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FAQ
Does it matter if we have spoken or interacted before? Not at all. Please tag me if an oscar isaac character is involved.
Does it matter what the genre is? Nope. (If, on the off chance, there's something that I am not comfortable reading, I will not read/stop reading and not bother you.)
Does it matter if it's x reader/ocs? Not at all, give me x reader, ocs, character study, only characters from the media, etc. it's all good to me.
It's in 1st/2nd/3rd person, is that okay? I'm super happy with all tenses.
Does it have to be romantic/platonic? No, I am happy with fanfic in all forms <3
The fic is old, is it okay to tag/recommend? YES PLEASE. Time means nothing to me.
I would like to recommend someone else's fic; is that okay? That is more than okay! <3
Pairing: Multiple Oscar Isaac characters (Nathan Bateman, Miguel O'Hara, Anselm Vogelweide, Shimmer! Kane, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Santiago Garcia, Richard Muñoz) x GN reader
Word count: 3.4K
Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain (no specific diagnosis/illness is mentioned), some medical talk, there's a mobility aid mention in a couple of HCs. Lots of comfort fluff!!!
A/N: bc of timezone differences, let me say it all! Merry Christmas! Chag Sameach! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy holidays if you observe any of them and whether you do or not I hope you're well and having a restful day! As it's the 'giving season' I'd encourage you to support some of these vetted Palestinian fundraisers!
Also, I love @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction's HC about Jake knitting as a hobby so that inspired part of his HC/ficlet! I hope you all enjoy this Sickcember fic! I'd love your thoughts, comments and reblogs are appreciated, look after yourselves! 🫶
Nathan Bateman
No cost is too big to Nathan when it comes to you, especially to improving your quality of life and comfort. If you believe in love languages, Nathan’s love language is spending his unlimited resources and inventive energies on you to make your life easier but also to just make you happier.
Before you’ve even moved into the compound, Nathan has your feedback about the structure, rooms, renovations and also that of several project managers and accessibility advisors- it’s one of the few things he doesn’t even consult any of his AI creations on. By the time you’ve moved in every possible thing that you could think of has been fixed to make the compound a more accessible environment for you in terms of symptoms, pain, mobility etc.
The home theatre seats are renovated to be less stiff, more adjustable and with better support for your body when you want to curl up in a dark room and watch something. If you’re able to use a hydrotherapy pool, Nathan has one built for you and will even have physiotherapists fly out twice a week to do sessions in there with you.
Nathan has all the specialists at the top of their fields, you could imagine flown out to the compound to support you, he even has specialists for specialties you didn’t even know were a thing before meeting them. Nathan uses his resources so that you can explore every treatment plan you want and have a tailored programme of well-researched care approaches that are both medical and more holistic. He will still make passive aggressive comments about some of these and to some practitioners faces in his constant need to assert his snarky and intellectual brilliance.
Nathan’s position in Bluebook means that he can choose his schedule, he can be present for any appointments you want him there for and he’ll usually drop in for at least a few minutes each time anyway. It also means that when you’re having flare ups he can be extra present, which he always is.
He of course is someone who can function at an insane level on little sleep, he’s spent plenty of all-nighters with you when your pain is that bad and you haven’t been able to sleep. He’ll sit with you the whole time, cuddle you if that’s what you need, prepare cold compresses and heat pads for your aching bones, run baths and showers for you to try and soothe your body pains. He’ll be so gentle and sympathetic that it’s the closest you’ve ever seen to him being completely snark-free. It’ll start to lightly come back out though when the pain subsides and you’re able to rest a bit. But Nathan will sit however you need him to and do whatever you want without a single complaint, he can be a bit of a brat but he’d never say no to you. He’s a man of science but in his eyes, you hung the stars.
Santiago Garcia
When you’re in pain he’s as attentive as possible. He’s trained himself to completely recognise every microexpression your face is capable of making and sifted through them all to know which ones are indicators of pain, fatigue, brain fog etc.
When he notices or you’ve had a busy and long day, especially one with activities he knows can cause a flare up, he’ll gently and silently manoeuvre a limb into his lap so he can gently massage any aching joints and muscles. He’ll use any topical ointments, creams, or balms you have that help soothe your body and he does it without even thinking, as if it’s second nature to him.
Santiago is a meal prep legend. He has a day set aside regularly for checking the kitchen, seeing what’s in there, checking the fridge and freezer before heading out to do a grocery shop. He’ll prepare different comfort meals for you that can be conveniently heated up or snacked on for when you’re feeling unwell and cooking and organising food just isn’t something you have mental or physical capacity for.
He’s extremely practical and has a heavy strategy focused mind. If you’re having a flare up with symptoms, if you need to raise something with specialists he’ll listen to everything you’re saying and come up with a plan. What can help at home, how to approach appointments, what to bring up and goals to get out of them etc. He’ll set alarms to help with reminders about taking medications, drinking water, doing therapy or treatments. If you use something like a TENS machine he’ll have reminders and timers set for that.
Santiago hates to see you in pain and just wants to make you as happy and as comfortable as possible. It’s what you deserve and he views the two of you as a team, it’s important to him that he’s there and shows up. That he does what he can, whether it’s showing up to appointments, meal prepping, setting reminders etc. Every little thing that can make your life easier and better is a win to him because just getting to have you in his life has made his own life so much better.
Jake Lockley
Jake has spent years silently taking care of Steven and Marc, he’s good at it and for most of his life it’s gone unnoticed. He’s a great partner for somebody who is chronically ill, he’s practical, supportive, he never makes a big deal out of it and has never made you feel guilty or bad about your pain. He’s beyond understanding and Jake always makes you feel adored. If he ever learns of someone making you feel that way, he’ll teach them a lesson. He of course will be very tight-lipped about how that lesson went but it always works.
He’ll gladly act as a personal chauffeur, driving you to every single one of your appointments, hospital visits, prescription pick ups, comfort snack runs, and anything else that comes up or that you need. He’s the best and most considerate driver you’ve ever been in a vehicle with before. Jake always leaves at an appropriate time that’s neither late or too early, you’re never late to appointments, magically so even when there’s traffic. He never drives too fast or carelessly, his driving never makes you feel nauseous like public transport or like Uber drivers have in the past. It’s always a smooth and thoughtful ride with Jake.
Jake loves to knit, he’ll knit you beanies and gloves to wear during winter to help with how your body reacts to the cold, especially if you’re more sensitive to temperature changes and have dysautonomia or raynaud's symptoms. He’ll make you several different pairs of gloves so that you can have different colours and patterns to wear for different days of the week and have options for outfit coordination. You give him a soft kiss each time he makes you a new pair and it makes him blush and whenever you wear one of his homemade creations, he can’t help but feel so proud and give you the biggest and most lovesick smile possible.
Together, you’ll start to share hobbies and find hobbies that don’t exhaust your body too much and that can easily be done in bed or on the couch. He loves to spend time with you and he loves whatever you want to do, every interest of yours he finds so interesting and he always has something interesting to add to conversations or contribute to your hobby. Jake is an interesting brain that you both get to delight in. He’ll do crafts with you, teach you how to knit if you don’t know already and happily fix any mistakes you make, watch films with you, play lego.
If your chronic pain means you need to cancel plans or dates, Jake doesn’t hold it against you but totally understands and will be happy with a home-date or just doing nothing- whether that’s with you in bed or on the couch or giving you a bit of time to yourself. He loves you and is there.
Anselm Vogelweide
When living with Anselm and being the centre of his world and attention, you never need to want for anything. Everything is taken care of and thought of, it helps having a partner that has his own lived experiences of chronic pain and unlimited resources. Anselm’s able to have any accessibility renovations done with the snap of his fingers, he has the most experienced doctors and specialists, occupational therapists etc. come to the estate and makes sure that you’re always taken seriously when it comes to your health. You know it’s quite likely linked to the fact that he’s not someone you want on your bad side, they’re probably scared of him and his trigger tendencies.
Anselm has somebody come to his estate so that they can create a custom-made wardrobe of accessible and comfortable clothes for you. Nothing with difficult zips in awkward places, no itchy materials or impossible buttons to do up. But pieces that still represent you and your style and are gorgeous but comfortable and practical. There’s also plenty of cosy loungewear for both warmer and cooler days for when you’re feeling ill and your chronic pain means it’s a bed day for you. The bed always has the comfiest sheets and Anselm has a million different blankets and pillows for you of different levels of softness and firmness so you’ll always have options no matter how you’re feeling.
If you happen to be having one of those days where your chronic pain and symptoms are so bad that you’ve lost your appetite or you’re struggling to eat because of nausea or stomach pain he’ll have a whole menu of accommodating and more suitable meals prepared, you won’t be starved for options. If there’s something you’re craving, Anselm has a cousin go out and bring it back to you as soon as possible, it doesn’t matter whether it’s something small or something that means somebody has to spend six hours on the road for. You deserve every little comfort in the world and he’ll make sure you don’t get anything less.
He’ll stay by your side the whole time, he’ll sit at bed and hold your hand, caressing it gently as he watches you. He’ll gently encourage you to eat what you can and to stay hydrated while being his completely theatrical usual self. Anselm’s particular about it and will try to bribe you into extra sips and mouthfuls. He’ll find ways to spoil you either way, of course.
Shimmer! Kane
Your Kane has been different lately but it’s not something you’ll complain about when it’s a miracle to have him back after so long. There’s plenty of things he’s had to relearn himself with reintegrating back to society- you and your pain technically not one of them. Kane’s more in touch with the environment since his return and seems to inherently know that like all things, chronic pain can and does change with the seasons and temperature changes can play a bit part in flare ups of aches, pains and annoying symptoms.
In winter, Kane fashions the bedroom into a cosy haven and cocoons you with layers and layers of jumpers, thick socks, quilts, blankets and the fluffiest pillows. He wouldn’t only encourage it but also find it completely adorable if during the colder months you bundled up to the point of wearing a beanie, scarf, and gloves indoors. He thinks it’s a cute sight and it makes him smile, he’s never seen someone make gloves look so cute, he’ll playfully bite your gloved fingers when you’re cuddling and love the reactions he gets from you. When it’s the warmer months, he’ll go through everything in the linen cupboard to find what are the coolest and most breathable materials to use for the summer cocoon, he’ll keep wheat bags and cold compresses in the freezer for any dizziness, hot flushes, or ice packs you need for your body.
Kane doesn’t like to see you in pain, it really upsets him and seems to almost physically pain him too. But he does love cuddling with you when you’re feeling unwell. He’ll spoon you and wordlessly but happily contort into whatever odd positions you need to move in to feel a little less uncomfortable. Kane runs warm and will keep his hands on your stomach, shoulders any body part of yours that needs his natural heat as a hot water bottle alternative. You don’t even need to say a word, he just knows and he’ll nuzzle into you as he does.
Steven Grant
Steven will have a large calendar in the kitchen and write all of your appointments down on it in a big, bold pen and have a colour-coded system that you still haven’t quite figured out yet but don’t want to ask about with how long it’s been. Steven will offer to come with you to any and all appointments, he’ll happily sit in the waiting room or go in with you, whatever you’re most comfortable with. Before each appointment he’ll hold your hand and tell you how amazing you are and how he feels so lucky to have you in his life, there’s been plenty of appointment days where your fatigue and brain fog have been that bad all that you remember is the smile or wide eyes of other patients in the waiting room watching or how he can make your cheeks heat up so quickly.
Whenever he comes to appointments with you, Steven’s great at remembering random pieces of information that slip out of the cracks for your tired, sore, and overwhelmed brain to remember. He also is great at thinking of and preparing important questions that are helpful and will ask the practitioner and then note it down. He has an appointment with a lot of scribbled down medical information in his eccentric but perfectly-Steven handwriting.
If you have mobility aids, Steven will sit with you at the table and turn the day into a crafternoon to help you personalise them. Whether that’s painting them, bedazzling them, or crocheting covers and extra grips for your mobility aids. He’ll watch dozens of videos and he’ll pick up craft supplies on his way home from work or if you’re feeling up for it you’ll spend at least a couple of hours in the aisles at your local craft store going over all the different colour options for supplies. Steven’s inspired to learn how to crochet after seeing someone come into the museum with a walking stick that’s dressed in a crochet sleeve.
When you’re in bad pain, Steven will sit with you. He’ll make you dozens of cups of tea, get out your favourite snacks, he’ll put on your favourite films and do a cosy movie marathon with you if you’re needing a distraction. He’ll compile a list of your favourite films and even how much mental capacity is needed to watch them so that you have something no matter how low on brain power you are or burnt out you’re feeling.
Steven’s also more than happy to spend time together just doing nothing. He knows that sometimes when you’re in pain and in a lot of fatigue, even having a film on in the background feels impossible. Your lovely Steven is just as comfortable doing nothing with you as he is with anything else you could be doing. You’re his favourite person to spend time with and he wants to come up with as many ways as possible for you to spend time together in ways that are relaxing, restful, and comfortable for you.
Miguel O'Hara
Miguel does a lot of research on your symptoms and conditions, he’s well researched on chronic pain and also the different expertise knowledge levels across different universes. He takes your pain seriously and hates to see you in it, he can immediately sense when it’s happening and it breaks his heart each time. Miguel never makes it about himself fortunately, he understands that it sucks for both of you but it’s fifty million times worse for you than it is for him.
When you’re feeling sore and the fatigue is weighing you down, he’s the type of partner who’d want you to sit and nap on him while he works. And by working, that’s him pretending to work as he gets too distracted by having you close to him and how it reminds him that he’s madly in love with you. If you’re able to doze off on him, he’ll sit as still as possible, only occassionally tilting his head down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. Miguel will glare at anyone who dares to step a foot into his office, they’ll all quickly leave and then he’ll whisper instructions to Lyla that nobody can come in and disturb you both. That you need your rest and anyone who interrupts it will regret it, that no amount of empanadas from the cafeteria will fix it.
In both his office and home, he keeps extra medications of yours, different ointments, and acupressure mats, weighted blankets, ice packs, heat pads etc. All of your chronically ill supplies that you could need during a flare up, he also saves his comfiest and softest shirts for you to rest in. He wants to be a safe person for you to go to when you’re unwell and for you to feel comfortable enough to rest and not feeling like you need to hide the pain you’re in, he knows you’re constantly doing it and that you hide it so well. He tries to remind you that you don’t need to pretend for him.
Richard Muñoz
Richard is extremely sweet, you couldn’t ask for a kinder partner. He never makes you feel bad about your chronic pain or takes it out on you, he wants to understand, to be there and give you a slither of comfort. He knows you deserve the world and feels lucky to just be in your presence.
Richard will patiently and attentively listen to you whenever you tell him about your pain; what it feels like, how long it’s been going on for, medications you’re on or have tried, diagnoses you have or are still fighting for. He listens and commits each word to his memory, he’ll do research on chronic pain and different types of treatments. He’ll watch videos on social media and read plenty of blog posts and research articles too, he’ll often read one over his lunch break. He loves research and takes it seriously, so he thinks it’s extra important to do research that’s beneficial for you.
If you’re in a position of something like hydrotherapy being an option for you, he’ll drive you to the pools and happily do hydrotherapy classes with you with a sweet smile the whole time. He’ll join you for physiotherapy and help with anything he can. Sometimes he’ll find an interesting study and print it out for you, he’ll help you organise your health folder that has studies, letters from doctors, notes, lists of medications and diagnoses etc. He’ll gently try to advocate for you if you ever need it in medical settings.
Your softly spoken lover will come home after work with your favourite flowers or snacks in hand when he knows you’ve had a bad pain or fatigue day. He’s the type of person who will happily cook meals for you and make hearty meals and believe that the love that goes into them is important and that it’s an act of service that you’ll appreciate. He’ll cook dinners and take into account any dietary requirements you have with your symptoms or allergies. He’ll bring you meals to eat in bed and sit with you and speak about his day in his soft tone while you both eat or he’ll happily let you use his body for however you want to cuddle up on the couch. Richard loves to sit with you and watch telenovelas and films on the television, It’s the small moments of quality time with you that he really loves.
Here is the promised snippet for my WIP 'Dr. Reader studies Shimmer!Kane & Shimmer!Lena (and also has sex with them because duh)'
tagging @my-secret-shame and @reallyrallyauthor because you both (technically) voted for it
It seemed wise to talk to the two subjects as a pair first. The head researcher had noted that their dynamic was fascinating, not quite codependent or symbiotic but close.
It was a little strange at first. Subject B would be the one to actually hold the conversation, the choice of words confirming a brilliant scientific mind. Subject A remained quite subdued, only speaking when spoken to directly and only ever answering in a few words, bordering on monosyllabic.
The most unnerving part was the eyes. Neither subject looked away, their gazes focused solely on you, irises shimmering in a kaleidoscope of color.
It was fascinating but left you uneasy most days.
Over time talking to the subjects became easier. You liked to think they were warming up to you.
If you are the partner of the 'real' Kane, well consider yourself lucky because since he had some kind of conversation with the real Kane, the clone does already know everything about you.
Considering Kane and his squad have become literal maniacs, cutting themselves open and seeing intestines slithering around like snakes, Shimmer Kane has adapted base primal human instincts.
Since the clone knows how much Kane must have loved you, Shimmer Kane has adapted this, and with his stronger primal instincts, these feelings also get stronger.
He knows how to speak, but at first his vocabulary sounds dull and a bit generic. He can learn and adapt quite fast though.
When Shimmer Kane would finally come back, feeling how this is how you'd welcome the real Kane and wondering if this is how you'd act around him too, which of course, you love your Kane, right?
Your affection may trigger Shimmer Kane's breeding instinct.
Since he already has human base instincts, he should already know about human anatomy and biology, so Shimmer Kane wants to make love to you.
Because Shimmer Kane doesn't exactly know how the real Kane likes to have you, he'd assume he would just bend you over and have his way with you. So he'd do just that.
Would literally fold you down onto the nearest good looking surface or the bed, teasing your entrance before plunging his cock into you.
"Is that how you want me baby? Does that feel good?"
Because he's a literal alien clone, Shimmer Kane can go looong rounds before he's exhausted(or.. uh, cums I guess)
Seriously, if you had a bad day or just want to go at it, he lays down on the bed and lets you ride him for as long as you want.
Makes him happy to know he's giving you so much pleasure. :)
If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥
Written for A Sip of Coffee SFW Fanzine - check it out there's so many juicy fics! Next fanzine you'll see me in is folklore and fairytales.
Tags: Strangers to something more / gender-neutral reader / touches on psychological, cosmic, and body horror
The air itself shimmered like a mirage, twisting in and out of colours that shouldn’t have belonged to any known spectrum. At times, it burned a molten orange, pulsing with a heat he didn’t feel, then fractured into streaks of blue and violet, pooling like oil slicks in the hollows between trees. At the right angle, it seared a luminous red, a colour so impossibly rich it felt alive—watching. A slow, iridescent slither of light wound through the fractured canopy above, less a beam of sunlight and more a living thing threading its way between the leaves.
Kane had no way of knowing how long he’d been here. The rations suggested a few days had passed, but his body disagreed. There was no hunger, no thirst, only the mechanical memory of eating. Had he eaten? He must have. Yet when he tried to summon the taste of food, nothing came. The absence of time pressed against his skull like a persistent ache, like a memory he couldn’t quite reach.
Each time he stepped outside the tent, the world was different. The trees leaned at unfamiliar angles, their bark slick and too smooth, as though they had been molded rather than grown. The moss on the ground pulsed in patches, an almost imperceptible rhythm, like the slow rise and fall of breath. The only constant was change. That, and his morning coffee.
He sat with the tin cup cradled in his hands, listening to the songbirds mimic a new sound they had learned overnight. Sometimes, it was the usual chirps. Other times, it was warbles that carried an uncanny human lilt, as if an echo of a voice had been stretched and repurposed into their calls. Once, he had heard the scratch of a cricket’s legs—but it had come from high up in the trees, from something far too large to be a cricket. There had been whispers too, barely there, like words dissipating just before he could grasp their meaning. The forest was listening. Worse, it was remembering.
When the decision had been made to split up, it had come down to a vote. Two medics on the team—one would stay, one would go. The others had chosen the Tower, that nameless structure that had no right to exist on any map. His group had remained at base camp, performing the work that was expected of them. But Kane knew his true function. He wasn’t here to keep them together. He was here to keep them alive.
And yet, the question remained, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts like an animal worrying at bone.
What happened to the ones who came before?
Expedition Eleven. Ten had come before, and none had returned. Not a single one. Their presence still lingered—traces in the disturbed earth, in the equipment left behind, in the notes that trailed off mid-thought. But the people? Gone. Absorbed, perhaps.
He had tended to the Linguist’s wounds that morning, wrapping gauze over something that refused to heal, something that seemed to shift beneath her skin. When he had finished, he had found himself untethered. Free to roam, to wander, to slip further into the spaces between certainty and something else. The others made no effort to keep him close. He had long since lost the need to belong. There were no rules anymore, not ones that mattered.
“How long do you think the other group’s going to be gone for?” he asked, his voice breaking the quiet hum of camp. He was packing the last few items into his rucksack, shoving emergency supplies into the worn fabric. Preparing, though for what, he wasn’t sure.
You barely glanced up from your microscope. “I don’t question the Psychologist’s decisions,” you said. A measured response. “Just like I’m not questioning yours.”
A strange turn of phrase. Almost an accusation.
He let out a small breath, a ghost of a laugh. “I’m going to scout the immediate area. See if there’s anything we missed. Don’t miss me too much.” The words were meant to be light, to defuse whatever unspoken weight hung between you. He had expected pushback. A reason to stay.
“I won’t,” you said instead, detached, eyes still trained on your work. “Don’t go too far.”
Then, after a pause, “You got your shooter?”
Shooter.
That wasn’t a word you had ever used before.
Kane glanced at you, but you didn’t meet his gaze. He could hear the Geologist’s accent buried in your voice, the same tone, the same inflection. The Geologist, who had asked to be left beneath the tree weeks ago. “Leave me to decompose,” they had murmured, curling into the roots, their breath already slowing, eyes glassy with something more than death.
No one had gone back to check.
“Rifle’s right here,” Kane said, his voice overly cheerful, too loud in the stagnant air. He patted the strap, making sure you heard.
Then he left. He always had to be the first to leave.
The forest swallowed him whole.
With no real direction, he wandered. The deeper he went, the more the world unravelled. He had no name for half the things growing here. Vines hung in thick, twisting curtains, flowering in unnatural patterns, their petals curling inward like clutching fingers.
He found an old road, forgotten, reclaimed. The trees had leaned in, pressing their roots through the cracks, warping the pavement into something organic. It looked almost ceremonial, a wedding procession of ivy and creeping moss, arches forming over the path as if nature itself had arranged it for something unseen.
His wife would have known the proper names. The Latin, the origins. He had never cared for any of that. To him, they were just flowers on the same vine.
Then he heard it.
His name.
It echoed from the trees, disembodied, panic threaded through each syllable.
Your voice.
Kane’s pulse spiked as he turned, eyes scanning the undergrowth. He called back, voice tight with urgency, but the echoes folded in on themselves, dispersing into the layered hum of the forest. He moved faster, breath sharp, feet crushing the damp earth beneath him. The direction felt wrong, but he followed it anyway.
The lake appeared suddenly, framed by the remains of a boat cabin. The sight of it made his stomach twist. He knew this place. It wasn’t possible, but he knew it. A memory clawed its way to the surface—fishing trips, his father, the scent of open water. He had thought this was where his love of the lake had begun. But something in him rebelled against the thought.
Had he always loved the water?
Or had something been waiting for him in it?
The air hummed. The birds had gone silent.
He called your name again.
Nothing.
The absence unsettled him more than the voice had.
That night, he had written about it in his journal, flipping back through previous entries only to find his own handwriting slipping away from him. Sentences collapsed inward, layer upon layer, like something had rewritten them over and over again until they were unreadable.
Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead-
He knew it was wrong, but he kept going back to that cabin.
Like the Linguist, who had torn at her own skin, convinced something writhed beneath it.
Like the Geologist, who had whispered leave me to decompose and done just that.
“They’re not coming back,” Kane announced one morning.
You finally looked up. “What makes you think that?”
He gestured around them, frustrated. “Look around. It’s just you and me. We lost all the others.”
“They aren’t lost,” you murmured. Then shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Maybe we’re the ones who are.”
Kane stilled. His throat tightened.
“How? We’re at base camp,” he pressed, “they should’ve been back by now.”
“It’s been less than a day.”
The words slid through him like cold metal. “No,” he whispered. “We’ve been here for days. I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve gone with them.”
You reached for his shoulder, steadying him. “Take a deep breath. You want to go? Fine. But give me two minutes. You’re not going out there alone again. You’ve not been the same since you’ve been back.”
Kane hesitated. His hand brushed against yours as though to say thanks, but you pulled away first.
It didn’t take you much time to pack your bag. You tried to keep it light, who knows what you were walking into. Rations, emergency equipment, and a field kit to take samples while on the go.
As you walked over to where he’d waited for you, you glanced at the camp one last time. Certain you would never see it again.
The ground beneath your boots felt unstable, as though something just beneath the surface was shifting in response to your presence. Moss underneath offering a spring in each step. The forest exhaled around you, the hush between sounds stretching longer than it should. Even the insects, which had once filled every quiet space, seemed to be waiting.
Kane stood rigid, his posture coiled, his gaze locked onto the cabin as if looking at it too long might pull him inside. His breath came in uneven bursts, his fingers twitching slightly where they hovered near his rifle strap. You reached for his hand, grounding him, but he didn’t react. Or maybe he couldn’t.
“This isn’t the tower,” you murmured quietly.
No response. If he had heard you at all, he gave no indication.
Your attention shifted. The derelict boat overturned near the water, barely visible beneath its cocoon of vines, caught your eye. Its hull had been split by roots thick as a man’s arm, curling into the wood like grasping hands. But it wasn’t just overgrowth—this was something else entirely. The plants had fused, their species indistinguishable from one another, blending into an unrecognizable tangle of colour and texture. Leaves that should not have existed in the same climate pressed against each other, petals rippling in colours you had no name for. The vines pulsed faintly, as though drawing breath.
Your curiosity pulled you forward. Kane remained still, locked in his personal war with the past, leaving you to slip ahead. Your pack slid from your shoulder, landing softly on the damp earth as you crouched near the boat. The scent of wet wood and something faintly metallic filled your lungs.
Carefully, you reached into your field kit, retrieving a scalpel. The blade caught the strange ambient light filtering through the canopy, flashing red, then blue. You steadied yourself, choosing a section of vine where two distinctly different plants had merged, their cellular structure braided impossibly together. A light incision. Just enough to—
The moment the scalpel’s edge touched the vine, something shifted.
Not just the plant. The entire forest.
The background hum, the constant thrumming of unseen life, stuttered. The trees did not sway, but the light around them flickered, as if a veil had momentarily lifted and revealed something beneath. The air thickened, pressing against your skin. The ground beneath you felt—wrong. For a fleeting second, your senses betrayed you, your body insisting you were tilting sideways despite crouching perfectly still.
Then, the vine moved.
Not a natural movement, not the slow, creeping growth of a plant. It coiled toward your hand, deliberate, reactive, the wound you had made closing over itself like flesh knitting back together. A faint wet sound. Something between the slow tear of muscle and the slip of damp leaves unfurling.
A pulse of heat shot up your arm before you could recoil. The cut you had made sealed itself in an instant. The plant had accepted the wound—and returned it.
A sharp sting bloomed just below your wrist. You looked down.
A thin red line, identical to the one you had made on the vine, now marred your skin. Blood dripped down towards your hand.
“Kane—” you called for him.
Before you could finish, he was there, yanking you back, his fingers tight around your arm as he dragged you several steps away. His breathing was shallow, his pupils blown wide, darting from your face to the plant and back again.
“What the hell was that?” you stumbled.
He shook his head. “We need to go.”
You hesitated, glancing back at the sample you had failed to collect. But the plant had already begun to change again. The colours shifted subtly, and where you had touched it, the surface darkened, as if absorbing the memory of you. The moment you had shared with it.
Kane didn’t wait for you to make up your mind. His grip on your wrist tightened, his pulse thrumming against your skin, his urgency contagious.
He pulled you away from the boat. Away from the cabin.
Away from whatever had just recognized you.
You were sitting staring into the makeshift bonfire while Kane cleaned your arm and bandaged your stitched wound. He’d used some of the heated water to make you both coffee but you weren’t drinking yours. After he was done, he’d tossed the old bandages into the water and sat back down beside you on the log.
“I don’t think we’re going to find them.” You say quietly.
“What makes you say that?” Kane asked, reaching to put an arm around you.
“I dunno, a feeling.”
“Well what’s the plan now? Do we go back? Keep going forward?”
You hesitate to respond. “I want to stay here. With you.”
“You’ll be with me whichever direction we go.” He grinned.
That wasn’t what you meant and you shook your head. “I don’t want to go back. I feel like I’ve already lost you if I keep going.”
“You haven’t though. I’m right here. I didn’t marry you to give up on you.”
“What?” You say confused. You try to remember when you married him and it was there. The flowers, the perfect day. The memory was far enough away to feel like it wasn’t yours.
The fire crackled between you, casting warped shadows against the canvas of your tent. The flames flickered too quickly, too erratically, as though something unseen was breathing over them. Kane sat close, his body warm beside yours, his arm draped around you with a weight that should have been comforting. But something was wrong.
You stared down at the bandage wrapped around your arm, the clean white cloth already beginning to darken at the edges. The sting beneath it felt deeper than a simple wound, something curling under your skin, remembering the touch of the thing you had disturbed.
His voice reached you again, softer this time. “You haven’t lost me.”
But he was lying.
Or worse, he believed what he was saying.
The memory sat in your mind like a misplaced object. Your wedding. A day that should have been carved into you, vibrant, tangible. You could see the flowers—petals in soft, muted colours, a breeze stirring through them. You could hear the distant murmur of guests. Could feel the weight of the ring on your finger.
But when had it happened?
Where had it happened?
The edges of the thought were blurred, soft, like a painting left too long in the rain. The details felt secondhand, like something recited from a dream you had overheard rather than lived.
Your breath hitched as you turned to look at Kane. “Say that again.”
His brow furrowed. “You haven’t lost me.”
“No, the thing before.”
“I didn’t marry you to give up on you?”
There it was again. That certainty. Like he knew it to be true.
Like he had always known.
But the longer you stared at him, the more you questioned if you had always known him.
A sharp pressure bloomed at your temples. The fire crackled louder, though neither of you had moved.
“Where did we get married?” you asked.
Kane blinked. “What?”
“Where?” you repeated, each word weighted.
His mouth opened, but no sound came. He frowned, gaze flickering away, toward the trees, toward the nothingness that surrounded you both. You could see him grasping for it, for a detail, for a single thread to hold onto.
The wedding was real. Wasn’t it?
The firelight made his face unfamiliar for the first time. Shadows caught in the hollows of his cheeks, casting angles that hadn’t been there before. The longer you looked, the more those details refused to sit right.
“Kane,” you whispered, not sure anymore if you were calling his name or testing it.
He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. A short, humourless laugh left him, but it was frayed at the edges.
“I don’t—I don’t know.” His fingers flexed on his knee. “It’s like it’s right there, but—” He exhaled sharply. “Shit.”
The fire let out a loud pop, sending a spark spiralling up into the dark. Neither of you moved.
The silence stretched.
Then, finally, he met your gaze.
“Do you remember?” he asked.
The question sent something cold curling down your spine.
Because he wasn’t asking where.
He was asking if.
And for the first time, you weren’t sure of the answer. You shake your head.
The fire sputtered, low embers pulsing with uneven light, as though struggling against some unseen force pressing down on it. Somewhere in the darkness, beyond the perimeter of the fire’s glow, something moved—not a rustle, not the natural disturbance of undergrowth, but a slow, deliberate shift. The forest itself was listening.
Kane’s shoulders sagged, his fingers tracing absent patterns into the dirt beside him with his free arm. His breath came shallow, a quiet tremor beneath each exhale. “I think I know where the others have gone,” he murmured, the words barely making it past his lips. Then softer, almost reverent—“It’ll be me soon.”
A pulse of unease rippled through you, settling deep in your gut. The words weren’t spoken in fear. They weren’t a warning. They were a certainty.
“Don’t talk like that.” You reached for his arm, half-expecting the heat of his skin, the familiar solidness of him—but he flinched. Not from the touch itself, but from what it meant.
“I’m not going to let that happen to you.” You reassert.
His head turned slightly, just enough for the firelight to catch his profile, the shifting glow casting moving shadows across his face. He looked like himself, but at the same time, he didn’t. The bones of him were the same, the slope of his jaw, the curve of his nose. But something beneath it—some small, imperceptible wrongness—made him feel like a memory poorly recalled.
He exhaled, his shoulders shaking with something between laughter and grief. “If you stay, you won’t ever be able to get back out. You’ll be stuck here with me.”
The words settled over you like a damp cloth. Heavy. Stifling.
There was no argument in his tone. Just another truth.
“And I can’t make you stay.” He finally murmured as though it pained him to say.
You swallowed, your throat dry, though you hadn’t noticed the thirst until now. Had you drunk anything today? The coffee still sat beside you, untouched, the surface unbroken. It looked wrong, as if it had been sitting there for longer than you had been at this fire.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of your pants.
You should have wanted to leave. You should have recoiled at the thought of being trapped, of being swallowed by this place like all the others. But when you searched for that instinct—the one that should have screamed at you to run—you found only stillness. A quiet, creeping sense of inevitability.
Maybe this had always been where you were supposed to be.
“Maybe I don’t want to go.”
I had a lot of fun writing this one. If you enjoyed too please consider following, reblogging, or commenting and letting me know! ily have a good day
Okay so I just finished watching Annihilation just because I didn’t even realize I still have Paramount+… yeah now I see why y’all love Shimmer!Kane now.
Holyyyyyyyyyy fuck, I need several moments to process… maybe days… and to read a lot of fanfics with him now that I understand who he is now.
