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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

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False Recovery. Yan Risotto x Reader [COMM]

warnings: bodily injury mention, medication mention word count: 3.2k

Why can’t adrenaline just last forever?

It might not be your place to question evolution or human biology, not having the most knowledge in the field to reasonably voice your concerns. Sure, pain is necessary to identify where a body part might be hurt, but does it need to be this excruciating? A little pinch should suffice, why does your nervous system need to fuck you over like this?

Complaining to yourself isn’t going to do any good, aside from the occasional nose exhale at your incredulous thoughts. That serves to make the pain worse, muted curses leaving your lips as a fresh wave of pain wracks over your body at any movement. A first aid kit sits in front of you, taunting your weakness. Your field requires being exposed to near death situations, and here you are, still unable to cope with physical pain. It’s not the worst part of today, that crown gem was stolen by passing out and needing to be carried back to base. You’ll never live that one down.

Should any of your teammates spot you, you cringe at the barrage of deprecating comments that’d be slewn your way. The last thing you need is to be demeaned for your lack of ability to endure pain, you’d feel half tempted to summon your Stand and silence them. Depending on who saw fit to disturb you, it might work out, but it’s still not worth all the trouble. All that matters to you now is getting this disinfected before it has time to fester, the marks against your chest making you frown deeply.

It still remains a mystery as to how you received these peculiar wounds. It looks like knife marks against your chest, clean and expertly done. In your line of work, you can recognize a lot about a person from how they attack. Looking in the mirror at your tattered shirt, a few observations can be made. The lines don’t go deep, only far enough to draw blood and break into the first layer of your skin; avoiding any vital organs. It felt like the wound was coming from inside of you, before surfacing and puncturing your flesh.The assignment ended up in a battle against a Stand user, not one that dealt with knives or anything that could puncture you in this manner. So how did these wounds come to be? Lowering the sorry remains of your shirt back down, you fail to notice an imposing figure standing behind you until the last second.

“R-Risotto?”

Piercing crimson eyes look at you, surrounded by black scleras. You despise how your voice squeaked at the sight of your intimidating boss, reminding yourself of Pesci more than a calm and collected assassin. His countenance remains stony as always, letting himself into the room and shutting the door behind him. Knowing Risotto, he’s piecing together the information before him and likely wondering why you haven’t tended to your wounds yet. Expressing to a fellow assassin that you’re squeamish when it comes to your own injuries is far too humiliating a fate, so your mind scrambles to offer an explanation.

“I was just about to disinfect myself from the injuries I received earlier.” You let out a forced laughing, hoping it’ll dissipate the uncomfortable atmosphere. He doesn’t so much as blink, staring down at you as if you suggested something idiotic. Or maybe he isn’t thinking anything of your incompetence, it’s impossible to tell with how stoic his face is. You gulp when he doesn’t make a motion to leave, instead walking towards the first aid kit that sits on the counter. Risotto opens it up, eyeing the content with familiarity, reaching for the antiseptic.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” Risotto’s voice commands authority, low and straight to the point. “You’ll get an infection otherwise.”

Can’t he have a shred more tact during this encounter? That might be too much to ask for from a renowned assassin, your cheeks flushing at the possible insinuation in his words. As one of the newer members of the hitman team, you feel strongly about proving yourself. Not to mention that you’re the only female member, an extra fact that weighs down upon you. You’re competent to have made it this far within the organization, and you want others to acknowledge this. Still, it’s not like you can wave him off, he is your boss. So what is there to do?

Scratching your rapidly warming cheek, you make an attempt to weasel out of this situation. “I’m sure you have a lot on your plate already. I was just about to patch myself up, anyways.”

Ignoring your pitiful string of excuses, Risotto picks up the antiseptic before motioning for you to sit down on the couch. From his lack of response you quickly deduce that this matter isn’t up for debate, and hang your head in surrender. While the details surrounding Risotto Nero are murky, you figure he’s had his fair share of run ins that led to injuries. You were going to likely need help with this anyways, so it’s best if one of the professionals handles it. A lot better than having to strike a deal with Melone, or Ghiaccio at least. Though you doubt anything you said to the latter would have helped.

Sitting down into the plush couch with a dramatic sigh, your trembling fingers go to the edge of your tattered shirt. The fight with the target shouldn’t have been so difficult, but the randomly appearing abrasions to your skin threw you off. Thinking it might have been a new ability that you didn’t know had ruined your plans, putting you on the defense rather than the offense. What a humiliating day this has been… you’ll treat yourself to a nice breakfast after a full night of sleep, or maybe even a new pair of pajamas.

Risotto watches wordlessly as you reveal your chest, only left in ripped shorts and a bra. He doesn’t strike you as the lecherous type, not focusing on your exposed chest, and instead getting straight to work. You’re grateful at his professionalism, but still feeling flustered over everything. Dipping a fresh set of gauze into the antiseptic, the sterile scent hits your nose as soon as he opens the bottle. You lean back out of instinct when his hand approaches the flesh wound, inhaling sharply. Much to your surprise, he looks up to you to confirm that you’re alright. You nod your head, a mix of emotions hitting you all at once at the admittedly compassionate move.

There’s no opportunity to linger on the unexpected kindness, as your confirmation makes him place the gauze against your tender skin. A hiss escapes from your lips, a fresh wave of pain hitting you all at once. The stinging is the worst part, only growing stronger as he works his way over the entire area. Your eyes squeeze shut in a meager attempt to alleviate the throbbing pain, fingers curling and nails digging into the skin of your palm. It’s over as soon as it began, Risotto now moving to wrap bandages around your upper torso.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you blurt out against your better judgement, internally cursing yourself for being too blunt. He pays you no mind, instead placing the medical equipment back into its place. “But… thank you.”

“Keeping yourself in top condition is important in this line of work.” Risotto shuts the kit closed with a low click, placing it back into the cabinet of supplies. You take the time of silence to reflect on his words, silently agreeing. All you can do is hope he doesn’t think of you so dense that you would be incapable of taking care of yourself. There can be time to lament the semantics of his language earlier, your curiosity has now been piqued. It’s late into the night, everyone else having headed off long ago. Risotto’s duties are likely different than your own, maybe even involving paperwork or something similar, but you’ve been in this room for hours. Surely he could’ve been in the comforts of his own home by now.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you inquire with a tilt of the head, kicking your legs into the air and using the momentum to stand up. Risotto doesn’t ignore you, instead turning around and possibly considering your offer. While the thought of spending alone time with this intimidating and mysterious man isn’t high on your list of desires, it feels right to repay him somehow. He might not show it in the conventional ways, but you know that he looks out for you and everyone else. Offering advice when necessary, or even rebuking ideas that would’ve led to more casualties. He’s efficient and doesn’t mess around with niceties, and has undoubtedly earned your respect.

He gives you a once over, motioning to the blood that begins to seep through the bandages. You look down at the pathetic sight, feeling like shrinking under his unblinking stare. Maybe he blinks at the same time as you? It’s the only logical explanation that comes to mind. Before you can theorize further, Risotto speaks up once more. You’ve never seen him this talkative with the others, not that you can blame him. Everyone else is questionable company at best, Melone at worst.

“You should focus on healing. Go home and get some rest.”

Your strength declining at a rapid rate, you feel inclined to give in and slink off as he suggested. It doesn’t feel right with you to receive a favor without returning it in kind, so you test your luck one more time. “I don’t think a few scratches will be the end of me. It’s what, two in the morning? Surely I can be of some assistance, so you can get some sleep too.”

This time, Risotto doesn’t humor your attempts, having already made up his mind. “It’s been a long day. Head home.”

You don’t see the point in bothering him any further, fighting down a yawn. The thought of sleep does sound wonderful right about now, maybe even taking a day or two off. Waving goodbye to him for the night, you make your way out the door, feeling his eyes on your back with every step.

The knife in your hand cuts through the orange peel with ease, shaving the skin off and leaving only the citrusy fruit inside. It’s a simple snack, but one that has your mouth watering nonetheless. Working up the energy to cook with all the fatigue pain killers brought has been a losing battle, and you don’t feel like getting food delivered again. So this fruit you found in your fridge will have to suffice for the time being. Following the lines of the orange, you take a section off and plop it into your mouth, juice bursting over your tongue. You’re grateful to your past self for thinking to buy more fruit, though it looks like another grocery trip is in order. Living on your own can be difficult at times, but there’s an appeal to it. The independence is nice, you think.

When you’re about ready to go for another bite, you hear your doorbell ring. Your mind starts to wonder who it could be, ranging from a delivery at the wrong house to your landlord. The latter does

sound appealing, not when you’re cranky from being injured and on multiple medications to appease the pain that comes with it. Running across your apartment with the orange still in hand, you peak out the window, your jaw slacking at the sight.

It’s… Risotto?

Not wanting to keep him waiting in the sweltering heat of summer, you scurry to your door and open it. When he makes eye contact with you, you regret not having freshened yourself up more. Wearing your hair up and a tank top and shorts to fend off the oppressive heat, you must look more like a college student than a reliable member of Passione’s assassin team. You clear your throat, straightening your back out and pulling your shirt down. Hopefully there’s no orange juice on your face, that’d be embarrassing…

“Uh, hey,” you wince at how stupid and unsure of yourself you sound. What else is there for you to say? You don’t even want to know how he managed to find your address, for someone like him it was probably a walk in the park. “You can come in if you want. Need any water?”

The fruit in your hand has earned his attention, but he doesn’t comment, instead deciding to accept your invitation and walk past you. You shut the door behind him, feeling too nervous to finish your snack, and remembering your offer to get him water. With a sigh of relief, you scamper off to your kitchen, setting down the orange and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. The blast of cool air that hits you from opening your fridge helps you get a grip, your heartbeat increasing at the thought of Risotto being in your apartment. You’ll never understand him.

He’s looking at a picture of you and a friend that’s hung on your wall, and you can’t help but laugh at the sight. Risotto looks a bit out of place in casual environments that aren’t shrouded in darkness and mystery, like a character plucked from a comic book and set into real life. Not that you’d ever have the guts to tell him this, seeing as you value having iron in your blood. He catches the bottle when you throw it to him with his free hand, turning his attention back to you.

Risotto examines the bottle with interest, before taking a sip. “How are your injuries?”

So that’s what this is about. You give a halfhearted shrug. “I’ve had worse. I still don’t understand how a Stand relating to sound managed to scratch me like this though.”

Truth be told, in the plentiful amount of time you’ve had to think while your wounds recover, the thought hasn’t left your head. When you finally finished the job and gave the target a search over, there was nothing on their person that resembled a knife that matched the marks on your chest. The moment during the fight is still blurry, all you remember is a hot pain, blood, and your torso feeling like it was being shredded. Just thinking about it makes you shiver.

“Stand battles are always unpredictable.”

Maybe you’re imagining things, but he seems fast to want and move past the topic. Dismissing your concerns, something unidentifiable flashes over his face. It’s not like you don’t know that. As the phrase goes, dead men tell no tales. You’ll never be able to question the target on how they managed to land that hit, not when he’s a corpse. Your theories will have to satisfy for now. A scent of tomato grabs your attention, and you realize it’s coming from the bag Risotto’s holding. Before you weren’t paying much attention to it, now you recognize a restaurant’s logo on the bag. He raises it up, and places it on your kitchen counter top.

“It’s some stuff I picked up on the way here. I’m not sure what you like, so feel free to throw out whatever you don’t want.” Risotto explains as if this were a regular occurrence, returning his attention back to you. You blink rapidly, wondering if this is all a side effect dream from all the painkillers. This is going far and beyond what a boss would need to do, treading into friend territory. Not that you mind, it just isn’t what you expected from someone of Risotto’s stature. The sweet gesture is much appreciation, your stomach all but growling at the thought of some savory food to chow down on.

While not overflowing with money, you do well for yourself. It feels wrong to accept all this food without offering to pay for it. “Here, let me pay you back. This looks like a lot…”

Multiple bowls of soup with condensation on the lids, a few various pasta dishes, some different kinds of bread, and a few scoops of chocolate gelato. Looking at the feast in front of you makes your eyes practically bulge out, this is enough for a celebration, not a single person!

“Don’t bother.” He snuffs out your attempt at repaying him with a succinct phrase. You reach into the bag, settling on the first piece of bread that catches your attention, and nibbling on it. It’s still warm.

“I… I can’t thank you enough. Are you hungry? You should have some too.”

Not that you’re surprised, but he shakes his head. With the next few days having meals covered in full, you feel an innate sense of relief. Planning and going through with meal plans has always been a nightmare, even if you like cooking. Too much preparation and thought has to go into it, especially anything with vegetables. The restaurant is one a few blocks away from your house, a higher end type of place you’ve walked by countless times. How much money does Risotto make, anyways? Why is he even bothering to go through all this effort for you? He’s a good leader, you know that much, but this feels like something else entirely.

It may be the heat, or the lack of sleep, or the side effects from all the medication, but your mind starts running. The question is reminiscent of a schoolgirl giggling with her friends, wondering if so and so has a crush on her. Risotto has never made a serious move on you, not that you can think of. Unless this was him doing just that, and you’ve been oblivious all along. You admit that he’s physically attractive, and that you’ve found your short interactions with him pleasant.The thought of being in a relationship for now is off putting, so you push these thoughts away.

“I’ll be ready to accept jobs again by tomorrow.” You take another bite of your bread, wiping away some crumbs near your mouth. The unprecedented time off might negatively impact the others, and you couldn’t stand for that. A few flesh wounds won’t get in between you and your job, especially since they’re healing up fine.

“It might not look bad, but if you overexert yourself, the wounds will open up more and require stitches,” he points out to you, causing you to frown. It makes sense, but twiddling your thumbs at home until it heals doesn’t feel like a viable option. Sensing your impatience, he speaks up again. “I’ll bring what you need until you heal properly.”

Appearances aside, he’s stubborn. In every aspect of how Risotto carries himself, he demands respect. His words feel absolute, and you give yourself into his whims. It’s the same self-assured nature that gives you confidence when you don’t know what to do, a trait unique to him. From how the marks are already starting to scab over, you don’t think it’ll be an unreasonable amount of time off. Offering him a smile, you nod once in agreement.

“Alright, you got me. I won’t overdo it.”

He almost looks amused, the corner of his lip tugging up. He looks content himself, for reasons unknown.

“I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

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flowerthornsart · 4 years

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Haven meets Sybil

A drabble that i ended up working on for the day, it ended up being longer than i thought it would (3493 words) but I’m super happy with the result!

CW for blood, body horror, and medical grossness

Applying for nursing jobs was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I wasn’t expecting to have a job right away, but with my rent, bills, and student loans cropping up, it’d be nice to get a higher paying job than door dash and Walmart. Sure, I was getting by, but it felt almost as though I had wasted those years studying. It was getting more and more disheartening with every email stating I wasn’t “quite what they were looking for”, if I even got an email or phone call back at all.

I was lying in bed, scrolling through social media, and trying not to let the weight of the last rejection email I had gotten suffocate me when a notification popped up.

1 new email.

I sat up a little, clicking on the notification and being taken to my inbox. I refreshed, and refreshed again, but nothing popped up. That’s when I noticed that there was a 1 next to the spam folder.

“Thank you for your application!” the title read, and I could feel my heart start to flutter with nervous excitement as I opened it up.

“Hello Miranda Havis, thank you for submitting your application. We here at Mending Collective have looked over your application and would love to interview you in person. Please give us a call at…”

I barely read the rest as I looked over the number, typing it into my phone and waiting with bated breath for an answer. After a long bout of ringing, it cut off suddenly.

“Mending Collective, Sybil speaking.”

The woman’s voice on the other end was low, in both volume and tone. It took me a second to speak up, nerves getting the best of me for a moment.

“Yes, this is Miranda Havis. I had gotten an email about the position?”

“Oh, Ms. Havis!” The voice sounded more sing song at that. “I’ve been waiting for your call; you’re wanting an interview, right? How about this, I have a client I’m going to meet tomorrow, so why don’t you come with me and show me just how good of an assistant you can be? It beats sitting in my office and asking a bunch of questions.”

“err…” I stammered, unsure what to think. This was in no way professional; I wasn’t sure how to react. “I could always meet you after, if you’re busy.”

“Well, if you’re there, you can show me how well you preform under pressure. If not, I can go alone and consider other applications.” She replied bluntly. “Meet me at the address listed on the email by 3:00 pm. If you come early with some coffee, that might warm me up to you more!” She cackled a bit at that. “Hope to see you then!”

Sybil hung up before I could even reply, and I was left stunned, mouth gaping. Did I really call the right number? I looked over the number listed again and again, even clicked through to the official site linked, only to be greeted with a very early 90s looking site. It had the same number, the address, and a little about the head and seemingly only doctor, Dr. Sybil. There was a picture of what looked to be an almost generic woman in a doctors’ uniform, face framed in grey hair and smiling a pearly white grin. The description of services was vague at best, things like “surgery, pharmaceuticals, and cleansing.” I sat back, eyebrows furrowed, and phone still clutched in my hand as the picture stared up at me. This couldn’t be real. To have a practice so small, to have such a strange doctor with an even stranger idea of an interview, it all seemed too crazy. But I did need the money, maybe Sybil was just getting started, as bizarre a start that would be.

I went through the rest of the day in a haze, flipping from going, or not going, or reasoning behind why someone would pull such an elaborate trick. Kidnapping? Murder? From sundown to sunup the next day, my mind was racing.

Yet I found myself getting dressed, and ready to go by 1:30. I wasn’t completely stupid, I texted a couple friends the address, a vague sense of what was going on, and what I was wearing to the ‘interview’. I didn’t tell them of the odd phone call, just that I felt safer letting them know where I was, since it was in the town over. I could tell they thought it was odd, but they assured me the interview would go well and to not be so nervous.

So, I drove, and picked up coffee on the way while I was at it. The office ended up being in a building consisting of different offices and clinics. If it wasn’t for her office being pushed into a back corner, the black out curtains covering the glass front along with the sign “by appointment only” being plastered on the door would have made it stick out like a sore thumb.

I shifted one of the coffees into the crook of my elbow and tapped twice on the door waiting for a response moment trying the door. It swung open, and the first thing I could smell was potpourri. Its strong scent in comparison to the slightly sterilized smell of the outside hallway made my nose itch, but I shook it off as I walked in. It wasn’t as dark as I thought it would be, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing as I took in the room.

There were shelves of books, jars, knickknacks that made the whole area look eclectic. There were only a couple chairs in this, what I could only assume to be a waiting room. The plush carpet seemed to hold on to the scent of the potpourri on a couple of the shelves, though there were some petals and plants in there that I just couldn’t identify. The door on the other side of the room had the plaque for Sybil’s practice, though it still only listed the name “Dr. Sybil”. No first name or indication that she had any other surnames. Before I could go to knock on that door, it swung open.

I wasn’t expecting the doctor to be so tall, or to look so different from the picture online.

If I had to guess, Dr. Sybil is easily 6’0”, give or take. Her skin is a pale grey, oddly shiny in the fluorescent light as though she was drenched in water. Her hair was a pale, almost grey purple, her wild hair tied in two loose pigtails on either side of her face. Though the first thing I noticed after her height was the scowl on her face.

She had many sharp teeth, too many for a human to have. Her yellow sclera made her white eyes even more piercing, before her expression changed to a strange crooked smile.

“Oh, look who showed up! Ms. Haven, right?”

“uhm, M…Ms. Havis, ma’am.”

“I didn’t expect you to actually bring coffee! I can already tell we’re going to get along great.” She took the coffee cup from the crook of my arm. As she spoke, I could see glints of even more teeth peeking from the sides of her lips. She took a long swig of the coffee before looking to me again. “Follow me, I’ve got what we’ll need for the house call, and I think I have an extra mask for you.”

“extra mask? Wait-!” I finally bring myself to speak. “Who are you? I mean, what are you? What kind of practice is this?”

Sybil stopped at the door, turning back to me before shaking her head.

“Ah, I forgot I pulled from some human candidates. I didn’t realize I pulled from ones that are unfamiliar with less… mainstream practices.” She turned fully to look at me, tilting her head.

“you already know my name, but as for what I am… well, best way I can put this…” she furrowed her brows for a moment. “You know what a vampire is right?” I nod, taking a step back. “Christ, calm down, if I wanted to bite you I would. I’m sort of something like that, but not in the traditional way. I don’t turn other creatures to vampires, I don’t burn in the sunlight, I’m more akin to a leech, I suppose.”

Sybil pulled her lip back, revealing what I thought I had seen: Her teeth seemed to circle her mouth, and there were a few more hiding behind the from teeth.

“I’ve been around humans for centuries, long enough to learn about you, the way you work, and what shouldn’t be there. Including more supernatural things. That’s what we’re dealing with today.” Sybil put her hand on the handle of the door, looking at me expectantly. “I may have pulled resumes from places other than my usual, I forgot that humans don’t always want to dabble in this sort of environment. If you don’t want to come with me, that’s fine, I don’t even mind if you tell people, because who would believe you? I will say I pay handsomely, but this is ultimately your choice.”

“Handsomely? How much would the payment be?” I blurted out. As unsettling as Sybil herself was, and the idea there was more out there like her, I did still have rent to pay. Sybil’s grin crept back onto her face as she chuckled.

“There’s not exactly co-pay for the visits I do, usually I get to keep the money for myself. But I don’t really need a lot of money, just enough for upkeep and I get my meals as payment from the client as well.” She must have seen the horrified look on my face because she waved me off. “Its nothing deadly, I promise. The most the client has after is a bite mark. My point is, I don’t mind doing a fifty-fifty split with you. These sort of jobs are high demand, there’s very few people who can do it, and my services can range from 3,000-5,000. So, half of that at least 3 times a week if not more.”

I opened my mouth to speak, before closing again. That sounded like an amazing opportunity, almost too good to be true. But if there was even a chance… I nodded before speaking again.

“I’d like to try and see how this first day goes.” I replied, and Sybil gave me a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Atta girl, you’re a brave one Ms. Haven! Let’s get going.”

The ride there went without a hitch, Sybil asking small questions and I asking small questions in return. Ones like “how was your day? what was college like? Man, the weather outside is too hot isn’t it?” It was almost like I wasn’t sitting next to a vampire leech. It wasn’t long before we pulled up outside of a residential house, a cookie cutter house that looked like the ones surrounding it, save for the tacky flamingo lawn ornaments outside. Sybil reached into the backseat, pulling out a bird mask before fishing out what looked like a gas mask. She measured the band between her fingers, looking from it, to me, before handing it over.

“Here. It’s good practice to have your face covered, and for a human like you, its best for creatures like these to not be able to recognize you later.”

I was about to ask, but she put her mask on and opened the car door, and I just went along with it. It fit fairly smug over my mouth and nose, my eyes the only thing really visible. I followed tentatively behind after Sybil retrieved a bag from the trunk. She knocked on the door, and I could hear the sound of multiple locks being slid open before it opened. A face of a man peeked out from the door, looking the two of us over before opening the door completely. He looked to be in his 50s, haggard, his T shirt drenched in sweat down the collar and pits. I shoot a glance to Sybil before she clears her throat.

“Good evening, Mr. Paisley, I take it Mrs. Paisley still isn’t feeling well?” She asked, a lilt of concern in her voice.

“Feeling well? She’s torn up the whole basement, she looks like a fucking nightmare!” He snapped, a tremble in his voice. Sybil lifted a hand.

“Language, sir. That’s why me and my assistant are here. Did you mix the sleeping medicine into her food like we discussed?”

“Y…yes… she fell asleep twenty minutes ago. She actually looked peaceful, and…” He trailed off, swallowing the knot in his throat before continuing. “Please help her, Doctor. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Sybil nodded, walking past him as I followed after.

“So, what it sounds like is a possession, but not the usual demon kind. From what it sounds like, something implanted into her, maybe she ate something, on their last camping trip that’s been driving her to animalistic tendencies. My thoughts are that whatever it is, it’s using her like a skin suit. Its not too late to save her, though.” Sybil explained as we walked down the hallway, to the staircase that lead to the basement. She stopped, looking to me as I had very obviously paled at the thought. “Your job, quite simply, is to assist me in this surgery. Be alert: this is a live creature, and you’ll have me by your side. And this.”

She stepped down a couple steps, grabbing a baseball bat leaning on the stone wall and handing it to me. “your resume said you were quick on your feet, Ms. Haven, we’re putting that to the test.”

My stomach churned as I thought of turning back, but I felt I couldn’t just leave, not after entering this house. I followed after Sybil, closing the door behind me. The lights in the basement were dim, torn up cardboard boxes and the contents inside were strewn around the room, the stench of rotting meat mixed with the musty smell of the basement and made me gag. In the middle of the room was a woman, lying on her side. Red liquid was dried on her face, and her fingers looked caked in pieces of ground meat. Sybil pointed me to a knocked over ping pong table in the corner, and as quietly as I could I set it back upright. Sybil set the woman on the table, handing me plastic gloves, and putting on ones of her own. I swore I could see movement under the woman’s skin.

“Alright, lets start with the scalpel.”

For a bit, I was simply helping Sybil with tools, watching as blood pooled, cuts were cauterized, flesh was moved away, and her chest cavity revealed. Except, there wasn’t natural.

If you’ve never seen a teratoma before, it looks like a lump of flesh with teeth, eyes, but is ultimately benign. This, however, looked more like a large bone growth. I wouldn’t have thought it was alive if it didn’t have eyes that immediately snapped to me. It was nestled just below the ribs, the woman’s’ organs pushed out of the way enough to accommodate the boney mass as tendrils of flesh twisted into each other and were trailed out to keep it anchored in the body. It clicked and writhed in the light, making the woman’s skin undulate in different areas. I couldn’t see Sybils face, but I could hear a steely resolve in her voice.

“Be ready.” Is all she said, before grabbing the pair of forceps she had laying on the table and clamping it around the creature. There was a loud wail, muffled but still audible, as it tried desperately to get its hosts’ arms to move. One of its tendrils ripped through the skin of her forearm, bringing muscle with it before letting it fall back and shooting out at me on its own. It wrapped around the front of the gas mask with surprising force, pulling me forward and making me stumble nearly face first into the wound. I clawed at it as I started to coil around my neck, trying to get a grip on it but the mixture of blood and whatever other fluids it secreted made it hard to get any sort of hold. I looked to Sybil for help, but she was too busy dealing with the creature herself, fighting against a few of the tendrils as she pulled the creature with the forceps. As my vision started to get fuzzy, I spotted a scalpel on the table. I snatched it, using the last of my strength to plunge the blade into the creature. Another muffled shriek escaped the core as I stabbed, it pulled tighter around my neck until I sawed through the flesh, an off-white ooze bursting from the middle and smelling distinctly of sulfur and rotting flesh.

“Get the bat!” Sybil yelled, yanking the forceps back and falling flat on her back as the creature was pulled from the body with sickening pops and squelches. It wriggled, the full length of its tendrils finally on display, tall enough to easily pull away from Sybil. I could see now why the screeches were so muffled: teeth clattered on the top of its form, stained red from having been buried in the flesh surrounding it for so long. It attacked Sybil head on, ripping into her now held up arm to protect her face and mask. Quick as I could I wound up with the bat, smacking it hard enough to launch it across the room. The force of the hit and how hard it slammed into the wall caused it to crack open, grey brain matter oozing with that same off-white fluid pouring onto the floor. It twitched and gurgled, still trying to crawl towards us before the extent of its injuries finally caught up to it, curling into itself and going still.

“good work, Ms. Haven.” Sybil panted, a rivulet of blood staining her sleeve. “Take this jar and this solution, scoop some of that creature into the jar and whatever else is there, dissolve it in the solution. I’m going to fix Mrs. Paisley up.”

How she was so nonchalant about what just happened, I don’t know, but the rest of that procedure was a blur. I vaguely remember scooping the remains into the jar, tightening the lid, and cleaning up the excess. My body felt shaky with adrenaline, and I remember Sybil telling me to take the bag and jar to the car while she discussed payment with Mr. Paisley. I heard the front door open after what felt like hours, but what could have only been a few minutes, with Sybil walking out to the car while Mr. Paisley waved, looking relieved and less haggard than before. I couldn’t help but stare at the wound on his shoulder, ringed teeth marks threatening to bleed again until Sybil blocked my view by leaning on my door.

“Ms. Haven, hand me the gauze, I didn’t even realize I was bleeding until now.”

I nodded, reaching into the back, and grabbing the gauze, passing it through the window. She wrapped her arm as she walked to the driver’s side, sliding in, and tearing the gauze with her fingernails before tucking the excess in.

“M…my name is Ms. Havis.” Was the only thing I could think to blurt out.

“Oh. Do you mind if I call you Haven? It rolls off the tongue a little better.” She smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but notice the red tint. I nodded and sat back in my seat. “You did wonderful, by the way. You’re stronger than I thought! You handled it like a professional, so I guess college is good for something!” She laughed. “Listen, you’re going to see and deal with a lot of dangerous things working with me, but on the bright side, we got 4,000 for that arrangement. So, 2,000 in one day isn’t so bad, right?”

I nod, smiling a little up at her as she started the car, taking off her face mask. I pulled mine off as well, feeling how sore my throat was after that ordeal. It felt like that surgery should have taken the whole night, but it was only an hour and a half tops. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but it was just as exciting as it was frightening, and the money was great already.

“I think I would like to work with you again, Doctor.” I said, and Sybil cracked a genuine smile.

“I’d hope so! Let’s get some booze, and some food in you, and we can discuss if you want it in cash or not.”

An odd start, for sure, but I was starting to get used to strangeness already.

#writing #drabble #original writing #monster girl #my writing #cw body horror #cw blood #cw medical

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fouquesartcorner · 4 years

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SPECIES REF: VITRIANS

[Vitrians are a crystalline feline humanoid species, known for their crystalline make up which generates and houses energy within them.]

Inspiration: I wanted something to convert Noah into, for an alien species, and decided instead of ice it’d be easier if he was crystalline. From there incorporating metaphysical concepts(i.e. Crystal healing) followed as it provided more ideas about how I wanted to see them as.

Background: Vitrians are a species that evolved on a world that’s full of crystals laced with vast potential energy, planted there from a species long before them. Due to this they absorbed the crystals within their environment and became these crystalline creatures. However, being walking, sentient crystalline beings, they are seen as aesthetically pleasing to the eye, and to potentially harvest as an alternative energy source, thus making Vitrians ideal candidates to be snatched from their homes by offworlders.

General appearance: They’re humanoid with feline features such as large cat ears and noses. They have crystalline claws on both hands and feet, and two to four fins coming out of their back. Their tails are tipped with fins and black sclera surrounding their vibrant colored pupils. What is notable about them is that their hair and fins have an undulatory effect given off by how the microscopic crystals in their body reflects light, giving them a glittery almost galaxy effect.

Adamas: [Common] Inspiration: They’re “common” due to there are more of these guys, population wise compared to the rest of their kind. And due to this, when the first handful of offworld visitors arrived, these are the Vitrians that they saw and were dubbed the “typical appearing” Vitrian. Notable Traits: Fins running along spine and tail. They’d have 2 pair of fins on their back, and perked ears. Extra Note: There is also a subculture where a handful of Adamas Vitrians took it upon themselves to become “demon hunters” in which they hunt down and slay Deima Vitrians, deeming them too chaotic and dangerous to live among the rest of their kind.

Alsius [Tree climbers] Inspiration: Monkeys, due to their tail being used to help them stay in the trees and hold themselves steady when trying to reach for fruit. Notable Traits: Two pair of backfins on their back. They are known to have thinner, longer prehensile tails then the rest of their kind and the tails have tufts of hair at the end rather than fins. Their claws are sharper to allow them to cling to trees also.

Nivalis: [Crystalline Spikes] Inspiration: Figured there’d be at least one species who’d have more crystalline growth than the rest, who’d while fighters tend to be hunted more due to their crystals moreso than others by offworlders. Notable Traits: They have one pair of back fins. They contain excessive exposed bones(spikes) along their arms and their tails, and they’re one of the few that have horns. They also have Draconic/flat clawed feet compared to the rest, kind of in a way to allow them to walk on the desert sand better. Extra note: While they’re known to live around deserts, they’re nomadic. There are a few groups who do live in settlements within or near oasis, but most otherwise travel.

Hyalis: [Coastal dwellers] Inspiration: Decided to have some who lived along the coast, who are more adaptive to water too. These tend to be the most visually appealing of the Vitrians. Notable Traits: They have one pair of large back fins. Larger fins running along their spine and their tails, and they appear to have some bits of webbing between their claws.

Nixis: [Cave dwellers] Inspiration: Black light crystals and crystals that have phosphorescent properties, which are best seen in the dark of course. Notable Traits: Bioluminescent/phosphorescent crystals and eyes. There are also some crystalline shards embedded on certain areas on their body. They have two pairs of back fins, with the tip having bioluminescent orbs.

Fierros: [Metallic tipped] Inspiration: Minerals that contain a metallic component like calcite with pyrite, malachite with copper, etc. Notable Traits: Metallic coverage on their crystalline claws and horns. Also along their fins and skin, in placement of markings, even though it isn’t actually a literal metallic coating. They also have horns too and can have one or two pairs of back fins.

Deima: [Demons] Inspiration: The Demon Vitrians were inspired by the idea of things that the Vitrians would have demonized (as they worship spirits, so I had to wonder if they had demons), and “what if they demonized members of their population whose powers were out of control?” -- Leon Also, the veins are from crystalline veins like gold veins within quartz. Notable Traits: They have crystalline veins along their body and eyes, giving them a “fractured” appearance. They do have horns, and have one to two pairs of back fins. Their tails don’t have the fin tip, but have spikes lining the tail instead.

Gaelis: [Fliers] Inspiration: “It was initially inspired by the idea of Vitrians with gravity based powers But then I ended up taking it a bit further and imagining ‘what if there was a subspecies that could actually fly?’ Seeing that Vitrians, Kawek, A’mok, etc were said to be descended from the same progenitor species, I hypothesized that the Vitrians would have similar genetic potential to the Kawek.” -- Leon Notable Traits: They have perked eyes like their Adamas cousins. They do have two pairs of fins on their back, fins at the base of their tail and at the tip, shaped almost like wings to help them fly. Their wings can be summoned out, where they release crystals which form the energy used in the shape of wings which manipulates the air currents around them, helping them stay in the air. Extra Note: These guys are believed to be extinct due to them being associated to the Deima and hunted down by the demon hunters.

Hybrids: Traits of the ex: - Deima x Fierros - Nivalis x Alsius - Adamas x Alsius Extra detail: Hybrids can happen, just not commonly. Most times, the child of two different races of Vitrians tend to come out looking like one parent or the other. It’s usually on a rare chance and depending on the parents, a child could come out looking like a hybrid of the two. Of course over time more hybrids could appear as genetics can evolve over time.

Misc. Info: - Homeworld is called Seralis, which contains one sun and six moons. - They’re animists and a bit polytheistic, belief wise. They believe in spirits in many things, nature worship, which also include believing that their homeworld’s moons and sun are also greater spirits. - Their homeworld is comprised of crystalline structures, natural and forged, while the flora and fauna appear almost marine like, just floating in the air rather than being under water. - They also believe in reincarnation. One of their beliefs is that great heroic figures in their history can be reincarnated into a new body when their purpose is needed again. This can also go to horrific figures in their history too, with a higher chance of them being reincarnated into demons if reborn as a Vitrian. -Technological wise they’re a little slower than a handful of species, but it was when offworlders started appearing and introducing technology to the Vitrians it became their “golden year” in technological advances, even if it was at the cost of Vitrians being taken off world, killed and harvested, and the likes. - They are and have been related to felines. When they purr they coo/trill. When they growl or snarl, they sound like wild cats hissing and snarling at foes. Their senses are similar too. …And yes there is probably a catnip equivalent plant that works on Vitrians as it would cats I’d imagine. - A couple destructive conditions that affect a Vitrian can include crystal rot– which believe it or not, rocks and such can actually rot. It’s like horn rot, where it’d affect the claws and particularly the Nivalis due to their horns and spikes. It can be treated, just needing to remove the affected areas. Another is the accelerated growth– where crystal parts start growing in rate that overtakes the Vitrian. Think of this like cancer. It’s rare and not easy to treat. It’s usually a fatal condition. - Despite conditions like those, there’s significantly more healers than offensive type Vitrians. So their general health and well being of Vitrians is usually really good. It’s uncommon to see a sick Vitrian, though it does happen. - One of their festivals is the Festival of Lights, which is as the name implies. This celebration consist of Vitrians gathering around for a large evening meal, when they use crystals to decorate their living space. Crystals that will emit a soft glow. The festival signifies saying goodbye to misfortunes and regret, and renewal. The renewal comes at the end of the night where they light up lanterns in which the Vitrians set floating off in the water or let float upward– whichever is more convenient to the clan– and let said misfortunes and regret “float away." - The Star System in which the Vitrian homeworld is located at, is called the Meridie Cresent. It contains 7 planets, and only half of them are inhabitable. But at the same time, 2-3 of the neighboring planets do contain crystals that’s also found on the Vitrian homeworld, but just in lesser amounts. So it’s suspected that the homeworld is a focal point in which these energy crystals began from and have slowly progressed outward, and would in theory continue to do so if it weren’t for the overharvesting that’s wrecking the planets.

Vitrians, their concept, and art © me The Deima and Gaelis concepts were thought up by RiskellionGamble on DA They are also a species that are not open for random people to make all willy nilly just because. They are also not a species I intend to make as one of those closed species peeps can buy rights to make either. Too much work to over see that and junk. The only peeps who are free to make characters off of these are friends of mine who I’ve drawn Aikayan for or those who talk to me enough to not need permission, or those who have characters of them within Cosmos Descended or Solar Winds– two stories by two friends of mine. Do not repost, edit, trace, or steal. Reblog is fine.

#art #original #Vitrians #scifi #concept art #ref

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number-one-micoverse-fan · 4 years

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Institution for the Study of Parapsychology Subdivision: Mutations as a Result of Otherwordly Exposure

Unit(s) of Study: A non-related family unit consisting of two adult males and one minor, retrieved from a house in [REDACTED], Michigan. The adult males are not the biological parents of the minor. The minor’s true heritage is unknown.

Subject MM-A16-01: Jacob Pierly. A thirty year old adult male mutated due to as of yet unknown magical exposure. Diagnosed with a pre-existing heart condition. His mutations have caused his bones to hollow, similar to a birds, making him incredibly light. The fragility of his bone structure has not been tested as of yet. Further mutations include a purple tint saturating areas of his skin, talon-like nails on the fingers and toes, and blue-purple feathers sprouting in batches across his body. Subject has described the growth of these feathers as “itchy” and should be monitored to prevent excessive damage due to scratching or pulling out these feathers.. His spinal column has developed hard ridges which continue to grow and may yet develop into spikes or similar growths. Subject often complains of back pains due to these changes. The subject eyes have also mutated and appear milky white and, while sensitive to high amounts of light, show no changes in regular daytime vision. It has been noted, however, that the subjects eyes reflect light in dark settings, leading us to believe he has developed a kind of tapetum lucidum which allows him to see in the dark. The subject also tends to levitate above the floor and has been known to evade researchers by hovering near the ceiling out of reach. Since this development, the subject has been kept grounded with a rudimentary ball and chain until proper weights can be designed. Under no circumstances should the subject be allowed to sing. His voice has been shown to induce a mild hypnotic trance to those within hearing distance. Though for now he has been extremely reluctant to do so, should the subject start attempting to sing in front of staff or other subject, researchers are on stand-by with a muzzle to prevent any further risks.

Subject MM-A16-02: Milo Alexander Sumney Junior. A fourteen year old adult male mutated due to as of yet unknown magical exposure. See dietary restrictions attachment for further information. At the time the subject was taken, he had only grown four extra pairs of arms. Since his stay in the Institute, he has grown a fifth pair and his legs have finished mutating into yet another pair, resulting in a total of seven pairs of arms. The length of his tail has also continued to grow. These mutations have slowed since his admittance to the Institute but it is as yet unknown if they have stopped. Subject has admitted to these very slow transitions being extremely painful. His skeletal structure is warped with an elongated spinal column and equally long ribcage; with each growth it appears new bones and muscles are forced to grow at a rapid pace over the course of at least a month or more until the new limbs are fully grown. It has been noted that his organs also appear to shift during this time. Further mutations include his sclera changing to a bright yellow, his irises becoming red, and his pupils becoming slitted. The slit pupils react similar to a cat’s, narrowing during moments of distressed emotion and widening during calmer and happier moments. The subject’s skin has a smoother, soft texture than a normal human’s and is dappled with dark blue freckles. His tail is prehensile and can be used to grasp objects and is quite dexterous. Researchers should be on alert when approaching as subject has been known to use both his sharpened teeth and long tail as weapons.

Subject MM-A16-03: Daniel Fuller. A thirty year old adult male mutated due to as of yet unknown magical exposure. His mutations have caused his skin to become thick and rough; researchers have compared it to rhinoceros hide. His pupils have become rectangular and horizontal, allowing him a near panoramic view of his surroundings, and he has developed piercing tucks and a nose that appears to be somewhat sensitive to smells. Further mutations include peculiar emerald growths across his body, including his thick and heavy tail. These growths are either thick and plate-like on the outside of his joints--such as the knees and elbows--or are narrow and spiny--such as the ones on his head, shoulders, and tail. These growths continue to sprout slowly every couple of weeks, forcing their way up through the skin in process the subject says is very painful. Said growths appear to me made of some kind of bone-metal mixture and are difficult to break, except at their base. Both the plates and the spikes have tiny, razor sharp barbs that make handling them extremely difficult as they tend to cut easily through most thin material, such as clothing and latex gloves. Subject appears very reluctant to maintain extended contact with the two other subjects in his family unit; researchers believe he is afraid of accidentally harming them. However, he will not hesitate to put himself between staff and the other two subjects if he feels they are being threatened. Staff are to be cautious when approaching so as not to cause any undo harm or stress to any subjects or other staff members.

Addendum 01: The Institute is currently in the process of manufacturing additional clothing for Subject MM-A16-02 and Subject MM-A16-03. Both subjects have expressed discomfort in their lack of coverage. Staff has also expressed their apprehension about the handling of Subject MM-A16-02 without proper clothing.

Addendum 02: Researchers have started classifying this MM Unit as a “pack”. Subject MM-A16-03 is a Defender, built specifically for protection of himself and the other members of his pack. Subject MM-A16-02 and Subject-A16-01 are potential hunters; with multiple forms of attack should they be able to gain a further control and understanding of their abilities. Researchers believe this familiar bond and their individual abilities could be used to the Institutes advantage under the right conditions. Further experiments and conditioning are necessary.

#whew what a doozy of a write-up sorry mobile users #fan art #angst

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written-beyond-the-grave · 5 years

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Graveyard Mysteries

Lonely friendly demon meets lonely angsty black teenager.

“I'll be on time she said”, she put on foot in front of the other bracing against the frigid breeze and pelting rain.

“On time my ass.”

This was the thirteenth time in a month where Natalie's mom forgot to pick her up from school. Granted, today was a half day, but it was a thunderstorm outside and she lived a couple miles home. Knowing well enough that the buses weren't reliable in this kind of weather she opted to walk.

It had been 45 minutes since she began her journey, and honestly she was over it. Her converses were soaked in hand with her socks, and her feet were numb. Though she usually basked in the cold weather, today was not her day. After “not turning in” her history paper on the African genocide, which Ms. Trenstop lost, and having her McGriddle stolen by a thieving classmate her mood was foul.

“Next time she promises to pick me up, I'll just Uber home,” Natalie grumbled in defeat, “because the audacity of that women to forget about picking me up is getting annoying. But what else is new?”

She continued down the sidewalk until she passed the cemetery and paused momentarily. It wasn't her usual route, but anything that'd get her home faster she'd do. And honestly what else could go wrong? Not like she had any plans with friends or anyone waiting for her at home, at least anyone that cared if she came home or not. With nothing to lose she took the old muddy path through the cemetery that would cut 30 minutes off her walking time to her house.

The squishing of her converse on the muddy path and the sound of rain were the only sounds that kept her company. The Van Truvsten cemetery was the oldest cemetery in Farendalle, first established by Nigel Augustin Van Truvsten who was also the founder of Farendalle of the mid 1800’s. The cemetery was dated to say the least, the place gave off iffy vibes of the feeling of being watched and the occasional chill. But despite that, the cemetery was beautiful. Being designed in the 1800’s the place was home to masterful works of statues and headstones that we're hand carved via hammer and chisel. The cemetery was extremely well taken care of, the grass was clipped to perfection and the vines on some of the tombs added to the aesthetic, but since it was early winter the evergreens were wilted and dead. It looked like a complete wasteland as opposed to a garden of Eden in late spring and throughout summer.

Her head was in the clouds as she walking, pondering what the concept of time travel, whether she should study for the environmental science test she knew would be on some shit, and what she'd have for dinner. Probably red bean rice and chicken. She got so lost in her thoughts that she slipped on an extra slippery spot on the path and fell down a steep hill, she let out a shrill squeak as she hot the bottom.

“You've got to be fu-,” she cut her sentence off short and took a deep breath. This day was getting from back to worse, and it didn't help that the rain got even harder and the lightning started with it's cousin thunder in tow. She didn't mind the lightning, but thunder and her didn't mix like water and leave outs, especially since Natalie had hypersensitive hearing. She was heated.

Her clothes were covered in mud, her phone was missing from her pocket and there was a high chance that she was lost. Not liking the feel of mud against her skin she got up, thinking about how her mother should've picked her up.

She had one job.

“The lady had one job to do and she can't even do it, oh but she can pick up her friends from the airport,” Natalie went on a tangent barely even giving herself a chance to take a breath. “And she has the never to complain about me never being responsible, bitch where?” She started searching for her phone already done with the situation. Google maps better come in clutch for helping her navigate through the cemetery.

“I swear she only keeps me around for her tax returns, lady wouldn't even take me to the doctors for a sprained wrist. ‘Walk it off’, tch I'd like her to walk off into hell and never come back, got me all types of fucked up.”

During Natalie's spiel about her mother, she noticed her phone wasn't too far away from her the whole time. It was tucked in a heap of mud. Trudging over she picked up the device and checked to see if it’d still function, luckily it did. She was about to turn around until her chocolate eyes caught something peculiar, under the mud was a stone. A tombstone to be precise. Using her already ruined sneakers she slid off the mud to read the scripture on it, turning the tombstone upright. Unfortunately it was written in Latin.

Nonetheless her mouth attempted to form the words.

“D-deus, qui animam benedicat venit super hoc sepulcrum, Vannulloth latet, quia caelum non potest salvum facere…” her words were choppy and the pronounciation way off. The words that came out her mouth drew a sinister shiver down her spine.

Was it just her or did the temperature just drop a couple degrees and the storm get even stronger? The lightning cracking against the sky became frequent and was causing her a headache, the overwhelming scent of grass wasn’t helping her case either. The earthy smell barely calmed her high strung nerves. Not wanting to stay at her current location any longer, Natalie reached for her cellular device and plucked it out the mound. She was going to need to put it in some rice later.

Looking around for the last time, she heaved up the hill and navigated the rest of the way home. Completely oblivious to the dark massive shadow that loomed behind her.

*******

Steam rolled out the bathroom door as Natalie stepped out freshly cleansed from the harsh dirt and cold rain, clad in black pyjamas. Her day had been long, but thankfully it was a Friday and the weekend was coming up. The fragrance of shea moisture that previously enveloped her bathroom was now permeating into her connected bedroom.

Expertly evading the clusters of boxes and random clothing haphazardly thrown on the floor, Natalie sat on her plush bed and let out a long sigh, today was something else. The only thing that made her day any better was the leftover Popeye’s in the fridge that, thankfully, her mother hadn’t touched yet. She was barely even through the door when she discarded her bad onto the floor and went straight to the kitchen. Though with a full stomach the days events kept replaying in her mind, something about the lonesome tombstone bothered her. Not to mention the rose quartz crystal in her bracelet was missing, no doubt back at the cemetery when she didn’t notice that it got lost.

“Meow.”

Her vacant staring at the ceiling was broken by her cats meow. Sitting up, the bed creaking against her movements, two green orbs stared at her judging from the open door.

“Yes, Salem.”

The inky cat did move from her spot, just unblinkingly stared back into the depths of Natalie’s soul and meowed again. This time louder.

Giving a quizzical look, “hungry?”

Salem got up and walked off giving Natalie her answer. Not being in the mood to get up, Natalie got up anyway to feed Salem. It was her responsibility after all, and Salem was her animal sidekick not matter how many judgy looks she gave her.

Feeding Salem didn’t take longe, Natalie was ready for a well deserved night of sleep. As she headed up the stairs the hairs on her arms began to stand up and her stomach began to drop. It felt suffocating, but why? Shaking the feeling off as a random attack of anxiety and nothing more she opened her bedroom door and put herself to bed, leaving the door slightly ajar for Salem.

*******

She didn’t know why she was up at 3:16 in the morning, the bright red lights of her clocked glowed in her stinging and drooping eyes, but one thing she knew was that she never opened the window last night, so where was the breeze coming from? More importantly, why was the same feeling of dread and scent of old earth in her room.

Cautiously looking over across from where she was laying, the window was indeed open. Natalie’s eyes wandered more trying to make valid excuses on why her window could be wide open, when she knew there was none.

All movement suddenly stopped when her eyes landed on her ceiling, there it was. A foggy, but very apparent outline of a person on all fours stood upside on her ceiling. Her back straightened and the contractions of her muscles refused to move. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

‘What is that?’ Though she couldn’t voice it.

The figure who had not moved a muscle began to roam down the wall, towards Natalie. As it made its move down her wall and across the floor towards her, the shadows features bgan to morph, it began to solidify. Its head began to develop large horns that curved to the back of its head and gave into a more angular structure. The figures body began to bulk up, taking on an even more massive and muscular form with spikes riddled along its back and a sweeping tail that crept behind it. Even its hand to grow began to grow long rigid claws that were obsidian like the rest of its body.

At this point the spirit had already reached over the foot of Natalies bed, the scent of earth and the feeling of fear was overwhelming. The mass loomed over her, and slowly came close to her face, however, the room was silent, the sound of blood pumping in her ears was the only thing that kept her company. Gaining a grain of courage, she opened her mouth only for a whimper to come out, this proved to be the wrong move.

She was suddenly met with the face of the dark spirit, with frightened her even more to her very core. Unconsciously she reached for her selenite around her neck that was made for protection. A growl sounded from the figure and right before her two eyes materialized before her.

Two strikingly silver eyes surrounded by black sclera met dark brown ones onwards. Its eyes were rippled with light blue and green seemingly looking like a newly formed nebular that was dispersed. Unblinkly, they both kept eye contact none making the first move, it was like the figure was staring into her soul.

“... H-hi?” her voice squeaked a little towards the end.

It took one of its hands and between its claws layed her missing rose quartz and moved it towards her letting out a low growl.

Looking at what was in its possession, Natalie sat there contemplating if she should really risk taking it from what she could only categorized as a demon. It didn't look like the demon was going anytime soon by the way she felt its piercing gaze, so she slowly reached out with shaky hands to take the crystal back.

She let out a shaky ‘thank you’ as the claws released the cool crystal into her palm, slightly grazing against her skin but not enough to draw blood. The silence that followed in the room was pregnant, she got the crystal back. What else was there for the demon? Coming to her senses, how did a demon get here in the first place? She was always careful to place salt around the corners of her bedroom and on her windowsill. Drowning in her thoughts, one word haphazardly slipped out her lips.

“Vannulloth.”

This automatically snapped the demon’s attention back towards her, dipping its head in acknowledgement she didn’t expect.

“... Your name is Vannulloth?”

It proceeded to dip its head again.

“Ok, um,” getting slightly more comfortable, “you returned my crystal, and I thank you for that, but why are you still here?”

Something in that sentence emitted a deep growl and lowered the temperature of the room.

Clicking her tongue, “you don’t want to go, do you?”

A soft exhale was her only response.

“How about we talk until sunrise? You don’t have to go just yet and I’m not going to bed anytime soon,” she slowly surmised.

It took a minute, but the demon with its gaze still on Natalie huffed in agreement.

With a tiny smile and a couple of words, it all began. The beginning to dubois friendship between a human and an uncharacteristically friendly, yet forsaken demon entity.

“My name is Natalie.”

E. A. Effrosyni

#writing #writer #terato love #monster x reader #monster x human #demon #sfw #demon x reader #writers of tumblr #writers of color #short story #story #creative #request #black reader #poc reader

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rainbowpaladins · 5 years

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Untitled ABO Fic pt5

Lance was walking through some marketplace a dozen light years from where he'd last seen the team when the news broke.

Ding dong, the people cried in a growing wave, the wicked Zarkon is dead.

At first, Lance hadn't believed it. It had only been a month and the team had defeated Zarkon? But then he'd seen the source of the news: a propaganda video, made by the team themselves. In the video, Shiro and Allura took turns informing the viewer that Zarkon was dead and now was the time to rise up together to take down his empire. They were forming a coalition; a Voltron Coalition.

Lance had stood there, staring at the screen unseeing, even after the recording was over. His emotions were all over the place, ranging from happiness over Zarkon's defeat to the hard, heavy weight of the knowledge that removing him from the team had resulted in them accomplishing in a month what they'd been unable to do in the year and a half he'd been with the team.

It wasn't that he'd hoped they'd fall apart with out him. Nothing so dramatic or deadly. It was, just, thinking they'd been better off without him had been one thing. Seeing fairly good evidence it was actually true was another entirely.

Nehelo, the large bird-creature who'd been gracious enough to give him and Izzy shelter, had picked up on the downward swing in his emotions. Not that it was likely hard. He'd barely ate or drank anything, except what was necessary to keep producing milk for Izzy, since he'd seen the news.

"You should go to the party tonight."

Lance rolled his head to look at them, not wanting to move under the guise of letting Izzy sleep. "One: who's going to look after Izzy? And two: I'm not up for a party."

Nehelo narrowed their eyes at him, the equivalent of a glare. "You, Lance, are a social creature. You crave interaction with other living beings." They ruffled their feathers in a shudder. "Molina knows why."

Lance smiled, the first in days. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have met your lovely self."

A snort was the response, along with a wing wave of dismissal. "My point still stands. I'll watch your youngling while you go out and have some fun. Get yourself out of this mood you're in."

A grin slowly spread over Lance's face. "You'd do that? For me? But you hate children!"

The dark look Nehelo gave him was magnificent. "Yes, I do."

And yet, the former(?) Blue Paladin had never had to ask for a baby sitter. Lance joked deep (so very deep) down, the Rutennan secretly liked children. Nehelo argued that the only spawn they liked was Izzy and their fondness for her was the only reason they put up with him.

Lance let the Rutennan off the hook this time without further teasing. He knew going out and socializing wasn’t going to cure his depression, but he hoped it would at least lift his spirits a little to be surrounded by people just enjoying life. He even decided to go the extra mile and wear one of the more fancier outfits he’d usually reserved for those special nights the team took a night off for some down time.

The party was already well under way by the time he got there. There was a buzz about some ‘special guests’ arriving later for the ‘main event,’ but Lance didn’t pay it any attention, throwing himself into the crowd. The dancers brave enough to take to the crowd were diversified, few even having a humanoid shape, making for an interesting experience.

About an hour in, a light tap landed on his shoulder, followed by: “May I have a dance?”

Lance blinked, turning from his current dance partner (a lizard being he was only 80% certain might have been female). He blinked again when he found himself staring up at a figure who that looked quite a bit like Allura and Coran, except for the purple skin and yellow sclera. He even had the long white hair and pointed ears.

Unlike Allura and Coran, however, there was something about the guy that put Lance on guard. Maybe it was the fact he shared similar appearances with the Galra?

The Cuban teen put the unease aside, chiding himself for judging someone based off of their looks. For all he knew, this was normal of the guy’s people and it was a total coincidence.

Smiling, he reached out and took the hand the man was holding out in offering. A matching smile crossed the man’s face, making his already handsome features even more so. Lance was tempted to ask for beauty tips, because if this guy was using anything, the teen really wanted in on the secret.

Any questions were sent to the back burner once the next song picked up, a fast one at that. What happened next was like something straight out of a movie as it turned out that the mysterious purple man was a very good dancer, resulting in two talented dancers partnering up to take the dance floor by storm. Lance laughed with delight as he was matched toe to toe and it had been a while since he had really been able to let loose with a partner and he found himself pulling out some more difficult moves. By the song came to it’s climax, they were both out of breathe and grinning from ear to ear.

As the next song started, the man pointed to the refreshments, raising an eyebrow in question. Feeling a bit thirsty after the exertion, Lance nodded, allowing the man to take his hand as he led the way through the crowd. Once there, he released his hand to snag a glass and a ladle from the juice bowl.

With the dance going on behind him, Lance was reminded of those old prom movies his older sisters really loved. As he was handed his drink, he opened with: “You’re a very good dancer. Did you take lessons?”

The man smiled, finishing pouring out his own drink. “A very long time ago, yes.” He eyed Lance over the lip of his drink as he brought it up to take a sip. “You’re not a bad dancer yourself.”

“Multiple older sisters that all did dance.” Lance gestured to some tables off to the side that would allow them to chat and stay out of the way of anyone else wanting refreshments. The man followed him over, going so far as to pull a seat out for him. Lance thought it was a little over the top, but didn’t try to hide his amusement.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Lance asked as the man took his own seat, “What brings you to Rutenna?”

The man hmm’ed, the sound barely audible over the music. “Nothing exciting, I’m afraid. My mother was a scientist, but never got the chance to finish her research.” He placed his cup down on the table, eyes distant and fond. “I decided to try and finish her final project, which led me here.”

Not really Lance’s thing, but he had to give the man credit. Curiously, he prodded, “What was her topic?”

The man looked almost shy. “Quintessence.”

The Cuban teen raised an eyebrow, not expecting the response. “The life force of the universe stuff?”

His drinking partner raised his own eyebrow at him. “You know about Quintessence? Not many people know about it.”

Lance shrugged. He knew of it, sure. As a Paladin of Voltron (former or not), there wasn’t really any way that he could not know about it, but any time Coran or Pidge had tried to explain it in more detail, Lance found himself tuning out, so he’d missed any deeper explanation. “I had friends who know more about it then I did.”

The man nodded, as if this was within the realm of what he expected of a conversation partner. “And you?”

Lance took a sip of his drink to buy him a few minutes to compose himself. He’d had a little practice with his cover story, but it was always a little stressful whenever he had to lie and pretend he wasn’t on the run from what was supposed to be his family. “I decided to take a bit of a road trip with my daughter.” He paused on cue, as if realizing how odd that might sound. “Just with less road and more space.”

The man smiled indulgently at the attempt at a joke. He opened his mouth, perhaps to carry the conversation onto another topic of small talk, when the music came to a close, allowing the host of the party to come to the mic.

“Thank you everyone who came to show their support tonight!” The host adjusted their collar, looking somewhere between excited and terrified. Lance wondered if it was from stage fright or another cause. His answer came when the host held out a wing-like appendage to open the stage to someone off stage. “And because we all know who you’re really here for: let’s give a warm welcome to our guests.”

Lance felt like the blood in his veins had turned to ice as the first of several very familiar figures walked out, accompanied by the introduction: “The Paladins of Voltron!” He was too stunned to take advantage of the fact that right then would have been the time to make his escape while he was still unnoticed. Instead, he could only sit there, frozen in horrified shock as a pair of grey eyes met his own blue ones.

Time seemed to freeze as Lance and Shiro stared at each other from across the room. All noise was drowned out by the pounding of his heart in his ears. Lance might have sat there indefinitely, staring dumbly, if Shiro hadn’t taken a step towards him, lips moving in the shape of his name.

As if electrified, Lance jumped to his feet, wanting to look for the nearest exit, but unwilling to take his eyes off his former leader. “I’m sorry, I have to go!”

His dance partner glanced back and forth between him and the people on stage and the cuban teen. Without question, he also got to his feet, reaching across the table and tugging Lance towards him. "There's an exit this way."

Lance allowed himself to be pulled along, his last glimpse of his pack being Shiro going for the edge of the stage as he shouted, "Lance! Wait!"

To a degree, it broke his heart to run, to not stay and be reunited with the pack he so desperately missed, but Lance couldn't - wouldn't - allow them to deem Izzy a mistake.

So he ran. Ran like he'd run a month ago. Ran like he'd do again and again for however many times it took to protect his daughter.

"This way." As they took to the streets, Lance pointed in the direction of Nehelo's place, not giving much thought to why the strange man was still running with him, only grateful for his help. "Oh, Dios, Nehelo is going to be upset when I leave abruptly."

They rounded a corner, officially completely out of sight of the party. "Do you need transportation," the man asked.

Lance nearly stopped in the middle of the street to stare at him. "I can't ask you to get involved. Aren't you here for a research project?"

The man looked like wanted to shrug, but running wasn't conducive to it. "I can do my research anywhere." He reached out and briefly put a hand on Lance's shoulder. "Something tells me you are a good person. I would be honored to help you."

'Honored,' as if helping Lance - someone he'd just met and didn't even know the name of - was such a noble thing. But Lance was desperate, and he could fix one of those things. "Lance."

"What?"

"My name." He came to a stop near Nehelo's place, checking their surroundings. He didn't hear footsteps following them, but he didn't know if that was because they'd lost Shiro or if he simply hadn't followed.

The man also stopped beside him, studying the area to get his surroundings. Upon doing so, he turned back to the young man he'd just fled with. "Ah, forgive my poor manners." He reached out and took hold Lance's hand. Lance's eyebrow shot up as his hand received a slight kiss to the knuckles, the man grinning up at him far too charmingly as he did so.

"My name is Lotor, and I look forward to traveling with you."

-tbc

#voltron #lance #shiro #abo verse #abo dynamics #untitled abo fic #langst #shance #?#someone else makes an appearance in this story #but they're being left untagged to avoid spoiling the suprise #although i didnt try very hard to hide their identity in the story #ps: i dont know how to write small talk #can you tell?#sobs

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ryukoishida · 6 years

Text

QZGS Rarepair Week 2018 | Day 6: Apocalypse | In which ZX falls in love with XJX in a world infested with zombies.

QZGS Rarepair Week 2018 | Day 6: apocalypse / reincarnation / nostalgia @qzgsrarepairweek

Title: Yours, Truly Fandom: The King’s Avatar / Quan Zhi Gao Shou Character(s)/Pairing(s): Zheng Xuan/Xu Jingxi (featuring other Blue Rain kids) Summary: He didn’t want that. He’d rather be shot dead by his friends than to wander endlessly as part of the undead, but he couldn’t subject those people to that, either. He wouldn’t. Especially not him — not Xu Jingxi. Rating: PG13 A/N: I love zombies movies so I don’t know why it took me this long to write an actual zombie AU but here we are, friends, here we are.

Writing Commission | Editing & Translation Services

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“Come on come on over here!”

A young man was avidly waving at him, signaling Zheng Xuan to follow him from around the corner of the dimly-lit alley. The walls were smeared with dried blood and freshly splattered chunks of flesh and organs that some unfortunate souls (he saw mangled body parts scattered on wet concrete as he ran past, but he was literally running for his life and had no time to get grossed out as he usually did) left behind after being torn apart by a hoard of zombies.

Though he could barely see in this darkness, for most of the streetlights had been burned out and many of the buildings’ lights had stopped shining for a long time now, Zheng Xuan could hear them chasing after him from behind: the tell-tale sounds of their low, monotonous groaning and heavy footfalls dragging against concrete.

In his mind, he could picture all too vividly the hollow milky eyes with no pupils or irises, just the sclera crawling with tiny blood veins, pale expressionless faces, the rigid way they moved their limbs, and old blood coagulated and flaking off of these bodies’ wounds and lacerations that they received from when they were still alive and capable of bleeding.

Those things might have lost their rationality and their lives, yet they were irritatingly insistent when it came to hunting down those rare humans who were still very much alive. Sometimes in the depth of night when his mind couldn’t help but dwindle down to that horrifying stillness where any thought would remain stuck once it snaked its way in, Zheng Xuan wondered whether those zombies — those tainted, infected versions of his family, his friends, classmates, acquaintances, strangers — whether a small part of them would still be able to sense everything their deteriorating bodies were doing, and then he thought about the instinctive, animalistic way they tore through the flesh and bones of people they knew, of people they didn’t.

A few steps away from the stranger’s outstretched hand, Zheng Xuan had already ignited the tip of his improvised flash bomb made out of a cheap plastic lighter, and counting down in his head as he saw the dark mass of bodies consumed what small amount of light the stars and moon rendered as the hoard of undead crawled over each other in the narrow alleyway, Zheng Xuan threw his weapon as hard as he could towards the writhing swarm when he counted to zero.

A cinnabar-white spark went off as it hit the cheek of one of the zombies up front, and it burst and crackled with small licks of flames as the discharge touched the flammable material of the zombies’ skin and rags of what used to be their clothing. The zombies’ groaning grew into a higher pitch, causing goosebumps to run up Zheng Xuan’s arms when he finally reached the stranger.

Without a second thought, he clasped onto the offered hand and allowed the other man to tighten his hold on him before pulling him along the street and leaving the burning mass of mangling bodies behind them.

“Shit, what the hell was that?!”

There was a hint of laughter — half amused and half thrilled — in the young man’s voice, and though Zheng Xuan couldn’t make out the stranger’s expression — only that he had hair dyed chestnut brown that was gradually fading into a lighter shade — he could almost imagine the friendly warmth in the crooked curve of his lips. It was nice to hear another human being speaking again. It’d been days, maybe weeks, since he’d had any contact with others that Zheng Xuan was starting to talk to inanimate objects whenever he could feel himself losing track of time — one of the only strands of reality he could truly grasp onto in this crazy shit of an apocalyptic world.

“Flash bomb,” Zheng Xuan replied with the smallest hint of a grin. “Well, flash pellet, more like? It’s not going to hold them up for long though.”

But it was long enough for them to make a safe escape.

When they finally arrived at their destination after going through a maze of unlit streets, shadowed alleys, up and down several fire escapes of rundown buildings, and through a tunnel probably not meant for pedestrians, Zheng Xuan was led into what used to be a storage warehouse.

The door slid close behind them, the echo like the bang of a gunshot in the tranquility of the night.

“All clear out there?” one of the men, who didn’t look much older than either of them, asked, topaz eyes especially bright and sharp emphasized by the flickering lights of a small campfire held in a can; he was holding onto a wooden baseball bat streaked with dried blood and looked about ready to smash a zombie in the face if they dared come near him.

The man who brought Zheng Xuan in nodded gravely and finally let go of his hand. Zheng Xuan flexed his fingers, and glanced around at his new surroundings. There were only a few other people in the room, and all of them were staring at the newcomer who might or might not be trying to hide behind his savior to avoid the unwanted attention he was getting from the small crowd.

“Who’s the new kid?” another man sitting closest by the fire asked. He was petting a large German Shepherd that was laying by his feet; it had started growling the moment Zheng Xuan stepped into the vicinity. “It’s okay, Eight Notes, hush.”

“Oh, I guess I haven’t really introduced myself yet either,” the man turned towards Zheng Xuan with a sheepish smile. He offered his hand out again and said, “I’m Xu Jingxi.”

He took his hand for the second time that night, his lips twitching with the slightest hint of a grin, “Zheng Xuan.”

“I’m Li Yuan,” the man with the dog waved his hand as a greeting, “and this here is Eight Notes. He can sense those undead bastards from miles away.” As if to respond to his owner’s praise, Eight Notes snuggled closer to Li Yuan, and he chuckled as he gave his canine companion more pats on the head.

“Song Xiao,” the one sitting beside Li Yuan said, and he gave a friendly wave towards Zheng Xuan as well. He had the kind of warm benevolence in his smile that would cause anyone to put down their guard.

“Huang Shaotian,” the man with the baseball bat introduced himself. His posture was less frightening now that he was certain they were not in any sort of immediate danger, and Zheng Xuan was surprised to find that without the vicious, savage glow in his eyes, Huang Shaotian actually looked quite playful and boyish with an easy smile that was almost too infectious. “Everyone calls me Huang Shao.”

Zheng Xuan nodded.

“I’m Yu Wenzhou,” a gentle voice spoke from behind him, which made Zheng Xuan turned around sharply with a start. He hadn’t even noticed there was another person with them in the room, and Zheng Xuan had learned to be extra observant over the past months since he’d been left on his own, which meant that the man who’d just joined them must either had very little presence or was excellent at concealing himself. He chuckled softly as he took a seat near the campfire, his dark cerulean irises gleaming from the flickering fire light. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to give you a fright there.”

“I-It’s fine,” Zheng Xuan released a shaky breath, the adrenaline from being hunted down by a hoard of zombies was gradually draining from his body and he found that he’d really like to lay down and sleep for an entire day, if given the chance. “It’s just… it’s been a hell of a day.”

“I believe ya,” Huang Shaotian piped out.

“You are welcome to stay with us, if you like,” Yu Wenzhou invited him, his voice never demanding, allowing Zheng Xuan to make the final decision.

Zheng Xuan hesitated, but only for a moment as his eyes sought for the most familiar face in this small group of survivors, and Xu Jingxi met his gaze as if he could sense his unease.

Xu Jingxi gave him a soft, encouraging smile, and that was all Zheng Xuan needed.

“You know, I think I will.”

ii.

“So, what, are you a doctor before all hell broke loose?” Zheng Xuan asked as he propped himself up onto the dusty counter and let Xu Jingxi rolled up his sleeve to reveal a nasty two-inch-long gash along his left forearm. He’d seen so much gore now that this relatively clean cut was nothing compared to the bloody dismembered body parts or viciously-mutilated flesh he’d seen on others.

They’d just barely escaped another onslaught of attacks from the undead while they were raiding for food and supplies at a large department store. When they passed by a hardware store on their way back, Zheng Xuan suggested that they made a quick pitstop so that he could stock up on some chemicals to construct more makeshift smoke and flame pellets, which had been proved to be very useful during skirmishes against zombies. At worst, the smoke and fire could cause a brief distraction for the group to make a swift escape; at best, however, one small flame pellet could sometimes burn down an entire handful of zombies if they were in close proximity of each other.

What they didn’t expect was a few zombies idling inside the woodworking section of the hardware store, and by the time Huang Shaotian was yelling for them to run while he swung his bat effortlessly at one of the particularly active zombies directly into its gaping jaws and broke off the top half of its skull, the group was escaping through the nearest exit, which turned out to be a broken window that led to a side street.

Zheng Xuan wasn’t particularly athletic back in the days when he didn’t have to run for his life, so while others easily slipped through the window, he was caught by a jagged glass fragment sticking out from the window frame, and by the time they returned to their temporary hiding spot, the sleeve of Zheng Xuan’s sweater was soaked in his own blood.

“First year med student,” Xu Jingxi replied as he carefully wiped away the blood around the wound with a remotely clean cloth and dabbed the cut with some iodine.

Though Xu Jingxi’s movements were as gentle as he could make them, Zheng Xuan still hissed when sharp pain shot up from his wound from the chemical.

“Sorry, sorry,” Xu Jingxi immediately lightened up the pressure, but Zheng Xuan shook his head twice to indicate that he was fine.

“You wanted to become a doctor?” he asked after the pain subsided and Xu Jingxi was wrapping his wound with a roll of sterile bandage, a luxury item at this time since a lot of medical and first aid supplies had been one of the first things that got pillaged at the start of this apocalypse.

“That was the plan,” Xu Jingxi smiled a little wistfully, but there was a hint of bitterness in the curve of his lips, the usual warmth not quite reaching his eyes, which were still concentrated on the task at hand. He tore a small piece of medical tape and placed it where it would keep the bandage in place. “Try not to get it wet or dirty, okay? I’m running low on supplies as is, so I can’t change the bandage daily.”

“Aye, aye,” Zheng Xuan gave a mock salute and sent him a languid grin. “Thanks, Dr. Xu.”

As he packed everything back into his bag, Xu Jingxi asked, “what about you? What did you want to be?”

Zheng Xuan leaned back on his right arm and stared up at the ceiling; the lightbulb pulsed and skittered before it remained still once more, the yellow glow almost too bright for Zheng Xuan to be looking directly at it, and he narrowed his eyes slightly. Shadows of strange shapes danced on the edges of his vision.

“Didn’t really have a plan at the time,” he said. It was odd, Zheng Xuan thought, to talk about the past and the future in this current context, when the past was meaningless and the future was hopeless. They should probably feel more depressed, what with talking about a future that could never be, but being here with Xu Jingxi — with the others in the next room — Zheng Xuan only knew that he was fortunate to have run into this group at the time that he did.

“You like setting stuff on fire,” Xu Jingxi observed with amusement laced within his voice, as if he was secretly laughing at his companion’s hobby, “that’s something.”

Zheng Xuan snorted, “I guess?” and then after a brief pause, he continued, his head lowering to stare at his lap and the week-old dirt and blood that had encrusted onto the fabric of his jeans, “my dad was a pharmacist and my mom was a toxicologist, so I suppose it’d be a given that I ended up majoring in chemistry.”

“Huh,” Xu Jingxi only said. “On the bright side, with the world being the way it is right now, at least you don’t have to worry about what you’d be doing with a chem degree.”

“Such an optimist,” Zheng Xuan chuckled.

“I try,” Xu Jingxi grinned back at him. He shouldered his bag and reached his arm out towards Zheng Xuan, palm facing skyward, like the first time they met, “come on, let’s go back to the others.”

“Sure,” Zheng Xuan took the offered hand but didn’t get down from the counter; instead, he tightened his grasp on that warm, slightly smaller hand, fingertips roughened by callouses, and pulled Xu Jingxi towards himself.

Xu Jingxi wasn’t expecting this at all, and so could only tripped forward and into Zheng Xuan’s chest, his cheeks already tinting with heat from being in such close proximity with the other man. Suddenly, he became all too aware of Zheng Xuan’s presence: his fingers lacing with his own, his breaths ruffling the messy locks on top of his head, the rising and falling of his chest, and his other hand snaking from the length of his neck, tipping his chin up so that there was nowhere Xu Jingxi could look except for Zheng Xuan’s eyes.

With gentle, careful fingers, Zheng Xuan cradled the other man’s jaw.

“Z-Zheng Xuan? What the hell?” Xu Jingxi whispered, obvious panic and something maybe like excitement coloring his voice. He could pull himself out of Zheng Xuan’s embrace — he was sure of it — but he didn’t want to, his feet rooted to the ground, exactly where he wanted them to be.

“I like you, Xu Jingxi,” Zheng Xuan said in that frustratingly calm tenor of his, a light breeze in the stillness of winter, but in the depth of his eyes, Xu Jingxi could see the restlessness, the uncertainty, roiling just beneath the surface. Restless — because he had been struggling with this unfamiliar yet pleasant emotion towards the other man ever since they first met; uncertain — because he didn’t want what they had right now ruined by his hasty confession.

This was a cruel world they were living in now. Any day, one of them could be taken away from the mysterious virus spread amongst humanity and turning them into mindless, man-eating monsters that they despised the most. And when that happened — for neither of them could make any sort of promises in regards to their own life and death — when one of them finally left, or became infected and turned into a zombie…

It looked like Zheng Xuan was going to say more, but words were never his strong suit, and so Xu Jingxi stood on his tip-toe and leaned forward to place a kiss on Zheng Xuan’s lips as a response.

“I like you too, you dummy.”

iii.

“Woah, fuck! Watch where you swing that thing, kid!” Huang Shaotian hollered in alarm, the tennis racket just grazing the bottom hem of his sweater as he jumped out of the way just in time, but Lu Hanwen merely turned to him with a cold glare before returning to his original position, standing stiffly with his back straight and his right hand tightly grasping his trustworthy weapon.

He was standing guard by one of the two entrances of their newest hiding spot, with Li Yuan and Eight Note accompanying the youngest and newest addition to their little family.

Turning towards Yu Wenzhou, Huang Shaotian demanded, “say something to him, Wenzhou, or he’s going to get more and more obnoxious.”

Yu Wenzhou shook his head, and wordlessly gestured for his best friend to come over to where the rest of the group was gathered at the back of the office.

“Shaotian, let’s go easy on him, okay? He must have gone through quite a lot, and it must have been hard dealing with this all on his own,” Yu Wenzhou glanced over at the teenager, the slightest hint of worry subtle in the dip of his brows.

“Has he talked to any of you guys?” Song Xiao asked.

Everyone shook their heads no.

“It looks like being close to Eight Notes really calms him down though,” Yu Wenzhou observed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall behind him.

Eight Notes the German Shepherd wandered away from its owner and approached the quiet, brooding teen, who ignored the sniffing and snuffling of the canine at first, but after a few minutes of the dog whining and pawing for his attention, Lu Hanwen’s gaze lowered towards Eight Notes, paused for a second, and stooped down to give the dog a hesitant pat on the head. Soon, he abandoned his tennis racquet on the ground and fully indulged in patting Eight Notes’ tummy, the corner of his lips tucking up just a degree.

“He’s nicer to a dog than me!” Huang Shaotian huffed indignantly and began to stalk towards Lu Hanwen, who, at the sound of the blond’s approaching footsteps, gave him another impressive glare.

“I’m going to get my med kit,” Xu Jingxi announced and started for the opposite direction, an amused light dancing in his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” Zheng Xuan volunteered himself and followed Xu Jingxi closely.

iv.

“Ow! Fuck! Xu Jingxi, let go!” Zheng Xuan was trying to pull his right arm out of Xu Jingxi’s persistent clutch. His fingers were like iron caging his forearm, nothing like the gentle touches Zheng Xuan was used to while Xu Jingxi was dressing his wounds or kissing him breathless and caressing him when no one was looking.

“No.”

Xu Jingxi’s usually mellow tone was firm and chipped-ice cold, and Zheng Xuan’s heart trembled at the sound of it, afraid of what that terrifyingly unfamiliar voice would be saying to him once he found out the truth.

It didn’t take him long to realize what the bite mark on Zheng Xuan’s arm really meant; it was smeared with blood and some kind of sticky, black slime often found all over the freshly infected.

“When did this happen?” Xu Jingxi was careful to avoid touching the slime, and he glared up at Zheng Xuan, who turned his head away to avert his gaze. “Zheng Xuan, when!?”

“This morning at the grocery store,” Zheng Xuan said, his voice faint and slightly quivering, “when I was trying to scare away that zombie with the lighter flamethrower. It nipped me before I could burn its stupid face off.”

“You mean when you were doing that goddamn heroic thing?” The sarcasm, sharp and unforgiving like a blade driving deep into his flesh, his heart, was unbecoming on someone like Xu Jingxi, Zheng Xuan thought numbly in his mind, but his face was contorted from the pain and fear and fury, and the rage in his blood was escalating like never before. The words came out before his brain could process it.

“I was trying to save you, damn it!” Zheng Xuan pulled his arm out of Xu Jingxi’s grasp, his breaths heavy and unsteady.

“Who said I needed saving?!” Xu Jingxi shouted back, exhausted, scared. He turned away completely from Zheng Xuan, his back curving inwards, arms wrapping around himself defensively.

“Are you going to tell the others?” Zheng Xuan asked, voice dead quiet. He wouldn’t blame him, honestly. The government had been trying to create an antidote but it’d been almost nine months since the first case of the infection was broadcasted, and there hadn’t been one single case of an infected person being completely healed. There was only one way to go about this. Being bitten meant sooner or later, he would turn into someone — something — unrecognizable from the Zheng Xuan the rest of them had grown to know and care about; the human being known as “Zheng Xuan” on this earth would cease to exist the moment his heart stopped beating and his brain stopped functioning, and he would become nothing but another mindless zombie feeding on others.

He didn’t want that. He’d rather be shot dead by his friends than to wander endlessly as part of the undead, but he couldn’t subject those people to that, either. He wouldn’t.

Especially not him — not Xu Jingxi.

“No,” Xu Jingxi took a deep breath and turned around to face him again, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and unspoken pain as he strode over to where Zheng Xuan was standing and took his hands in his. His grip on him was too much, verging on painful, but Zheng Xuan never wanted to let him go. “We can fix this.”

“Zheng Xuan, where are you going?”

In the distance, a dog barked, causing a domino effect of the groaning of zombies attracted and excited by the sound of something alive, but where they were located, nothing was stirring.

“Away,” Zheng Xuan replied in his usual languid tone.

“Why?” Desperation painted Xu Jingxi’s voice a grey monotone.

“You know why,” Zheng Xuan turned abruptly towards him, his heart breaking a little when he saw Xu Jingxi’s reddened eyes, but his own face would not be able to express any kind of emotions soon due to stiffened muscles. He wished Xu Jingxi would just let him go before his transformation was complete, yet more than anything else in the world, he wanted Xu Jingxi to stay by his side always. It was a selfish wish, but Zheng Xuan was only human.

“I have to go before I completely lose myself,” Zheng Xuan said with a faint smile. He must look terrifying, with his blank, milky eyes and pallid skin. Every day, he felt himself sinking deeper into that dark eternal place where he would never be able to claw his way back out, and he feared for his friends, for each day he stayed with them was another day he was endangering their lives.

Li Yuan, who’d lost Eight Notes to a hoard of especially vicious zombies just a few weeks ago, but remained optimistic for everyone’s sake; Song Xiao, who’d treated him with nothing but kindness; Lu Hanwen, who was still far too young to be witnessing and experiencing the brutal reality of this changed world but had become a lot more sociable and open with the others; Huang Shaotian, who, despite his impulsive nature and tendency to talk people’s ears off, was the most reliable and powerful protector the group could ask for; and Yu Wenzhou, who was considerate as he was resourceful and cunningly smart, the perfect leader.

And then there was Xu Jingxi. Zheng Xuan didn’t even know where to start.

He didn’t want this — them — to end.

“Then take me with you,” Xu Jingxi said, casual as if he wasn’t asking for a certain suicide, because both of them know that if he chose to stay with Zheng Xuan in this state, it would mean definite death to them both.

“There’s no way in hell—”

“Take me with you, Zheng Xuan,” Xu Jingxi was already taking large strides towards him. He reached for his shoulders and fiercely pulled the taller man towards himself, not allowing him to run away anymore, one hand winding to the back of Zheng Xuan’s head to tug him down for a kiss… or, he tried.

Zheng Xuan was struggling, turning his head away adamantly so that all Xu Jingxi’s mouth could reach was his cheek and jaw. His skin already felt a few degrees colder than a normal human’s and much dryer, like fragile rice paper of an aged painting. This didn’t deter him at all though.

“Jingxi… Xu Jingxi, don’t. I’m disgusting, I—” Zheng Xuan let out a reluctant breathy sigh as he felt Xu Jingxi’s lips ghosting over his ears, teeth grazing down the length of his neck, and tongue tracing wet patterns on his skin. His hands, which had been attempting to push Xu Jingxi off of himself, had lost their strength. He could never resist Xu Jingxi when he got like this. He was still getting intoxicated by the sensation of Xu Jingxi kissing the sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder when he felt a sharp twinge of pain: teeth sinking into his flesh — his infected flesh.

“You…” Zheng Xuan’s reverie was ripped apart by the agonizing realization, the finality of what Xu Jingxi had just done. He dragged the other man off his body and with utter disbelief in his milky eyes, Zheng Xuan saw that Xu Jingxi’s mouth and chin were covered with blood and the black slime that seeped out of undead corpses. The fluid trickling out of the bite mark was about half-maroon and half-black right now, but when the transformation was complete, Zheng Xuan’s body would be filled with this mysterious ink-black fluid that had tainted and ended the rest of the world.

And now, by biting his flesh and swallowing his infected blood, Xu Jingxi, too, would follow the same path — side-by-side, hand-in-hand.

“You fucking idiot…” Zheng Xuan couldn’t even raise his voice, because his heart was too heavy and full with love and grief as they spilled forth like paint over paper. His vison was blurred as he reached up to wipe away the blood and fluid off of Xu Jingxi’s lips, but there was nothing else he could do now, and he felt tears rolling down his cheeks, hot and thick like fresh blood, the scent of decay catching the tail of autumn before winter truly took over.

“But I’m your fucking idiot, right?” Xu Jingxi smiled at him, eyes twinkling in the darkness of the night, like stars beyond the impenetrable clouds — unseen, but here, in the sky and in their hearts.

---

A/N: It’s been awhile since I’ve written angst. But uh, at least they’re together?

#qzgs #quan zhi gao shou #tka #the king's avatar #zheng xuan #xu jingxi #zhengxu #bowie's crappy writing

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floof-ghostie · 3 years

Text

My support course OCs because I need to get this out in the open

Okay, so first of all, I just want to say that I hc that U.A’s support course has very few students because the hero, gen ed, and management courses are more popular for application, so there’s probably going to be like five to seven named people in this.

Second of all, when describing my OCs I’m going to include appearance, quirk things they like, personality, height, their specialty in support, and some extra tidbits!

Hoka Bushida:

Height: 6′3.

Quirk: Caligraphy (he can mimic any kind of writing just by looking at it. This can also apply to forging people’s handwriting, as long as he has a reference)

Appearance: Tallest guy in the class, very stocky and muscular, shoulder length black hair usually tied away in a bun. Round brown eyes, and tanned skin. Wears the uniform with the waistcoat, and the sleeves rolled up. Often seen wearing flannel shirts, or hoodies out of class. Wears overalls over muscle shirts, and ties a grey bandanna over his hair when in the workshop.

Likes: Anything that has to do with metalworking, or glassblowing. His parents own a forge, and he helped out a lot in early childhood. Likes to visit whenever he can.

Personality: Jovial and kind, but also very loud, and excitable. He often lets out a wild laugh when firing his weapons. He likes Hatsume a lot (not romantically), and tries to keeps her in check somewhat, while joining her in testing support items. He’s basically the dad friend, and makes sure his classmates take care of themselves, and encourages them to see projects through. He’s very stubborn however, and quick to defend his friends. Very good at estimating calculations. Additionally, he’s great at hyping people up, and will never hesitate to hit his friends or even a perfect stranger with support.

Specialty: Metalwork, or Weapons in general. From guns, to tiny blades, he can make it.

Extras: He’s the strongest person in class 1-H. A lot of people are surprised to hear that his quirk has nothing to do with is appearance. He also likes hugs, and cooking. Teams up with Satou to cook, once their classes get more familiar with each other. Loves the company of his classmates, and Power Loader, and Present Mic are his favourite heroes.

Ami Chinen:

Height: 5′3

Quirk: Venom (she can spit a non-lethal venom at others. It only paralyses somebody for two minutes if it hits the skin. She can control whether it’s venom or actual spit)

Appearance: Relatively average height for Japan, petite build, green skin with black spots like a frog, tailbone length black hair tied into a braid, hazel eyes, black sclerae. She wears the school uniform like all the other girls, though with stockings all year round. When out of uniform, she wears lots of frilly shirts and blouses, and she wears the coveralls provided by the school when in the workshop.

Likes: Strawberry anything (cake, the fruit, candy, the pattern on fabrics). It’s her comfort food, as it’s a regular treat she shares with her grandfather!

Personality: She’s the voice of reason in the class. She’s the class rep, and an older sister, so she’s used to being a leader. She’s very literal, so sarcasm and certain jokes, go over her head. She’s not the most creative when coming up with inventions, but she’s great at coming up with plans and strategies. She dislikes using her quirk, but is very competitive so if she has to, she’ll swallow her pride and use it, if it means winning. She’s not mean however, she’s actually good at comforting others. She’s a bit insecure about her skin, so she tends to cover up a lot. She gets along really well with Mina, and Tsuyu, because skin struggles, and quirks.

Specialty: Analytics, and creating anything that has to do with being able to identify and learn more about your surroundings. She’s the best person in the support course to go to when you need a battle strategy.

Extra: She was raised by her dad and grandfather, after her parents got divorced. She and her granddad are especially close, and she likes to send him pictures of her inventions and friends at U.A! Also, she really enjoys Studio Ghibli Movies, and watches them with her younger brother who she looks after often. She and Hoka are pretty good friends, and she likes to bounce ideas off of him, while he reminds her to take breaks and not to overwork herself.

Bonnie Tucker:

Height: 5′7

Quirk: Hair manipulation (her hair follicles are in constant overdrive, so she can grow durable, protective hair at will. Her hair is also prehensile. This uses up a lot of her energy however, so she can only use it in short bursts to conserve her energy)

Appearance: Bonnie is the tallest girl in class 1-H and has shoulder length dark coily hair, dark skin (she’s black), brown eyes, and a strong, athletic build. When she wears the school uniform, it’s usually with the sleeves rolled up, and often (though not always) wears the waistcoat on top, along with black converse sneakers. Out of class she normally wears oversized sweaters and shirts. She has a grunge sense of style. She has three cartilege piercings in her left ear, and one in her right. When in the workshop, she wears baggy faded jeans, and a green “Deep Dope” tank top with a black hoodie tied around her waist.

Likes: Roller skating (her mother taught her when she was younger. She can do lots of tricks, and incorporates that when she has to fight)

Personality: Calm, and quiet. She has a sarcastic, and dry sense of humour, but she’s friendly and emotionally intelligent. She hates being the centre of attention, and is bad with eye contact. Despite this, she is unafraid to call people out on their crap. She comes across as cold, and distant, but she’s actually pretty chill, down to earth, and cool with being friends with anyone. She gets along really well with people from other classes because of this. She’s also something of a daredevil, as she’s constantly trying new skating tricks, and is a natural born problem solver, as well as a quick thinker.

Specialty: Computers, and body extensions. When it comes to computers, she’s good at hacking and coding. Body extensions means that she is good at making thing that act as a part of somebody, i.e prosthetic limbs, gauntlets, clothes that can act as a second skin, special footwear, etc. She studies a lot of quirk theory, so she can advise certain ways that one could use their quirk more effectively. She’s strategy buddies with Ami for that reason.

Extras: Bonnie was born in the States! Los Angeles, California to be exact, and transferred from her hero school back in L.A to Japan. She was the one who created Shinsou’s artificial vocal chords (they goofed around a lot when testing them). She’s often the one to tell Hatsume to calm down a little, when she gets to close to other people. Bonnie has a lot of hobbies relating to graphic art. She’s also a huge fan of Miruko, and the Wild, Wild Pussycats.

Yuuto Daguchi:

Height: 5′8

Quirk: Body portals (he can open holes into his body and store non-living stuff inside of him. However, he gets headaches the more stuff he stores inside of him)

Appearance: Relatively tall. Has black hair, and light brown skin, with black eyes. He wears glasses. Has been referred to as the prettiest boy in class 1-H. Wears the uniform normally, but switches out the school shoes with grey sneakers. Out of class, he has a simple but classy sense of style, as he normally takes to wearing button up shirts, and knitted sweaters. In the workshop, he wears the top of the gym uniform over black jeans.

Likes: Fashion design. His Mother is a model, and his dad is a famous designer, so it’s only natural that he inherited their passion for it!

Personality: The biggest sweetheart ever. Really optimistic, and encouraging. He and Hatsume get into all sorts of trouble with Power Loader. He’s really charming, and is very dramatic (like you could take the last muffin at breakfast, and he’s out here acting like you killed his dog), but gets serious when the situation calls for it. He has the same energy as Aoyama, and to an extent, Monoma. Yuuto loves experimenting with new designs for costumes, and materials, and loves helping others and giving input when asked. He’s also something of a matchmaker, having an eye for romance, and likes talking about love with Aoyama, Setsuna, Mina, and Hagakure, when their classes get closer.

Specialty: Materials and Costume improvements. He’s good at chemistry, and likes making new materials for costumes and support items. He saw a lot of female heroes in his day for photo shoots with his parents, and knew he could create better costumes. Almost passed out when he found out about Hagakure, Ibara, and Yaoyorozu’s costumes. He’s good at improving support items, making them more streamlined, durable, and practical, while still looking cute!

Extras: He was born and raised in London England. His dad is Japanese, but his mom is Pakistani-British. He and Tucker bonded over moving to a new country. Yuuta is also vice representative of class 1-H. He has a tiny crush on Hiryu Rin. He likes his quirk, because he’s basically a human backpack, and can store his stuff inside of him. In his spare time, he likes to design hero merchandise for his classmates, and Bonnie assists! He likes hanging off of Hoka’s arms, because they’re so sturdy and strong!

Reo Hanabusa:

Height: 5′9

Quirk: Bloom (He can cause plants to grow on his skin, and can pick them off with minimal pain)

Appearance: Relatively tall. Reo has Dark red curly hair which he wears in an undercut, tanned skin, and freckles across his nose. His eyes are green, and he has a lanky physique. Regarded as cute by a lot of people from other classes. He wears the uniform without the tie, and the shirt sleeves rolled up. Has a piercing through his right eyebrow. When out of class he has a punk aesthetic (appreciated by Jirou), often wearing blacks, greys, and dark colours in general. In the workshop, Reo wears a black sleeveless shirt, with the coveralls tied around his waist like Hatsume.

Likes: Skateboarding (He joins Bonnie when she goes skating)

Personality: He comes across as apathetic, and rude, and brash. Most of the time, he kind of is. He has no qualms about talking sh*t, and often likes to provoke arguments or suggest a crazy idea to Hatsume for kicks. He comes across as mean spirited, but once he’s made a friend, he’ll be supportive and helpful. Not outright though, he has a reputation to maintain. He’s kind of like the big brother of class 1-H. He isn’t cocky, or self centred however, as he is very open to ideas different than he is, and doesn’t mind letting somebody take the lead. He’s a bit sensitive about his quirk, as he inherited it from his mom and grandmother, both of whom he loves very much, and will chew out anyone who bugs him about it. He roots for underdogs, and underground heroes mainly. Ironically enough, his favourite hero is Kamui Woods

Specialty: Like Hatsume, Reo is a bit of a jack of all trades, designing and creating whatever idea pops into his head. But his main area of expertise is traps and transportation. Nets, capture tools, vehicles, he’ll create both.

Extras: His mom owns and runs a flower shop, and his dad works as a mechanic. He helps out at his mom’s flower shop occasionally, and visits his dad at work when he can. He, along with Kaminari, Sero, Awase, Kaibara, and Bonnie are basically the “roast anyone who deserves it” squad. He calls everyone in his class by their first names, and in return, they call him by his. He’s Black/Asian/Latino (his dad is black, his mom is Japanese/Lantina. Dad took mom’s last name). He got picked on a lot for his quirk at school, as a lot of people referred to it as a “girly and feminine” quirk, so he’s firmly against quirk discrimination of all kinds. Likes teasing Ami, and Yuuta, but admire their skills and trust their judgement. Keeps a lot of plants in his room, and only his classmates know about them.

#bnha #support course bnha #my ocs

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ramblingsofastarrider · 6 years

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Species: Nyctcimmerians

(Nickt-keye-mere-ian)

Planet: Secunus

Secunnas’s rotation is extremely slow.

The days are punctuated by several solar eclipses due of the amount of moons that surround the planet. Due as well to the rotation of the other planets circling their sun.

The temperature typically reaches a range of -0c in the winter and +30c in the summer. Muggy wet heat. The atmosphere keeps this fairly even across the planet with discrepancies at the poles and equator respectively.

The landscape is filled with spires of crystals that capture the heat and light from the sun and gradually expel it during the dark periods. More heat than light is expelled. The light is no more than a dim glow.

Giant fungi take the place of trees. In late summer and autumn they bloom and the planet fills with spores making the atmosphere hazy.

Around the planet large crystal spires build up over time due to atmospheric properties or from water drops like stalactites/ stalagmites beneath giant mushrooms, eventually penetrating the mushrooms.

Bioluminescent mold spores float in the air. When there are electrical storms, the spores light up with the lightning, illuminating in an outwards ripple from the source. These can be witnessed miles away from a storm.

In some locations there are vast fields of toxic, bright green mushrooms.

Secunus has many creatures with some semblance of sentience (think Spriggans from Skyrim). Nyctcimmerians often refer to semi intelligent creatures as though they have autonomy. (Mermaids, fungal creatures,)

Seccunus is a swamp planet and the air is filled with fungal spores. Nyctcimmerians have hardy regenerative lungs.

Language: Seccunic Official is the highly complicated language of the Nyctcimmerians that is updated on a yearly basis, adding new words and removing obsolete words. Slaves speak Superannuated Secunnic, a mix of different years of Seccunic Official. This is thought to be highly imbecilic and primitive by the elites.

Imports:

Exports:

Legal: Crystals are a main export from the planet.

Legal: Nyctcimmerian silk (Nyctcimmerian hair) is the most renowned and expensive export. It is harvested from slaves. Some activist groups disprove of it for this reason. (Story behind the galactic term “softer than Nyctcimmerian silk”)

Illegal: Slave Nyctcimmerian’s are occasionally sold to rich foreigners like exotic pets.

Seccunus is on the outskirts of the Federation’s borders and Nyctcimmerians primarily sell their slaves outside of the federation.

Illegal: Nyctcimmerian leather. It is the softest known leather in the galaxies and is bioluminescent (yep it’s slave skin!)

Physical Traits/ Racial Traits:

Max life span of 200 for elites, 100 at most for slaves.

Skin ranges from Ashen light ashen grey/blue to dark ashen grey/blue

Tall pointed ears

Nyctcimmerians are highly resistant to communicable diseases due to their inherent regenerative properties.

Eyes have no pupils, scelra and eye itself are entirely one color. Common colours are greens, blues, purples. Uncommon colours are black, white.

The single coloured sclera is actually a second eyelid that covers an extremely sensitive eye underneath. The eyelid would protect the eyes from spores, bright lights, and would aid the eye in seeing in the dark/ keep the eye whites hidden so they blend into the surroundings from predators. The only time they would open their second eyelid is when they’re in extreme uncontrollable pain, dying, or impaired to the point where they cannot control themselves. Opening the second eyelid would be highly dangerous to their eyes underneath. .

In moonlight Nyctcimmerians are bioluminescent with various patterns on their skin that are the same as their eye colours. Their bioluminescent spots glow and pulse like twinkling stars.

They are androgynous, leaning on the feminine side.

They relate to themselves by their biological sex, they have no concept of gender and have a difficult time grasping concepts of gender.

They are known as being very soft to touch.

They have dark skin but it’s sensitive to sunlight, the cannot see well in bright lights, or at all in the sun.

Emotional and physical communication is extremely subtle and often easily missed by those who are not perceptive enough. This often makes Nyctcimmerian’s seem indifferent or non-emotional which isn’t true.

Nyctcimmerians reproduce solely on intelligence and thus are not effected by scent or physical reproductive cues.

Society:

They care little for gender. In fact they only distinguish it for reproductive purposes.

Society is divided by intellectual strength. When Nyctcimmerian’s reach sexual maturity, their intelligence is assessed. If they are below a certain point, they are put into slaves. If they are above, they remain citizens.

Slavery is the backbone to society as intelligent-class Nyctcimmerians devote all of their time to intellectual endeavors.

Slaves are harshly degraded. While they are still more intelligent than most species, their own upper class/society conditions them to believe they are unintelligent. This leads to lower confidence and conflict avoidance among many of the slaves.

Introductions among elite Nyctcimmerians are often boasting and long-winded in nature. They will introduce their name, along with the intellectual awards that they have won in their life.

The intellectuals have no use for or war with one another. However, they watch their slaves fight to the death/near death and bet on them.

Hair is extremely personal, touching a Nyctcimmerian’s hair if you don’t know them well enough is highly offensive.

Any negative comment on a Nyctcimmerian’s intelligence is probably the most offensive thing that could be said or done to them.

If a family’s child is deemed unintelligent. The family has 3 options for the control of their slavery. Most sell their child (human equivalent of 18) to whomever is the highest bidder. In cases of extreme disappointment and disownment the child is simply kicked to the slums (taken by whatever master finds them first). Best case scenario (generally) one’s family owns them. In all cases the slaves are sent to slums and don’t live with their owners.

Slaves born in the slums have a chance to become house slaves if their intelligence is over the elite threshold. This is quite rare as they are worked so hard that they never get the chance to study.

Reproduction:

Intelligence is the highest valued reproductive trait.

Reproduction is as anti-sexual as possible as spoils of the body are seen as a waste of time and intelligence.

Most reproduce using a turkey baster method where males will provide their seed to their partner.

Nyctcimmerian females ovulate yearly, and menstruate for one week a year.

Nyctcimmerians often face complications during pregnancy.

Religion:

The prevailing religion on Seccunus is more so an ideology rather than a belief in a higher power. In Seccunic Official it is called Slistastin, which can vaguely be translated as “To return to the earth after death.”

For Nyctcimmerians death is not feared but welcomed. A good life is one well lived with an offspring or two, but more importantly high intellectual achievements. Most Nyctcimmerians die peacefully and are not mourned, instead their lives are celebrated.

Nyctcimmerian’s like to be returned to their home planet after death so that they may give back to the land that gave to them.

A common word said when one dies translates to “Body with the spires, soul with the spores,” referencing the return of the body and soul to the planet.

Nyctcimmerians do not believe in an after life.

Government:

Technocracy - decision-makers are selected on the basis of their expertise in their areas of responsibility, particularly scientific knowledge.

Off planet:

The Nyctcimmerian’s that the Galaxy sees are the intelligent elite class of the planet. This select demographic creates a stereotypical impression of the entire race that make Nyctcimmerian’s who do not fit within it seem odd. These traits are as follows: Extremely intelligent, think highly of themselves, rude, prudish.

Off planet jobs are any high intelligence positions that have to do with debating or mathematics/ calculations.

Extra:

There is no wood on Seccunus because all flora is derived from different fungus types. The crystals on the planet are harvested and used as fire places or candles.

The technology of the intellectual elites is far better than that of the slaves so they mainly rely on solar energy to provide these necessities. However some elites still have these “spirerests” (essentially fireplaces) for their rustic charm.

Heat and light in the slave world is almost entirely made from these crystals and their charges. Proper solar energy is reserved for things needed for the elite world. The Sun is not out often so solar energy is highly regulated.

Slaves are given an injection of a spore which will activate at about the 50 year mark and slowly consume the host over several months.The injections are praised as an act of mercy from the masters for promising a quicker end to their existences (slave life is miserable). When slaves show symptoms of the spores activating they will leave society and wander out into the wilderness of the planet to die of exposure. It is preferable to the torture of slowly being consumed by the spores. As the bodies decompose, neon green toxic mushrooms grow from them, these same mushrooms are harvested for spores to use on new slaves, and can only grow from remains of the infected.

#race #Nyctcimmerian

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neubauje · 7 years

Text

BEGT ch. 15 (Rated X)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 AO3

(This chapter graciously co-written with @autumnhound )

"Tosh- All Might!" The Number One Hero turns at the sound of his name, just as he's seeing the last of his students off down the hall, and his trademark smile grows a little warmer at the sight of Eraserhead, stalking up in the other direction to meet him. "Wait."

"Aizawa," He acknowledges the younger teacher with a little nod, turning to face him until they're within a more reasonable speaking distance, "What is it?" All Might glances up and down to take in Shouta's appearance- nearly identical to the state he'd been in at the beginning of the school year, but now with the addition of his extra wrapping. Compared to how Toshinori had grown accustomed to seeing him recently, though, the underground hero appears disheveled and exhausted, his skin slightly sallow and his scleras painfully red. "You look... here," He mutters softly, glancing around for prying student eyes before he ushers Aizawa into the empty classroom and locks the door behind them, ensuring the blinds are down before he releases his powered-up profile in a puff of steam. "Let me help."

Aizawa waits to say anything as he watches Toshinori cautiously, holding his tongue as the taller teacher stoops to reach into his back left utility pouch and pulls out the bottle of eyedrops he keeps there. Shouta sighs softly in relief and gratefully tips his head back while Yagi administers a generous dose to each eye. "Thanks," He presses his lips together in some semblance of a smile, blinking the artificial tears into the dryness left by a brightly-lit, sleepless night. As the moisture sinks in, so does the decision he'd been mulling over half-heartedly, even as he'd flagged down the older hero in the hall. "Toshinori, I... would prefer to finish my recovery with you, rather than with Hizashi. If you'll have me." (more under the cut)

All Might blinks as well, as though the surprise from Aizawa's admission is just as tangible as the eyedrops he's tucking back into the shorter man's belt pocket. “Of course,” he nods solemnly as he leans back to sit on a student desk, “Did things not go well with Present Mic?”

Aizawa sighs again and glances toward the door, “Yamada is a good guy. An old friend of mine, but... He still has a lot of growing up to do. And besides, their place is... I don’t belong there.” He leaves the implication unspoken, about the opposite being true at Toshinori’s place.

The Symbol of Peace doesn’t press the matter, all too familiar with the need to process for a while before sharing more details with somebody else. He simply nods and escorts Eraserhead back to the teacher’s lounge to grab the duffel once more, and bring the both of them back to their more familiar haunt. On the subway ride, Aizawa does open up a little more about his experience, actually offering the information freely rather than having it pulled or prompted from him. Toshinori marvels at the unusually forthcoming mood the other teacher seems to be in, almost as though he's trying to make up for something.

“That living room could only ever resemble an approximation of darkness if there were a widespread power grid failure." Aizawa blinks blearily and shakes his head, suddenly leaning against the wall as he glances up at Toshinori, his brows knitted in a light fury, "Oh, and did I mention, when Midnight finally did come back in for the night? She brought in a stranger, and they didn’t know I was on the couch, Mic must not have told her... And they weren’t looking when they went to sit down.”

Yagi winces a little in sympathy, "They SAT on you? Oh Shouta, I'm-" He hides his mouth behind one hand, shaking a little with laughter, "I'm so sorry... I don't mean to laugh, but-" Grasping at the subway pole with both hands, he keels over with a chortle while Eraserhead ducks his chin into his scarf, biting back a chuckle or two from the infectious mood of the hero beside him. "They sat on you, if that isn't just the kicker!" He guffaws that booming belly laugh for a moment, drawing a few stares from the surrounding passengers, until he seems to have gotten it all out of his system, wiping a tear from one dark eye and a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth as he settles down. "I can't believe it was so bad, I just... I'm glad you could feel comfortable coming back to me, even after- well." He shrugs a little and flashes a wistful smile to Aizawa, who sighs and leans back in against him to let that long arm scoop back in around his shoulders.

"Well," Shouta agrees vaguely, letting his tired eyes fall shut for the short remainder of their commute, "I wanted to discuss that, too, once we get home." Relaxed against the older man's scarred flank, Aizawa notices neither the verbal slip he's made, nor the tangled expression it elicits on Toshinori's shadowed face when he hears it. Yagi decides, mercifully, not to mention what is probably nothing more than a bit of mental exhaustion mixing Aizawa's words. He falls quiet for the remainder of the trip, his thumb stroking idly at the black fabric of the utilitarian shirt until their stop approaches, and he gives a few gentle taps to Shouta's shoulder to rouse him into readiness. They make the walk in a companionable silence at first, which slowly seems to grow more tense as they approach the apartment building. The strained atmosphere deepens steadily between the two men as they pause a moment to check first Yagi’s mailbox, then Mrs. Ogawa’s, before they head upstairs, pausing to slip the sparse collection of bills and bank statements under her door.

Once past the threshold, the energy between them is palpable as they stall to kick their shoes off at the door. Toshinori leans against the back of the couch as Aizawa hovers nearby and eventually settles on the isolated wall separating the living room from the hallway. Eraserhead steals a glance out the glass pane of the balcony door as if reminiscing on the last conversation they’d had, until All Might catches his eyes with a little clearing of his throat. “So. What did you have to say, now that we’re ...here.” Toshinori isn’t sure whether to expect an apology or an accusation.

“It’s... about Wednesday night.” Aizawa keeps a watch on Toshinori’s face just long enough to make sure his meaning is clear, before he glances away, letting his eyes settle on that framed photograph of the beach. ��I should have just asked, instead of...” He trails off slowly, unsure how to finish the sentence without putting a spin on it which could be entirely different from how Yagi had seen things.

Toshinori awkwardly clears his throat a second time and motions his hand slightly for Aizawa to continue, attempting to goad the quiet man into speaking his mind. “Asked me what,” he prompts nervously, unsure of where this conversation could possibly be headed, aside from… what had happened on the couch the last time they’d shared a living space.

Shouta bites his lip for a second, half his face still hidden behind his scarf as he turns to fix Toshinori with a steely gaze. “You’re a much better caretaker than Hizashi. We’ve established this. You actually consider what needs done, and you get it done without me having to ask. Except...” He glances away once more, his cheeks starting to burn a little as he hisses out the admission, “Damnit, Toshinori, I’ve been trapped with NO privacy, and no hands for thirteen days. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone, without-” The more solitary teacher bites his tongue to keep himself civil as he glares back at his would-be caretaker.

The taller hero freezes in place as Aizawa’s words line up inside his head and the meaning of what the underground hero is trying to tell him appears. Slowly, a dark flush creeps from his collarbone up to stain his face a deep red, and he casts about desperately for something to look at other than the man staring at him with such intensity. After a taut moment he finally stills, unable to keep his eyes on Aizawa. “I... can help you, with that,” he slowly concedes, his hands clenched on the couch behind to him to hide the nervous tremors, “b-but not... right now. Let’s get some dinner and get your pills in you. You look like you’re pretty exhausted from the night at Hizashi’s.” Toshinori pauses to tap his own cheek, “And you’re looking a little scruffier than normal. Let’s get you cleaned first, okay?”

Aizawa’s eyes flare marginally wider at the offer, and he nods stiffly at the attempt to return to their prior nightly routine, settling in at the empty kitchen table while Toshinori throws together a meal. Despite several attempts to start a more mundane conversation over a quick dinner of chicken curry with leftover rice, the small talk soon falls flat as the two men spiral back into silent anticipation, their minds wholly occupied for better or for worse. Eventually, Toshinori makes a desperate play to break the silence, pulling his phone out to set some music going from his pocket as they move on to the bathroom. Shouta sighs softly and relaxes a little, the steam and gentle fingers combining with the music to help wash away some of the building tension between them. “You don’t have to,” he mutters softly, still not quite bold enough to make eye contact as Toshinori scrubs up under his bag-wrapped casts and down his front, “Not if you’re uncomfortable. I would understand.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, Aizawa,” the lanky blonde hero murmurs, preoccupied with making sure that his guest is clean and tidy once more, “I just want to be sure this is... a matter of convenience, and that you’re not trying to fit me into some kind of relationship neither of us is ready for at this stage.” He glances up briefly, meeting Aizawa’s eyes with his own oddly-shadowed blue ones, just a quick glance to make sure they’re on the same page together, before resuming his scrubbing.

“It’s not anything you don’t want it to be.” Shouta sighs softly, getting a good lungful of the soothing steam as he leans against the wall of the shower, letting his eyes drift shut until it comes time to turn in place, letting Toshinori get at his hair again. In just the short time he’d gone since their last night together, he’s managed to get the black curls tangled into a rightful mess again, though Yagi’s practiced fingers manage to get it combed loose once more in no time, with only minimal tugging.

Toshinori drags a gentle palm over Aizawa’s jaw as he towels him off, and he hums softly, “Looks like you don’t even need those bandages on your face anymore, it’s all but healed, aside from this gash... That’ll probably leave a decent scar. Let’s get you one last shave, that should tide you over until you’ve got your hands back, unless you’d rather stick to the lumberjack look?” Aizawa shakes his head, his cheek brushing against that calloused palm. “And I’m guessing you don’t want to be baby-faced every day either,” Yagi teases playfully, and Aizawa shakes a negatory again, his cheek rounding with a bit of a smile. Starting to break the mood into a lighter one, this last task of the evening goes by quickly enough once Toshinori’s grabbed a fresh set of baggy pajamas and replaced the wet bags with fresh gauze slings to start to get Shouta comfortable again. In no time, the built-up scruff is gone, and any last shreds of hostility they may have held between them has washed away with it.

Toshinori can’t help but smile a little as he watches the last of the tension drain from his guest’s shoulders, now that he’s clean and taken care of once again. With a fresh damp rag, he wipes the last of the soap and bristles from Aizawa’s face, leaning closer to inspect his work carefully. A little too close, he realizes a second later, when those dark eyes open too close to his face and he pulls back with a little jolt, surprised at the proximity. “What,” Aizawa intones softly, tracking the slight movement out of the corner of his eye.

“I-it’s nothing, just making sure that you were fuzz free,” the tall man laughs a bit awkwardly, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart which seems to be somewhere in his throat region.

Shouta only shrugs a little, “It wouldn’t be the end of the world if we missed a spot. Especially since... I’ll probably want to keep wearing bandages to school anyway. Mic was telling me last night that I’ll be his co-host in the commentator’s box at the Sports Festival, and I’d like to try to keep a low profile until that’s over with, if possible.”

Toshinori hums a little as he brushes his finger over a spot he’d missed. “So I suppose this won’t be a huge matter in the long run, if you’d like to keep your face covered for now. I think we should leave them off for tonight so that your skin can get some fresh air, too long under bandages and you start to get sores and the like.” He strokes the little bit of fuzz still left on Aizawa’s chin again, a bit meditatively, somewhat lost in his thoughts and not realizing that his hand is still pressed against his guest’s face, at least until the younger teacher nods gently into it in agreement. He blinks and quickly pulls his hand back, realizing how intimate the motion must seem, considering that he was just here to care for the injured man. “A-are you ready for bed,” he quietly asks, his voice very slightly hitching as he thinks about what Aizawa had asked of him earlier, albeit indirectly.

“I was ready for bed twenty eight hours ago,” the tired-eyed hero confirms, swaying forward on his toes a little. “Bed, couch, I don’t particularly care at this point.”

“My bed, then,” Toshinori says firmly, well aware of how the thin couch mattress had injured both of their backs, and resolving to himself to have it replaced when he could. The thought makes him pause and reconsider his train of thought, wondering when he’d last had another person in his home besides Aizawa, and when he would actually have another. It was almost as if he’d somehow become unable to fathom the small space that he lived in, without also picturing the dark-haired man sharing it.

With one arm lightly slung about the shorter teacher’s waist, Toshinori gently helps him to his feet before hanging up the wet towels, trying to get in a better frame of mind rather than fixating on what’s ahead of him, struggling to keep a tight rein on his emotions. “Well,” he says lightly, attempting to keep the mood relaxed, “l-let’s get that one last thing taken care of, if that’s what you were still interested in.” He pauses and looks to Aizawa, waiting for confirmation, briefly meeting those intense eyes before he lets out a laugh. “I guess that’s a yes.” The tall blonde turns without another word and makes his way down the hallway to his bedroom with Aizawa following close behind him, before turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He yelps and hops up quickly, nearly crushing his laptop in the process, but managing to spare it at the last minute.

“I... might’ve forgotten this was here...” Toshinori begins nervously, tucking the device under one arm, “Let me just... set this down somewhere.” He turns and lays it on the nearby nightstand, making sure that it’s secure before shifting back to sit on the edge of the bed once again.

Still hovering in the doorway, Shouta glances between the laptop, the bedside, and his nervous host, eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “Mhm.”

Toshinori gulps and springs to his feet, busying himself for a moment by ducking back out into the hallway to fetch the extra pillows he’d tucked into the linen closet. Bustling back in with his arms full, he sets up that throne-like arrangement to prop up the cast-bound arms, and sure enough, Shouta sinks right into it, scooting carefully on his knees to get settled before he glances back over at Yagi expectantly.

With a little awkward clearing of his throat, the taller man grabs the laptop from the nightstand and brings it with him as he sits back on the edge of the bed, then scoots closer until he’s pressed back in against Aizawa’s side, yet another facsimile of their subway rides, though now with his left ankle tucked under his right knee. He props the computer open just in front of his left knee, in sight of both of them, and boots it up, until the screen loads conveniently onto an appropriate webpage. It was very adult- no, not just adult- it was downright pornographic and Aizawa can’t help but gawk at the Symbol of Peace as he starts the video playing again, then reaches over to tug at the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants, easing them and the briefs below partially down his guest’s thighs.

“Sorry, let me help you out there,” he says quietly, tentatively extending his hand to lightly cup it around Shouta, feeling semi-firm flesh throb gently under his light touch and start to grow stiffer. He makes an almost unheard noise in the back of his throat and tries to think of something else, anything else, while his long fingers slowly curl around Shouta’s shaft. Aizawa shifts in place, sitting up a little to get a better view of the screen, and of the hand wrapped around him. He whimpers in mild disbelief as the fantasy he’d run through in his head so many times suddenly becomes a reality, with Toshinori’s grip tightening slowly before he gives a tentative stroke. Shouta trembles a little and licks his lips in anticipation, the tiny movement picked up by the larger man who nods very slightly to himself, his hand beginning a steady pattern in time with the actors on the screen.

Shouta tosses his head back as a low heat builds in his belly, a soft curse on his lips as he tries and fails to keep his hips from thrusting up into that tight grip. “S-shit,” he gasps, having pined for the sensation of being touched by someone else, far more than he’d been missing the more mundane activity of just touching himself.

Toshinori pauses his movements for the briefest of seconds as he glances down at the shorter man, watching him tremble and groan with his still-slightly-damp hair fanned out across the pillow under his head. Yagi bites down on his lip, chewing on it indecisively for a moment, before he gives in and shoves his unoccupied hand down the front of his own sweatpants to wrap a firm hold around his growing erection. He hisses a little at the friction of sensitive flesh against cloth and tugs himself free, awkwardly wrestling with the elastic waistband for just a second with one hand, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He curses softly and presses his body back up against Shouta’s side as he strokes the both of them in tandem, synced up to the video playing on his laptop, the dark-haired man’s eyes on the screen, and his own eyes on Shouta. He can’t help but give a soft, low moan as he watches the thin skin slide over hard flesh as his hands work, his thumb occasionally swiping across each head and smearing the drops of liquid gathered there as Shouta squirms under his touch, back slightly arched and groaning.

Shouta, for his part, is hardly paying attention to the video either at this point, more focused on each tactile detail of the fingers and thumb working him into a frenzy. Growing a little bolder and a little greedier with the heat of desire starting to burn in the pit of his stomach, he risks a glance up and over at the man next to him. Half-lidded eyes fly wide open at the sight of the older hero, who seems to be just as worked up by this point, the waistband of his own pants shoved down out of the way of that improbably-large shaft, which seems nearly normal in Yagi’s massive palm. It’s fortunate that the larger man had already looked away, his dark, hungry gaze focused back on the laptop screen, for just the sight of him getting into this alone is enough to startle Shouta into a sudden climax, his head thrown suddenly back and his body trembling with the force of it as little sparks of light danced behind his clenched eyelids. Anything more than that stolen glance would surely have proven too much entirely, and as it is, the exhausted, injured hero shivers and blanks out, his fatigue completely overtaking him.

Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

#BEGT #Behind Every Great Teacher #Erasermight #aizawa shouta #toshinori yagi #my writing #BNHA fic #jangalian #autumnhound

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spectrumscribe · 7 years

Text

Your Heart’s Desire

a very late submission to @tmntflashfic‘s valentine’s day prompt thing, since it got insanely long, and has to be broken up into parts. I’ll post the next part within a few days.

Master Post of Chapters.

Summary:

In which Casey makes a lot of bad decisions, buys more groceries than he wants to, deals with his own mistakes, makes a bad drunk decision, almost dies more than once, falls in love, and summons a demon.

Not in that order.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter One.

Casey heard his alarm sound, and he rolled over to slap the snooze. However, his had made contact with something… not plastic.

Casey grumbled, refusing to open his eyes yet. Too early, it was way too early… too much hangover, not enough sleep…

He slapped the thing again, trying to find his alarm clock.

“Quit it before I bite your hand off,” Someone growled.

Casey’s eyes snapped open, and he yanked his hand away so fast it smacked the wall behind him. Tangling his legs in his sheets as he did, he scrambled into sitting position.

There was someone in his room. Sitting by his bed. A pair of acidic green eyes glared back at him, standing out against the man’s darker skin.

“Wha- what the hell’re you doing in my house?!” Casey yelped.

The man glared harder, sneering at Casey. “You’re the one who brought me here!”

Casey frantically tried to recall if he’d brought a dude home with him last night, and failed.

“Shit- did I really?” He said, wincing apologetically. “God, I was so smashed last night, I can’t remember anything.”

The man gave him a look of disbelief. “Wha- seriously?! You can’t remember anything?”

Casey shook his head, again wincing, this time from the budding headache there. “Not a thing. It’s all blurry and blacked out. Dude, I’m so sorry, you weren’t waiting too long for me right? You should’ve just woken me up.”

The man stared at Casey, mouth gaping, and hey those were some real sharp incisors right there-

“Oh fuck,” The man said, putting his face in his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Hhhhh…. I should have listened to Leo about accepting summons like that…”

“Summons? Heh, you’re not some kind of ‘call guy’ or something, right? I mean… no way I was that drunk…” Casey trailed off, staring at something lashing across the floor.

Was that…? No not a snake, it had a bunch of fluff on the end, and was attached… to…

Oh.

“TAIL!” Casey shouted, pointing at the thing on the floor. He took a closer look at the man’s head, Casey’s own head finally cleared of all cobwebs, and- “HORNS!”

The man took his hands away from his face, and gave Casey a deeply annoyed look. “What did you expect, idiot? I’m a demon for crying out loud! You knew that.”

To further prove his point- the man’s skin darkened with scales, and his green irises filled his whole sclera. A long forked tongue slithered out of his mouth and the man- the demon, hissed at Casey.

Casey let out a strangled laugh, and then screamed.

Somewhere between flying out of bed, knocking over his sketchbook stack by the door, his baseball bat collection also beside the door, and slipping on a salt pentagram-thingy on his living room floor- where the fuck did his carpet go- Casey managed to calm down a bit.

He tried to assess the situation.

There was a huge ass, old ass book bigger than his chest on the coffee table. That probably explained the salt on the floor, if the candles surrounding the book and the diagrams inside were anything to go by.

The demon-man-person had not disappeared yet. This was still not a dream. He was still looking at Casey like he was an idiot and/or was regretting ever setting foot in Casey’s tiny shithole apartment.

Casey still couldn’t find his carpet. Where the ever living fuck did he put his carpet.

Casey scratched his head a bunch, did ten loops around the whole of his living room/kitchen area, checked ten times if the demon-person-dude was still there, and managed to calm down.

Just enough to sit the guy-demon-whatever down on the couch, and try to sort things out.

“So let me get this straight,” Casey said, standing in front of his couch and guest. “I summoned you, and you’re a demon, aaaaaaand I accidentally made a contract with you?”

“You can’t make contracts on accident, but somehow, I think you managed,” The demon guy drawled, slouching on Casey’s couch. His tail- holy fuck- was still lashing back and forth in annoyance, the fluffy tip of it disturbing the scattered salt on the floor. He glared at Casey, showing a bit of fang as he sneered. “Congrats, you managed to fuck up like no one else ever has.”

Had it been anyone else saying that to him, Casey would have snapped back at them, but the inhuman nature of his house guest gave him pause.

A lot of the guy was very human like, but his less than human bits gave him away. Badly so.

The tail for starters. Longer than the guy’s legs, and fairly thick. It was dark enough that Casey couldn’t see were the fluffy bits started, and the scales ended. And the horns. God damn the horns.

Set on either side of his head, with a spiky dark hair sticking up in between, the two black horns stood out prominently. Tips aimed at the ceiling, and a slight curve against the skull. They sort of looked like goat’s horns, but with smoother ridges. A few inches tall each.

The scales were gone again, receded… wherever they’d gone/come from, but Casey thought he could see a hint of them around the corners of the demon’s eyes.

Wow those were some green eyes.

“You’re staring,” The demon guy growled.

“Can you blame me?” Casey quipped automatically.

The demon sneered again.

Nice teeth too. Sharp.

How far into shock was he, by this point?

Pretty far.

“So like,” Casey coughed awkwardly. “Do you know what happened to my carpet, man? I kind of liked it.”

“You threw it off the balcony,” The demon replied, jerking his thumb at Casey tiny excuse for a balcony. “Right after you summoned me. You had to make some room, so you tossed out ‘the least breakable thing’. Your words not mine.”

Casey opened his mouth, closed it, and ran to open his sliding doors.

He looked over the wrought metal railing of the balcony, and- “-aw FUCK!”

He’d thrown his carpet outside alright. Right onto the communal trash bins area below. It also looked like it’d rained last night, since there were huge puddles all over the place.

Fuck.

Casey put his hands to the sides of his face. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck, man. I’m never gonna get the smell out of it now!”

“If that’d been your desire when you summoned me, I could fix it easy.”

“What?” Casey turned around, looking at his guest. “‘Desire’? What??”

“You summoned me with a desire,” The demon guy said, leaning onto the arm of the couch. “I can’t leave until I fulfill it.”

“Um- what?”

“Desire. It means to want something or someone or whatever. Donnie’s better at the details,” The demon waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever, anyways it means that you had an intention that needed fulfillment when you summoned me, and you wanted me to grant it. You were supposed to tell me what it was when I appeared, but instead, you went off on a rant about how much space I was taking up, tossed your carpet out the window, and then passed out. Not exactly informative.”

“Um.” Casey floundered at the description of ‘desire’. “Yeah. Uh. I don’t remember even summoning you, dude, so I sure as fuck don’t remember why I summoned you.”

“I was starting to get that idea,” The demon said in a deeply annoyed tone.

“Uh- also, why would I toss my carpet outside?” Casey asked, stepping back into the room and shutting the doors behind him. He’d deal with his forsaken floor cover later. “Why would I need extra room? I mean, like, no offense man- but you’re kinda short.”

It was true. When they’d been standing, the demon guy hadn’t even made it to Casey’s nose.

The demon guy bristled- literally, his tail’s end poofed up and everything- and he spat, “Ex-fucking-s’cuse me for being below average demon height! And besides! This isn’t even my real size, asshole. I shrank down for the sake of your stupid mortal ceiling. You’re fucking welcome.”

Casey blinked, vaguely noting he was so far into shock he wasn’t even bothered by the tone of the demon. “Well, how big are you really, then?”

The demon guy smiled for the first time since Casey had woken up. It wasn’t a nice smile.

“Let me to s͠how͡ ̨y͡oư.”͝

Maybe asking had been a bad idea.

The demon on Casey’s couch turned pitched black all over- then into smoke, and the smoke cloud increased in size and swirled through the air like ink, until-

-bad idea bad idea bad idea-

-the smoke solidified into an enormous shape, big enough its back and head brush against Casey’s ceiling, and its tail snaked through his kitchen space.

The demon sort of looks like a dragon, Casey’s hysterical mind supplied, but not quite.

The demon’s horns knocked against the ceiling plaster, and two luminous green eyes stood out against the sheer darkness of his skin.

He smiled, wide and sharp, showing off the rows of long fangs in his mouth.

“̀My͘ r͘eal ̀ńame͘ is̛ ùn̕pron͜o̧u҉nc̡eab̢le in y͝o̷ur̨ l̛an̷guage, ́a͏n͢d͢ ẁoúld͏ ̢pr͡ob̸a͘b͝ly ̴ḿelt yo͜ur mind ̸an̶ywa͝ys,͜ ͠s҉ò-” ̵He grinned wider, vicious and terrifying. “̀-ćall m̷e Ra̵ph͠ąȩl. ̵I̶’̵m the͘ d̨em͏on ̢you̴ ̵sòme͞how͠ mąn̵age̡d͏ to ̵summ̕on̴,͠ ͠a͢nd ̵Ì’m̀ n̶òt ̸góing͡ ̢a̴n͠yw͝h҉er̢e͠ ̛until͢ yo̴u reme͢m̨b҉e̕r wh҉y,̢ ơr-̕” ̨His long tongue snaked out, and he took a step towards Casey. “-̷uńt̴i͘l ýou ̢die.͏ Undeŕs̡t́o͟o͠d?͘”

Casey looked up at the demon’s teeth, then at the huge claws on his hands, and then at the gouges Raphael was leaving in his ceiling.

Hm.

Yup. Such a bad idea.

Casey whirled around, yanked his sliding door back open, and scrambled out of his apartment.

He heard growling behind him, and swore there was hot breath blown on his back as he escaped.

He grabbed the railing of his balcony, got his feet up on it, and jumped over the gap between his and his neighbor’s balcony. Narrowly, he avoided landing on any of the plants there- he did not want to hurt those plants again, not after the scolding he’d gotten last time.

And- oh thank god- she’d left her doors unlocked again.

Casey pulled open the sliding door of his neighbor’s apartment, bursting in and almost tripping over the pile of clothes in the living room. “APRIL! APRIL HELP I HAVE A PROBLEM!”

No answer, so he scrambled through the rest of the apartment- identical to his own excluding the contents- and headed for April’s bedroom.

“APRIL!” He shouted, nearly kicking in her door.

“-jESUS CHRIST- Casey!” April exclaimed, fumbling with the book in her hands and almost dropping it on her face. “What did I say about coming into my apartment without permission?!”

“Yeah hi sorry about that but you have to come with me right now,” Casey said, grabbing April’s arms and trying to pull her out of bed. “I have a problem and it’s kinda huge and wrecking my apartment and I know you hate going anywhere on Sundays but please-”

“Oh for- fine. Just stop yanking on me!” She kicked him lightly in the gut, and untangled the rest of herself from her covers. “I swear- you better not have come in through the balcony again.”

“Uh.”

“Casey.”

A few seconds later, after Casey physically pushed April out of her apartment - “No we don’t have time to get dressed, this is an emergency!”- they ended up in front of his apartment’s shut door.

April, arms crossed in front of her faded sleep shirt, glared up at Casey in all her bushy Sunday morning glory. “If this is some animal you brought home while you were drunk last night-”

“It’s not a dog! I learned my lesson with that one,” Casey defended. “This is- uh, well, I’m not really sure what to call it. It’s a problem, that I know for sure.”

April glared at him, and blew her mussed bangs away from her eyes. “Alright, show me this ‘problem’ of yours. I want to get back to my novel sometime today.”

Casey jerked a nod, and reached out to turn his doorknob.

It was locked.

“It’s, uh, It’s locked,” He said.

“You forgot your keys-”

“I forgot my keys.”

“Casey.”

“I- just give me a moment,” He put his ear to the door, listening for the demon guy. There was a sound that suspiciously sounded like his CD collection being knocked over. Casey rapped on the door. “Hey- hey Raphael? I’m sort of locked out. Could you open the door?”

Did demons even know how to do that?

Wait was he even going to let Casey back inside? He had sort of literally run out on him-

The door’s deadbolt and handle clicked, and the door opened slightly.

“You brought a guy home last night? That’s your big problem?” April asked, giving him a look. “Casey, usually that’s the opposite of a problem.”

“Uh, you’ll understand it if you see it,” Casey gestured at the door. “I can’t really explain it properly in words.”

April rolled her eyes. “And yet, half of your major is in literature, which is literally describing things with words.”

“Just take a look already.”

Casey’s brain caught up with him right then, as April reached out to fully open the door, and he realized there was a chance this was just going to get them both killed.

Uh, whoops-

April opened the door, and the same time as she saw it, Casey also saw-

The whole of Raphael's mass, still crammed into the tight space of Casey’s living room. Raphael’s teeth were still bared, and he was facing the doorway.

The demon let out a rolling snarl at them both, and April slammed the door shut.

“What- what the fuck is that, Casey?!” April hissed, putting her back to the door as though it would keep the huge demon inside it contained. “What the actual. fuck.”

“I might’ve summoned a demon,” Casey said. “Mostly on accident.”

“How- how do you even manage that?!”

“I have no idea. I sort of was too drunk to remember.”

“CASEY.”

Raphael didn’t end up eating them. Or killing them either. He just huffed in their faces when they’d been brave enough to open the door again, blowing hot smelly demon breath and everywhere, and changed back into his mostly human form.

“You’re both terrible hosts,” He’d said tetchily. “The humans a few centuries ago would have been groveling on the ground for my favor. You haven’t even offered me food and drink yet.”

April had turned very pale by that point, and said very quietly, “He has a tail. And horns.”

Raphael had rolled his eyes at them both, and demanded Casey remember what he’d summoned the demon for, so he could “Get the hell back to hell and be done with this shit-show.”

Casey, naturally, had questioned what hell was like.

Raphael had responded, “It’s a figure of speech where I come from. ‘Hell’ isn’t that singular. There’s a lot of them out there. You humans are just too stupid to perceive them.”

April, at that point, had gone inside and helped herself to Casey’s stash of energy drinks. Chugging a full can before she did, she then proceeded to rant at Casey for irresponsible (drunk) decisions, his choice in parties, getting her up on a Sunday of all days, always dragging her into nonsensical misadventures and making it her problems too, and the state of his house.

Also that he’d brought an actual flipping demon onto their plain of existence, but it’d seemed like she was trying to focus on normal things for the sake of her composure.

Raphael had watched, and smirked, the whole time April ranted at Casey. Prick.

After she’d calmed down, April had pushed her hair out of her face, and asked Raphael if he was planning on razing their apartment complex to the ground at all that day.

“I don’t have much interest in that sort of thing,” Raphael had said, studying his longer than safe nails. “That’s more my brother’s area.”

“Good enough for me. Don’t eat him, he still owes me fifty bucks,” April had said, handing the empty drink can to Casey and patting him on the shoulder. “Good luck with this one, Casey. I have no advice to offer, and I promise I’ll check in later to see if you’re still alive. Excuse me though, I have to go rearrange my understanding of mythos and legend and possibly question my whole reality for a bit. Bye.”

And then she’d left, slamming the door behind her, and leaving Casey with an amused demon in his kitchen, eating the last of his already wimpy fruit bowl.

That’d been a few hours ago, and now Casey was sitting on his carpet-less floor with his eyes closed and a throbbing headache.

Hangovers were a real hassle unless you gave them time to ease off. Raphael hadn’t given Casey that time.

Slave driver.

“You’re not thinking about the right things, again,” Raphael chastised.

“Fuck off,” Casey snapped, opening his eyes and glaring at the lounging demon on his couch. “I’ve been at this for hours, man. It ain’t comin’ no matter how many times I try.”

Raphael’s tail lashed out, knocking an empty energy drink can at Casey.

Casey caught it, and chucked it to the side. “Look. Dude. I know you’re some kind of interdimensional terror-thingy-whatever, but I’m hungry as fuck and have grocery shopping to do. Can we give it a rest for at least a few hours?”

Raphael turned another page of the thick book that had summoned him. “I want to go home. Keep at it.”

“Dude.”

Raphael ignored him.

“Bro.”

Raphael turned another page of the huge book.

“Pal. Compadre. Brosif. Duderino. Bruv. Dude-”

“What?” Raphael finally snapped.

“You already ate, like, everything in my kitchen, and I haven’t eaten anything today,” Casey said, gesturing sharply at his dilapidated kitchen, and then at his wounded ceiling and tossed about furniture. “You also made a huge fucking mess of my house, and been a real asshole in general. We’re going shopping for dinner shit, and I’m not gonna do anymore meditating until we do.”

“Big words for a little man,” Raphael growled, curling his lip.

“Look who’s talkin’,” Casey shot back.

He honestly was past caring that Raphael could triple- quadruple?- in size and squash him flat. Casey was hungry and his head hurt like a bitch. He wanted food, rest, and some time to chill.

If he had to risk getting his neck snapped for that, he was willing to. Besides, it’d been pretty fricking awesome to see a real live demon in his living room; even if said demon was an asshole who tromped on peoples’ CD’s without apology. Not a bad way to go out, honestly.

Raphael stared Casey down, and the narrow green eyed glare only made Casey sweat a little bit.

Another drawn out moment, and Raphael shut his book and stood up to stretch. “I could eat, I guess. I’ll let you get away with that insolence for now, but don’t try your luck again. Also, we’re getting meat. I need a steak to sink my teeth into.”

Casey watched Raphael yawn, flashing sharp canines, and figured that was fair.

He was getting the cheap stuff though.

Casey only realized, about halfway to the store, that the person he was walking with didn’t look exactly human.

Oddly enough, no one said anything about the tail, or the horns, or the teeth, or the general aura of vague terror and anger…

“Can’t they see you?” Casey asked as they entered Safeway.

“Hm? Oh. Nah, I’m mostly invisible to them unless someone in the know points me out,” Raphael shrugged. “That human, April? She could only see me because I wanted her to. Plus you sort of told her to look for something, namely me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been seen.”

“Huh, nifty trick,” Casey said, grabbing a basket from the stack.

“I know a lot more impressive ones, but I guess so.”

A woman and her five kids, varying between toddler and teen, passed in front of them, forcing Casey and Raphael to pause.

Casey noticed one of the youngest kids looked at Raphael, and smiled as he pointed at the demon’s tail.

“Mom! Look!”

“Don’t point at strangers!” The child’s mother snapped, tugging her child along with the rest.

Casey chuckled softly. Looked like Raphael’s ability to be invisible wasn’t full proof.

Then, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, as a wave of something flowed over him.

The child’s smile crumpled as he was led away, and he started crying loudly.

Casey turned to look at his companion, and found Raphael sneering at the child while emanating some sort of invisible field. It was making the air around them feel unsettling, and caused goosebumps to spread up Casey’s arms.

“Dude,” Casey said shortly, watching the sobbing kid get dragged off. “Not cool.”

Raphael gave him a look, then rolled his eyes and stopped doing whatever he was doing to cause the field. “What? It’s just some human kid. I have to get my kicks somehow. You’re all lucky I don’t just burn this place down…” He trailed off, wandering away as he did. “Come on. I smell meat this way.”

Casey looked after the sobbing kid, and then after Raphael, and wondered for a moment what he’d gotten himself into.

It took a bit of doing, and fighting about what to buy, and fighting to keep Raphael from messing with any other innocent customers, but eventually they made it the checkout area and Casey only had to buy an extra four packages of raw meat for his guest.

Where the hell the guy was putting it all, actual size being huge or not, was a mystery to Casey.

“I’m not fulfilling your whatever-desire, so I’m not getting any energy,” Raphael explained grudgingly, and only after Casey had pushed him to. “I could eat someone, but… eh, it’s not really my thing. And our contract still stands right now, so whenever we finish it, I’ll have plenty.”

“You, uh, you eat people?” Casey asked.

“Not usually. Gets stuck in my teeth.”

“Mmmmkay… then…” Casey replied, inching a smidge more space from Raphael.

He’d probably need to keep his fridge well stocked, however long this lasted. For the sake of his neighbors.

April sent him a text on the way home, asking if he was still alive, and if she needed to call an exorcist yet.

Casey replied that she was a total flake out, and that he was never coming to her for help ever again.

She’d replied with “thems the breaks”, and a shrugging emoji.

“This is so cool,” Casey whispered to himself, watching Raphael devour a whole package of uncooked meat in one go. He was mostly past the fact that Raphael was a demon, and now more stuck on the fact that Raphael was a demon and holy shit was that ever cool.

Even if he was an asshole.

He wondered if he’d get a chance to sketch the guy before he left. Raphael’s full demon form would make a sickass mid-term painting presentation, if Casey could get the colors and anatomy just right…

Wait, maybe that was why he’d summoned Raphael in the first place. For inspiration.

“Hey Raphael,” Casey said, making the demon at his tiny kitchen table pause in his eating. “Maybe I called you up or down or from whatever for inspiration? I’m a little stuck on some projects right now.”

Raphael’s long forked tongue slithered out, and he licked away a drop of meat juice from his lips. “Maybe. Humans do that a lot with my summonings. Get desperate with their work, turn to higher powers for help, and usually lose their soul in the process. Let’s give it a shot.”

Raphael raised his hand, a glowing circle of runes appearing in front of it as he did.

“Hey wait, what was that about losing my soul-?”

Another magic circle appeared in front of Casey, and-

-it made a bunch of sparks, and disappeared.

Raphael sighed, and slouched in his chair. “Nope. Not what you summoned me for. Try again.”

Casey put his hands on his chest, feeling where the circle had been.

“Okay. That was really fucking cool,” Casey said, glancing up at Raphael. “But seriously. The soul thing. What’s that about?”

“What did you think I got out of this?” Raphael said in a bored tone.

Casey opened his mouth, shut it, and said, “-mmmmmmnot that?”

Raphael gave him a look. “I think humans somehow got even more stupid while I was gone.”

“Man, fuck you,” Casey said. He chose to throw one of the eggs he was holding at Raphael, because fuck him. Raphael caught the thing easily, popped it in his mouth, and ate it with a single crunch.

Casey blinked, and then grinned. “So cool.”

“Just hurry up and remember why you summoned me. I want to go home.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get right on that…”

Casey didn’t get right on it. He ate dinner, and went to bed. How he got away with that, he wasn’t sure. It probably had to do with Raphael discovering his television set and DVD collection.

Casey woke up again the next day, rolled over to slap his snooze alarm, and came face to face with Raphael again.

Casey stared at his demon guest for a moment, and then groaned. “Oh god. You’re still here.”

“Yep,” Raphael said, equally grumpy about things.

“Fuuuuuuuuck…”

“Get up and start thinking again. I want to go home.”

“I have school, asshat. That’s the only thinking I’ll be doing today.”

“No, you won’t. You’re going to complete the contract, and send me home.”

“Uuuuh… no?”

They glared at each other.

“I could just eat you and be done with this,” Raphael said, flashing his long canines.

“You said you didn’t like eating people,” Casey replied evenly.

“I’d make an exception for you.”

“I’m not doing the contract thingy today. I’ve got real work to do.”

“You’re going to do it, or you’re going to lose some limbs.”

Casey never claimed to have the best self-preservation instincts, so he picked a fight with the interdimensional demonic being invading his home.

There were words exchanged. Strong words.

Then there were fists exchanged.

Someone punched someone first, and pretty soon, they were tussling around Casey’s apartment spitting curses.

Literally on Raphael’s part, since something red glowing and hot flew by Casey’s ear, and set his countertop on fire.

“MY COUNTER!”

“SEND ME HOME DAMMNIT!”

“MY COUNTER!!”

Raphael waved his hand, and the fire vanished. The counter remained blackened though.

“Okay, so, neat trick,” Casey admitted, lowering his voice from yelling. Then he punched Raphael in the nose. “You’re still a prick.”

April strolled into Casey’s apartment right around then, holding her school bag in one hand and a spritzer bottle in the other. She watched Casey and Raphael grapple at each other with a bored expression. “Casey, we’re going to miss the bus.”

“I’m-” Raphael’s fist socked him in the chest, and Casey let out a stunned “oof”. “-kind of busy at the moment!”

She sighed, raised her spritzer bottle, and shot a few squirts of water at them.

Casey reeled from the cold water, while Raphael straight up yowled.

The liquid had hit Raphael’s bare skin, and started smoking.

One second Casey was being held in a lock by two thick arms, the next he was stumbling to find his balance again, and there was the sound of something thudding against his wall.

Casey pushed his shaggy hair out of his face, and realized Raphael had sunk his clawed hands and feet into the wall and ceiling.

Raphael snarled wordlessly, tail lashing and eye flashing dangerously.

In the back of his head, the image of an irate cat came to Casey’s mind. Also the Exorcist movie.

April spritzed the demon again, and Raphael leapt across the room to get away. He left huge holes in the plaster as he did.

“Go get ready, I’ve got this,” April said calmly, eyeing down the furious demon with her spray bottle at the ready.

“Is that holy water?” Casey guessed.

“Yup. Visited the local church this morning. They’re actually very accommodating for this sort of thing. I stocked up.”

“Huh.”

Raphael curled back his lips, crouching on all fours and partially changed into his full demonic form. The patches of skin where the water had hit were red and angry looking, sort of like the demon himself. He snarled again. “I ̨c̀u̢r͡s҉e̡ ̀your̸ ͝chil҉d͡re͞n͜ ͟t͘o ͡ha̶ve̴ ̀p͢ítíf̕ul an̸d p̡àinf͡ul͢ ͘l̴iv̷es,̢ ͢mo̕rt̷a̡l ̀wòm͏an̶.”̢

“Good thing I’m not having any,” April replied plainly.

Raphael hissed, and April sprayed the floor in front of him threateningly.

“Pants. Now.” She instructed Casey.

Casey listened.

“Thanks again,” He said gratefully as they headed for the bus stop. “I was actually sorta wonderin’ if I’d make it to class today.”

“You’re welcome,” April said loftily.

“And you said you weren’t going to help me out with this.”

“You still owe me fifty bucks, and I expect it before this fiasco is over.”

Casey nodded. Yeah, he could do that at least. “You’re taking this whole ‘demon’ thing really well, you know.”

“Don’t under estimate my ability to give no shit, Casey. It won’t do you any good.”

“Fair point.”

“I still want my money.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

The passed the alley behind their apartment complex, and April pointed into it. “Weren’t you going to do something about your carpet?”

“I gave up and admitted defeat,” Casey sighed. “The smell wouldn’t have come out anyways.”

April patted his shoulder sympathetically, while saying unsympathetically, “You do these things to yourself, Jones.”

“Shut uuuuuup…”

“Yo… Casey?”

“‘Yo’ what?” Casey asked, still intent on the piece he was sketching.

“There’s like, a dude in the tree. He’s glaring at you.”

Casey fumbled his pencil, and spun around to face the window.

There was indeed a dude in the tree, glaring daggers at Casey.

Raphael, like some oversized cat, was perched in the branches of the tree outside the studio. Looked like the burns had cleared up, since he was back to normal.

If you could call a demon that.

“He someone you know?” Casey’s classmate asked, leaning around his easel to stare at Raphael.

Raphael’s tail lashed around, exactly like a cats would, and he bared his teeth at Casey. Apparently Casey’s ordinary classmate couldn’t see the actions, since he didn’t start screaming “monster!” or anything.

Small blessings.

“Nope. Ignore him.” Casey said, getting up and going over to the window. He shut the curtains on Raphael’s pissy expression, and felt exactly zero guilt.

“Yeah okay Case’. He an ex or something?”

“He’s an asshole, that’s what he is.”

“Want me to call campus security?”

Casey thought wistfully about calling the renta-cops on the demon, but shook his head. “Nah. Would go badly for everyone. I’ll deal with him later.”

Namely, it would go badly because there’d probably be blood everywhere, and people very much dead on the ground. Cool as that imagery was in a heavy metal music video or an art piece; it was less cool when it involved real actual people.

Casey would have to settle for stealing April’s spritzer bottle- if she’d let him- and telling Raphael off for bothering him at school.

Raphael dropped out of thin air soon as Casey was alone- somewhere between the arts wing and the science wing, headed to meet April for lunch- and scared the bejeezus out of Casey.

Same message as that morning from the guy, “Send me home, I could devour you, I’m such a big bad demon, blah blah blah…”

Casey responded something along the lines of “Fuck you” and that there were strawberry muffins available in the cafeteria that day, and like ‘hell’ was he missing that. The fact that he used that expression during a conversation with a literal demon wasn’t missed on him, and from Raphael’s expression of quiet fury, it wasn’t missed on him either.

He bought the guy off with a few of those muffins- they were probably the best thing around that was affordable to college students- and managed to get Raphael to leave off until he finished his classes.

When Casey got home, dumping his bag and jacket at the door, he was surprised to find his whole apartment restored to how it’d been, prior to Raphael’s appearance.

“Yooooo… what the heck, dude. How’d you do all this?” Casey asked, observing that all the holes and scorch marks were gone. Even his carpet was back.

“You gave me food,” Raphael said in a grumpy tone. He was finishing off a muffin as he perched on the couch arm. “The food yesterday, and the food today. Equal exchange. I had to do something in return, or it would be Wrong.”

“Wrong how?” Casey asked, vaguely wondering if this demon magic thing would work on some of his old sports equipment.

“Wrong with a capital double-u’, and would’ve given me indigestion,” Raphael licked his lips of crumbs, and Casey watched the action with vague awareness. “Can’t have things being unequal, or it gets unpleasant for me. So yeah, if you’re still worried about the whole ‘in exchange for you immortal soul’ thing, whatever you’re getting out of the contract will be equal in worth. Food was enough to get your apartment back to normal, and souls are worth a heck of a lot more. So hurry up with remembering, and you can have your riches and fame or whatever.”

Casey looked around again at the restored, original shittiness of his apartment, and figured he’d have to ask more about the equal exchange stuff later. “Sure. You want to eat and watch the game first though?”

Raphael seemed to consider the offer, narrowed green eyes, and eventually nodded. “Fine. I get first pick of food though.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

They glared at each other.

“No you don’t.” Casey said again.

“Yes I do.” Raphael said again.

They glared harder.

Casey ended up having to give Raphael first pick anyways, but only so the demon would patch the hole he put in the wall with a fire ball. The hole that went clear into April’s apartment, and brought her exhausted wrath down on both of them.

Casey might not have gotten first degree burns from the water gun like Raphael, when April had upgraded he didn’t know, but it sucked anyways because- “Jesus woman, did you fill it with ice water or something?!”

“Yes.”

“Cold, April, real cold. Literally.”

“Fix my damn wall, Jones. I don’t have time for this.”

“You sure you’re not a demon?”

She sprayed him right in the face for that comment.

The third day went basically the same way.

Casey rolled over, tried to hit the snooze of his alarm clock, and almost lost a finger in the process.

April marched in, same as the morning before, and rescued him from the demon holding him in a chokehold. She threatened death to them both if they made her late for her seminar.

They only just caught the bus, and the look April had given him for that told him exactly how lucky Casey was. Though, he felt someone watching him the whole way to school, and all through his morning seminars.

When he glanced out the second story studio’s windows, he got his answer.

“Who’s the dude in the red tank top?” One of his classmates asked, also staring out the window.

“Oh hey, it’s the guy that was bothering Casey yesterday,” The one who already knew Raphael answered. “Man, I didn’t know you could get fire to work like that.”

Raphael, probably with demonic magic of something equally annoying, had burned “Asshole” in perfect calligraphy onto the campus lawn. It was in big enough font that it could have been seen even from the top levels of the school, and maybe even higher.

Casey opened the window, and leaned out to shout, “WHY DO YOU HAVE NO CHILL?!”

Raphael, standing on the edge of his handiwork, flipped Casey off with both hands.

Casey had yelled wordlessly, and flipped him off back.

“Ha ha… I do not envy you, Casey.”

“Hhhhh… fuck off.”

Raphael cornered Casey again, halfway between buildings, and told him if Casey didn’t remember soon, he was going to start getting angry.

“As opposed to what?” Casey asked, zero shits to give about the demon losing his temper.

“I could burn this whole school down, with everyone inside it,” The demon growled, magic runes appearing in his hands.

“If you do that, I’ll never tell you why I summoned you,” Casey said, because that was the one thing he still had over the demon.

Granted, Raphael could just kill him, but oddly enough the demon hadn’t followed through with the threat quite yet. Maybe souls were just worth that much.

Raphael bristled at Casey’s threat- the short hair between his horns standing up straight and spiky- and the demon spat licks of fire at Casey.

Casey’s eyebrows felt a bit toasty afterwards, but Raphael backed off again.

However, he came home to a ruined apartment that looked like a huge cat had shredded it, a smug partially transformed demon in the middle of the chaos, and spent the next few hours fighting with Raphael to fix it again.

He ended up having to text April to bring her water gun.

Casey took pity of the demon though, after Raphael spent a good hour sulking in the corner while his burns healed, and tried to remember why he’d summoned the demon in the first place.

He consulted google, the huge and stupidly useless book, and his good old method of slapping street hockey balls around in the alley.

Nada. He didn’t remember anything. Even with all the new-age mind tricks he looked up, he couldn’t remember a thing. Drinking blackouts were just too strong for them.

Casey called it a night, and resigned himself to having a demon squatting in his apartment for a bit longer.

The semi-murderous look Raphael gave him, as Casey slunk off the bed, told him that time was running down.

Day four came, time ran down, and Raphael snapped.

At least Casey had made it to his one class that day, even if he’d come home to a furious demon. And even after Casey had started trying to remember again, the guy still snapped.

“It. has been. four DAYS. YOU MISERABLE. FLESHBAG.” Raphael yelled, kicking Casey already severely abused coffee table. “Why can’t you just remember already?!”

“I’m trying!” Casey snapped back. He shut the huge book, which had been zero help so far, and stood up from the couch. “And do you think this is any easier for me? You’re a fucking terrible houseguest, and an enormous wad about literally everything!”

“I wouldn’t be, if you just SEND ME HOME ALREADY,” Raphael shouted. “I don’t care if it’s hard for you, use your stupidly tiny brain to remember why you summoned me, and we can be DONE.”

“Why can’t you just leave if you want to so badly?!” Casey yelled, gesturing sharply. “I don’t want you here either, so feel free to fucking go already!”

“BECAUSE IT’S AGAINST THE RULES!” Raphael yelled back.

“WHAT RULES?!”

“THE RULES THAT GOVERN MY VERY FUCKING EXISTENCE!”

“IGNORE THEM!”

“I CAN’T!”

Casey punched Raphael, right in the nose.

The demon reeled, blinking at the sudden attack. Then he snapped back to awareness, and sent a look of pure murder at Casey.

Casey ignored the look and jabbed again, only for his fist to be caught in Raphael’s grip.

“̨T̷ḩat’͡s it,͟”͏ Raphael growled. He shoved Casey back hard enough he stumbled, and then started to grow.

Raphael doubled in size, black creeping over his brown skin and changing it to mostly scales. His shoes disappeared, and long claws extended from his toes. His tail whipped out, and again knocked over Casey’s CD collection. He looked like he was between being bipedal and quadrupedal; caught between his demon form and human form.

Lastly, as he grabbed Casey by the collar and opened his scarily toothy mouth, a pair of wings popped into existence on his back.

Casey was distracted from his anger for a moment. “Dude, you have wings?”

Raphael visibly stuttered, which looked sort of hilarious on such a scary face. “I- ͡of̵ ̴cour̡s̡è I̡ ̸d̨o! I show͞ed ̡y͟ǫu ̀th͝e̷m ͠t͝he ͟f́i̶r̢s͏t̸ d͝a̷y here͝!҉”̴

“Uh, was it when you got big and ruined my apartment? Because like, I couldn’t see jack except for your fat head.”

Raphael growled, low and rolling, and opened his mouth again.

“͏I͠ ̷CO͜U̸LD ̀D̵E͢V̸O͜U̢R ̵Y͝OU̡,̀ MǪRTÀL͜.”͘ ͏He roared, right in Casey’s face.

Naturally, Casey socked him in the nose.

“Fucking try!” Casey spat.

Raphael reeled from the shot, and he gave Casey a confused and offended look.

“͘Wh̀y͡ a̕r͠en’t̡ ̸ýo̷u̷ şcár͞e͜d̵?̀” Raphael asked, sounding actually confused.

Casey didn’t respond, other than attempting to knee the guy in his gut.

Raphael growled again, and he punched Casey. Hurt like a motherfucker, but he’d had worse.

Someone tripped someone, and they ended up wrestling on the floor. Casey managed to sock Raphael in the face again, feeling his knuckle split on a tooth.

Somewhere along the way, Raphael had reverted to his mostly human form, and Casey got a clear look at the rage in his expression.

The demon’s fist met Casey’s chest, and a whoosh of air left his lungs.

Casey was stunned, but he managed to kick the guy off, and send Raphael skidding across the floor.

Raphael rolled right back onto his feet, and maybe just for spite, knocked Casey’s coffee table into the wall with his tail.

Casey met the guy head on as he charged, and narrowly avoided goring himself on Raphael’s horns.

They tussled back and forth for a long while, knocking over everything they came into contact with. Casey thought he heard some of his dishes hit the floor when Raphael threw him into the cabinets. The kitchen table got thrown to the side as he dodged one of Raphael’s kicks. Someone put long claw gashes in the couch cushions and it definitely wasn’t Casey.

His plants from April, his DVD stacks, his sports equipment, some of his art projects- it all got knocked over and mildly trampled. Casey was too busy punching a demon to care though.

End result of the fight, Casey and Raphael sitting against the couch on the floor. Panting and a bit blood splattered.

Casey’s blood, not Raphael’s. He hadn’t managed to even make a dent in the guy.

Casey swiped his hand under his nose, feeling the hot red fluid smear on his skin. His right hand was a mess of already darkening bruises, and his face stung like hell. Probably would have a black eye soon.

Raphael sighed, and leaned his head back against the couch. His horns stabbed the fabric again, and Casey didn’t even care that a ripping sound followed the motion.

“…well that was pointless,” Casey muttered.

“Fuck you,” Raphael muttered back.

Casey wiped his smarting nose again. The blood was already starting to congeal. “You wanna watch the game?”

“…whatever. Sure.”

Casey reached across the floor, and grabbed the remote from where it’d been tossed. He turned on his boxy old TV, and sat against the couch again.

“You put a hole in my wall again,” Casey commented, thinking about the foot sized hole in his kitchen wall. “And broke my table too.”

“I’ll fix it later,” Raphael grumbled. “I’m tired right now though, so shut up and let me watch your pathetic human sports.”

“Fuck you.”

They watched the rest of the game in silence, excluding Casey blowing blood snot into tissues.

Before he went to bed, Casey traded the rest of his meat products in the fridge for some insta-healing, because as much as he wanted to avoid Raph at that moment, he still needed his hands for schoolwork the next day.

The ache was still there, because not even magic could undo everything, but it was bearable with painkillers. Casey had the good type too, prescription even.

He and Raph exchanged no words as they separated for the night.

The next morning, when Casey rolled over to slap his alarm, he actually did without any issue.

He blinked, trying to remember why that was weird.

Oh yeah, demon in his apartment. Where’d Raphael get to?

He found his not-so-friendly neighborhood demon sitting in the early morning sunshine, legs crossed in a lotus position. With the light shining on him, the spiky ends of Raphael’s hair flashed red, and made his thin horn tips nearly glow.

Casey stopped for a moment, staring at the stark difference between the belligerent, snarling demon he’d been dealing with lately, and the peaceful, collected individual in front of his windows.

Casey leaned on the wall beside his bedroom door, examining his houseguest.

Besides the horns and tail and weird blood-red hair tips, Raphael seemed like a normal-ish guy in that moment.

Huh.

Casey’s fingers itched for his sketchbook and pencils. He kind of wanted to capture the scene.

Raphael turned his head right then, glancing over his broad shoulder. He stared at Casey for a moment, and then said, “Hey. Good morning.”

“Uh, yeah. Good morning,” Casey replied, a little surprised by the sudden lack of hostility.

Raphael turned back to the window, and seemed to be done with the conversation already. Casey raised an eyebrow at the sudden one-eighty.

“What, no ‘send me home already’? No, ‘fear me mortal’? No nothing?” Casey questioned.

“Nope,” Raphael said, not turning around.

“What’s with the sudden attitude change?”

“I did some thinking, and figured what we’ve been doing wasn’t working. So. I’m trying something else.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Casey asked, genuinely curious.

“Patience,” Raphael said, sounding annoyed by the very idea.

Casey’s laughter burst out of him before he could stop it.

“Oh bugger off,” Raphael grumbled, shooting a look over his shoulder. “It’s only because I’m tired of fixing your stupid apartment.”

“Sure, sure,” Casey chuckled, failing to smother his laughter. “Does this mean I can go to school without you hounding me all day?”

“Today? Yes. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for our contract. I’m not leaving until we complete it.”

“Like I didn’t hear you the first eighty times you told me…”

Raphael growled, flashing some teeth. “Just go to your pointlessly expensive mortal education already, and fuck off.”

Casey rolled his eyes. There was the Raphael he knew and hated. “Yeah, whatever. I’m going, I’m going…”

Raphael didn’t bother Casey once the whole time he was getting ready. He even had a chance to make breakfast for the first time in days. By the time April strolled in, using the key he’d given her months back, Casey was actually ready to go.

“Oh. No need for this today, huh?” April asked, lowering the huge water gun she’d been carrying.

Raphael turned around to acknowledge her, and raised an eyebrow at the gun. “Overkill much?”

“What can I say,” April shrugged. “I’m having a little fun with this.”

Casey laughed, and grabbed his current favorite sketchbook off the pile. “I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

“Right on.”

As April started to leave, Casey caught movement in the corner of his eye, and glanced back just in time to see Raphael bring up a spell circle in his hand.

A circle appeared in front of Casey again, and a flash of light around April told him she had one too. Then, before he could react, it shorted out and disappeared, the same time that April left the apartment.

Casey spun around and looked at Raphael in horror. “Dude! Did you just try to magic April?”

“I was just checking if that was what you desired,” Raphael said, no signs of guilt in his expression.

“I- what??”

“You know. Sexually.” Raphael said, gesturing vaguely. “Isn’t that a thing for most humans? Like, especially between men and women?”

“Not with April!” Casey exclaimed. “I mean. She’s not even in to that sort of thing. And I’m- I don’t like her like that. She’s my friend. Best friend. Nothin’ more.”

“You’re oddly offended by this,” Raphael commented.

“Yeah, well, it’s not cool to try forcing people into shit they don’t want,” Casey said, crossing his arms. “I don’t like it, and I know for sure April doesn’t either. Don’t try that again.”

Raphael looked at Casey a moment longer, and then shrugged. “Alright, nothing involving that type of desire. Got it. Now get going, I’m tired of listening to your voice.”

“It’s my apartment…” Casey reminded under his breath, but he let the subject go. He shut the door behind him, leaving the demon in his apartment alone for the day. His undamaged apartment for the first time in a long while.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, but he sort of missed Raphael’s presence stalking him all through the day. It was weird, but he’d already gotten used to the guy hanging around him.

Casey took the peace and quiet, and put it towards his projects.

By the end of the day, he’d somehow finished a bunch of gesture sketches that looked a lot like a certain individual.

His professor questioned the sudden change of model; since until then, Casey had been sketching female figures. Casey didn’t have much of an explanation for the horns or tail in his drawing, other than he’d been having a weird few days.

His professor seemed to accept that, and complimented the way he’d captured the fluid movements on the paper. Especially the tail.

“I’ve been seeing a lot of them lately,” Casey explained, taking his papers back. “I’ve had a cat hanging out in my apartment the last while.”

“Oh? Is your kitty friendly?”

“Nope. He’s kind of awful.”

“O-oh…”

continued.

#my writing #Your Heart's Desire tag #tmnt #tmntflashfics #TMNT 2012 #raphael #Casey Jones #what is their ship name #i forget #rasey?#crap(h)?#one or the other #this is late and i'm sorry #i had a family emergency today and had to give up my writing time to take care of it #the rest of the story will come later #follow me and you'll see #gay slow burn awaits us all

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