Crossover - Cliffton/Meeting of Breccan & Finbar: Not So Divine: Chapter 2
This is a crossover fanfiction of my The Meeting of Breccan & Finbar and n3m3sis43's Cliffton universes.
Chapter 1
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Fuck, where am I? I think. Last thing I remember was getting blasted backwards after fucking Egan. But that can't have fucking happened. Can it? I feel weird. Squeeze my eyes tight. Don't want to open them for some reason. Skin's fucking crawling. Like someone's watching me. Nobody better be fucking watching me.
Think I hear voices, too. Last thing I fucking need.
“D-devin?”
A squeaky, worried voice. No fucking way.
“Go away,” I mutter.
That better not be Wes. Don't want him to fucking see me like this. This can't be fucking real, anyway. Can't be. No fucking way.
“What happened to you?”
Fuck, that is Wes. Fucking no. I squeeze my eyes. When I open them, this better go the fuck away.
I open my eyes. And I can't fucking breathe. The whole fucking house is watching me. Kalen, Calla, Brendan and Wes is there, too. Must have hit my head. Maybe they're imaginary. Crazy fake god is there, too. Right fucking next to me. No air. Can't get enough air. Wonder if there's a gas leak from my lab. Gas causes hallucinations, right?
Squeeze my eyes shut again. Open them. Everyone's still fucking there. Even Wes. I can't fucking believe it.
“No,” I moan.
This - this can't be fucking happening. But it is. I ball my hands into fists. Want to feel the pain. Ground myself. For some reason, it's not fucking working. Squeeze my hands harder. Still not fucking working. Can't feel any pain. The fuck? Try to make myself breathe, but breathing's weird too. No air but it's something else, too. Don't fucking understand it. Not making any fucking sense.
Almost like I don't fucking need to breathe. Am I dead? No, don't think that. Can't think about that. No death. Nobody's fucking dead.
“He's not breathing!” Wes again. His voice is strained, high. Fucking panicked. Hurts to hear.
“Of course I'm fucking breathing,” I grumble.
“You're alive!” he shouts.
Of course I'm fucking alive. Don't bother saying so, though. Just try to sit up. Feel so fucking weird. Lightheaded, but not. I look down. Hits me then. I'm fucking naked. In front of everyone. Fucking everyone.
My face burns. Don't mean to but I make eye contact with Wes. His eyes are huge. Want to fucking disappear. I'm a private fucking person. This can't be happening.
“Your eyes!” he says.
Calla looks at me funny, like she might laser me. “New color contacts, Princess?”
Too busy wanting to vanish to think about why everyone's acting so fucking weird. Want to die. Just want to fucking die. Don't look at anybody as I stand up. Fucking shaky. Can barely stand. Don't feel like things are real. But everyone's right fucking there. Make eye contact with Wes again. His eyes are fucking shiny. Fuck, I don't want him to see me like this.
Need a fucking shower. Got to get away from everyone. Ground myself. Need fucking stability. I walk as fast as I can to the shower. Ignore everyone. Lock myself inside the bathroom. I turn on the water, as fucking hot as I can make it. Want to burn this shit away. Try to ignore how my whole body feels wrong. Just need a shower and things will be fucking okay.
I step into the burning shower. Should feel it burn me any fucking second now. Need to get rid of everyone's stares. Get rid of fucking everything. Even the water feels wrong, though. Can feel the heat, but it doesn't fucking hurt. The fuck? How is that even fucking possible?
Take a deep breath. Can't fucking breathe, either. The air doesn't go into my lungs right. Can't feel the fucking air. But I'm standing up. The fuck? Am I dead? No, I can't be fucking dead. Not a fucking ghost. I can touch the faucet. Feel the water. It just doesn't fucking hurt. Makes no fucking sense. What the fucking hell is going on? Chest feels too tight. I wash myself. Hope that helps make everything normal again. I rinse myself. Turn the water off. Still don't fucking feel right as I step out of the shower.
Wrap the towel around myself. I don't wanna leave the bathroom. Don't want people seeing me in a fucking towel, never mind they saw me naked. Won't fucking think about that. I grab the edges of the sink to steady myself. Got to breathe. Still can't fucking breathe. Put my finger to my neck to check my pulse. If I have a pulse, I can't be dead, right? No pulse. I don't have a fucking pulse. The fuck?
I wipe away the steam covering the mirror over the sink. Got to make sure my hair is okay after I toweled it off. Not going out with messy fucking hair. Try to breathe again. Still not right. Look in the cleared mirror.
The fuck?
What the fuck is with my eyes? They're fucking purple. My eyes aren't supposed to be fucking purple. I blink. Blink again. And again. Hope that's just a trick of the light. Got to be a trick of the light in the bathroom, right? Maybe all the fucking steam from the hot water is making my brain wonky. Yeah, that's it.
But wait...
Wes fucking said something about my eyes before. Fuck, he did. Calla, too. She made some joke about fucking color contacts, so she noticed my eyes. Still gotta be a trick of the light, though. We need to fix the fucking lights in this house.
I try to fucking breathe again. Still can't. My chest feels so fucking tight. I look in the mirror again. My face is all wrong. Too - too shiny. Like I'm fucking glowing almost. I don't fucking glow. The mirror must be broken, along with the lights. Gotta be it.
Keep it together. Must keep it together. There's no real reason I wouldn't be able to fucking keep it together, right? I hear a knock on the door. Don't jump a foot in the air. Not at all. That knock will stop soon, right? It doesn't fucking stop.
“Go away,” I shout.
“Devin? We need to talk.” Wes again. Sounds real worried, too. Don't want to fucking talk.
“Don't want to talk,” I yell.
He says, “It's important. I'm not going away until you come out of there. I'll stay here all night.”
Wes sounds so fucking serious, too. Still don't want to fucking talk to him. Can't avoid it, though. He will stay there all fucking night. I adjust my towel so it covers as much of me as possible. Nowhere near enough coverage. I open the door. Don't want to fucking do this.
I meet Wes' eyes. They're fucking huge. He stares at me like he can't believe I'm fucking real. What is with this house today?
“Wow,” he breathes.
“Wow, what?” I say. Nothing to “wow” about here. Don't like the way he's looking at me. Almost fucking reverent. Makes me uneasy.
“You're beautiful now. I mean you were always beautiful, but now you're extra beautiful. And your eyes!” he gushes.
Speaking of eyes, I narrow my own. What's with Wes and my eyes? They're just normal eyes. It's only a trick of the light that makes them look fucking purple. I mumble, “It's just the light, Wes. Nothing fancy going on here.”
He shakes his head. “Oh no, Devin, it's not just the light.”
It's just the fucking light.
Wes continues, “Everyone's downstairs. Kalen called an official meeting because of what's happened.”
No way am I going downstairs in just a fucking towel. I say as much to Wes. “Need to put on some fucking clothes, first.”
Wait, why did Kalen call an official fucking meeting? The fuck is even going on around here? Do not wanna deal with whatever is it. Maybe Kalen decided to do something about the shitty lighting.
I get dressed. Wes even waits outside my room. Don't know why he's being so insistent I attend this fucking meeting. Something doesn't feel right. I must need more SynthBrew.
As we walk to the meeting room, Wes keeps staring at me like I'm a fucking unicorn or something. He's not even talking. Wes is always talking. Creeps me out how silent he is. Maybe this meeting will clear up the weirdness. Or maybe that SynthBrew I need will do the trick.
We make it to the meeting room. Now it's not just Wes who's staring at me. They're all fucking staring at me. Don't fucking like that.
I take a seat. Egan narrows his eyes at me. He's acting like he's fucking angry at me. Why the fuck is he even still here?
I say, “Don't you have to get back to your 'divine dimension' or whatever?”
He narrows his eyes further. “Unfortunately, I can't return there.”
“That's because it doesn't fucking exist,” I mutter.
I glare at him when I notice his eyes. They're fucking blue now. The lighting in this room, like everywhere else, is sure fucked.
His stupid eyes flash. “Oh, I assure you, my home dimension exists. Due to you, though, it won't exactly be possible for me to get back there. I lost my powers.”
I retort, “Being fucking delusional isn't a power.” I turn to the rest of them. “Would someone like to explain why this freak is even still here?”
Nobody wants to fucking speak up. They keep looking at me. Fucking creepy. I wait for someone to explain. I get the feeling this meeting isn't about the lighting. But it's gotta be about the lighting, right? What else could it fucking be?
Egan says, “I'm still here because you stole my powers. During the climax of our...activities, there was some kind of accident, and, somehow, my divinity got transferred to you.”
The fuck? Divinity? This guy really thinks he's a fucking god. What I don't get is why everyone else is putting up with his bullshit.
“Bullshit,” I hiss.
I glare at everyone. “Why the fuck are you all putting up with this?”
Calla speaks up. “It's not bullshit, Princess.”
“Don't fucking call me Princess,” I mutter.
She looks like she might laser me. “Cut the crap and stop being stupid. How dense do you have to be to not notice something's different about you? Did you not notice your eyes?”
“It's the lighting,” I mumble.
She snorts. “The lighting? Seriously, that's your excuse? Egan here is telling the truth about what happened. It's not the lighting. Though it greatly pains me to admit it, you are a god.”
The fuck? She can't be fucking serious. That is ridiculous. Fucking impossible. Gods don't fucking exist.
“That's - that's impossible,” I sputter.
“I can prove it, if you want,” Egan offers. His eyes flash, like he would enjoy “proving” this bullshit.
I would like to see that. No way to fucking prove I'm a god, because I'm not one. Nobody fucking is. Such bullshit.
“Go ahead and prove it,” I say. “Don't think you fucking can.”
“Oh, I can. Oh, I can.” Egan smirks. I want to wipe the expression off his smug fucking face.
That's when I noticed he's holding a fucking nanoblaster. He points it at my chest. The fuck?
“The fuck are you doing?” I shout.
He's still fucking smirking. “This is how I'm going to prove you're a god.”
“By fucking killing me? Put that down right now.”
“When I'm done,” he says.
He fucking shoots me. Blue. On the kill setting.
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written for 500themes prompt #80 - "Beneath the Smiles"
Chapter 1
---------
Fuck, where am I? I think. Last thing I remember was getting blasted backwards after fucking Egan. But that can't have fucking happened. Can it? I feel weird. Squeeze my eyes tight. Don't want to open them for some reason. Skin's fucking crawling. Like someone's watching me. Nobody better be fucking watching me.
Think I hear voices, too. Last thing I fucking need.
“D-devin?”
A squeaky, worried voice. No fucking way.
“Go away,” I mutter.
That better not be Wes. Don't want him to fucking see me like this. This can't be fucking real, anyway. Can't be. No fucking way.
“What happened to you?”
Fuck, that is Wes. Fucking no. I squeeze my eyes. When I open them, this better go the fuck away.
I open my eyes. And I can't fucking breathe. The whole fucking house is watching me. Kalen, Calla, Brendan and Wes is there, too. Must have hit my head. Maybe they're imaginary. Crazy fake god is there, too. Right fucking next to me. No air. Can't get enough air. Wonder if there's a gas leak from my lab. Gas causes hallucinations, right?
Squeeze my eyes shut again. Open them. Everyone's still fucking there. Even Wes. I can't fucking believe it.
“No,” I moan.
This - this can't be fucking happening. But it is. I ball my hands into fists. Want to feel the pain. Ground myself. For some reason, it's not fucking working. Squeeze my hands harder. Still not fucking working. Can't feel any pain. The fuck? Try to make myself breathe, but breathing's weird too. No air but it's something else, too. Don't fucking understand it. Not making any fucking sense.
Almost like I don't fucking need to breathe. Am I dead? No, don't think that. Can't think about that. No death. Nobody's fucking dead.
“He's not breathing!” Wes again. His voice is strained, high. Fucking panicked. Hurts to hear.
“Of course I'm fucking breathing,” I grumble.
“You're alive!” he shouts.
Of course I'm fucking alive. Don't bother saying so, though. Just try to sit up. Feel so fucking weird. Lightheaded, but not. I look down. Hits me then. I'm fucking naked. In front of everyone. Fucking everyone.
My face burns. Don't mean to but I make eye contact with Wes. His eyes are huge. Want to fucking disappear. I'm a private fucking person. This can't be happening.
“Your eyes!” he says.
Calla looks at me funny, like she might laser me. “New color contacts, Princess?”
Too busy wanting to vanish to think about why everyone's acting so fucking weird. Want to die. Just want to fucking die. Don't look at anybody as I stand up. Fucking shaky. Can barely stand. Don't feel like things are real. But everyone's right fucking there. Make eye contact with Wes again. His eyes are fucking shiny. Fuck, I don't want him to see me like this.
Need a fucking shower. Got to get away from everyone. Ground myself. Need fucking stability. I walk as fast as I can to the shower. Ignore everyone. Lock myself inside the bathroom. I turn on the water, as fucking hot as I can make it. Want to burn this shit away. Try to ignore how my whole body feels wrong. Just need a shower and things will be fucking okay.
I step into the burning shower. Should feel it burn me any fucking second now. Need to get rid of everyone's stares. Get rid of fucking everything. Even the water feels wrong, though. Can feel the heat, but it doesn't fucking hurt. The fuck? How is that even fucking possible?
Take a deep breath. Can't fucking breathe, either. The air doesn't go into my lungs right. Can't feel the fucking air. But I'm standing up. The fuck? Am I dead? No, I can't be fucking dead. Not a fucking ghost. I can touch the faucet. Feel the water. It just doesn't fucking hurt. Makes no fucking sense. What the fucking hell is going on? Chest feels too tight. I wash myself. Hope that helps make everything normal again. I rinse myself. Turn the water off. Still don't fucking feel right as I step out of the shower.
Wrap the towel around myself. I don't wanna leave the bathroom. Don't want people seeing me in a fucking towel, never mind they saw me naked. Won't fucking think about that. I grab the edges of the sink to steady myself. Got to breathe. Still can't fucking breathe. Put my finger to my neck to check my pulse. If I have a pulse, I can't be dead, right? No pulse. I don't have a fucking pulse. The fuck?
I wipe away the steam covering the mirror over the sink. Got to make sure my hair is okay after I toweled it off. Not going out with messy fucking hair. Try to breathe again. Still not right. Look in the cleared mirror.
The fuck?
What the fuck is with my eyes? They're fucking purple. My eyes aren't supposed to be fucking purple. I blink. Blink again. And again. Hope that's just a trick of the light. Got to be a trick of the light in the bathroom, right? Maybe all the fucking steam from the hot water is making my brain wonky. Yeah, that's it.
But wait...
Wes fucking said something about my eyes before. Fuck, he did. Calla, too. She made some joke about fucking color contacts, so she noticed my eyes. Still gotta be a trick of the light, though. We need to fix the fucking lights in this house.
I try to fucking breathe again. Still can't. My chest feels so fucking tight. I look in the mirror again. My face is all wrong. Too - too shiny. Like I'm fucking glowing almost. I don't fucking glow. The mirror must be broken, along with the lights. Gotta be it.
Keep it together. Must keep it together. There's no real reason I wouldn't be able to fucking keep it together, right? I hear a knock on the door. Don't jump a foot in the air. Not at all. That knock will stop soon, right? It doesn't fucking stop.
“Go away,” I shout.
“Devin? We need to talk.” Wes again. Sounds real worried, too. Don't want to fucking talk.
“Don't want to talk,” I yell.
He says, “It's important. I'm not going away until you come out of there. I'll stay here all night.”
Wes sounds so fucking serious, too. Still don't want to fucking talk to him. Can't avoid it, though. He will stay there all fucking night. I adjust my towel so it covers as much of me as possible. Nowhere near enough coverage. I open the door. Don't want to fucking do this.
I meet Wes' eyes. They're fucking huge. He stares at me like he can't believe I'm fucking real. What is with this house today?
“Wow,” he breathes.
“Wow, what?” I say. Nothing to “wow” about here. Don't like the way he's looking at me. Almost fucking reverent. Makes me uneasy.
“You're beautiful now. I mean you were always beautiful, but now you're extra beautiful. And your eyes!” he gushes.
Speaking of eyes, I narrow my own. What's with Wes and my eyes? They're just normal eyes. It's only a trick of the light that makes them look fucking purple. I mumble, “It's just the light, Wes. Nothing fancy going on here.”
He shakes his head. “Oh no, Devin, it's not just the light.”
It's just the fucking light.
Wes continues, “Everyone's downstairs. Kalen called an official meeting because of what's happened.”
No way am I going downstairs in just a fucking towel. I say as much to Wes. “Need to put on some fucking clothes, first.”
Wait, why did Kalen call an official fucking meeting? The fuck is even going on around here? Do not wanna deal with whatever is it. Maybe Kalen decided to do something about the shitty lighting.
I get dressed. Wes even waits outside my room. Don't know why he's being so insistent I attend this fucking meeting. Something doesn't feel right. I must need more SynthBrew.
As we walk to the meeting room, Wes keeps staring at me like I'm a fucking unicorn or something. He's not even talking. Wes is always talking. Creeps me out how silent he is. Maybe this meeting will clear up the weirdness. Or maybe that SynthBrew I need will do the trick.
We make it to the meeting room. Now it's not just Wes who's staring at me. They're all fucking staring at me. Don't fucking like that.
I take a seat. Egan narrows his eyes at me. He's acting like he's fucking angry at me. Why the fuck is he even still here?
I say, “Don't you have to get back to your 'divine dimension' or whatever?”
He narrows his eyes further. “Unfortunately, I can't return there.”
“That's because it doesn't fucking exist,” I mutter.
I glare at him when I notice his eyes. They're fucking blue now. The lighting in this room, like everywhere else, is sure fucked.
His stupid eyes flash. “Oh, I assure you, my home dimension exists. Due to you, though, it won't exactly be possible for me to get back there. I lost my powers.”
I retort, “Being fucking delusional isn't a power.” I turn to the rest of them. “Would someone like to explain why this freak is even still here?”
Nobody wants to fucking speak up. They keep looking at me. Fucking creepy. I wait for someone to explain. I get the feeling this meeting isn't about the lighting. But it's gotta be about the lighting, right? What else could it fucking be?
Egan says, “I'm still here because you stole my powers. During the climax of our...activities, there was some kind of accident, and, somehow, my divinity got transferred to you.”
The fuck? Divinity? This guy really thinks he's a fucking god. What I don't get is why everyone else is putting up with his bullshit.
“Bullshit,” I hiss.
I glare at everyone. “Why the fuck are you all putting up with this?”
Calla speaks up. “It's not bullshit, Princess.”
“Don't fucking call me Princess,” I mutter.
She looks like she might laser me. “Cut the crap and stop being stupid. How dense do you have to be to not notice something's different about you? Did you not notice your eyes?”
“It's the lighting,” I mumble.
She snorts. “The lighting? Seriously, that's your excuse? Egan here is telling the truth about what happened. It's not the lighting. Though it greatly pains me to admit it, you are a god.”
The fuck? She can't be fucking serious. That is ridiculous. Fucking impossible. Gods don't fucking exist.
“That's - that's impossible,” I sputter.
“I can prove it, if you want,” Egan offers. His eyes flash, like he would enjoy “proving” this bullshit.
I would like to see that. No way to fucking prove I'm a god, because I'm not one. Nobody fucking is. Such bullshit.
“Go ahead and prove it,” I say. “Don't think you fucking can.”
“Oh, I can. Oh, I can.” Egan smirks. I want to wipe the expression off his smug fucking face.
That's when I noticed he's holding a fucking nanoblaster. He points it at my chest. The fuck?
“The fuck are you doing?” I shout.
He's still fucking smirking. “This is how I'm going to prove you're a god.”
“By fucking killing me? Put that down right now.”
“When I'm done,” he says.
He fucking shoots me. Blue. On the kill setting.
---------
written for 500themes prompt #80 - "Beneath the Smiles"