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cartoonsaint · 2 years

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Species swap frenrey? ✨

i'm workin on an AI Gordon AU elsewhere so here's like 5k about how it'd be if in my Not a Game fic Invasive Species Gordon were The Creature instead :D found it a very interesting and fun challenge! rated T and features swearing, major identity issues, major character sort-of-de.ath, some extremely embarrassing interpersonal interactions, ~paranoid person is RIGHT but not believed, and some good old narrative-breaking. unfortunately it is barely Frenrey bc i had so much fun w the rest of it, but thanks for prompting this :)

For every possibility, a universe— and for every universe, a near-infinite number of stories. This one, however, may be somewhat familiar to you, for it begins with a strange, super-adaptive but unintelligent creature falling through a plot hole into a dimension much like your own. It has evolved to consume the DNA of other living beings, which it then incorporates into its own body plan, and its limited but powerful psychic abilities ("sweet voice," as you may know them) ensure that its success and efficiency in this task. In the small forest outside of Seattle in which this creature finds itself, it takes very little time for it to consume plant matter, birds, reptiles, mammals, and more, adding and subtracting traits to its own amorphous form, becoming something new and unique that if left unchecked could eat the whole of this world—

Until the G-Man, tasked as always with the protection of his particular universe and dimension, destroys it. What he fails to notice, though, is that this being created another of its kind, a single cell that it left behind with that same instinctual drive to consume and grow…

But this time, things are different.

The tiny invading creature eats, adapts, becomes multicellular, and then tries its nonexistent hand at being the seed of a plant— specifically, the migratory seed of the dandelion. It is lifted up into the air, where an easterly wind catches it and carries it away from the little woods wherein plays the seven-year-old who will become Gordon Freeman (and whom, eventually, the creature will become as well). It is deposited in a different environment with new things to eat and become, a greater variety of prey and potential adaptations.

Like this, it learns that to travel is beneficial. It keeps up this habit as it grows and develops, heading further east each time it gets bored (which happens often, with the personality it begins to evolve), taking its time enjoying what life has to offer it and coming to love the little planet it calls home, until a year or two down the line it finds itself in the shape of a particularly small, scruffy terrier-mix somewhere along the border between Michigan and Ontario.

In this particular universe, the birth certificate of one Henry LeVrai was scribbled a little too quickly and the "H" was incorrectly notated as a "B." His family found this amusing and accepted that their child had been officially christened "Benry." And one warm spring morning our young Benry, roundabout seven years old now, is out playing in the sandy mud when he and our little creature stumble upon one another.

Benry is a calm, patient little kid who's not so good with people yet but quite fond of animals, with their simple and straightforward feelings and desires. The creature is quite anxious about being killed (it hurts!!) and thus tends to avoid humans, but it's also filled with dog instincts right now. Benry's quiet patience, total disregard for human social rules, and willingness to play fetch draws our creature in, and they end up sticking together and goofing off for the rest of the day. When the time comes for Benry to go home, our little creature acts as though it doesn't care… but it follows after him all the same.

The creature acts as a semi-stray dog for nearly a year. It and Benry goof off together, two children in the sand and the mud, trusting one another completely despite the fact that one of them is human and the other a hyper-carnivorous shapeshifting monster pretending to be a dog. Though gentleness does not come naturally to the creature, it does its best not to hurt Benry, sheathing away its teeth and claws when they wrestle so that its friend is never injured even when it gets to be quite a bit larger and more rambunctious than him. It never gets a taste of Benry's blood, never realizes that in doing so it could have kept track of its best friend when they are inevitably separated.

For indeed, separated they will be. The G-Man is notified of the creature's existence and is made responsible for its destruction. When one day, mid-play, the world around the creature goes teal-still and all time freezes except for itself, the creature's old instincts for survival meet with its building intelligence. It hides. And when the G-Man, the only other moving thing under this time-stop, shows no interest in its human companion, it understands that what the G-Man hunts is itself.

It flees. From Benry’s perspective, he turns away from his friend for just a second— and when he turns back, it’s completely and utterly gone.

And for many years that’s how it goes. The creature hides its nature as best it can, doing its damnedest to look and be normal, but in this universe there are no time travel shenanigans caused by the creature's friendship with young Tommy and thus the G-Man is never introduced to the boy who in other dimensions would be his son. With fewer distractions and less light in his life, the G-Man is ruthless. He tracks down memories, uses Wikipedias Secret, More Secret, and Even More Secret to locate the creature, which in turn realizes that closeness to humans often means being found more quickly. The creature can eke out only a year or two at a time of freedom before it is once more tracked down and once more must flee, further and further away from mankind.

(An aside: in this particular universe Tommy remains in foster care until he ages out. Without the G-Man’s intervention he never receives the support he needs— he’s still brilliant, but his school grades don’t necessarily reflect that. To make his way into the field of biology as he has always wanted, he must look for outside assistance— which the U.S. military is happy to provide, in return for his work, his time, and his promise of acting as liaison to a company they occasionally work with called Black Mesa…)

Which brings us to just a few weeks before the Resonance Cascade.

Gordon Freeman, grown man and single father, shoves his shoulder into one of the many blocked-off side-doors out of Black Mesa, bursting out into the cool February air of the New Mexico desert. He's not supposed to use this door, he knows— security reasons or something, he can't remember, whatever— but he had to stay late today because he accidentally spilled coffee all over the tunnel diode resonator and he got caught and had to disinfect the whole thing even though it wasn’t his fucking fault, okay!! Like, he’s under a lot of stress anyways and then he realized way too late today that he’d failed to properly zip up his pants this morning and so had been just, fucking, packer out for several hours and no one had bothered to fucking tell him because no one fucking likes him and he's supposed to pick Joshie up from daycare in ten minutes but because he had to disinfect all the stupid fiddly bits of the resonator he missed the tram at his normal spot so he's gonna have to leg it over to the next pickup, which is outside and like halfway across the fucking campus that he still doesn't have a good mental map of—

The creature, who had been dozing in the shape of a rust-furred coyote in a cozy little outside corner made by the building's weird architecture, wakes up with a jerk and finds itself suddenly cornered by the open door and the human who has just spotted it.

"Oh shit, a dog!!” Gordon says, delight overriding all sense. He takes an unthinking step closer as the creature, backed into a corner and not yet awake enough to think properly, raises its hackles and opens its mouth wide, wider, wider than should be possible— Gordon has just enough time to say, "Oh, shit, not a dog, what the fuck—"

And then the world goes teal-still.

The creature has no way of knowing that the G-Man is not here to hunt the creature but is instead doing reconnaissance on a new job. It cannot know that his time-stop will be up only long enough for him to exit his train and banish it. Though many years ago it did play with the young human Benry, it never had anyone like Tommy to lovingly teach it intelligence and morality; it has no compunction against killing and consuming a human being. It is simply a wild creature, something alien, and it reacts as best it can with the information it knows.

And what it knows is that its instincts to FLEE-HIDE-DEFENDSELF are triggered all at once and that the frozen, defenseless Gordon is both a threat and in the way. Is it any wonder, then, that this is how Gordon Freeman dies?

Except: this creature has not been gradually fed a diet of the eggs of intelligent animals, allowing it to smarten up while maintaining its own personality, and is instead accustomed to hiding by exactly mimicking the behavior of that which it eats. Except: the creature only has about three seconds between when it consumes Gordon Freeman entirely and when the time-stop drops and Gordon Freeman's brain, perfectly preserved, will kick back into gear. Except: this isn't a very smart alien creature that is attempting to subsume a prey that is bored with his life and has few attachments. This is an alien creature that has spent most of its life running, hiding, and pretending not to be alien, meeting the force of a very strong personality, an admittedly powerhouse brain, and several deep, deep attachments that this particular human will do anything to hang onto.

The time-stop drops. The not-coyote creature is gone; what is left is something human-shaped who was, just moments ago, Gordon Freeman. Whatever it is is also, immediately, having an extremely confusing panic attack.

FIGHT, it instincts demand but there’s nothing to fight, the threat of coyote and human both neutralized. HIDE, its instincts counter, but he’s a big guy, it’s not like he can fit into the tiny corner the creature was in, and anyways what good would that do against the freaky time-stopping human (?) that has been hunting it for nearly twenty years? FLEE, the instincts beg, but what the fuck, he’s not gonna just run out into the fucking desert without provisions like a fucking idiot, especially when he’s supposed to be picking up—

“Josh,” says what remains of Gordon Freeman, and dashes off in the direction of the next tram.

Against all odds, the being not only makes it in time but he’s barely breathing that hard. On the train full of other tired human scientists he holds onto the central pole, telling off the part of his brain that is panicking a bit more strongly than usual about being so close to so many other people, and tries to put together what the fuck just happened.

“There was a coyote,” it mutters under its breath, remembering this time to put a hand over his mouth to block the fact that he’s talking to himself. “Except it wasn’t actually a coyote, it was some kinda… Thing-thing, like from that one movie? And it was scared of the human— of me, and kinda thought he was that spooky g-man-type guy that can stop time which, uh, which… Which Gordon doesn’t know about. Uh, I don’t know about, I mean, so how the fuck do I…?” The train rocks to a stop and the creature gets out, mind racing and overfull with memories from two sides. “Did. Did I try to kill me?”

It remembers standing there, alarmed at the movements of the not-dog-not-coyote, about to back away. But he also remembers the sudden wash of turquoise that meant he was being hunted, his age-old desperation not to be found, how he stretched his form into something like a carnivorous plant and closed it around the human in his way, how he tasted blood and flesh and bone and the precious DNA that he could use to hide himself—

“DADDY,” someone shrieks, and wraps their arms around its legs. Gordon yelps (sounding decidedly more coyote-like than usual) as its instincts shriek DEFEND SELF and then WAIT and then !!!JOSHIE!!! FAMILY KIN KID PUP BABY JOSH JOSH JOSH! and the creature scoops his son up into a tight hug because it hasn’t gotten to be close to anyone or anything in many years and this is Joshie, its kid! Its favorite horrible little person!!! Whose father the creature, like, just killed!

Oh fuck, its instincts whimper as the creature— as Gordon— as whatever the fuck they are apologizes on auto-pilot to the daycare workers for being late (again) and hikes Joshua up onto its hip and brings him home to their shitty little two-person apartment on the edge of Black Mesa’s living quarters, simultaneously trying to stay calm and being just so psyched about what Joshie’s got to say.

It makes dinner for Gordon's kid. It hangs out with him for the rest of the evening, fetching him whatever he asks for (and maybe enjoying doing so a little more than usual), and helps him take a bath to rinse off all the sand he got into today. It cuddles with him on his bed as it reads him a bedtime story and brushes back his hair after he’s fallen asleep in his arms, snoring away like a miniature foghorn.

With utmost care the creature untangles itself from Gordon’s son and sneaks out of the room. It makes sure to close the door behind it very quietly.

Then it spends most of the rest of the night pacing, trying to get a handle on the fact that it isn’t Gordon Freeman, not really, because it’s actually some kind of super-adaptive unknown species that can completely transform its body on a cellular level and literally become other living things and it did so to Gordon by fucking eating him, and also it’s being hunted down by some dude who can stop time?? And it has all of Gordon’s memories and feelings and shit and it really feels like it’s Gordon but logically it also remembers eating him, which means that Gordon Freeman is fucking dead.

“I don’t feel dead, though,” Gordon says aloud, pacing his familiar pattern into the carpet. “And— and the voice just called me Gordon, so— so that means I am him— me— whatever, right?”

The creature tilts its head at the ceiling, dog-like, then scowls. “I— no, not dog-like,” it says loudly to no one. “Not— are, are you saying you’re no one? Cuz I can, I can hear you, I could hear you this whole time, even while I was a dog, I just didn’t underst— NOT that I was those dogs, or, that, they’re— those aren’t, aren’t my memories, Gordon’s, I just—”

It collapses in a chair, groaning and rubbing at the bridge of its nose. “This is so— look, can you, can you not call me ‘it,’ please? I, I already went through the whole gender thing in grad school— uh, or Gordon did, I guess? …Just— I don’t know if you can even hear me, but could we just… can we stick with ‘he’? Please?”

He waits hopefully, then sighs in relief. “Okay! Great. Thank you. And also I— I get that I, uh, I’m not. Really the, the human being that got, uh. Eaten. By me. But can we just— like, I’m not leaving Joshie. Or my job. Or my fucking life, man, so can we just— like, I’m, I’m, I, I’m sort of. I mean, I sort of am him, so can we— could you maybe just call me Gordon?” He bites his lip with dull teeth that look perfectly human. “Please?”

At the confirmation, Gordon’s shoulders loosen. “Okay,” he says, tired and stressed and still pretty darn miserable. “Thank you, mysterious narrating voice that has been following and telling the stories of all the dogs and shit I’ve ever been, that… like, I’m still a fucked up monster thing that ate myself, but. Being called 'he' is… something, at least.”

He leans back in his chair, considering for the first time the scope of the abilities he’s both intimately familiar with and pretty freaked out by. HIDE, his instincts warn, but there’s no humans around who could somehow share the secret with his hunter, and when faced with new scientific discovery Gordon Freeman’s always been… well, like a dog with a bone.

“That’s not funny,” Gordon says to his ceiling, even though it kind of is. “God, you know what, I don’t fucking need this—”

He tests the creature’s— tests his abilities out, little by little. It takes him the better part of several weeks to get re-used to everything as himself, but he has to admit that being able to smooth down the chest he’s been meaning for years to get top surgery on is a pretty cool ability. As is growing just tall enough to actually be a full six foot instead of something like five foot eleven and three quarters. And the mild psychic abilities are neat, too, especially once he figures out that he can tone down the “blue to subdue” to something that merely calms instead of flat-out hypnotizes prey.

“‘Blue to subdue’?” Gordon snorts to himself. “Why does it rhyme?”

Don’t worry about it. Besides that he finds that the instincts and personality of the creature he had been barely clash at all with those of Gordon Freeman. Sure, he feels just about everything more intensely and a bit more simply than Gordon used to, and his ability to packbond with things has kind of gone a little crazy, and if anyone throws anything there’s a 15% chance he’ll embarrass himself, but overall he’s still someone who really wants to be liked and isn’t sure how to make it happen, someone who’s very scared but too stubborn to give up, and someone who is remarkably intelligent in some regions and absolutely idiotic in others.

“Hey,” Gordon mutters, stung. He’s all dressed up for this stupid experiment Black Mesa's having him do and he's a little nervous about it, if only because he's encased in an airtight HEV suit and his instincts from years of needing to be ready to run at any moment are howling TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED. He's trying to calm them down by thinking about literally anything else— like, for instance, the fact that this experiment is going to change the course of his life forever. "...What? Uh, hey, what? Did youuu? Just say?"

"Said you can just go through, don't need your passport," says the guard, and Gordon jumps. He hadn’t even noticed there was another person on this end of the hallway.

"O-oh, right, sorry," he says, and strides past his oldest and best friend. Then he reels to a stop and whips around, staring.

The guard blinks up at him. He looks to be around Gordon's age, his face not quite freshly shaven, with slate gray eyes ringed by long lashes. Gordon's never been very good with faces and it's made worse by the fact that the guy's in the bland security guard uniform but now that he looks there is something familiar about him, even if Gordon's sure he wouldn't have forgotten someone who could be called his "oldest and best friend."

The guard shifts on his feet, his eyes sliding off of the glass of Gordon's helmet until he's frowning at his shoulder. "...you good, man?"

"Yyyeah," Gordon says slowly. FRIEND? say his old instincts with obvious tail-wagging hope, and admittedly Gordon's pretty curious himself. He's late for the test, but… well, late is late, right? "Uh, sorry, you said— did you say I, I don't need my… passport?"

"Yeah," says the guard, nodding at Gordon's chest. "S’new policy. But you’re in the company suit so s’fine. Not like you got pockets."

"Right, yeah. Thanks," Gordon says, brow furrowed, scrutinizing the other man. He’s looked away back down the hallway towards the guard at the other end like he expects that’s that, but Gordon’s not ready to let go of the narrator’s claim just yet. Could he have somehow missed some of the original Gordon Freeman’s memories? “Hey, are you… Do we, like. Know each other, or something?”

“Huh?” says the guard, eyes flitting to Gordon’s glass faceplate and away. “Uh, dunno… like, I work here?”

“Yeah, man, me too,” Gordon says, rolling his eyes. “But— look, I’m Gordon Freeman. I, I’ve got a test I’m supposed to be getting to, but— just, like, could you maybe tell me your name? …Please?”

The man looks at him, gray eyes wary, and something about that has the instincts in Gordon’s head saying :(! FRIEND CONFUSED BAD! MAKE FRIEND HAPPY HOW? Gordon barely resists the urge to growl at them, he’s fucking busy right now, can they not—

“Uh…… m’Benry,” the guard says, and the sound of the name brings back sudden, forceful memories of the creature’s too-short year as a semi-stray dog chasing after its quiet human child, back before the G-Man started hunting it, before it killed Gordon, back when all the creature ever wanted to do was play in the sand and the mud with its best friend.

Gordon has spent the past few weeks of his semi-new life as something inhuman doing his best to be human. But when faced with such strong, fond memories of a time before all that, old instincts shove themselves to the front.

“Oh holy fuckin— BENRY!!!” Gordon cries, nearly bowling the guy over as he pulls his old best friend to him as close as he can, putting his hands all over his face, chest, back, arms, anything he can reach. “Holy shit, man, it’s been forever!! How are you? What the hell are you doing here?? How did— like, what are the fucking odds, seriously, I never thought I’d see you again—” Gordon sets him back on his feet but holds on, petting his gloves in the short hair under the guy’s helmet, trying to sniff at Benry’s neck, see what he’s been up to, how he’s changed, all that, but the stupid HEV helmet is in the way. He whines, over-excited and frustrated and delighted. “Hi, dude, shit, hi! Hi! Fuck, it’s good to see you, hi—”

"Uh," Benry says. Hesitantly, he pats Gordon's back. "...Sup?"

"Hi!!" Gordon agrees. "Benry! Hi! Shit, man! Hey!"

"Yeah," Benrey says. "So, uhhh… You know me?"

"Yea, 'course, you're— oh, holy shit," Gordon says, feeling stupid. "The HEV helmet, right, sorry, hold on—"

He separates from Benry long enough to scrabble at the stupid release function and pull off his glass and metal prison with the shwoomph of released air. He shoves his hair out of his face, hoping it doesn't look too much like he forgot to brush it today, and grins widely at his old friend, expecting to be recognized at any second—

Only to be struck with the sudden realization that all Gordon's memories of bonding with that fun, goofy, patient little kid were from the perspective of an alien creature in the shape of a dog, from the life he had before he ate and killed and chose to replace the real Gordon Freeman. From Benry’s perspective, Gordon is a total stranger.

Which means that for all intents and purposes, Gordon has been acting like a complete and utter nutjob this entire goddamn time.

"Oh fuck I. Uh," Gordon starts, horrified, but against all odds Benry's eyes are widening. They dart between the features of Gordon's face, flickering with recognition, and the dog-creature Gordon had been for so long tenses in excitement. It wants Gordon to play-bow, to bark, to spin in circles, to lick Benry's face, PLEASE FRIEND PLEASE PLAY FRIEND PLEASE?

"Oh yeahhh," Benry says at last, and drops his gaze to Gordon's crotch. "Hot guy with the dick-slip."

"...what?" Gordon says. He looks down, but besides the helmet under his arm the HEV Suit is as sealed off as always. "Hot— dick— what?"

Benry’s shoulders have gone rigid. He's looking at the floor now very, very hard. “...hm?”

“Did you just say—”

“Huh? No,” Benry says, but Gordon’s earlier head-petting put his helmet askew and Gordon can see his ears turning red. “Wha? No, man, dunno what you’re even—”

"You did," Gordon says. "You did, you said— dick-slip? What the fuck are you—"

"No," Benry says, focusing very hard down the hallway now, towards the other guard. "Nuh-uh, you're. Hearing things, I dunno, don't you have uhhh. Test? Youuu, you should go—"

"No, wait, hang on," Gordon says as a memory from the last day of the old Gordon Freeman's life vaguely manifests. "Hang on, you— that day, with m— the guard— you?"

"No, bro, I— I'm on my shift here, this…" Benry fixes his helmet, obscuring his red face, but Gordon's caught scent of a memory and is tracking it down. "I'm jus— just tryna do my job, you got your thing, we don’t hafta—"

"You are! That was you! That day, my pac— my dick was out all day, no one told me, I spilled my fucking coffee everywhere when I realized, I had to stay late and then— but you!! You, you stopped me, that morning, and—" Gordon blinks. Something in his brain shifts. He stares down at Benry, who refuses eye contact. "You… you didn't even tell me."

"Man, I tried," Benry groans. "But you were all, all, ugh— and I was—"

"You let me walk around all day with my dick out," Gordon says, stepping further into Benry’s space. Benry leans back, lifting his head to keep Gordon in his sight, which gives Gordon a clear look at Benrey’s pale throat and wide eyes. Something old and hungry in Gordon’s brain lifts its lips. “Which then made me spill my coffee, which made me late, so I had to take the back way to catch the train on time, and then I fuckin'— then…” A growl rumbles in his throat.

“Woah, you, uh…” Benry’s back hits the wall. He swallows. “Nice— nice teeth, bro.”

“What?” Gordon says, then stiffens. He whips a hand up to cover his mouth, running his tongue along his teeth— and finds that they’re way bigger and sharper than human teeth, than Gordon’s teeth, are supposed to be. “Oh, shit. Uh.”

"Yeah," Benry breathes. His eyes are wide and dark, focused on the hand Gordon's using to cover his mouth.

HIDE! BE HUMAN, Gordon's instincts. Mentally swearing, he wills his stupid teeth back to their normal shape and size,. How the fuck is he gonna explain this? He double-checks his teeth are normal before lowering his hand to speak. “Uh, so—"

"Oh," Benry says, disappointed, and looks away.

Gordon blinks. He glances at the ceiling in astonishment, mind caught on one word. "Disappointed?" he repeats.

"Mh, a little," Benry replies, shrugging. "Kinda a bummer. S'fine."

Gordon blinks again, looking back at his childhood best friend. "Wh. What? Wait, what are you—”

"Hey, we all good over here?"

Gordon strangles a yelp and glances over his shoulder to see the other guard from the far end of the hallway, his expression blandly pleasant, his hands down and unthreatening even as one hovers conveniently over his firearm. What the fuck? Gordon’s trying to have a conversation with his old packmate here— no, he reminds himself, Benry doesn't actually know him, so this… He shakes his full head. "Yeah," he says impatiently. "Yeah, we're—"

"Aren’t you the one in the barrel today, doc?" The random guard tilts his head towards the route Gordon's supposed to be taking to the testing chamber where within the hour the fabric between this world and the alien borderworld Xen will be rent in two.

“Yeah, I—” Gordon jerks his gaze to the ceiling. "Where the— what?"

"The barrel? The test chamber, I mean," says the guard, glancing up at the plain ceiling too, frowning. "You alright, doc?"

"No, it’s— I mean—” Gordon looks between the guard and the ceiling (as if that will help), trying not to be too obvious. “Sorry, yeah, I’m fine, I was just— just, uhhh. Was just saying… saying hey, to my friend here." He gestures at Benry, who hasn't moved at all— maybe because Gordon's still crowding him up against the wall. "Oh, my bad, I—" Gordon takes a step back, unaware that if he continues like this he'll never get this close to Benry again.

D:?! whine Gordon's instincts, and aloud Gordon says, "Wait, what?"

“I didn’t say anything,” Benry says, eyeing Gordon, completely unaware that without Gordon's help he doesn't stand a chance of surviving the coming disaster.

Gordon makes a noise that is mostly whimper, part groan.

“You sure you’re alright, doc? LeVrai, maybe you oughta go call someone—”

“No!” Gordon barks out, putting himself in between Benry and the other guard. "No, no, I mean, he, I, I, I—" Inspiration strikes. "I!! Don't have my passport! He, I, he should, should come with me, shouldn't he? Right? I mean, it's the rules, isn't it?" Gordon looks to Benry for confirmation.

Benry merely blinks at him. "Uh…"

"I think in this case we can make an exception," the other guard says firmly. "Now let's all be calm, rational people about this, alright? We can figure out—"

"I— I'm not fucking— Don't talk to me like I'm crazy," Gordon snaps. "You, you don't understand, there's—" Think things through for a second, Gordon.

He cuts himself off. Then he thinks a carefully worded question very loudly, which does nothing. He huffs.

Benry pokes him in the back of his head, which is unfortunately close enough to being pet that Gordon's stupid instincts want him to lean into it. He wrestles down the urge as Benry speaks.

"Hey. Are you…?"

"No! Yes. Look, I don't want to—" He pinches the bridge of his nose. Gordon Freeman has always been an excellent mathematician, provided there aren't any distractions. Right now he's got himself, a narrator portending doom, old instincts from a life before he was himself, an old friend who doesn't know him, some random meddling guard, what sounds like a potentially apocalyptic disaster on the horizon (and it is. an apocalyptic disaster, I mean), and a social situation he'd be ill-equipped for even if he had never been a reality-breaking mildly psychic shapeshifting mega-predator that has spent most of its time in the family Canidae.

The point is: there’s no way to solve this equation where Gordon won’t end up short. And if he makes even one error, his old best friend is as good as dead.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, fine,” Gordon says, and turns to the guard that isn't his and sings an intensely blue psychic suggestion at him to CALM DOWN.

The creature was never particularly delicate with that ability and Gordon’s under enough stress as it is— he pours it on strong. The second the balls of light hit the guard’s startled face, the man’s eyes shutter close and he drops to the ground, breathing deep and even in sleep.

“Woah,” Benry says quietly. “...Think I used to have a dog who could do sumn like that."

“Yeah, well, I’m human,” Gordon snaps, instincts uneasy in his gut. “Okay? I’m human. Totally, completely, one hundred percent human being. Now let's fucking go."

bc there's no time travel shenanigans w tommy and g-man in this AU, tommy'd actually only be 26 :-) a baby! ANYWAYS a chapter of Invasive Species is next up on my to-write list, which i've been pretty good (if slow) about following for the last couple months, so we'll see! i'm really hopeful <3?

in the meantime if you're interested in a story about gordon being inhuman in the same way as benrey, might i suggest crowned-ladybug's sorrow in idle minds (solace in being heard)?

#hlvrai #hlvrbtaiisa #saint writes #is fic #i'm pretty pleased w the characterization of gordon here :)#and hey! dogboy. there ya go

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