Strawberry Banana #16, Rocky Road #12, Milk Chocolate #16
Author: winebabe
Title: D.R.U.G.S.
Story: The Gemini Occurrence
Rating: PG-13 (Content: drug abuse)
Flavor(s): Strawberry Banana #16: out of habit; Rocky Road #12: classroom/dojo; Milk Chocolate #16: panic
Word Count: 1194
Summary: 2025; You can't warn about the side effects of something that has never been tested before.
Notes: Devyn Lively, Macklin McDaniel. (Been trying to finish this all day. Forgive any typos and general incoherence.)
Devyn expected pain--after all, they were cutting into his skull, inserting things that under normal circumstances had no business being there. He expected some kind of ill effect afterwards. They briefed him on the possible physical effects from the procedure itself, but everything else was unknown. He made that choice. He knew, no matter what, he'd have to live with it.
Devyn didn't expect the psychological torture that came with trying to link together two souls.
Even before the widow appeared in his dreams, he could feel her. There was a strange sensation when he was alone in his apartment, like there was another presence there with him. A ghost, something intangible. Glasses didn't tumble from cabinets, writing didn't appear on the walls; it was nothing like a horror film, but it terrified him all the same. He was never truly alone, and somehow, he was more alone than ever.
Mack didn't understand. He couldn't understand. Devyn knew he wouldn't have understood if he wasn't the one experiencing it himself. Everything was surreal, like he was watching the world through smudged glasses.
Every day was like walking through an atmosphere thick with fog.
Devyn mindlessly touches the scar, just behind his left ear, with two fingers while he lectures. He thinks he can still feel it, even through his thick hair, and it grounds him a little, though not entirely in a good way. It's a reminder that he's there, he's alive, when all he wants is to find he's woken from some insane nightmare.
Normally he's grateful for article review days, because it means less work for him. He just has to listen and make sure the students have actually done their part. He's not perfect--sometimes he plays games on his phone, or reads his own articles while his students talk about theirs. But that day, he lingers in front of the projector for as long as he possibly can, unwilling to drag himself back over to his desk and sit down.
Devyn doesn't like the quiet moments anymore. He's never been a quiet, still person; his mind moves in multiple directions at once, and it's taken him years to get to a point where he can not only work around that, but with it. Since the procedure, though, it feels like other thoughts are invading his brain--foreign ones. He's had intrusive thoughts before, and it's not the same. It's more like when two radio channels overlap, what cuts in is distinctly foreign, and you can't mistake it for part of the first station. Devyn knows the thoughts aren't his own.
He feels like he's going insane.
"Dr. Lively?" Caitlyn, his prized student, raises her hand.
Devyn realizes he's been standing in front of the projector, staring off at the far wall.
"Did you want us to start our article reviews?" Caitlyn asks.
"Right," Devyn says and points a finger at her. "Right, article reviews. Let's do that." He does move over to his desk, finally, and kicks his feet up on top of it. "Alright, are we ready? Who wants to go first?"
Caitlyn volunteers, to no one's surprise, and Devyn pretends to be completely relaxed as he listens to her explain how 'chemo brain' develops in cancer patients. She's a smart girl, and always manages to pick interesting topics, but though they can usually go back and forth for a majority of the class period, Devyn can't focus on what she's saying. There's a pressure inside his skull, less than a headache but more than congestion, and he doesn't want to make a show of massaging it away in front of his students.
"So, basically, they think there's a link between the effect the drug has on dopamine and serotonin," Caitlyn is saying, but she might as well be speaking French.
The pressure builds, slowly. Devyn just nods along, pretending he's listening, and resolves to give everyone an A for the effort. He touches his scar and thinks he can feel his heartbeat through his skin.
He doesn't assign homework. He doesn't collect the article review write-ups. There had been stuff planned, but instead he sends his class away with nothing more than the order to have a nice weekend, and once the door closes behind the final student, Devyn drops his head down against the desk.
The hallways outside are loud, but the quiet inside the empty classroom is worse. He just wants to get back to his office, where hopefully Macklin will be waiting for him, where all his things are. He has a pill bottle stashed in his bag specifically for times like this, and the small, white tablets call to him as he gathers up his materials and leaves the classroom.
Macklin isn't in their shared office when Devyn bursts through the door, and he tosses his pile of papers onto the already-messy desk before going in for the pills. There's still some old coffee from that morning in the mug on his desk, so he uses that to wash down four pills, and then sits down at his desk to wait.
"Dude," Mack says when he walks through the door. Devyn's curled up in his chair, his shoulder pressed against the wall, watching Mack from under drooping eyelids. "Are you high?"
"Just want some peace," he mutters and reaches up to push his glasses further up his nose. "My brain's all..." Devyn trails off with a hand movement.
"Like, normal?" Mack copies the hand gesture. "Or 'weird brain implant'?" He repeats it one more time, for emphasis.
Devyn pulls his glasses from his face, and his head lowers a little, like his neck can't hold the weight. "Not normal, dude. It's like--it's like picking up different frequencies in my head."
"Yeah, that's not normal." Mack picks up the pill bottle and looks at the label, before deciding Devyn's not in any immediate danger and sets the bottle back down on the desk. "You gonna be okay? Do you want me to take you home?"
"My car's here, Mack," Devyn protests, massaging his forehead between his thumb and middle finger. "And I have another class in two hours."
Mack flicks Devyn's cheek before dropping into his own chair. "When's your next lab rat appointment?"
"Tomorrow. Don't wanna go. Last time was blood tests, for potential blood toxicity."
"Yeah? And are you healthy?"
"As far as I know." Devyn sighs heavily and shifts so he's sitting up. "Part of me thinks they'd keep the experiment going even if I was dying."
"That's messed up," Mack says, tapping a pen against the top of his laptop. "You know I can't lecture you, but you probably shouldn't be getting high at work."
The haze is enough to keep him calm, even if it can't keep the glitches in his brain at bay, so Devyn just shrugs. "Yeah," he says and slips his glasses back on.
"They'll fire you," Mack reminds him. "I'm not saying don't do it. Just, maybe don't do it here."
"Yeah," Devyn says, nodding.
"Dude," Mack says, "take a nap. Watching you is making me tired."
Devyn nods again and then pillows his head in his arms.
Title: D.R.U.G.S.
Story: The Gemini Occurrence
Rating: PG-13 (Content: drug abuse)
Flavor(s): Strawberry Banana #16: out of habit; Rocky Road #12: classroom/dojo; Milk Chocolate #16: panic
Word Count: 1194
Summary: 2025; You can't warn about the side effects of something that has never been tested before.
Notes: Devyn Lively, Macklin McDaniel. (Been trying to finish this all day. Forgive any typos and general incoherence.)
Devyn expected pain--after all, they were cutting into his skull, inserting things that under normal circumstances had no business being there. He expected some kind of ill effect afterwards. They briefed him on the possible physical effects from the procedure itself, but everything else was unknown. He made that choice. He knew, no matter what, he'd have to live with it.
Devyn didn't expect the psychological torture that came with trying to link together two souls.
Even before the widow appeared in his dreams, he could feel her. There was a strange sensation when he was alone in his apartment, like there was another presence there with him. A ghost, something intangible. Glasses didn't tumble from cabinets, writing didn't appear on the walls; it was nothing like a horror film, but it terrified him all the same. He was never truly alone, and somehow, he was more alone than ever.
Mack didn't understand. He couldn't understand. Devyn knew he wouldn't have understood if he wasn't the one experiencing it himself. Everything was surreal, like he was watching the world through smudged glasses.
Every day was like walking through an atmosphere thick with fog.
Devyn mindlessly touches the scar, just behind his left ear, with two fingers while he lectures. He thinks he can still feel it, even through his thick hair, and it grounds him a little, though not entirely in a good way. It's a reminder that he's there, he's alive, when all he wants is to find he's woken from some insane nightmare.
Normally he's grateful for article review days, because it means less work for him. He just has to listen and make sure the students have actually done their part. He's not perfect--sometimes he plays games on his phone, or reads his own articles while his students talk about theirs. But that day, he lingers in front of the projector for as long as he possibly can, unwilling to drag himself back over to his desk and sit down.
Devyn doesn't like the quiet moments anymore. He's never been a quiet, still person; his mind moves in multiple directions at once, and it's taken him years to get to a point where he can not only work around that, but with it. Since the procedure, though, it feels like other thoughts are invading his brain--foreign ones. He's had intrusive thoughts before, and it's not the same. It's more like when two radio channels overlap, what cuts in is distinctly foreign, and you can't mistake it for part of the first station. Devyn knows the thoughts aren't his own.
He feels like he's going insane.
"Dr. Lively?" Caitlyn, his prized student, raises her hand.
Devyn realizes he's been standing in front of the projector, staring off at the far wall.
"Did you want us to start our article reviews?" Caitlyn asks.
"Right," Devyn says and points a finger at her. "Right, article reviews. Let's do that." He does move over to his desk, finally, and kicks his feet up on top of it. "Alright, are we ready? Who wants to go first?"
Caitlyn volunteers, to no one's surprise, and Devyn pretends to be completely relaxed as he listens to her explain how 'chemo brain' develops in cancer patients. She's a smart girl, and always manages to pick interesting topics, but though they can usually go back and forth for a majority of the class period, Devyn can't focus on what she's saying. There's a pressure inside his skull, less than a headache but more than congestion, and he doesn't want to make a show of massaging it away in front of his students.
"So, basically, they think there's a link between the effect the drug has on dopamine and serotonin," Caitlyn is saying, but she might as well be speaking French.
The pressure builds, slowly. Devyn just nods along, pretending he's listening, and resolves to give everyone an A for the effort. He touches his scar and thinks he can feel his heartbeat through his skin.
He doesn't assign homework. He doesn't collect the article review write-ups. There had been stuff planned, but instead he sends his class away with nothing more than the order to have a nice weekend, and once the door closes behind the final student, Devyn drops his head down against the desk.
The hallways outside are loud, but the quiet inside the empty classroom is worse. He just wants to get back to his office, where hopefully Macklin will be waiting for him, where all his things are. He has a pill bottle stashed in his bag specifically for times like this, and the small, white tablets call to him as he gathers up his materials and leaves the classroom.
Macklin isn't in their shared office when Devyn bursts through the door, and he tosses his pile of papers onto the already-messy desk before going in for the pills. There's still some old coffee from that morning in the mug on his desk, so he uses that to wash down four pills, and then sits down at his desk to wait.
"Dude," Mack says when he walks through the door. Devyn's curled up in his chair, his shoulder pressed against the wall, watching Mack from under drooping eyelids. "Are you high?"
"Just want some peace," he mutters and reaches up to push his glasses further up his nose. "My brain's all..." Devyn trails off with a hand movement.
"Like, normal?" Mack copies the hand gesture. "Or 'weird brain implant'?" He repeats it one more time, for emphasis.
Devyn pulls his glasses from his face, and his head lowers a little, like his neck can't hold the weight. "Not normal, dude. It's like--it's like picking up different frequencies in my head."
"Yeah, that's not normal." Mack picks up the pill bottle and looks at the label, before deciding Devyn's not in any immediate danger and sets the bottle back down on the desk. "You gonna be okay? Do you want me to take you home?"
"My car's here, Mack," Devyn protests, massaging his forehead between his thumb and middle finger. "And I have another class in two hours."
Mack flicks Devyn's cheek before dropping into his own chair. "When's your next lab rat appointment?"
"Tomorrow. Don't wanna go. Last time was blood tests, for potential blood toxicity."
"Yeah? And are you healthy?"
"As far as I know." Devyn sighs heavily and shifts so he's sitting up. "Part of me thinks they'd keep the experiment going even if I was dying."
"That's messed up," Mack says, tapping a pen against the top of his laptop. "You know I can't lecture you, but you probably shouldn't be getting high at work."
The haze is enough to keep him calm, even if it can't keep the glitches in his brain at bay, so Devyn just shrugs. "Yeah," he says and slips his glasses back on.
"They'll fire you," Mack reminds him. "I'm not saying don't do it. Just, maybe don't do it here."
"Yeah," Devyn says, nodding.
"Dude," Mack says, "take a nap. Watching you is making me tired."
Devyn nods again and then pillows his head in his arms.