#so I opened the packet and just kind of stared in horror at the pills because half the time I struggle to take much smaller ones

[thethingything]

hello and welcome to: 🍬 experiences the horror of learning how big antibiotic tablets are while Lucy hangs around in the background calling him a "poor little meow meow" for the millionth time

[creepyalienghost]

From D-class to researcher. 

Sammy laid on top of his bed they gave him, hugging the pillow to his chest. He was in pain, scared and alone. It’s been almost three months and almost died four times by these test they gave him, the latest had that beats chopped at his leg. Luckily the pill they gave him healed him. This foundation was dark. He hates the researchers here. These people were evil for testing on humans like this. Not everyone on d class is a criminal. Some of them were innocent and d class were children they got at orphanages.

He wonders where the others are. Norman, Susie, jack and the rest. We’re they also d class? Used for testing or cleaning. We’re they even alive still? What horrors have they seen? What hell have they been though? He tries not to think about them but it was hard when you were locked in a small cell for most of your day. Only being let out for two hours for “fun” or leaving to be tested on.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the boots of the guards thumping down the hallway as they come towards this way. Sammy wonders if they will pass or if they will l stop in front of his cell. He listened for a moment until they stopped. It was his cell.

Sammy sat up in the bed as the cell door mechanically opened and the main guard stepping inside. “D-68923, get up and come with us.” He ordered.

Sammy followed there instructions, following the main one. The other two followed behind to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Sammy wondered what horrible test they’d put him though this time but those questions stopped when they turned the opposite way of the scps. They were taking him someplace else. Now the questions were why? And what for? We’re they going to kill him? He hopped not. He had been obeying every order the guards gave him! It wasn’t his fault he kept almost dying. It was the sick researchers!

The three guards lead the D class subject down hallway after hallway and though a check point to The entrance zone. This zone was more cheerful then the one D-class stay at. The walls were yellow and white and the floors were clearer and shiny. The vibe was more peaceful here. But that didn’t stop Sammy from fearing what’s about to happen.

They lead him down another hallway and finally a small room with a plain table and two chairs on ether side. “Sit there” the guard ordered as he pointed to one. Sammy walked over and sat there as the Guard left the small room and closing the door, locking it.

It wasn’t long before a female agent walked in. “Hello. Mr. Lawrence.” She greeted as she sat her briefcase on the table and sat down in the empty seat.

Sammy’s ears perked at his name. It has been a long time since somebody called him by his name and not a number. It felt nice to feel like a human again. “Hello ma’am.” He spoke.

“I bet your wondering what your doing here, right?” She ask as she flipped open her briefcase then turned her attention on him.

Sammy nodded in response. “Yes ma’am. I am.” He replied then waited to explain the situation.

The agent pulled out a file from her briefcase. “We lost a lot of staff members at one of our sites do to...well. Let’s just say miss fortunes over the last few days.” She explains as Sammy listened closely. “We’re low on researchers. And judging by your file-“she flipped it open. “you were apart of a cult that was into studying these kinds of...things.” She looked up at Sammy.

His mouth was dropped open do to shook. He had long since changed his mind on working here. He wanted to leave this hell of a place. “And if I say no?”

The agent gave him a warning glance. “Then you stay as D class for the remainder of the year. and be eliminated after, Mr. Lawrence.” She replied. “You are not allowed in the real world anymore. None of you are. You are dead to them and we can not let the people know about this place.” She informed. “Besides. You are a criminal. So pick your poison. Stay here and be a lab rat. Or get promoted to researcher.” She leans back and crosses her arms, waiting for him to chose.

Sammy sighs, looking down then nodded. “Fine. I’ll choose researcher”

“Vary wise, Mr. Lawrence” she replied, pulling out a few test packets. “First we need to test your knowledge on these subjects.” She explained. “To see where you are.”

It was a long process and seven different packets from Algebra to Physics and even some history and English thrown in to them. Over all Sammy did vary well. She gave him a few documents for him to sign them she lead him out of the room and to the roof of this foundation, where a helicopter was waiting for them. The two got in and headed off to a different foundation.

Sammy was allowed to watch the Beautiful scenery below which he found magnificent. He come to realize he’d haven’t seen the outside in months and was very grateful. The water, the sun and the Mountain were all gorgeous now.

——-

Once their helicopter landed at the new location, Sammy was escorted out after the agent by a new group of guards. One of them seems to be watching them closely as he followed the agent inside. Sammy figures they’d must of got the information about his pass crimes.

When they got inside the process began. They took his photo after letting him clean up for his level 2 ID. He wouldn’t be a full researcher for a while. They told him he’d have to learn things around here first as a Junior researcher. They also set up his computer access and gave him a new home in the living quarters.

When he got to his living quarter he was amazed at how huge it was. It was nothing like he cell when he was D class. This came with a kitchen, living room and office downstairs and a room, office and a bathroom upstairs. They were trying to get him on their side. “If you need or want anything from the outside world you’d have to ask for it. Other wise you can order it here.” The agent told him. “I’ll let you get settled in, Mr. Lawrence. Your mentor will meet with you tonight.” With that she left him

——

Later that night, Sammy was led down to the researchers section of the foundation, were he meet his mentor and other researchers. “Hello. I’m Dr. Cliff. Your mentor.” The older man held out his hand for him to shake. But Sammy could tell that he and the others didn’t like him. He noticed others stare with judgement in their eyes. He could hear whispers about him. This was going to be hell.

But he cooperated and shook the man’s hand. “Hello. I’m Sammy Lawrence, sir.” He replied.

His Mentor nodded and pointed at a clipped bored on a desk nearby. “Gather your things and follow me. we have a few task tonight.”

Sammy picked up his clip bored and followed his mentor down to Heavy containment. He read the information on the first sheet on the clip bored. There was a list of scps to test and interview. He was a bit afraid to study these entities but he remembered he wasn’t a d- boy anymore. He was on the other side of the glass. He was the one to bring d-boys to get tested on. It made him feel better but also guilty.

The first few ones went by quickly. Sammy watched as the D- class that was chosen got badly injured or died in the process. He felt bad for each of them but he couldn’t help them. He tried to forced his mind and on the thought that they were really bad people and deserved thIs.

By around 9 o’clock they were on their last task of the day. An interview with an scp by the number of 049. Sammy followed Dr. Cliff down the hall to an elevator with a sign of its number and an Arrow pointing down. Dr. Cliff pushed the button for the elevator at the same time as his pager went off. He grabbed it and read it. “Shit...” he said then he turned to Sammy. “Sammy. I have an emergency to take care of. I need you to interview him alone.” He instructed. “Make sure this is recording and here’s a questions to ask him.” He handed Sammy an Recording device and a sheet of paper with the questions on it. “Oh and do not let him touch you.” He warned before running off, leaving Sammy alone.

Sammy wondered what he meant by -do not let him touch you.- as he sighed and stepped into the elevator, pushing the button down. It only took a minute for it lower down and the doors opening down to a darker hallway. Another armed guard was position next to the Elevator as he stepped out. The guard looked down at him sharply and asked for his ID. Sammy showed it to him before being head down the hall and into the cell of 049. Sammy was shocked by how he looked. It reminded him of the grim reaper coming to Collect souls. The ..being looked to be examining of a dead woman’s insides, even the brain was showing.

“Ah. I wasn’t aware we had a new face here.” The being spoke as he wiped his hands with a cloth and sat down at the table. Sammy found his voice to be so calming and charming to hear. How can that be with the way he looked.

Sammy clears his throat to try to match his town. “Y-Yes. I-I am new...” he replied. “I’m Mr. Lawrence.” He held out his hand before remembering he shouldn’t let him touch him, then he pulled his hand back. “Let’s get started..”

Sammy sat the Recording Devicet on the table, between them and pushed the Recording button then he read off the sheet. “This is interview Number....”he stopped and wondered if he should go with interview amount by him or Dr. cliff. He quickly chose him “number one with me, Sammy Lawrence. Junior researcher. Dr. Cliff had an emergency meeting so he asked me to interview the subject SCP -049”

Sammy looked at the entity across from him then back at the piece of paper for the first question. “It says you study something called the pestilence. What is it exactly?”

The entity tilted his head in a curious why. “you don’t know? The pestilence is the scourge! A nasty disease that I strive to cure. But as of yet. I haven’t Been successful.”

Sammy didn’t understand what he meant by curing and what the pestilence was. He didn’t even understand what 049 is. “A-Alright...” he stuttered. “On the the next question.” He again looked at the sheep of paper to read the next question but 049 spoke first.

“Are you nervous, Mr. Lawrence.” He asked in his calm and charming voice. “You seem nervous.”

Sammy looked up at him and shook his had no. “I’m not nervous. I’m just...” he shrugged. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

The doctor leaned in a bit closer. “You can tell me, Mr. Lawrence. I am a doctor after all. Helping is what I do.”

Sammy thought about it then shook his head. “It’s nothing. Let’s continue the interview.” He stated. The doctor didn’t assist any farther and cooperated with Sammy as he interviewed him.

———

Over the months of working at the foundation he’d come to hate it here more and more. He’s coworkers would spit in his food and sabotage his work for being a d class before. He found out they feed kids to an scp here and was sicken by it. What’s worst was that he found out Norman works here with him as a guard but he doesn’t believe him that they would do this horrible stuff to people. He believes the foundation is good. It hurts him but he doesn’t really talk to Norman much from it.

He got to interview with 049 twice a week though. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Dr. Cliff. He learned 049s background and what the pestilence was as well as what 049 does with the body’s they give him. He also learned about his friendship with 035. An scp he hadn’t test on or herd about. Just as 049 learned how much Sammy hated the foundation and missed his friends. He and Sammy would talk for a few minutes each time off Record about what they were capable off and how evil this place was. It even slipped out once that they were forcing Sammy to be here and how cruel they were to him. 049 pitied him and Even came to care for the man.

He didn’t ask Sammy until the official interview was over and Sammy had stop the recording. “Do you desire to be free, Mr. Lawrence.” He ask before Sammy lefted

Sammy stopped what he was doing and gave him a long look before nodding. “I wish I could be free. See the outside again.” He sighed.

The doctor approached closely to him for the first time. “You can.” He stated before adding. “We both can. But first you need to trust me like I need to trust you.” He said. “Do you trust me Mr. Lawrence?”

Sammy slowly nodded after a minute. “I trust you.” He admits

“Good” the doctor replied before telling him

The plan he’d come up with. Sammy listened to the whole thing and agreed to it. They both choose to acted it out tomorrow night. But he had to ack 079 for a favor tonight.

——

The first step he had to do was get his hands on the highest level card. A level five. The doctor told him it would let him in anywhere in the whole foundation building. He knew that the department overseer was the only person to have that level card here. He had to still it before tonight for there plan to work.

It wasn’t that hard to get. Sammy knew where he had it was hiding in the the office. He quickly went in without no

one seeing him, when the overseer was on break and picked the lock on his desk. He grabbed the red level five card from its place and locking back the the drawer then leaving unseen. Step one was done. Step two was next.

Step two was easier since he doesn’t eat with the rest of them. He acted like he was going to eat at his desk again like always but instead he went below to the war head. No one was their protecting it. No searchers and no MTFs. He went over to the edge to look at the warhead and was amazed by how huge and deadly this was. Then he went to the switch and flipped it off before going to his desk for lunch. No he waits for step three. The favor.

As he waited for the night to approach, he did his Normal rounds. Helping Dr. cliff Test D- class on scps like 008 or 096 and interviewing other scps like 030 or D class and doing The reports. He knew it was time when the alarms went off and a voice came on the speaker. “We’re experiencing multiple Euclid and ketter breaches! Get to a shelter immediately!”

Sammy grabbed the level five card and ran out of the office he was In. It was a mad house. Researchers running everywhere, screaming. D class cells began opening and scp were running ramped. MTFs were shooting at the scps and d class or running for their lives from scps. Sammy saw scp 096 chasing someone down and looked around away fast. He had to go quickly for there plan to work.

He ran down the hall after hall to the elevators leading down to 049 cell and got in, pushing the down button. He came face to face with 049 who waiting right in front of the elevator doors when they opened. Sammy could see the fate of the MTFs behind them. Their skin rotting off and their eyes glazed. The site of the “cured” still made him uneasy. “We should go before we miss our chance Mr. Lawrence” he reminded hi

Sammy nodded, getting back on track with the plan. “Right... Let’s go.” He nodded stepping aside for 049 to step it and pushed the button up once he’s in. Sammy waited anxiously as the elevator road up towards the commotion going on.

The elevator reaches the floor and opens its doors but this time Sammy was faced with the end of a gun. His eyes widen in fear, looking straight at the end, ready for the blast. But it never came. Instead the MTF holding the gun lowered it and took off their helmet, revealing their face.

“Sammy...” Norman said in surprised. Them in confusion once he saw 049 next to him. “What’s going on?...” he ask looking between Sammy and 049. “Sam. Is he making you do something?”

Sammy shakes his head. “No. It’s nothing like that norn-“

Norman raised an eyebrow in question. “So what’s going on then?..” He asked Sammy. Sammy didn’t know how to explain it to him. He knew Norman liked it here and didn’t believe him. So he kept his mouth shut and looked at the floor. “Your escaping aren’t you?” Norman ask. “With this monster!”

“Norman his not a monster-“ Sammy tried to explain to him but Norman wouldn’t listen to him.

Instead Norman pointed the gun back at Sammy’s face and placed his finger on the trigger. “If you wanna join the monsters then fine! Prepare to be treated like one!” Norman warned. But he saw the fear in those blue eyes. The same fear their old boss caused him. What was he doing? Why was he doing this to the one he swore to protect first? It was Sammy before he took an oath for the foundation.

Sammy watched his face hard in thought. Was he going to kill him? Was he really thinking about that? Sammy watched in fear Until a man in a mask leaking black liquid from its mouth and eyes came up behind Norman and knocked him out. “Your friend?” Sammy ask 049.

“Ah. Yes, indeed!” 049 replied with a nod.

Sammy knelt down to Norman as the two scp were greeting each other in this mess he created and checked Norman. Thank the gods he was still alive and breathing, just out cold. “We should go now. More MTFs are coming” the guy with the mask informed them both. Sammy nodded then kisses Norman on the cheek, taking his gun and leaving with them.

All three of them were successful in their escape, with little interference from other scps and MTF. But it wasn’t long before the foundation tracked them again after reports of zombies, missing people and a blonde short man being seen near houses of those missing people.

They were found in a month later living in an abandoned apartment. When the foundation arrived there they all Surrendered easily. The foundation had decided to split the two scp from each other. 049 went back to site 19 but 035 went to an undisclosed location. Sammy was spit from 049 as well. However they sent Sammy to a location to be brainwashed for there use. However the ride never made it to that location. When the foundation went to investigate they found everyone dead. But no Sammy.

[theskyeandsea]

Seal, Interrupted || Erin, Leah, Morgan, & Skylar

Timing: Backdated to January 8th, 2021

Location: Skylar and Rio’s home.

Tagging: @corpse--diem, @phoenixleah, @mor-beck-more-problems, @theskyeandsea

Description: Erin, Morgan, and Leah stage an intervention. It doesn’t go very well.

TWS: Drug use, addiction, slight body horror, discussions of suicide

Leah glanced at the two women who accompanied her outside of Skylar’s house, an awkward tension filling the air as the three of them waited for her eventual arrival.  She had done all the research she could on successful interventions, and her note cards were safely tucked away in her pockets lest anything go wrong.  They needed to be firm in what they were about to present to Skylar, but also let her know how much they loved and cared for her.  It wouldn’t be easy for any of them, and Skylar might take it the wrong way and shut down even further.  This was all to be expected.  But it was worth the risk if it left even a miniscule chance of Skye finally listening and coming around.  “I hope this works”, she said out loud to neither of them in particular. “I’m not sure what else to do if it doesn’t”.

Morgan had been haunted by Skylar’s distress since that day in the woods. She could see with painful dread what kind of places the girl was heading for. So much so, she considered asking Deirdre along, in case there was a vision they all needed to come to terms with sooner rather than later. But Morgan had swallowed the impulse, deciding that this was something she needed to do on her own.

“I dunno,” Morgan deadpanned. “Shove her into her skin and throw her into the ocean? Unless there’s a supernatural rehab we can send her to that I don’t know about.” Her gaze shifted uncomfortably between Leah and Erin. A gathering of people around a girl who wanted to insist ‘nobody cared’ might go great, or it might zig-zag down some other terrifying, bullshit confirmation-bias thought hole. “So, are we knocking first or am I popping the door handle?”

Dread filled Erin as they stood outside of Skylar’s home. It’d only been a few weeks since she’d been here last but the memory of it left a terrible taste in her mouth. The arguing, the hurtful words exchanged, and the pitiful sight of Skylar, who was just a shadow of a person at that point. “You have to prepare yourself in case it doesn’t.” The words felt harsh as soon as they left her lips but it was the truth. These things didn’t always work and some people couldn’t be helped. She hoped against hope that Skylar wouldn’t fall into that statistic but it wasn’t something she could shake. She glanced briefly between the other two women. “Let’s get this over with?” She said, almost as a question, but she leaned in and knocked sharply against the door. 

These days, life was a listless cycle for Skylar. She’d started sleeping in the bathtub, not bothering with the bed because every time she woke up, the sores on her arms and legs would crack and bleed. She didn’t know what caused them and neither did Gabe-- though she wasn’t sure she trusted him much. He didn’t care much about her, now that she’d started paying him in tears. You selkies are so lucky, you don’t even know it. He’d told her when he’d looked at the vial of tears. Look at that. You distill this shit, you get it all mixed with the right herbs and shit? Liquid amnesia. Make you forget your grandma, it could. He’d swapped the vials for a small packet of pills and two more vials of Bliss. And just the sight of the bright red liquid had been enough for her to feel some measure of relief, her body aching for what the drugs would bring. 

When the knock came at the door, Skylar had been listless in her room, coming out of the comforting nothingness of Daverin. Her limbs were stiff as Dundee tugged at her pant leg, dragging her towards the door with more force than the tiny dog should be capable of. Her fingers found the doorknob clumsily and she pulled it open. Immediately, she wanted to slam the door shut-- Erin, Morgan, Leah. Three of the people she didn’t want to see right now, didn’t want to deal with, didn’t want to hear. “You shouldn’t be here. What’s going on?” She asked, staring at them with dull eyes. 

Leah wanted to chuckle at Morgan’s question, but now seemed like the worst time to laugh.  Instead, she sent her a small smile, her mind still heavy with questions of the morality of what they were doing.  Erin’s words confirmed her worries- there was a big possibility here that it wouldn’t work.  And then, they’d still be stuck.  Possibly with Skylar even more opposed to their help and presence.  Erin bit the bullet for them and knocked on the door, and Leah hated how the unfamiliar anxiety danced in her belly. She didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow Skylar looked worse than last time.  More sunken into herself, more sores coating her arms and legs.  She hoped her face didn’t show how heart broken it made her feel.  “Skye”, she breathed out, reaching forward to graze her arm gently.  Would she accept tears for those sores?  “Can we come in?  There are a few things we’d like to talk about.”

She barely waited for an answer, pushing past Skylar into the house and expecting her companions to follow. She hadn’t been there since their Lift adventure on Skylar’s couch, and dread washed over her at the thought of all the feelings they both experienced that day.  But it was good- Skylar could no longer say nobody understood.  “What’s most important for you to know, Skye, is how much we care about you.”

Morgan followed Leah in, though her demeanor was a little less warm. Warm hadn’t been helpful in the woods. Then again, bluntness hadn’t either. Nor had giving Skylar space and listening to what she claimed she wanted and needed. Everything each of them had tried before now was some sick, logic defying guessing game, and here they were: making the biggest, highest stakes guess of all. Might as well go all-in. Morgan gently guided Skylar into the living room with them, taking a seat so they might all have the sense to do the same. “It’s like this, honey: I’ve been worried since the last time we met about what you’re trying to do, exactly, to make the hurt stop. All of us are. And we want the same thing you do, for you to stop hurting, but this whole self-isolation and convincing yourself you’re all alone and uncared for and destroying your body with these heavy doses of drugs isn’t the way. I mean, if it really was, you wouldn’t have to shut yourself up for it to kind of work sometimes, right? So maybe, together, if you’d just tell us something about what you’re really afraid of and running from—” For once. “—as hard and strange and scary as that might be, we can come up with something that really will make everything better. Because you are loved, Skylar. You wouldn’t have old Christmas gifts piled up and people knocking down your door if you weren’t.”

The three women had gone over a brief plan before arriving, but even now staring Skylar down, hearing that sharp resentful tone in her voice was enough to make her bristle. Made the confidence she’d so carefully built up before this falter just a little. It was too late to go back now, with the two other women stepping into the house. Morgan was already monologuing, taking charge and Erin was grateful for it. She found herself lost for words. Skylar looked… bad. Even worse than she’d seen her just a few weeks ago, and certainly not in a way that gave her much hope. “We just want to help. That’s all we want to do--all we’ve ever wanted to do.” She gave a worried glance between the other two women before landing on Skylar again. “This--us barging in like this is because we’re--” she sighed, shaking her head. “We’re scared for you, kid. I’m really scared. All we’re asking is that you listen.”

Blinking as the women stepped through the door, moving her towards the living room, Skylar stared at them in confusion. Shying away from Morgan’s touch, stepping out of the way with unsteady legs. No matter how gentle Morgan was being, she was still pushing Skylar, still trying to make her do something she didn’t want to do. Skylar distanced herself from the other women, eyes wary as she leaned against the back of one of the arm chairs. “I’ve got all the help I need, I don’t need yours.” She said at Erin, shaking her head. She ignored Morgan, she didn’t want to hear what she was saying. It wasn’t true, wasn’t true at all. And it didn’t matter if she told them what was going on, because it wouldn’t change anything. Nothing would change. She would still be left with her pain and nothing would get better. Because it never had before. The harder she tried to accept herself, to love herself, the more the world had torn her apart. 

It was the tone in Leah’s voice that caught Skylar off guard. The oddly practiced sound of what she’d-- “Is this an intervention?” Skylar said abruptly, tired, weary anger growing inside her. How many times would it take for them to leave her alone, to let her be with her sadness and pain and her burdens? “You think that I need-- I don’t. I don’t want your, your pity or whatever this is. Get out of my house, right now.”

Leah shook her head, staring at Skylar intensely.  This was to be expected.  Skylar would lash out, like she always did.  But they couldn’t take no for an answer- she would listen to what they had to say, whether she liked it or not. “This is not, pity, Skye. This is three people here to show you that they care.  You want so badly to believe that no one is here for you- that no one understands, that no one will listen.”  It’d been something she’d heard Skylar claim countless times before, ever since that first time she caught her buying from that creep in the park months ago.  “I-...we don’t pity you.  We love you.  We’re worried about you.  And we want you to know that there are much better, healthier ways to deal with everything you’re feeling than to f-fucking destroy yourself.”  They were all saying the same thing to Skye, essentially, in their own ways.  One of them had to be the key that would break through.  “You can no longer tell me that I don’t understand what you’re feeling”, she added, her eyebrows raised, waiting for Skylar to challenge them again.

Morgan put a hand on Leah’s shoulder. She’d never heard her swear before and it struck her now that there was a whole other anguished side to this story that she had been too swept up in revenge to notice or ask for. Leah didn’t get worked up like this out of duty or for casual acquaintances. She was doing this, Morgan realized, because she was desperate. “Can you at least explain some things to us, Skye?” She asked. “What it is you think your substance use is giving you? What your plan is for yourself? Because there are probably ways to get whatever it is that don’t involve destroying your whole body or hiding away in this place by yourself. You know you deserve more than that, right? This is so small and so little next to what you could have. Should have. And we, as people who love you very much, unconditionally, want to give that to you. So explain the hurt to us. Explain what it is you’re really after. Let’s figure this out.”

Watching Leah with impassive eyes, Skylar let out a sigh. It was a mistake, to have let Leah push her way back into her life. It was a mistake to not have thrown herself out of the car when she’d had the chance to with Morgan. It had been a mistake to not force Erin out of the house the second she’d shown up to toss a bottle of vicodin down the drain. She’d made so many mistakes trying to keep them away. She was done wanting help, done hoping that things would change. Done trying to put words to why she was doing this. She was tired and all she wanted was for them to leave and let her fade away. “This is what I want.” She said, her voice calm and clear. “This is, it’s the only thing. The only thing that’s ever helped me feel really, actually okay with what I am.” Because when she was coasting on her cocktail of drugs, of mushrooms and Bliss, she didn’t feel anything bad at all. The world was a wonderful place from behind that haze. And when she was on Daverin… it was even better, because the world felt like nothing at all.

“What I should have?” Skylar let out a laugh at Morgan’s words, wry and cold and bitter. I never wanted this life for you. Her father's words, still haunting her, still echoing in her ears. It didn’t matter what people wanted for her, that wasn’t reality. Those were just wishes, broken and useless wishes. “This is exactly what I should have. And you know, Morgan. I saw this. I saw me, like this. Months and months and months ago. At the Hall of Mirrors, I saw exactly what was going to happen.” She said, gesturing to herself. “And I tried so hard to run from it. I tried to love what I am. I tried to be better, for all the people who care about me. But that was a mistake,” Skylar said, a twisting smile appearing on her face, “Because here I am anyways.”

Erin couldn’t understand it. Of course she had no idea what it was like to grow up, thinking you were “normal” only to have something like this thrust on you. Skylar was a seal. A selkie, was what she’d called it. But this was what it had all led to? Whatever she’d seen in those mirrors--another fun White Crest adventure, she could only imagine--had stuck with her. “So you’re just... giving up?” She asked from the other side of the couch, too anxious to do anything but sit at the edge of her seat, ready to pop up or pace. “This is how you’re going to cope?” She edged further off the seat, her eyes on Skylar, shaking her head. “Trying is never a mistake, Skylar. I can’t--relate to what you’re going through, but I understand what it’s like getting tossed headfirst into something you can’t control and you can’t change. Fucking up along the way, doing the wrong thing--that’s bound to happen to any of us, you know? The only mistake you’re actually making is giving up. You can’t change what’s going on with you. But you can change how your reaction to it. You’ve--” she paused, shaking her head, hoping she wasn’t completely fucking this up. This pseudo-intervention was a first for her. “It’d be a mistake to turn down all of these people who love you and just want to help you. Turning us away and just giving up is a mistake.”

“Stars above, Skylar, you deserve love. Some of which is right here, begging you to accept it!” Morgan cried, gesturing between the three of them gathered as if it were obvious. Her voice was gentle even as her eyes appealed emphatically for the girl to listen. “It’s in your soul, Skylar. We love you, and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t take that love, but we aren’t the reason you should love yourself. You are. Because you are you, because you simply are. Yes, here you are, always, no matter how far you run. But so what? What on the blessed earth is so bad about loving Skylar? One good reason? And not something you did, because that’s circumstantial. I mean who you are. Because none of us here can think of any reasons. Explain that, please.”

“We know you’re hurting, Skye”, Leah said earnestly, leaning into Morgan’s touch.  “But this hurt isn’t forever.  And what you’re doing is going to make it last longer, and it’s causing people who love you to hurt, as well.” It was a reiteration, in a way, to what Erin and Morgan were saying- that there was so much more out there than  what she was feeling- better feelings and people who loved her, even a life beyond the pain.  She hated that she was crying- the show of vulnerability was something she wasn’t used to in front of someone she knew so little as she did Erin.  Still, it was important for Skylar to see how much this meant to the people she loved.  She watched the younger woman carefully, genuinely interested in her answer to Morgan’s question.  What did she think about everything they were telling her.  Were they being too overwhelming?  The urge to pull a notecard out of her pocket to check that they were doing this perfectly was strong, and she tapped at her leg to forget about it. 

Skylar’s eyes snapped to Erin, the words coming through with clarity she hadn’t felt in days. Weeks even. “‘Trying isn’t a mistake?’” Skylar echoed, her tone bitter and angry. “Trying has only ever been a mistake. Every time, every single time I tried to, to be okay with what I am, with any of this, it only ever hurt me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing I do matters and I’ve-- at least this helps. At least I don’t have to feel the world when it takes me apart.” She said sullenly, shaking her head. “Love doesn’t help. Love didn’t save me. It didn’t save my dad and it won’t save me. I saw him, you know. My dad. My real one.” She said. The words were spilling out of her like water from a tap, overflowing from her lips. “He loved my mom and he loved me. And then he took a shotgun blast to the chest. And now he’s dead and stuck and a ghost and I’m-- that’s all that’s left for me. Nothing matters. None of this matters, it’s all… dust. Dust and dirt and blood and death.” Skylar said quietly. “And I don’t want to feel it. Is that really so wrong?”

It was clear how much the other two women in the room also cared for Skylar. Their pleas, their attempts to reach her in some capacity, filled with raw emotion and sincerity. Not that Erin ever doubted it, but seeing it play out was moving. And as the words started spilling from Skylar, it was clear something had reached her too. Good or bad, it’d pushed a button. “Skylar, I’m--I’m so sorry,” she managed after she’d finished. It felt like paled in comparison to the emotions she was displaying, and trying to console someone in this capacity often felt like it fell short, but they were here. They were trying. She didn’t know Leah well, and she cast a wary look her way as she tried to find the courage to say what she wanted to in front of this near stranger. “I--I get it though. I had something similar happen with my dad not long ago. And it fucked me up for a while. I’m still probably messed up from it,” she gave a brief, wry smile and shook her head. “I thought my world had ended and I had no hope and I wanted to give up. I really, really did. But if I’d done that, I wouldn’t be here telling you not to do the same. I’m not saying anything gets magically better or perfect but it’s not always going to feel like… this. I promise you there’s more to life than feeling like this. You just have to give yourself that chance to experience it yourself.”

“I know death, Skylar. And blood, and violence. There’s so much of it, and it’s not fair, and you don’t deserve it, you’re right. I even get wanting to not exist over having to put in another day of that pain. But that doesn’t mean that’s all there is or all there will ever be. There is so much more, worlds more beyond this place,” Morgan said. “You’re just stuck right now. And if you keep freezing and numbing and killing yourself, yes, that’s all that’s going to be left. But that is not how it really is, and it is not how you have to live. There is more and better than this.” She gestured to Skylar’s weary, shrunken state.

If anyone in town could relate to the sheer tragedy that sometimes came when living on this Earth, it was Morgan, and Leah’s heart broke for how much they’d both gone through.  Just as Morgan’s path of revenge had seemed logical to her when she was at her lowest, Skylar’s present path seems like the only option to her.  “We are not saying what you’ve gone through isn’t hard or significant, Skylar”, Leah continued what the other two women were saying.  “But not feeling the realness of the world does not make it go away.  While you’re wasting away in here, the rest of the world is still going on outside- the bad and the good and everything in between.  And you’re missing it, Skylar.  And it’s killing you.  You say love doesn’t solve it, but love doesn’t make it worse, either.”

Skylar pursed her lips together, the skin cracked and split as she stared at them dully. Weeks ago, she would have wanted to believe them. Months ago, she might have. But now? As she stared at them and listened to them talk about suffering and pain and things getting better, Skylar shook her head. “There’s so much pain and death and I don’t. I don’t want it, I don’t want any of it.” She said and let out a laugh at Leah’s words. It was a dark sound. Hopeless, joyless. “Love’s only made things worse. You saw, Leah, you felt everything. How can you say that love makes things better? I loved my parents. I loved my siblings. And they left me. They all left me and I don’t--” Skylar paused before staring at Erin. “Things got better for you. And that’s great. I’m glad for you. But, you keep trying to, to help me and you’re not. I don’t want what you’re offering, I don’t want your help.” Her fingers pressed against the skin of her arm, the scabs a painful reminder of her life. “Leave. Just leave.”

“Leave so you can what, go back to your room and die alone?” Morgan snapped. Her voice cracked sharply with pain. “Because that is what you are fucking doing, Skylar! You are killing yourself, your whole life and everything good you have—and you still do, we’re all right here in your fucking living room—and you are murdering it.” Her eyes welled with tears. This was not in Leah’s notecards or anything else they had discussed. She was shooting them off the rails, which meant she should probably excuse herself from the room, but she couldn’t. Not with this hanging over their heads. “Do you think turning your back on all this hard shit you don’t want to die is easy? Do you think it won’t hurt so bad as giving a shit? Do you think it’s gonna be nice? Because I can tell you how hard it is, Skye. If you wanted to know what it really feels like for your lungs to fail and your heart to stop, all you had to to was fucking ask!” Morgan held herself, trying to stuff her bitter frustration inside. “And just so we are very, very clear—” She croaked, her voice thick with water. “Not one of us is saying that it’ll get better anytime soon. Nothing ‘worked out’ for me and Erin, that’s not why we’re here for you and it’s not why we’re still trying in this miserable little town. You don’t live because it feels nice. You live to have a chance of doing something, to break up the hard parts with something that’s just you, and beautiful. And I would give anything, anything, to have the luxury of playing with the idea of whether or not it’s worth the fight instead of having it ripped away from me on the side of the road.”

Even before Morgan snapped, Erin could feel it--the brick wall. They’d come in here, guns blazing but Skylar stood firm. There was absolutely no give. Just a collision at a million miles an hour. “Morgan,” Erin started slowly, soft in comparison to Morgan’s outburst. She grabbed her friend’s arm gently, trying to steady her as much as she could as the feeling of defeat washed over her. She was tired and suddenly realizing she didn’t have anywhere near enough of the strength or tenacity left to knock down that wall. And even if Morgan or Leah continued, they’d exhaust themselves just from trying. This was the worst part of trying to help loved ones with addictions. There came a time when you had to let them fall or allow them to drag you down with them. Her throat tightened and she felt a burn at the back of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she started, glancing between the other two women with a helpless shrug. “I’m sorry. She doesn’t want to hear it. I don’t know what else we can do.” Her eyes fell to Skylar’s, and to the visible scabs along her body, the exhaustion paling her skin. She looked like a shadow of the young woman she’d met so many months ago. “We tried. Don’t you ever say we didn’t try or didn’t want to help you, Skylar. But I can’t do this anymore. I’m so scared for you but I can’t help you if you don’t want it.” 

Standing up from the couch felt like accepting a bitter loss and a shame flushed her cheeks. She took one more look over the house, at Dundee sleeping off in the distance, at the other women in the room. She couldn’t look them in the eyes anymore. “I’m sorry guys. I can’t--I gotta go,” she managed as she felt that thickness in her throat tighten even further. Without wasting another moment, she slipped out of the house, her stomach sick, hoping against hope that she was wrong about knowing how this story would end.

As a wave of emotions poured out of Morgan, Leah sat quietly in her own, tear filled eyes boring into Skylar as if she could miraculously force her to take heed to what they were saying.  She placed her hand on the small of Morgan’s back, though she knew the comfort of her touch was unfortunately lost on her friend.  What else was there to say here? How many more times could they cry and plead and beg Skylar to care enough about herself and those she loved to stop this?  Taking a cue from Erin, she grabbed Morgan’s other arm, standing up with the two women in a show of solidarity.  She didn’t blame Erin for leaving, but the silence that she left encompassed them for an uncomfortable beat.  “This isn’t over”, she promised Skylar, her tone as stern as her eyes.  “Do you hear me?  This is not through”.  Despite her words, she slung her bag over her shoulder, trailing out of the house where Erin was waiting outside.  In the pit of her stomach, she felt an ache- a truth urging itself forward whether she liked it or not.  It wasn’t up to her if this was over.  Not to her or Erin or even Morgan.  The decision fell to Skylar, and there weren’t many chances left for her to make the right one.

[benevolentsam]

Life on Mars

Characters: Eventual Castiel/Sam Winchester, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Rating: Teen and Up Warnings/Additional Tags: Hurt!Sam, Car Accidents, Hospitals, Coma, Sam and Mental Health, Drug Use, Toxic Relationships Summary: After being hit by a car, Sam ends up in a coma. While unconscious, Sam finds that he has to work through hims demons - his past relationships and his issues with self worth - before he can wake up. Sam has to confront things he thought were buried away. Chapter 1 2 // Also on Ao3

Sam recognised the apartment as soon as he woke up. It wasn’t his, nor was it Dean and Lisa’s. There was a dirty mattress on the floor, bottles of liquor scattered around the room, and an open bottle of pills on the table. It could have been any crack house in America, but it wasn’t.

It was Ruby’s.

He didn’t know what he was doing on the floor of his ex-girlfriend’s apartment. Maybe Dean had brought him here after the accident. Ruby knew some pretty dodgy people — she had to know a doctor who didn’t ask any questions and who wasn’t looking for health insurance. It was starting to make sense. Except Dean hated Ruby, and would probably let Sam die before seeing her again.

In all honesty, Sam would rather die than see her again.

Ruby came out of the bathroom, her make-up smudged and her clothes covered in blood. There was a feral grin on her face.

“Ruby, what am I doing here?” Sam questioned.

“Has someone had a little too much to drink again? I told you to lay off the Jack last night, babe,” Ruby replied smugly. She came over the Sam and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve missed you, Sam. You need to lose your control freak of a brother, and move back in with me.”

“Did you- did you kidnap me from the hospital?” Sam asked. She must of done. It had to be some kind of misery situation. There was no other explanation as to why Sam would go running back to her.

“What hospital? What are you on about?” Ruby sat down on the floor beside him, narrowly dodging the needles on the floor. “Sam, you came back to me because you love me, remember?”

Sam couldn’t remember. It did sound like something he’d do though. Of all the people in his life, Ruby was the only one who was there for him no matter what. The last conversation he’d had with Dean replayed itself in his head. Cas and Dean didn’t want to be friends with him. They were looking for excuses to not have to hang out with him. Of course he went back to Ruby.

“Dean doesn’t-”

“Dean doesn’t love you, I know. You explained this to me when you came knocking on my door.” Ruby completed his sentence with a smile, blood-red lips curling. “Sammy, it’s only a matter of time before you stop running away to me, and just live with me again.”

“But Cas-”

“Cas can afford to pay your half of the rent. Hell, he might actually find a roommate he wants to spend time with.” The words dripped from her lips like poison, each drop of venom burning Sam a little more. He could still feel the pain of the car crash. Even if Ruby didn’t know what had happened, she had to see the pain on him.

She liked that though — she liked seeing Sam in pain.

“Face it, Sam, I’m the only one who’s ever really cared about you. I’m the only one who ever will.”

She was right. Sam hated to admit it, but she was right. Every argument with Dean, every tear he’d shed – Ruby was the one that had been there to mop it up. Maybe she liked his pain, but maybe she just liked to nurse him better. He let her kiss him again, and again, and again, until his face was a mosaic of ruby-red lipstick. Until he was marked as hers. He was hers, and he’d always be hers, as long as she made him feel loved.

“Listen, babe, I gotta go out. I’m meeting Lucifer about a shipment order. I’ll be back before dinner,” Ruby told him. She stood up and looked around the apartment before turning back to him. “Just don’t do anything stupid. Wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty little vessel of yours. Oh, and don’t call your brother, we both know he doesn’t want to talk to you.” And with that, she was out of the door, leaving Sam alone in a filthy apartment with nothing but drugs and alcohol around him.

The air in the apartment was stifling. Sam didn’t know if it was the mould growing on the walls or the fact that Ruby liked to hotbox the room every now and then. Back at Cas’ apartment, where he’d been living since he last broke up with Ruby, everything was clean. Sam liked clean; he liked the strong smell of chemicals that came with cleaning, and the sense of doing something good and healthy. Cas just liked things to be neat. It was one of the reasons Sam liked living with him so much.

And of course, because he could sleep in the room next door to his crush.

That didn’t matter anymore. He’d pick a day when Cas was working and sneak back to collect all his things. It was better than inconveniencing Cas with his presence anyway.

He set about cleaning up Ruby’s place. It didn’t need to be too clean — I’m meeting Lucifer for a shipment order was code for I’m buying a shit tonne of cocaine and that meant there’d be people over that night. People like Ruby, users and addicts who wouldn’t care that the walls are stained green with damp. The only reason Sam had for cleaning the apartment was for his own peace of mind, and to stop him from thinking about Cas or Dean… or something much much worse.

He fought through the pain and sat up. He had a long day.

Ruby, true to her word, was back before dinner. In fact, she entered with a bag of take out in her hands. Sam hated take out food, hated the grease sitting in his stomach, but he was in no frame of mind to argue with her about something so stupid. At least she’d bothered to go out and find him food. She had a huge smile on her face as she set the paper bag down on the floor beside the door. She locked it behind her, trapping the two of them in the apartment together.

“Sam, babe, guess who scored some meth!” Ruby lilted. Sam’s eyes widened. Of all the crazy stupid things Ruby had done, she’d not used meth; at least, not around him. Sam had heard the horror stories – hell, he’d seen some of the people that took it. But Ruby had a packet of pale pink powder in her hand, and that meant that she was going to at least try it.

“You’re not- you’re not really gonna take that, are you?” Sam asked timidly. Ruby laughed and tossed the packet towards Sam.

“Of course I am. Lucifer’s coming over later and we need to show him how well his batch works,” she grinned. She took off her jacket and threw it on the ground next to the the take out. “Do you want some, Sam? I got Chinese.” Sam shook his head. The drugs had thrown him off; just thinking about them was making him feel sick. Ruby mumbled something to herself and picked up a carton of food, practically wolfing it down.

Sam waited patiently for her to finish eating before he brought up the meth again.

“Look, Ruby, I don’t think you should do this,” Sam started.

“You? No, Sam, we’re doing this together,” Ruby replied. Before Sam could respond, Ruby had taken the bag out of his hand and was opening it up. She lined it up on the floor, and Sam was momentarily fixated on the thought that it wasn’t clean, that the floor was dirty. But that was the least of their problems. He watched Ruby roll up a one dollar bill from her pocket and use it to snort the meth. She pulled her head back up and gave Sam a gruesome grin. Blood was dripping from her nose.

“Your turn, Sam,” she said. Sam tried to protest, he did, but Ruby forcefully handed him the dollar bill. “You need to do it, Sam. Prove you love me. Prove to me that you’re thankful that I love you. I’m giving you good quality shit here, Sam, for free. I want to see you snort it. Prove that you love me.”

Dying from a drug overdose couldn’t be any worse than living knowing Dean hated him.

Sam leant over and snorted like his life depended on it.

It took a few minutes, but Sam felt his heart speed up. It was like a jackhammer in his chest, beating louder and louder, like it was in the room with them. Suddenly, everything felt so good. He stopped thinking about his brother, his dumbass roommate. He stopped thinking about how much he hated himself. Only the beautiful woman in front of him and the elation of the drug pumping through his system filled his mind now.

His heart wouldn’t stop though. It became too much pretty quickly. Pain started in his arm and moved to his back, and then his chest. Fuck, fuck!He might have been dying. He fell back to the floor and let his body stop working. This was what he’d signed up for.

The door to the apartment blew off its hinges. Somehow, Dean and Cas had found him and they were stood in the doorway where the door should have been. They were saying something, something Sam couldn’t hear. And then, like sun breaking through clouds, he could hear them clear as day.

“Sam, you’re in a coma.”

“You need to fight, Sam. You’re dying, man. You need to fight whatever’s going on in that brain of yours,” Dean begged. He seemed close to tears, and the last time Sam had seen Dean cry was when Ben was born. The time before that, was when Sam had graduated college. His brother didn’t cry often, but he was so close to crying as he stared at Sam dying on the floor. Cas stepped in for him.

“Sam, I know things seem bad but they’ll be worse without you here,” he said. “You need to get out of the coma, but first, you need to survive whatever’s going on right now.”

With Dean and Cas there, Sam managed to get his breathing under control. If they were right, if Sam really was in a coma, then he could control his dreams. He closed his eyes and concentrated, imagining a safer time when him and Dean were kids. He felt his heartbeat slow down, falling into its regular pattern.

What the hell was he thinking, taking what Ruby had offered him? He’d been down this path before, and he knew where it led. Ruby wasn’t right for him. He looked back up to Dean and Cas, who were stood over him, offering dry smiles.

He didn’t need Ruby and her drugs to make him feel better. Not anymore.

When he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t recognise where he was.

[rowan-tandel]

TITLE - PRE LOCATION - Arlo’s Place TRIGGERS - drugs, ODing,being tased (? is that a thing??) SUMMARY - Family reunion.

He’d slammed into the bathroom the moment he heard the first bellowed “New York City Police Department, everybody freeze!”, thrown the lock and gone so far as pushing a heavy standing cabinet in front of it as well, hastily emptying his pockets and the hidden linings of his jacket, half an ear on the panicked voices and booming police orders. He worried for his friends that he knew were out front, but couldn’t let himself get distracted. If he was caught he’d be looking at felonies. Never see the light of day again, prison orange felonies. He couldn’t think about them. They’d all have to look out for themselves.

He’d thought this through a thousand times, mentally run though it every time he heard a funny noise from outside his apartment, or someone screamed in the middle of a party. Once he’d done a line of coke by himself one lonely Thanksgiving and done multiple ghost runs, heart pounding anxiously while he stupidly waited for his father personally to pound down his door and put him under arrest. It was a simple plan, one he knew he could follow no matter how drunk or stoned he was;

Flush the shit, wipe the prints, bounce.

When he’d first started doing this, after he’d been kicked out, he’d sat down and decided that he’d rather be dead than be in prison. Ideally, he’d rather be neither, but if he had to pick one of the two, he was going with Def Leppard- it was better to burn out than fade away. So, he’d thought it through, kept a packet of disposable latex gloves and disinfectant wipes in his wallet the same way he kept a condom, He’d read articles about wiping fingerprints and hiding evidence that had definitely gotten him put on some kind of list. He’d prepared.

As he started, he remembered the jittery during his ghost runs and recording how long it took him to get everything flushed and wiped. He’d gotten it down to somewhere in the neighborhood of three minute, but that had been at home, in his own bathroom, under no pressure. So he figured as he ripped open all three bottles, flushing the toilet and upending the bottles over the swirling water, he probably needed about five.

He became aware as he started ripping open bags of weed and coke, that there was some kind of commotion happening outside. A voice bellowed for everyone to get back, overlapped by a scared female voice crying for someone to call an ambulance. He froze for a moment in the middle of overturning two more fistfuls of drugs, his breath catching, before he gritted his teeth, hurrying through dumping the rest of his stock as his heart began to pound.

Dump the shit- check.

Straining to hear and kind of useful information over the mostly ineligible din, and cursing as he attempted to pull on the gloves which were just a tad too small for his hands, ripping open the wipes with half his torso craned to look over his shoulder at the door, as he might stare through the wood and see whatever was causing the horrible, hushed silence that had fallen outside.

It was at that moment that someone had begun to pound at the door, bellowing in an authoritative voice for whoever was in there to open the door and come out with their hands up, and he cursed himself for his distraction, hastily  but thoroughly wiping the inside, outside, and the lids of the pill bottles, then the baggies, tossing them in the trash in a little over a minute as the pounding became more intense.

“One fucking second!” He bellowed back

Wipe the prints- check.

Eyes scanning his work as he chewed his lips, he hesitated. He was almost sure he’d done everything right, but it was so much riding on a lot of thorough work in stressful conditions and not a lot of time. Anxiety clawed at the back of his mind as he mentally accounted for everything, his free hand patting his pockets to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

Only thing left to do was bounce.

“Oh fuck!”

He recognized Arlo’s voice, the fear in those two slurred words, and suddenly all the whispering made sense. A split second and he saw the look that had been in her eyes when she’d slapped him.

“Oh god, fuck, someone help her please! Chessie, fuck!”

None of it mattered. The gloves with the residue were still on his hands, they could be tested, but he didn’t care. He was out the door in a second, shoulder checking the officer who attempted to restrain him and running towards where Arlo’s distressed voice was coming from. Breathless, with horror constricting his lungs, he shoved people out of the way without discretion, only to find himself actually breathless, pain radiating through every nerve. Hitting his knees, he let out a wordless cry of pain, hands helplessly clawing at his chest as his temple made painful contact with the floor.

And just as suddenly it was gone, phantom pain shooting through his limbs as he twitched.

A strong set of hands seized him by the jacket, pulling him forcible to his knees as he feebly attempted to smack them away, groaning a slurred “What the hell was that?”

“I’m surprised you aren’t more familiar with a taser.”  A familiar voice huffed, slightly out of breath as he handcuffed Rowan’s wrists behind his back. “With your chronic arrest record.”

“Oh fuck off, Dad. Did you seriously come over here just so you could arrest me personally?” It felt like he was sixteen again, his police chief father come to break up the party and take him home. Underneath the anxiety and horror, he found he still had room to feel absolutely mortified as well.

“I sure the hell did, you little shit.” Niam Tandel hissed, hauling his youngest son to his knees forcibly by the back of his arms. “You have a skill for weaseling out of consequences, someone needed to be here who knew your specific brand of stupidity.”

Shaking his grip off of his shoulder, Rowan attempted to lurch to his feet. “I don’t have time for this!” He shouted, his voice coming out uneven. “My friend-”

“Francesca Abernathy? Yeah good fucking luck with that one buddy, you’ll be lucky if she ends up surviving the night. I didn’t think I could be more disappointed in you than I was already, but you’ve always striven to new lows. Congratulations.”

His voice was disgusted, horrified. He’d always believed the worst of him, but Rowan surprised himself being hurt that his father believed him capable of that. Pulling against his father, still straining to see over the crowd to see Chessie, he protested without looking at his dad. “I didn’t-”

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t make it worse than it already is. You’re under arrest, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say-”

Rowan ignored him, throwing himself against his father’s grasp as another officer rushed to help. “Chessie!” He shouted over the crowd, bellowing at the top of his lungs “Chessie!”

[crytill5am-blog]

Hell Week

just something nice and small with trans!lance. sorry if it’s a little all over the place, i wanted to type it out while the idea was still fresh in my head and didn’t really read through or plot it out properly

Waking up grumpy in the morning after the blaring alarm of the Castle of Lions was a natural state for the paladins of Voltron by now.

What wasn’t considered normal, was that Lance wasn’t grumpy, he was pissed as fuck. Unlike all the other paladins who had easily jogged into the control room, all dressed and ready for battle with their bayards by their sides, Lance had stormed in with a thunderous look, bayard clenched tightly beside him, but still dressed in sleep clothes.

“Lance!” Allura called out sharply, irritation marring her pretty features as she marched over to the line of paladins, “Why aren’t you dressed in your paladin armour? Don’t you know that the Galra could attack at any moment and that you must be prepared for such attacks?”

Now, everyone there expected Lance to shrug off Allura’s scolding with a laugh and a cheap flirtation, as he usually did. After all, the blue paladin was known for being laid back, if a bit flirty, so it would have been completely normal for Lance to brush off the princess’ ire.

“Oh, fuck off Allura,” The paladins choked, staring at Lance in horror and surprise, Allura’s mouth falling open in her own shock, Coran’s mustache looked like it was about to fly off of his face. Lance, however, was just seething, his posture stiff and an arm wrapped around his abdomen as he hissed in pain.

Allura was the first to recover, her shock replaced with anger at Lance’s disrespect and blatant disregard to her stature, “What did you just say?!”

Lance, kind, patient, relaxed Lance, actually snarled at the princess. The rest of the paladins were frozen in shock, before Hunk seemed to snap out of it and groaned, walking over towards Lance, placing his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

“Quiznak, Lance, dude, calm down,” Hunk said, voice soft and soothing, “Breathe in with me, ‘kay?”

Lance’s anger seemed to falter, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to relax some as Hunk rubbed his shoulder. Allura still looked like she wanted to yell at Lance, but the blue paladin focused on his best friend, hoping to calm down some to give a sincere apology, even if he didn’t feel particularly apologetic at the moment.

Lance shuddered and felt a wave of disgust come over him when he shifted footing slightly, feeling the sticky wetness between his thighs. He should have kept an eye on the calendar now that he didn’t have his birth control and testosterone anymore. It was bound to happen that his period would reappear after being over three months in space. He just didn’t think it’d be as bad as it was at the moment. The cramps felt like they were trying to force him to eject his intestines and his back ached like he’d just gone a round against an angry wolverine. 

Oh god, and there was blood trickling down his legs now. Great, just freaking fantastic.

A sudden overwhelming wave of self-loathing washed over him, powerful enough to make him tear up and sniffle. He looked up at Hunk, his best bro’s face sympathetic and calm as he rubbed Lance’s back now.

“Anyone care to explain what’s happening?!” Allura snapped, her own anger having not dissipated as she rounded on the paladins. The others all shared a look and shrugged, which made Lance want to laugh and cry at the same time. 

Hunk was the one who tried to calm the princess down, even as he continued to pat Lance’s shoulders. “Sorry, Princess. Lance isn’t feeling too great at the moment due to some biological changes now that he doesn’t have certain medication up here anymore.” 

“What Hunk means is,” Lance huffed, sending his best friend a thankful look, knowing that Hunk was trying to help Lance not out himself until he felt comfortable enough to. But it wasn’t like the team wouldn’t eventually find out anyway, so it might as well be right now, “my body’s flushed out the remainder of my birth control and testosterone. It’s caused me to start my, uhm, my period?” Lance chuckled wetly, still feeling waves of emotions running through him in an endless cycle.

Pidge gaped before grimacing, “Aw, fuck, dude that must suck. D’you need like, pads and shit? Tampons? I think I still have some in my room that I can share.” Lance looked at her as if she had hung the moon in the sky, nodding enthusiastically.

“I should go get some painkillers to help with your cramps. Coran, mind showing me where you keep them in the med-bay?” Shiro asked, his drive to help his team coming out to the front of his mind.

“Righto number one! Follow me please!” Coran called enthusiastically, leading the older paladin out of the control room. 

Allura frowned, confused, “What in Altea is a period?” She asked as Pidge left the control room to go get the products she’d offered, while Shiro and Coran left to go to get the necessary medication from the med-bay, leaving an increasingly uncomfortable Keith, Lance and Hunk to explain human terms for menstruation. 

“Ah, it’s what we refer to the, uhm, bleeding period of a human’s menstrual cycle,” Lance explained some, “People who’re born with uterus’, uteri? I don’t know what the plural is, can’t think right; uhm, they get periods, which is what I have right now, so yeah.”

Understanding came over Allura’s features and she frowned, “I see. Still, this does not excuse your rude behaviour earlier on.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Lance grimaced, that arm that had been clutching his abdomen moving to hold onto Keith’s suddenly offered arm, squeezing painfully, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m just... in a lot of physical and emotional discomfort at the moment.���

“oh,” Allura blinked, cocking her head curiously, “Do human... periods, I believe you called them? Cause bodily pain?”

Lance stared incredulously at the Princess, “Well yeah? My uterus is literally ripping and forcing itself out of my body. Do Alteans not get cramps or backaches during theirs?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. There is some discomfort from have blood coming out of your, but it’s quite painless.”

“Jesus Christ, I am so jealous,” Lance grumbled, “Fucking lucky bastards.”

The rest of the team walked back into the room, Lance ignoring Shiro’s disappointed look as he took the two small pills from Shiro and swallowed them back with the water packet Coran had brought along. Fuck Shiro, Lance was in pain; he was allowed to cuss while on his period. 

Pidge tossed a pad in Lance’s direction, who caught them relatively easily, “You should go put these on before you bleed anymore on the floor of the control room,” they grumbled, looking at the few specks of blood trailing down Lance’s legs that dripped to the floor with a grossed-out look.

“Right, thanks, Pidge,” Lance breathed with a sigh, pulling away from Hunk and Keith, not catching the wince Keith tried to hide as he rubbed the feeling into his probably bruised arm. Lance moved to leave the control room, waving off Hunk’s fretting, “I’ll see you all at breakfast. Mind making me something to eat that won’t make me nauseous, big guy?”

Hunk nodded with a small, relieved sigh, “Sure dude, no problem.”

Keith glanced down at the few specks of blood that had dripped to the floor and grimaced, “Anyone want to clean that up?”

“Not it!” Everyone called, making the mulleted red paladin groan, leaving the room to find a mop, ignoring the laughter coming from behind him.

[unicornmagic]

Untitled high school omegaverse

For @hannigram-a-b-o-library and SummertimeSlick, here’s a bit of the A/B/O AU where Will is sweet seventeen and goes into--you guessed it--surprise heat. Soshite Koi ga Hajimaru: Hannigram edition, basically.  

Assume this Hannibal is nice-ish, though exactly how nice is unclear. No sex, just age difference, heat, and bodily grossness. 

Edit: completed version now here on AO3.

*

Quiet in the hallways:  class in session.  The guidance counselor greeted Hannibal outside the nurse's office with a rueful smile.  

"Thanks for coming on short notice."

"Not at all," said Hannibal.  "How's the late bloomer?"

"Not happy," said Dr. Bloom.  "We haven't been able to reach his father—he's a contractor, does boat repairs.  Mom's not in the picture."

"'Not happy.'  Physical distress?"

"More emotional.  He thought of himself as a beta until today, and I think he felt secure in that identity.  It's a lot to process."

"It certainly can be," said Hannibal.  "A senior, you said?"

She nodded.  "Few months shy of eighteen.  He and his dad just moved here in August, before classes started.  There were some disciplinary issues at a previous school.  Nothing here.  Seems very bright, but he hasn't been very talkative."  Her smile grew self-deprecating.  "At least not with me."  

"Well, let's have a look and proceed from there."

Dr. Bloom ushered him into the office, to the door of a smaller room within it.  She knocked softly at the door.  "Will?  The doctor's here.  Can we come in?"

A hoarse okay from within.  Dr. Bloom opened the door.  The lights in the room were dimmed.  The walls were ugly cinderblock, institutional, grime-gray. There was a chair, a low cabinet, a narrow bed with a mattress covered in green vinyl.  A cotton blanket lay draped over the end of the bed, a nominal concession to some omegas' need to hide or nest.  

A young man sat on the bed with knees drawn up to his chest, ignoring the blanket, making himself small. 

His clothes were rumpled--gray shorts and plaid shirt, both of poor quality--but he was finely made, with startling features.  A nest of dark curls.  Pink ears protruding from them, darkened with a flush.   Eyes the color of an unruly sea.  They flickered up, then down as Hannibal entered the room.

The scent was delicate, unmistakable.  Nectar to a bee.  Hannibal took care not to audibly sniff.

Dr. Bloom stepped forward.  "Will, this is Dr. Lecter.  He can answer any questions you don't feel comfortable asking me.  I'll be right outside if you need me."

Will nodded.  He remained huddled on the narrow bed.  If anything, he seemed to shrink, flattening further against the wall.  He licked his lips.

"You're an alpha," he said, after Dr. Bloom had shut the door.  

"And a physician," said Hannibal.  "Between the two, I hope I may be of some use.  How are you feeling?"

"I think 'not right' sums it up."

"I'll have to ask you to be a little more specific.  Since you're presenting on the late end of what's considered the normal range, we want to be sure there's nothing amiss."

Will's look suggested that in his view there was plenty amiss, but he uncurled a little from his huddle against the wall.  "I feel feverish.  Overheated.  Like there's a film clinging to the surface of my brain.  When I woke up this morning I thought I must be coming down with something.  Then I got here and everything smelled all...high definition."  His lip curled.  "I'm also...leaking...from places that don't usually leak."

"Taking a suppressant will decrease the flow, but the effects won't be immediate.  Did the nurse or Dr. Bloom give you a hygienic pad?"

Will gave an awful grimace of a smile.  "I stuffed toilet paper down my shorts," he said.

"We'll get you something more suitable."  Hannibal opened his bag.  He took the boy's vitals, noting the slightly elevated temperature without alarm.  "Not unusual during the onset stage.  Feeling feverish and a bit hazy is also normal.  You may find yourself responding strongly to others' personal scents, particularly those of alphas."

"Like yours," said Will slowly.  "You smell--"  A long pause.  "You smell good."

Hannibal quashed his smile.  "Thank you."

Will blinked, then squinted.  The scrutiny seemed aimed chiefly at himself.  "Sorry, was that inappropriate?  Is being inappropriate a symptom?"

"A degree of lowered inhibition is typical.  If you continue to scent me, you may experience an increase in the flow of your natural lubrication--"

"No kidding," muttered Will, looking away.  "So it's like being on the rag, except I'll be leaking from a different orifice, and instead of cramps I'll have fits of lust?"  The back of Will's head met the cinderblock wall.  His throat worked visibly in an effort to swallow his fate.  "God.  How soon can I take drugs to make it stop?"  A thought seemed to strike him, and dawning horror with it.  "Do I have to wait for my dad?  Because I'm a minor?"

"Most non-emergency treatment would require parental consent," said Hannibal, "but there's an exception for 'family planning services.'  If you like, we can start you on suppressants immediately."  

Relief spread in Will's face, followed by a return of tension.  The mobile play of feeling was remarkable.  "How much are they?  I don't--we don't have insurance."

"Thanks to the pharmaceutical companies, I'm well supplied in the way of samples.  You can take your first dose now--" Hannibal reached into his bag and drew out a pill packet, "--but for a full supply, I'll need to stop at my office."  He paused.  "You're welcome to come with me.  There's a private room you can use to study or rest until your father can arrange to pick you up." He cast a meaningful glance around the room. "It may be more comfortable than this one."

"Can't imagine it'd be less," said Will.

*

The doctor's car was parked in one of the visitor spots, black and gleaming.  Will tossed down his book bag and slid into the passenger seat:  dark leather, immaculate.  Then the smell hit, and he nearly toppled sideways out of the car.

Dr. Lecter hovered, hand on the passenger door.  He'd opened it for Will, to Will's incredulity, like some kind of gentleman alpha relic from a previous century.  Will prayed no one in chem lab had been staring out the window to see it happen.  

Concern showed on the doctor's mild face.  "Would you prefer to have Dr. Bloom drive you?  I'm sure she'd be willing."

Will thought of Dr. Bloom, the stylish dress that clung to her figure, the tepid scent he'd never thought bland until today.  Her look of too-knowing sympathy as she'd handed him a hygienic pad.  She was a beta, but she knew what it was like to leak.  Will jerked his head in an emphatic no.

Dr. Lecter closed the door and came around to the driver's seat.  Will could barely hear the engine's purr when he turned the key. 

"Kind of car is this?" he asked, to distract himself from the scent, which was everywhere, dizzying, far more concentrated than it had been in the nurse's office.  His head tipped back on the leather headrest and lolled.  

"A Bentley."

Will peered at the dash as they pulled out of the lot.  "European?"

"British."  Dr. Lecter glanced sideways.  "Shall I open the window?"

At Will's unsteady nod, Dr. Lecter reached for the controls.  The passenger side window slid down.  The rush of clear, humid air from outside brought both relief and--from the just-wakened part of Will that appalled him--a twist of loss. He slumped toward the open window, this close to sticking his head through it to ride with his face in the wind like a dog.  It seemed a better choice than slumping the other way and plastering his nose to Dr. Lecter's sleeve.

His glance strayed sideways, to Dr. Lecter's hands on the wheel at eight and four.  Dexterous, confident in their grasp.  Will wondered how it would feel if they touched his neck, then tore his gaze away.

He wasn't gay, at least not if his previous attractions were anything to go by.  Insofar as he liked people, which wasn't much, he liked girls.  Alphas were mostly insufferable.  The idea of finding them sexy, if only under the influence of hormones--of slavering after their big alpha dicks--made Will want to claw his own face, or maybe the car's fancy leather interior.

Dr. Lecter kept his eyes on the road.  They were heading into the old part of town, the good part, all ponderous houses big enough to qualify as mansions in Will's mind, with broad porches and manicured yards and mature trees hung with moss.  

"Dr. Bloom tells me you're a recent arrival in town," Dr. Lecter said.  "How are you finding the school?"

"It's a school," said Will. 

"Are there many other omegas in your class?"

Will snorted.  "There's not even an AO students' union."  They were supposed to be five percent of the population, give or take, but he knew of only two omega seniors, both girls.  Families that could afford it didn't send their omega kids to shitty Louisiana public schools--coed schools, where they might get bullied or knocked up by randy teenage alphas.  He'd be the only male omega in his class.

Just when he'd thought maybe school would be endurable here, if he kept his head down and did his work.  A few more months, a few more credits and he'd be done, gone, off to basic training at Cape May.  Did the Coast Guard even let omegas serve on active duty?  He shut his eyes and pulled his arms close to his ribs.

At that moment a fresh spurt of wetness--slick, he thought, forcing himself to think it--oozed from his butthole, squishing up and down the crack of his ass.  Will stiffened.  He held himself rigid, praying it wouldn't soak through the pad, through his pants, stain the doctor's expensive leather seats.  

Even if it didn't, an alpha could probably smell it.  He should've asked to ride with Dr. Bloom, after all.  He turned his face miserably to the window's edge.  

"Will?"

"Sorry," rasped Will.

"There's no need for apology.  The changes in your body are--"

"If you say 'perfectly natural,'" said Will, voice cracking, "I will jump out of this moving car."

Dr. Lecter was silent for a moment.  "If you'd like to talk about what you're feeling, I'd be glad to lend an ear.  I'm no Dr. Bloom, but I've treated many young omegas.  Nothing you say will surprise me."

"What I'm feeling is that human biology is bullshit," said Will.

Dr. Lecter didn't smile.  "It may seem hard to believe at the moment, but in some cultures, presentation is an occasion to celebrate.  In Lithuania, omegas were considered blessed by Laima, goddess of birth and fate.  At first heat they were crowned with flower garlands and feasted, before and after."

"Lucky them," muttered Will.  He paused, considering the doctor's accent.  "Is that where you're from?"

"Originally, yes."  The car slowed.  "Here we are."

Will had expected an office building, but they'd pulled up to the curb in front of a stately double-gallery house, surrounded by other stately houses and a Catholic church.  A low fence of wrought iron lined the edge of the yard, too short to keep people out or dogs in.  Aside from that, it was a good yard: generous, green, shaded by a live oak that spread soft fingers of moss over the eaves. 

A sign along the sidewalk read, in neat gold lettering: H. Lecter, M.D.  Family Practice.

H. Lecter, M.D. rolled up the window and unbuckled his seatbelt.  As soon as the window sealed shut, the scent of him overtook Will again.  Will drew a shaky breath of it.  If he'd ever noticed how alphas smelled before, he'd found them off-putting, too musky, rank with masculine excess.   Dr. Lecter smelled intricate, with an edge of sweetness, like the trace of caramel in good bourbon. The kind you could get hammered on without regret.  When Will didn't budge in his seat, the doctor paused with one hand on the door.  

"Will you come in?" he asked.

Will turned his head.  He didn't want to move, and not just because he was afraid to see if he'd stained the seat.  Fucked up as it was, he didn't want to leave this small, dark, enclosed space that reeked of alpha.  Not for any place other than his own shitty bedroom in the shitty rental house.

The words welled up of their own volition, like slick.  "Could I maybe just...wait here, while you go in?"  He hated asking for things, and here he was, asking. His eyes met Dr. Lecter's.  He was pretty sure they reflected some portion of how pathetic he felt.  "Maybe I could get a ride home?"

Dr. Lecter's pupils dilated.  He hesitated for a second before he spoke.  "It would be best if someone remained near you, at least for the next several hours.  Adverse reactions to suppressants are uncommon, but not unheard of."  He looked conflicted, as if denying the request of a heat-stricken omega contradicted his principles.  "Is there someone who could stay with you at your home?"

Will looked away.  He could lie.  Invent a neighbor, a family friend, a local aunt.  Say they'd come over and keep an eye on him.  He shook his head.

"Not unless you want to.” He felt a dim disbelief at himself for saying it aloud.

"I'm more than flattered to be asked."  Dr. Lecter's voice grew gentle and low.  Will wanted to roll in it, and to yank back the part of him that wanted to roll by the scruff of its neck.  Yank it back and lock it up in a shed.  "I only wish it were appropriate.  Would you like to try again to reach your father?"

Reluctantly Will took out his phone.  The call rang, and rang, and went to voice mail, as it had when Dr. Bloom had tried before.  Will cut it off without leaving a message.  Dr. Lecter was watching, solemn-faced.

"He's not very good about checking his phone," said Will, hating that it sounded like an excuse.  "Forgets he turned the ringer off."

Dr. Lecter shifted toward him in the driver's seat, all earnest brown eyes and sandy brown hair that fringed over the side of his brow.  "I understand you'd prefer to be at home.  Let's at least see that there are no ill effects from the medication first.  If in a few hours all seems well, and there's still no word from your father, I'd be happy to drive you."

Will's shoulders sank.  It was hard to say no to an alpha, let alone one that sounded so goddamn rational and adult.  He nodded, silent.  He dragged his book bag onto his lap, then opened the door before Dr. Lecter could sweep around the car and do it for him.

As they walked up to the office, the doctor asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"If not now, you may be soon.  Do you like profiteroles?"

Will squinted sideways.  "Why?" 

"Because I made some to share with my staff.  I'm afraid there's an excess."

Will shouldered his slumping book bag with a huff.  "For my presentation feast?"  They stepped onto the porch.  Through the front window Will could see an airy waiting room, a reception desk, a young woman behind it.  He sidled closer to Dr. Lecter without thinking.  "Do I get a flower crown, too?"

Dr. Lecter's arm came around Will, gently shepherding, as he held open the door.  "It would be my pleasure."

*

Continued on AO3

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 35

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

AND THAT'S THE END, FOLKS! Let me say that this has been an adventure to write, and a privilege to share, and if any of you have been here since the beginning THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WAITING and I sincerely hope that the wait was worth it. I don't think I ever could have written this story without knowing you all were there.

To our tiny little fandom, I thank you so much for sharing this experience.

ALTERNATE ENDING WILL BE POSTED AS A SEPARATE STORY IN THIS SERIES. WILL JUST BE TITLED ALTERNATE. The first chapter of it will be a basic repost of the Butterflies conversation with some alterations at the end. I really hope you enjoy it, and I look forward to chatting in the comments!!!

          ‘Someone’s gotta turn off the fuckin’ sun.’ Harry had been dozing, half-asleep, for a while and did not particularly feel up to moving just yet. Eggsy’s demand was certainly not enough to spark action at the moment.

           ‘Well it certainly won’t be me.’ Harry kept his eyes closed, grateful that he was not turned toward the window, and smiled as Eggsy shifted slightly closer and hid his head in Harry’s back. 

           ‘Guess we’ve got to stay in, then. What horror.’ Eggsy’s voice was muffled in the fabric of Harry’s back, which brought the awareness that they were both still fully dressed. ‘How’d we get here, anyway?’

           ‘I’d assume Merlin, somehow; if my memory hasn’t failed me entirely he did meet us in the hanger. The rest of our arrival is fuzzy, though.’ Harry had given up on going back to sleep, content to soak in these moments of simple pleasures. The two of them with no obligations, able to take their time recovering from their too-enthusiastic celebratory distraction. He barely opened his eyes, ready for the overly-bright room, and was met with a card on the nightstand. He reached out a hand, pulling it closer, and opened his eyes fully.

           ‘Seems we’ve been left a message, Eggsy.’

           ‘Mmyeah?’

           ‘Merlin’s left us an experimental hangover cure, some paracetamol if that doesn’t work, and says that he will come for us when he’s good and ready to let us leave.’

           ‘You’re makin’ him sound like a villain, love.’ Harry smiled at the sleepy use of the endearment, all to easily imagining many mornings spent in much this manner, and passed it backward without shifting.

           ‘Read for yourself, then- you’d be surprised how often the man simply doesn’t give a toss about the way other people read his words. Alternatively, he truly is a villain and we’re all doomed. ‘ Harry listened to Eggsy read it under his breath before chuckling.

           ‘Dunno which is worse, but I ain’t gettin’ on his bad side either way.’ Harry hummed agreement, and reached again to the nightstand to grab the unlabelled packets from R&D.

           ‘Kingsman’s had a pill that assists the body in processing alcohol quicker, to allow agents to drink more heavily on missions, for many years. Unfortunately it must be taken before drinking, as any alcohol already present in the system makes it useless. My guess is that this has been in development for some time but the Lake didn’t want to lose the opportunity to test it with real circumstances and not fabricated ones.’ He opened the packets, passed one unmarked phial to Eggsy, ‘To your health,’ he raised it briefly above them before downing the contents in one go.

           It tasted foul, not unlike the grit that remains after having breathed in too much ash, but it left as soon as it had settled on his palate and left behind mint in its wake. Beside him Eggsy gagged briefly, having made the mistake of smelling it before consumption. It was a lesson he was not likely to need again, but Harry laughed all the same at his reaction. At the least he could safely say that the concoction was a success, as the pounding behind his eyes lessened and his stomach ceased its churning.

           ‘And now you know not to let yourself taste anything the Lake gives you to test. Flavour is the absolute last consideration when it comes to developing anything for the Table.’

           ‘You coulda warned me!’

           ‘Of all the things I missed while in my coma, forgive me if common sense was on my list of things I need not teach you.’

           ‘OI!’ Eggsy sat up partially, enough to throw himself bodily over Harry’s side, and there was truly no way to go back to sleep from an action like that.

           ‘This isn’t your most convincing argument to provide you with warnings, my dear.’ Harry left his eyes mostly closed, but slowly reached out a hand to jab into Eggsy’s ribs from his blind spot. Eggsy flailed in surprise and attempted to fight back, but Harry easily flipped them over and pinned him easily, one hand gripping both wrists as the other tickled him mercilessly. When Eggsy’s face was red and he was barely making any noise, Harry let up and let his weight pull him to one side and fell back to the mattress.

           The ways that Eggsy had managed to permeate his life were innumerable, but laughter was by far his favourite

           Eggsy tiredly slapped a hand in Harry’s general direction, but Harry caught it and instead laced their fingers together. What was the point of denying himself the simple pleasure of contact? Eggsy squeezed their joined hands, chest still heaving, and Harry found himself unable to curtail the grin stretching across his face.

           ‘You- bastard.’

           ‘I believe that you’ve been reliably informed that my parents were married at the time of my birth- but if believing otherwise is somehow comforting then who am I to stop you?’ Eggsy’s other hand came out to attempt a hit, but Harry caught that one as well, and turned to face Eggsy with both hands clasped between them. The younger man turned his head, seemingly unwilling to move his body even slightly from where it was, and smiled.

           Fuck the plan.

           ‘I love you.’ There was no hesitation, no pause, no slow blink or glance away as Eggsy spoke- but Harry couldn’t bring himself to reply. ‘I don’ mean I love the idea of you, or the shit Haz taught me, I mean you with the Zuko scar and an unnatural hatred of mornings. I mean the you who argues so well I forget we’re fighting. The you who brings toys for my sister but refuses to take credit for them and instead leaves anonymous notes as if my mum don’t recognise your handwriting by now. The you that managed to get my mum to open back up after everythin’ by trying to apologise for shit you couldn’t change if you tried. And, yeah, I ain’t gonna lie and say that Haz had nothin’ to do with the way it started goin’ from the superficial shit to the real kind of love- don’ think I’d have let myself think of you as human without him, to be honest.

           ‘And I know we’ve been avoiding talkin’ about this- and I don’t need some fancy label or piece of paper sayin’ we’re importan’ to one another. We know, an’ that’s enough; I just want you t’know without any doubts: I love you, and I ain’t going anywhere.’ Eggsy closed his eyes, smile still plastered to his face, and they simply shared air together for a moment before Harry could bring himself to speak.

           ‘Did you know,’ Harry stared at their hands, marvelling at how well they fit together, ‘that I stopped looking for love over a decade ago?’ It was conversational, and Eggsy hummed slightly in reply but made no move to pull away from Harry’s grip. ‘So, naturally, the universe decided to throw you into my life once I had settled firmly into bachelorhood. I had resigned myself to a life without true partnership- our world makes such things impractical and dangerous- had reconciled myself to being married to my work, as it were. I was content, yes- but I’d come to the conclusion that happiness simply wasn’t in the cards for me.

           ‘I’m glad to see that I was wrong. I’ve grown accustomed to your face, as it happens, and I’m greatly looking forward to seeing where our life takes us.’ Harry lifted both hands to his lips, kissing them softly before lowering them back to the bed.