illicitfantasy
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As the infection grows, tendrils reaching further across the ocean and stretching up to the surface like trees, a little branch of veins catches to the backbox that's been bobbing at the surface for three months.
Ava and her team finally find the box, and in retrieving it, cut it free.
Simon hangs on.
Or; Simon is integrated into Jack as a form of payment for his sacrifice.
Bookmarked by illicitfantasy
11 Feb 2026
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He is welded into the submarine. He dies. He is welded into the submarine. He dies again. He is welded into the submarine, and he dies, and he is being welded into the submarine, gasping as if his lungs were rotting and drowned in blood.
Simon isn't sure if God is real; Hell certainly is.
Bookmarked by illicitfantasy
11 Feb 2026
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“You need,” says Simon, parroting Ava’s words back at her, “my blood. That’s what you said.”
Ava won’t look him directly in the eyes. “Yes. We’d like to test your blood. Please.”
Simon snorts. “Don’t act like it’s my choice. Don’t act like you can’t just walk in here and take it if you want to.”
“I don’t want to do that.”
“Bullshit.”
—
Ava comes to visit.Series
- Part 3 of ironbutcher quarantine au
Bookmarked by illicitfantasy
10 Feb 2026
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Red-hot anger flashes through Simon’s body. He’s taunting, Simon knows he is, but he can’t help rising to the bait. “Since when do you give a shit if I eat?”
There’s a pause, and it drags.
“It’s important,” says Jack, finally.
“No shit, but you don’t care if I live or die,” Simon snaps. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“You’re paranoid.” Jack’s voice is low and gruff and certain—authoritative in a way that tugs Simon towards believing him.
Simon doesn’t believe him.
—
Simon and Jack eat dinner.Series
- Part 2 of ironbutcher quarantine au
Bookmarked by illicitfantasy
10 Feb 2026
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In a dry, raspy voice, Simon croaks, “Fuck.”
Immediately, the blurry figure’s head snaps over to look at him. “Are you awake, or just talking in your sleep again?” an unfamiliar voice demands—low, with a twitch of an accent that Simon doesn’t recognize.
Simon blinks, but his vision only clears minimally. The ceiling is an off-white blur that smears as he turns his head to look at the stranger. He doesn’t recognize him; bandages obscure the details of his face. “I talk in my sleep?” he asks.
“A lot. It’s annoying.”
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Simon wakes up in sick bay, quarantined with the man he accidentally irradiated and permanently blinded. Mutual hatred (of a sort) ensues.Series
- Part 1 of ironbutcher quarantine au
Bookmarked by illicitfantasy
10 Feb 2026