over the rim of her sunglasses, piercing blue eyes appraising them. “You two are really big pains in the asses, you know that?” she asked.

Arina grinned, “We not only know, we count on it.”

Dani focused on the road as they drove but said, “Brianna, you’re under arrest for, like, fucking so much shit!”

Brianna chuckled, “Don’t I know it,” and held up a grenade.

“Oh fuck my ass,” Arina said as she pulled the pin and threw it. It emitted an electrical pulse which disabled their bike, cutting the engine and power steering. Dani barely managed to retain enough control to get the bike into the right-hand shoulder. Arina pouted as she watched Brianna’s car speed away. “Well now what?” she leaned one elbow on Daniella’s shoulder to prop her chin in her hand, crossing her other arm across Dani’s mass of curly hair. 

Dani looked over her shoulder as Brianna’s convoy car pulled up a couple hundred feet in front of them. She said, “How about we take their car?”

Arina raised her brows as she watched a few men leave the car. “I like your style,” Arina flashed a sharp grin.

She flipped her legs over the edge of the bike and helped Dani turn it so they could use it for cover. They heard a few shots ring out as the henchmen approached. “Ready?” Dani reached into her pocket and pulled out a flashbang. 

“Best job ever,” Arina gave her a thumbs up. Dani pulled the pin and threw the grenade over the bike behind her. The two covered their eyes as it exploded into blinding light, stunning the pair of men that had been coming for them. They booked it around either side of the bike and sprinted past the two men on the ground, Arina kicking one in the balls for good measure. 

They dove behind the trunk as the driver reached an arm out the window to try to fire at them. Arina scoffed, “Amateur,” and snuck around to the passenger side. She yanked the door open and pointed her own gun at the back of his head. “Out.”

The driver slowly left the vehicle as Arina got in, jumping the armrest between the seats and slipping through the driver’s door, ramming the butt of her gun into the man’s head before he could turn around. As he crumpled to the ground, Arina returned to the car, Dani already buckling in to the passenger seat.

Arina buckled in as Dani said, “I love you, Ari.”

“Love you, too,” she smiled, leaning in to share a brief kiss. “Now let’s kick the tits off Brianna.”

“Seconded.”

Arina put the car in drive and floored the gas pedal. Dani nonchalantly flipped on the radio and channel surfed as she also looked for hidden weapon compartments. She landed on a song she enjoyed with an ‘oohh,’ Jump by Van Halen, and cranked the volume. She started singing along under her breath as she rummaged.

The car didn’t roar nearly as loud at their motorcycle, allowing them to catch back up to Brianna’s car without giving them too much forewarning. Dani giggled manically, then said, “Bingo,” as she pulled what could have been a flamethrower out of the glove box.

“What even is that?” Arina asked.

“We’re gonna find out!” Dani chirped. She rolled her window down and unbuckled her belt. She leaned out the opening and sat against the ledge, resting the butt of the weapon against her shoulder as she took aim. “Come on and Jump,” she sang, firing on the final word. What could only be described as a plasma beam shot out of the weapon’s tip. Dani’s eyes widened with delight as Arina’s jaw dropped.

Arina said, “No fair, I wanna fire the plasma rifle!”

“Oh, mommy is keeping this,” Dani said with glee, the plasma eating a hole through the rear windshield of Brianna’s car. The car swerved, ending up running off the road and into a street light. 

Arina was quick to pull off behind them, screeching the car to a stop behind Brianna’s. Dani spun her way through the already open window and kept the plasma gun raised. “Out of the car, bitches, and hands where I can see them,” she instructed. 

Brianna opened her door with a look of disdain, keeping her hands raised as she left the car and got to her knees. Arina got behind her and affixed cuffs to her wrists. She then pressed a button on her watch and held it up near her face. The screen lit up and projected Veronica’s head into the air above it. 

Veronica asked, “I trust you have good news?”

“Yes ma’am, guess who’s in custody?” Arina grinned, giving Dani a high five.

“I should hope so, because I’ve already received the damage reports,” Veronica snapped. Arina winced. “A patrol car is on its way to you. Please don’t lose her again.”

“So, first of all, you’re welcome,” Arina said, “and second--” Veronica’s head disappeared. Arina set her fists on her hips, “The nerve of some people.”

Dani nodded, “That was rude.”

“It was rude!”

Brianna said, “You’re both insufferable.”

“Hey, no one asked you,” Arina looked down at her. She ruffled a hand through Brianna’s short silver hair and said, “You know, it’s a shame you’re a super villain, because you really rock that suit.”

“You’d be the last person I’d allow to take it off,” Brianna replied.

Arina set a hand on her chest in shock as Dani made a fist pump, “Yes! That means I’d get to take it off first!”

Brianna shut her eyes and groaned, “Please just shoot me.”

“As impressed as I am that you said please, I’m still personally affronted,” Arina said, “so I don’t think-” She felt something cold touch her back between her shoulder blades.

A female voice with an Australian accent said, “Drop the rifle,” to Dani, who was now looking at someone over Arina’s shoulder. Dani pouted but threw the gun behind her into the ditch so that Brianna couldn’t go get it.

Arina risked peering behind herself to see a woman with sunglasses perched on her head of short brown hair, dressed in a blue suit, aiming a gun at Arina’s back. 

Brianna stood and said, “Thank you Roxy. Sorry ladies, it’s been fun.” The two loaded themselves into the car Arina and Dani had borrowed before they sped off. 

Dani immediately ran back to grab the plasma gun. Arina watched the car shrink into the distance and mumbled, “We’re so screwed.”

Dani tucked her arm around Arina’s shoulders, the rifle hanging down against her other leg. “Meh, we’ll catch her tomorrow,” she grinned. 

“If Veronica doesn’t kill us over the collateral damages first.”

“Okay, Debbie Downer,” Dani chuckled and kissed her cheek. “If V doesn’t kill us, then we’ll catch Bri tomorrow.”

Arina turned to give her a smile, “It’s a date.”

idk the girls made me think of super spies and sci fi is fun ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ physics? what are those idk her

in other news over 400 lovelies??? who am i what is this someone tell me

granted sure you’re not all here for my writing and hey, that’s fine and swell! you’re welcome to pop in anytime anyway!! and also free to leave prompts cough