Authors Notes at bottom of page.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever claimed to own the rights to Happy Tree Friends. And no amount of praying or bribing of the creators on my part is going to change that, so unless you see this one shot turned into a proper episode, you may continue to rightfully assume that I have absolutely no control over Happy Tree Friends. I'm just a devoted fan. Deal with it.
Warnings: This is a fic for the pairing Flippy/Evil Flippy, so that means slash. No like, no read. I take no responsibility for any further warping of your fragile little minds; I have done my part by simply warning you, it's your own fault if your eyeballs turn to pus by reading my fic.
Reviews cherished, flames used to roast marshmallows at the next 'slash fan girls convention'. Live with it.
Word count: 3759
The bed creaked ominously as he fell upon it, a sprawling mass of bloodied limbs.
None of the blood was his, of course.
Flippy sighed deeply as he lay flat on his slightly lumpy mattress, small springs rubbing against the thin material cover and digging uncomfortably into his spine. He allowed his arms to stretch out on either side of him, not bothered by the blood currently staining his mattress an unattractive blotchy crimson.
Another day gone terribly wrong. Walks in the park had always been so fun and relaxing before the war, before HE came. Flippy didn't know where he'd come from, or why, but since his arrival his life had taken a dramatic downhill turn. Perhaps he was some way for him to deal with the trauma of the war, perhaps something his own mind had created to ensure his own safety, for he severely doubted he would have survived the war were it not for his 'help'. Whatever his purpose had been originally, he sure didn't seem to have been of any help since the war ended.
Flippy hated it when he took over, as he so easily did these days. He could always tell when he was coming; could feel him taking hold, like a large bubble exploding outwards in his chest. Hated how he would lose all control of his own body as the other being took over, forced to take a front row seat in the massacres that always followed the other being's release. Hated the way he would watch through those cold green eyes as he unwillingly slaughtered his friends and neighbours, feeling the wooden handle of the bowie knife jarring as the blade struck bone, as if he himself had conscious control over the limb grasping it. Hated the screaming.
Today had been another such instance. The temperate summer breeze wafting lazily through his open window had lured Flippy outside to talk a short stroll through the park, the warm air lifting his spirits and coaxing him into a cheerful mood. He had been making his return when, not 30 feet from his front door; he had, quite literally, run into Giggles who had been passing by, not paying attention to where she was headed as she called to Cuddles over her shoulder.
As Flippy toppled over his pink neighbour, he stuck out his hands before him on reflex, hoping his palms would break his fall. When they came into contact with the hard gravel of the path however, they did not make the expected thud and scrape noises of flesh slipping on a rough surface. Instead resounded a series of loud cracks following quickly one after another, much like the sound of rapid gunfire. It seemed Giggles and Cuddles had been playing with throw downs purchased at one of the local novelty stores, and had moved outside to play with them. After bumping into Flippy, Giggles had also fallen over, losing her grip on the small packet of mini explosives and causing them to scatter beneath Flippy.
Not a wise move.
Before he had even managed to push himself up from the rocky path he felt a wave of anger wash over him, causing his knees to buckle and forcing him to lower his head to the ground as a sudden invisible pressure pushed at him from all sides, the now familiar force breaking his control over his own body. Behind him he could vaguely make out the sounds of Giggles scrambling to her feet, stumbling back onto the grass towards Cuddles. By now everyone knew what he could and would do to you if you got in his way once he 'flipped out', and though they always magically appeared unharmed the next day, the pain he inflicted on them would always remain at the forefront of their minds.
To be honest, Flippy was wondering what Cuddles and Giggles were doing so near his home with throw downs in any case, and was putting serious consideration to beating some sense into their tiny pre-adolescent brains for their stupidity.
From Flippy emitted a deep, throaty growl. The noise startled him, he hadn't been trying to growl, and he made an attempt to stand and clear his throat. Neither his limbs nor throat were paying any attention to his commands, and he realised with a start that his body must have already been taken over. He watched through narrowed green eyes, his eyes, as this being, this Not-Flippy, or more appropriately, Evil Flippy, raised one green paw and clenched it into a fist. From behind him he heard Giggles squeal and run across the field towards Cuddles, as if her little bunny boyfriend could protect her from the flipped out army veteran. Flippy stood slowly and chuckled, clenching his hands into fists by his side. Flippy felt the fingers of his left hand grasping something large and rough in his fist, and didn't realize until he had turned and thrown it at the fleeing pink chipmunk that it had been a particularly large rock.
Funny, he didn't even recall feeling himself pick it up.
The rock zipped through the air at high velocity and hit its target dead on, shattering Giggles' left leg and causing her to fall and trip over herself. The chipmunk squealed in a mix of panic and pain and attempted to stand, shifting her leg from its awkward angle and pressing her weight on it to see if it would hold her. She managed to make it into a hunched crouch before her leg gave a sudden creak and the splinters of bone between her patella (1) and tibia shifted to the sides, causing the shattered end of her tibia to break through her flesh and splatter blood over her torso. Giggles screamed in agony and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, nursing her broken leg. Watching from the gravel path, Flippy felt himself move slowly towards his prey, a feral grin splitting his features.
Giggles peered over her shoulder and cried out in alarm when she noticed Flippy's advance. She once again attempted to stand only to fall back seconds later, her wounded leg no longer capable of holding her slight weight. She rolled onto her stomach and grabbed handfuls of the grass in front of her, pulling herself forward inch by inch towards Cuddles, who was staring at her in shock and horror mere feet away. As she began to feel the earth vibrate around her, Flippy's footsteps signalling his approach, she gave up her struggle and stretched an arm out towards Cuddles in desperation, begging that he help her. Cuddles took a step forward, then looked up from Giggles and stumbled backwards, gesturing wildly over her shoulder. Giggles made to motion him over to her again when he opened his mouth to scream, waving his hands before himself in an attempt to ward off whatever danger he was in. Before his mouth could utter a sound however, a small green projectile, about the size of a fist, sailed through the air and landed in Cuddles' open mouth. The rabbit lowered his hands to his throat and gagged on the object, which on closer inspection appeared to be a live grenade. Giggles gasped and attempted to move herself away from the rabbit, but froze as a green foot stopped an inch from her skull, the owner of which dropped the pin from the grenade in the grass before her.
As Giggles slowly raised her head to look up at the new arrival, Cuddles gave one final, garbled scream and the grenade lodged half-way down his throat exploded, tearing apart his head and torso. Giggles abruptly turned back to her boyfriend, who was now no more than a pair of legs and lower half of a body. Cuddles' severed lower half stumbled around on his stumpy yellow legs for a few moments more, before they ceased to function and his remains toppled unceremoniously to the floor, guts sloshing out and pooling into a viscous soup of tattered organs in the long grass.
A throaty growl from the being beside her snapped Giggles out of her shocked state and caused her to look up at Flippy, who was grinning down at her, army jacket coated with a generous spattering of rabbit organs. Slowly he leant over, reaching out towards her with one paw. Giggles came to her senses and screamed again, turning forwards and scrambling about in the grass, attempting to put as much distance between herself and the crazed bear. Evil Flippy laughed cruelly and grabbed the bone jutting out of the flesh of her left leg as she passed, tugging hard on it and causing Giggles to scream and thrash about. He swiftly released her leg and grasped her by the scruff of her neck, pulling her up so she was suspended in midair. Giggles squealed in his hold and struggled to free herself, but before she could Evil Flippy had spun about on the spot and smashed her face into the trunk of the nearest tree, her skull splintering into a million fragmented pieces. He released the chipmunk and allowed her body to fall to the floor, licking some of the blood off of his fingers. In his mind, Flippy squirmed in disgust, horrified at the events which just took place. Eventually, he felt the welcome tug with signalled his return of his body's control. He teetered on the spot for a few brief moments, before sighing loudly and turning towards his home, longing for the bed in which he could sleep and forget his troubles for the next few hours.
Which brings us to now.
Flippy groaned and pushed himself up from the mattress, annoyed that the sleep he so desperately desired remained just out of his grasp. He shuffled over to the side of the bed and slid his feet onto the pale carpet, standing and walking slowly over to the bathroom. He entered, shutting and locking the door on impulse, and shed himself of his bloodied clothing, deliberately steering his eyes clear of the mirror which would reveal some of the extent of his actions.
Once jacket, dog tags, hat and trousers (2) lay pooled at his feet, he stumbled over to the shower cubicle and turned the shower on, basking in the warm spray as he felt small lumps of flesh slip from his fur and slide down the large drain (made specifically for occasions such as these). He grabbed the lone bar of soap in the cramped cubicle and rubbed vigorously at his fur, clearing away all trace of red from the pale green. Eventually, once he was clear of all blood and the floor of the cubicle held no more trace of red, Flippy allowed himself to slip down the wall of the cubicle, coming to rest in a sitting position underneath the spray of water from the showerhead.
Why did he keep flipping out? The war had ended, so shouldn't that have signalled to the being that his purpose had come to an end, that he was no longer needed? Why, then, did he return every given chance? Every time a balloon popped, or a door was slammed, or a plane flew by overhead, he would take over and kill all in direct vicinity to his person. Why kill his friends and neighbours? He had left them in the war, terminating only the enemy soldiers. Why, and when, had the being so aptly referred to as 'flipped out Flippy', flipped out?
Flippy rolled to his knees in the shower cubicle, getting to his feet and turning off the shower. Slowly, he opened the cubicle door and eased himself out of the shower, grabbing a green towel from the rack beside him and rubbing at his fur to dry it off.
He remembered that time, not so long ago, when Evil Flippy had separated himself from Flippy so they could battle it out for control of his body. At the time, he had won, freeing himself of Evil Flippy for a time (well, at least until the end of the day, when he was run over by a truck), but the next day he had returned, as easily provoked as ever. He guessed that the rules of their reality applied to him as much as everyone else; that what dies one day, does not stay dead forever. A rule that was quite necessary here, as everyone seemed so prone to dying, if they all stayed dead all life on their planet would be wiped out in just a few short weeks.
My my, wouldn't that have been tragic?
Flippy finished drying off and tossed the towel to one side of the spacious bathroom, where it thudded softly against the wall. He strode over to the wash basket and lifted a spare set of clothes from the lid, where he always kept them in case something like this happened, as it so often did with him. He dropped the hat and jacket to the floor and slipped on his trousers before setting about replacing the rest of his clothing, finishing by setting his hat neatly atop his head. He walked back over to where he had left his blood stained clothing and gently plucked the dog tags from the mess, slipping them round his wrist, before scooping up the remaining clothing in his hands, and depositing them in a plastic box in the corner of the room to be incinerated later. There was no way he was wearing those again.
He went through so many good shirts that way.
Releasing a loud, audible groan, Flippy plodded back over to the sink and turned the faucet handle for the hot water, cleansing his hands of the congealing blood in the temperate stream. He slowly unwound the dog tags from his wrist and put them under the water too, languidly wiping them clean of clotted blood and bone. Once clean, he turned off the tap and dried his hands and dog tags on a nearby hand towel, before reaching up to hang them in their usual spot around his neck.
Unfortunately, in doing this, his eyes caught sight of the mirror, where he saw, for the briefest of seconds, two narrowed green eyes staring back at him.
Flippy jumped and stared at the mirror in shock, convinced his eyes had been playing tricks on him. It appeared they had been, for now his eyes were as obsidian as ever, not a fleck of green to be seen in his dark irises. Flippy sighed heavily; the stress must be getting to him, which was a pretty reasonable explanation. Having to witness the brutality of Evil Flippy day in, day out, it would get to anyone.
Staring into the mirror, Flippy was again reminded of the day he encountered Evil Flippy face to face. Despite spending the entirety of the time he was free trying to kill one another, Flippy had almost, well, enjoyed the competition. He hadn't been in a decent, evenly matched fight since the war had ended, and loathe as he was to admit it, his life had been considerably duller because of it. In fact, there had been practically nothing of interest for him to do since the end of the war. He had plenty of money, and so didn't need a job (not that anyone would hire him, killing customers is not good business) and had few friends due to the obvious. Apparently, people took a disliking to you after you butcher them and their families a few times.
In fact, now he thought about it, Flippy couldn't call any of his current neighbour's friends. None of them hung out with him, or usually within 100 feet of him, for fear of him flipping out and killing them. They didn't even seem to want to associate with him anymore, he even got most of his food from the shopping mall free now as most of the owners ushered him out of the shop with his desired items before he had a chance to pay (lest he scare away their other valuable customers). Hell, even Lifty and Shifty refused to steal from his house anymore which, though in retrospect wasn't such a bad thing, he took as another hard blow.
He hated Evil Flippy for doing this to him. It was he who caused this, it shouldn't be Flippy who had to pay for it, yet here he was, alone in an empty house, with no friends to socialise with. And where was Evil Flippy? Probably resting in the depths of his consciousness, snickering at his misfortune and planning the next way in which he would make Flippy's life miserable.
Still, Flippy couldn't deny that he longed to see the other being again, even if just once more, to battle it out or talk with or whatever (though he suspected the first guess was the most accurate). He missed being able to see Evil Flippy face to face, not just through his eyes. The bear that was so similar to him, if not for the green irises and jagged canines, they could be twins. He remembered thinking for so long that Evil Flippy was actually a part of him, but when he took over it was something foreign, joined to him indefinitely but completely separate from himself. Another being which lived inside him, like a parasite, though he found it strange to compare him to a tapeworm. No, he was more like some strange sort of leech; feeding off him but able to let go and leave whenever it chose. Mere days ago, if asked, Flippy would have said he would do anything to be rid of Evil Flippy forever, but now…
Now he would give anything to see him again, face to face, even if it was just for another fight.
Flippy rested his elbows on the edge of the sink and placed his face in his palms, scrunching his eyes closed angrily. What was happening to him?! Before his eyes flashed images of his last battle with his evil counterpart. Dodging airborne staples, being choked in the car, battling for possession of his bowie knife, when Evil Flippy had launched himself atop him after first appearing in this very bathroom, straddling his waist and-
A small shiver trailed down Flippy's spine, followed by an uncomfortable warmth which settled in the pit of his stomach.
Flippy jolted upright, eyes wide and breath coming in quick, harsh gasps. Had he? Oh no, there was no way, he wasn't…was he? No, of course not…but still?
Flippy shook his head furiously to clear his mind of his jumbled thoughts, hands trembling as he considered what had just happened. Had he just felt, well, good when he thought about Evil Flippy, Y'know, atop him? Maybe he just needed some air; the humidity in the bathroom was probably getting to him.
Flippy stumbled to the bathroom door and unlocked it, walking out into his bedroom where he was instantly overwhelmed by the scent of fresh blood. He covered his nose with the collar of his jacket and looked down at his bed.
'Oh, that's why'
The sheets and pillows of his bed were now coated in blood and torn lumps of flesh, the stench of which had filled the room. Quickly Flippy walked over to his bed and stripped it of its duvet, pillows and under sheets. He was dismayed to find that some of the blood had managed to permeate the mattress, but as he had no way of washing it and had no spare mattress available he settled for flipping it over and covering it with fresh sheets and pillows. He dragged the old bed sheets back into the bathroom where he dumped them in the plastic box along with his bloodstained clothes. Those would have to go too.
On his way out, Flippy turned to peer into the mirror again. He stared at his reflection absentmindedly for a few moments, before realising he was actually waiting to see if his counterpart would appear again, and forced himself to look away.
'I do NOT like him! I do NOT like him'
He repeated this mantra to himself again and again as he stood in the cold tiles of his bathroom floor; eyes scrunched shut in anger at himself. Had his self control dwindled to such a pathetic level that he could no longer control who he liked? Was he really so lonely as to turn to the one being who never ran from him like the rest, but who caused him all of his misery to begin with?
Was he really that narcissistic?
He could not suppress a dry chuckle at that last part. Well, if he really was attracted to Evil Flippy then he guessed it was true as they looked so similar. Had he really sunk so low?
Too absorbed in his own thoughts, Flippy did not hear the shuffle of footsteps on tile behind him as someone crossed the bathroom towards him.
Could he honestly forgive the other being for all the times he had used him as a vessel through which to kill his would-be friends? Could he really forgive the one who brought about his loneliness? Could he-
He was startled from his reverie by a small, green paw grasping his left shoulder. He stood stock still, shivering at the touch, as the other leant forward to whisper in his ear.
The familiar deep, semi-husky voice rumbled, causing his body to quake even more violently as an unusual warmth swept his body. He heard a light whistling sound behind him and he ducked just in time to avoid a punch to the head. Turning so he faced the other, black eyes locked on narrowed green; he twisted his body to avoid the array of kicks and punches being thrown at him and grinned up at the other.
For once, as he continued to dodge punch after punch, throwing a few of his own in here and there and basking in the competition the other presented him with, he could not help but laugh as he gave his answer, ducking under another punch and using the small opening presented to launch himself at the other, landing atop him and straddling his waist.
"Yes." Flippy uttered simply, and before Evil Flippy had a chance to react, he had crushed his own green lips to the others, revelling in the opportunity to do so.
Well everyone? How did you like it?
Oh, right, the numbers thing:
Patella – scientific word for 'knee Cap'
2) I know it doesn't look like most of the HTF's wear trousers, but there have been several instances where many of them appear to have magiced pockets out of no where, plus those few times Lumpy is seen without any pants on (giving us all a slightly traumatic view of his behind), despite the fact that a majority of the time he appears to wear no pants anyway and no discernable buttocks is seen, so therefore I think it is fair for me to be allowed to say they are wearing trousers.
Just thought I'd clear that all up.
Anyways, I was tired of being unable to find many Flippy/Evil Flippy fics (in fact, to my knowledge I only found one, which was a not quite excellently written lemon). If you know of any, then please point me in their direction, but as it is, I got kinda annoyed at this couple's obvious lack of interest to slash fans and so wrote a one shot for it.
I'm considering continuing this, but the next chapter would be a lemon. If you review would you mind giving your opinion on this? You don't have to of course, but I would like to know how many approve of my decision before I go through with it. If I do do the lemon I may write it as a separate one shot so this stays at a 'T' rating for those of you who don't want to read the lemon.
In any case, thanks for reading the fic, I hope you enjoyed it and reviews are always loved X3.