The demon Amaris haunts Thomas’ dreams more often that he will ever admit, because he is too proud and he doesn't want his loved ones to know the power she has over him. It is a struggle every day just to get the things she did to him out of his mind and at night he has no defences. He has no husband to smile at him, his expression reassuring. ( Read more... )

It happened less often now that Spectre and Samson were working through their differences. Now that Spectre didn't fear being found by Samson and carried back to Glasgow to be punished for his way of life, didn't fear waking up in that same room, in that same bed...he didn't have regular nightmares of that very occurrence taking place. The odd ( Read more... )

Smoke coated the inside of Peter's nostrils, making breathing quite a difficult matter indeed. Smoke and ash surrounded him, obscuring his view of everything that was not within six feet of him in every direction. Ash rained down on him from above, and it coated everything that did come within his view with eerie greyness. His eyes were red and ( Read more... )

Thomas tried to stay awake there, beside his sister, Abby, but her presence was so soothing and that and his blissfully full stomach pulled heavily at his eyelids. His mind swam through layers of fog, though it was a relaxing and peaceful feeling and he let himself drift there, feeling safe and warm here. He was all too aware that danger lay just ( Read more... )

Amaris was going to kill him. Thomas knew that now. She would be the death of him. His escape back to his family had been a dream. He had never left that dank hole in the middle of nowhere. Morgana and Jeremy hadn't found him. He was still there. That was why he hadn't gained weight even through the best efforts Peter's hospital, Deirdre and ( Read more... )

Thomas Littleton was hanging, suspended from a ceiling by his wrists. He was chained so that he could touch the floor only by standing on his tip-toes. He was barechested and his skin was covered in lacerations, and he was trembling and muttering gibberish. It sounded like begging...

( Visions of the Future )

Peter was sitting behind a desk, with veritable mountains of paperwork in front of him. He was working his way through, as diligently as always. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do here ( Read more... )

Thomas' birthday had been wonderful. Almost his entire family had come to be with him, and his best friend had been well enough to share it with him. Mara was back. Jordan was going to be fine. And Mary was here. Thomas had spent the previous year at a Spectre concert in Wolverhampton and they had had sucha wonderful time together afterwards, ( Read more... )

Flynn was leaning with his back up against the wall of the house, lounging about on the roof. He was smoking, inhaling deeply to try to get himself to relax. It was easier out here, below the sky he'd become so familiar with when he didn't have a roof to sit on or to shelter him from the whims of Mother Nature. That was something he had never ( Read more... )

For days, Peter had dreamt of nothing but...well...nothing. All of his visions had come to him during skull-shattering seizures which was probably one of his least favourite things ever. But it seemed that fate, or what have you, was finally willing to give Peter, or more succinctly, the object of his dreams, a break.

( Things made Clear )