#tw: demons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Note

Hi! I’m kinda new to how tumblr and it’s the first time I ask, so if I get something wrong sorry.

This is for the Sagau au. I like to think that magic is present in both worlds: theirs is more flashy and movie-like while ours is more spiritual-like. What would Riddle's/ Neige’s/Silver’s reaction be to a dedicated demonologist? Maybe they worship someone like Lilith/ they are god-spoused to someone.

And maybe Lilith sends them warning signs about the guys/ they are dedicate to their belief and path and prioritise it over their role and friendships.

I like to think they are an anarchist which doesn't mix well with Riddle. Neige would be prob be intimidated or blame our belief on NCR, cus they are villains and all. I really want to see what Silver would do?

If it’s too specific, please tell me 🙏🙏🙏 or just pick something that interests you from this ask 😅

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, imprisonment, kidnapping, beheading, death, religion, murder

Riddle Rosehearts/Silver/Neige LeBlanche-Reaction to a dedicated demonologist

Oh Overseer! Your wisdom and grace is unrivalled by anyone! Oh you are a demonologist…

Don’t get me wrong, Riddle is everything but judging as long as a job makes someone happy and well fed but he really didn’t expect that

So you are a big fan of Lilith huh? (“Who the heck is Lilith??!”)

Studies a lot about demonology to understand you and he is all fine and dandy with you liking this as your breadwinning money but…

Do you have to be such a fan of anarchy??!

You are literally a ruler so what the heck??!

He is close to a breakdown

The one ruler he had been looking up to his entire life is in truth against anything they stand for

But then again, no one truly knew something about you before you came here so that is also no too weird to him

He still locks himself into his room for a week at least

Trey is screaming because the first years are doing whatever they want

So… if you aren’t the ruler he always imagined you to be then he just has to make you into one, right?

And now say bye bye to Night Raven College and hi to the Queendom of roses

He will knock you out and sit you onto that throne… now about those shackles on your wrists and legs…

Oh and if you try to end the monarchy they will just think you are testing them, no way out deary

But at least you have all the gold and diamonds in the world! Oh you want to leave? But Rosehearts said you like it here… and he would never lie to them just to keep you for himself!

Uh… yeah… what am I supposed to say here?

Ok so you descend (great first step. It’s not like your readers can count two and two together author!)

But ok, Silver was raised all his life to see you as a God, a higher being!

And now you want to tell him about some dark lady back in your world?

Awesome! So you aren't full of prejudice towards darker beings! I mean, you are God but... awesome!

The only thing that he would be conflicted about is all that anarchy thingy....

You see, he is the shield of a monarch

On one hand he wants to fulfill all your wishes but on the other he also holds Malleus dear

Jokes on him Malleus is currently telling Lilia to behead him the second you say you want him gone to his face

Surely you only need to spend more time with the future King and everything will be fine. Right? RIGHT??!

Is busy the entire time to understand what the heck you mean when you tell him facts about some dude called Lucifer and all of that

But hey, sooner or later he is also a walking Wikipedia page about demons so keep it up

Whenever you start with Anarchy again he falls asleep. It's almost as if he is trying to block that part out...

But good luck to the poor soul who called you weird or something along these lines

Seems like Silver can finally test out how easy skin is cut with a sword

You want to tell me you think this Disney Princess will accept that you are into that kind of stuff

And this leads to him doing something we humans are experts in: denial

But on a more serious note, please give him some head pats. He needs them

Lilith? Who is that? You talked about her yesterday? No you didn't! You DIDN'T! YOU DIDN'T!!!

Why can't you two just run over flower fields and sing songs whilst petting birds instead of talking about what demon is doing whom dirty??’

You are supposed to be perfection! Not some weird freak (oh God! Silver is coming!!!)

So he tries to “correct” you

And with that I mean that he thinks you are just teasing him and instead you want to do flower crowns

No Neige, but keep up that denial

And then you suddenly bring up a new subject. Yay!

It's anarchy. Noooo.....

Neige was already done with the world when you started to swoon over Lilith

But now you also want to see it burn? (They never said that Neige. Don't put weird ideas into their head!)

And for some reason all of this isn't getting better... it's the fault of Night Raven College, right?

So what does a super rich model do when something doesn't go their way? Throw money on it

Ok, actually throw money at a company that will build him a house within a very short amount of time and oh, that house has crowbars in front of its windows and the door is also pretty stable...

Like that you won't be influenced by those people. So please, return to the sweet person you once were!

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yanderefantasies · 2 years

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hmm what about yandere valak meeting a mute male reader who's probably also a demon but passive or something

Ty for the first conjuring requestttttt<33!!!

•Valak is a hateful demon. But- I don’t think it’d be sadistic towards its obsession. It would not be opposed to hurting you emotionally. It can drive away your family and friends- leave you alone and stuck with its mercy.

•You have a demonic spirit attached to you, so no matter how many times you think you need to move homes- it travels with you. Sticks to you like your body is it’s own.

•It doesn’t plan on possessing you- no. But Valak definitely considers possessing your current romantic partner, if you have one. That way, you’ll still think you have a normal relationship with your bf, and Valak has a way of keeping you as its own.

•In the case of you possibly being a demon, Valak will simply see you as Lesser Than. Says you need guidance, if you wish to thrive. But it’s only goal it to attach itself to you- force you to rely on it for everything, how it’s perfectly normal for a demon to take another under its wing like this.

•Also- Keep in mind- the ‘Nun’ appearance is simply a form that it takes. Not it’s true form. You can see that when Lorraine banished it in Conjuring 2.

•So, in retrospect, it could always pose as someone you know. Fuck with your mind. And when it thinks you’re ready, that you can handle it. You will get to see its real body, it’s essence.

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wayfayrr · 1 year

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Linked universe as stuff my friends and I have said,

Hyrule: (laughing like a dying duck)

Legend: I've never heard you laugh like that

Warriors(not looking up from what he's doing): new laugh get!

Time: why don't you swap places with four??

Legend *is crushed against a tree about to sleep*: I'm scared of wars

Warriors: hellooo

Wild: ... is wars your gay sleep paralysis demon?

Hyrule (gestures to fire with wood recently put on it) : it's smoky cause the water you put on it was watery

wind (hasn't slept for a day or so) : its weird I can hear your voice but your over here but I can hear you here but you're over there

*referring to winds hyrule*

Sky : how much is there water

Time : Everyone is made of glass - it just depends whether it’s reinforced or not

Wild : Twiiiiiliiiiight ... where's my skiiiin?

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moriiartist · 2 years

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(CALL THE) NUMBER OF THE BEAST

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Demon!Tangotek x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: You thought it was a joke. A goof. A funny ‘ha-ha’ story to tell to your friends later- how you tried to summon a demon. However, things haven’t exactly gone to plan, and now you’re stuck trying to send a resident to hell back to where he belongs. Too bad that he’s decided that’s wherever you are.

WARNINGS: Language, body horror, demonic imagery, blood and injury, self-mutilation/self-harm (as part of a ritual), fire, implied/referenced murder

A/N: Hey there demon(s), it’s me, ya boi. I lowkey may have stayed up past midnight to get this out on time, but we’re not going to talk about that!!! I had a lot of fun with this fic, and I really think it shows. Enjoy!

The chalk slid smoothly over the kitchen tile, the soft, rasping sound that it elicited filling your ears. Dust as black as pitch already coated your palms, the pads of your fingers, your skin- smeared shapes like the handprints of an absent-minded artist.

An intricate pattern of concentric circles, squares, and lines spread like flowering nightshade from where you were, kneeling in the center. They, too, were as dark as if they had been burnt into the ceramic; the loose powder surrounding the thick, confident marks looked like ashes.

Sitting back on your heels, you inspected your work with a critical eye. A hundred bucks was a hundred bucks, and if you didn’t at least try one of the spells in the old, creepy grimoire you’d found in the attic, you weren’t getting a cent.

Actually, in that case, you’d be getting negative cents.

You’d like to think that you were a reasonable, well-adjusted person. You’d finished college and gotten your degree, you worked a six hour shift at the local bookstore, and you put in an effort to keep in touch with your friends.

Which is why summoning a demon was somewhat uncharacteristic for you.

Your college roommate had invited you to hang out at their house last weekend, and of course, you’d accepted. They, a couple of their buddies they’d brought along, and you started drinking. You got buzzed. Then, naturally, you all started talking about random shit.

Of course, that random shit included all the weird and probably-cursed cult paraphernalia that had been left behind in the house that you’d moved into.

Your roommate had dared you, words almost slurred beyond comprehension, to try out one of the spells you’d found. At this point, you were nearing the point where you were starting to black out; your brain was starting to shut down, but your body got all ‘eye of the tiger’ and soldiered on.

So, like a dumbass, you agreed.

And bet one hundred dollars on it.

(To be fair, you never said you were smart. Just reasonable.)

You honestly felt quite silly standing there in the middle of your kitchen, staring down at the dark symbols you’d copied with a painstaking hand. Although you’d fully committed to winning this stupid bet after five days of twiddling your thumbs, you’d underestimated the amount of time it’d taken to get through the ritual. You’d started at around seven thirty, and it was now almost one.

In your defense, the book wasn’t easy to read. Most of it was in some strange, latin-like script that hurt your eyes if you stared at it too long; words slithered across the paper like rattlesnakes if your gaze unfocused for even a moment.

Luckily for you, however, you had ignored the ominous thoughts in the back of your head that begged you to stop now before it was too late and managed to reach the final step in your handy dandy ‘how-to-summon-a-demon-for-dummies’ guide. Hooray!

All that was left was the sacrifice.

Stepping back, careful not the smudge the chalk lines that were already starting to flake from the combined force of the AC system and the vibrations of your footfalls, you crossed over the salt circle that enclosed the whole shabang.

Tea candles- those little ones that you buy in bulk to put in Jack O’ Lanterns- flickered ominously, crackling and spitting not dissimilarly from oil in a pan. You had dimmed all sources of light beyond those candles and the nightlights plugged into the wall, so the flames cast eerie, dancing shadows all over the room.

You grimaced, regarding the kitchen knife placed on the counter next to you. The blade gleamed red and gold, flashing as you delicately picked it up.

The sight of blood wasn’t new to you, nor did it freak you out, but drawing it from yourself was an entirely different matter from the times you’d fallen and scraped your knees as a kid. It was different when you were doing it- when you were drawing blood from yourself intentionally. It made something underneath your skin writhe with discomfort.

Steadying your grip as much as you could, and ignoring the slight tremor in your hand, you pressed the point of the knife to the meat of your thigh. You’d read somewhere that the fattier parts of the body the better regarding pain- and you weren’t about to stab yourself in the ass.

You gritted your teeth as you drew the blade across your skin. A part of you wanted to shut your eyes and look away, but the more logical side commanded you to pay attention despite the sharp, stinging pain.

Despite the shallowness of the cut, it was already bleeding profusely. Rivulets of thick, coppery liquid already ran down your leg, dripping down onto the flat of your bare foot. In the low light, your blood almost looked as black as the chalk still coating your palms. The air filled with the faint scent of metal and salt.

Hastily, you set the knife down with a clatter. Pressing your fingers to the wound, you hissed at the sparks of pain that erupted from the contact. Blood mixed with the powder on your hands, coagulating into a sludgey mess that clung to your skin.

You flicked some of the mixture off of your hands and into the circle, pursing your lips to soften your disgust. The book had never specified how much of your blood should be used, and although you really wanted to win the bet, you weren’t about to sacrifice a pint to a ritual that might not even work.

A mix between a groan and a gag tore itself from your throat as you pressed a palm flat to your wound, watching more blood begin to drip from the gaps in between your fingers. With your other hand, you reached blindly for the tape and gauze that you’d set aside specifically for this moment, tearing a thick wad of the stuff off with your teeth and messily taping it to your thigh.

It wasn’t really sanitary, but then again, it wasn’t as if anything else you were doing was.

Fumbling with the book, you winced as you smeared chalky blood over the pages- staining the fragile paper with black-grey-red fingerprints. You flipped through the pages somewhat frantically, muttering curses to yourself as pain once again twinged through your leg. After a tense moment, you exclaimed softly to yourself.

You’d highlighted the incantation to summon the demon, and the garish yellow-green pigment now glared up at you from the page. The book must’ve been made with parchment or something, because the color was soft and fragmented at the edges unlike the clean, hard cut of highlighter on printer paper.

Clearing your throat, you ignored the way the letters slipped in and out of focus, mirage-like, and began to read.

“Primo ad nonum daemones,” you incanted, nearly choking as the syllables ran like water from your mouth, “vocationem meam audite et attendite.”

Immediately, the guttering tea candles stilled. Every dancing flame went straight and tall, burning white-hot. The dimmed lights buzzed, and an electrical hum seemed to fill the air. Your stomach swooped- the same sensation that one would beget standing at a precipice.

“ Sanguis meus gratis inferis datus est, et mihi paciscor.”

When did it get so cold? Your skin was chilled and damp with sweat, breath stuttering in your lungs from the shiver that wracked your body. The low hum that filled the back of your mind seemed to intensify. Static was all you could hear.

The voices whispering in your ear shrieked soundlessly, then disappeared.

“Caro mea velamen tollit, ossa mea signaculum portant, et anima- et anima mea ligat.”

Each word that escaped from your mouth burned your tongue like a firebrand, each more painful than the last. You felt like you were choking on your own blood as you spat out the last syllable, shuddering uncontrollably.

At some point, you had dropped the book. It was burning, delicate paper and dark leather cover flaking into ashes.

You couldn’t move, could hardly breathe; With each passing moment the pressure inside your chest increased, like someone had gripped your heart and decided to squeeze. Distantly, you recognized that your limbs were trembling.

“Quod fit non recipi.”

The lights cut out, and, like a great exhale of breath, the candles extinguished.

Shit.

For a few heartbeats, the only sound was your ragged breathing. Then, something shuffled in front of you. Something hard and sharp slid across the tile, sounding an awful lot like the knife still resting on the countertop.

Freezing, you felt your heart began to beat faster, hammering at your ribcage. Even your chest stilled, and you swallowed thickly to suppress a whimper. It smelled like a nauseating mix of sulfur and your own blood.

“Well,” a masculine voice murmured, tone colored with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “It’s certainly been a long time since someone’s had the guts to summon me.”

In a blink, the lights were reignited. However, instead of the warm, yellow hues that you’d been familiar with your entire life, they were blue. The tall, still flames that rose from the candlewick looked like they’d been carved out of luminous blue ice, hardly seeming to move.

You’d be more awed by it if you weren’t distracted by the dark figure standing in the center of the ritual circle.

It wasn’t very big- only a few inches taller than you, if you had to guess, and shaped like a person; two legs, two arms, and a head attached to a torso. However, everything about it was off.

It’s arms were too long, fingers tipped with glossy claws brushing the sides of its knees. It’s legs were longer at the ankle, forcing it to balance on its toes. It’s proportions were too different- like a poorly made puppet.

Every movement, from the tilt of its head to the roll of its shoulders was too smooth, too easy. Like there was no muscles, no internal structure to add resistance. You couldn’t contain your gasp as it’s neck made a horrendous, wet crack, spinning well past the limits of the human body to survey the room.

A long, black tail snaked out from behind it, pooling to the floor. Shards of what looked like volcanic glass were embedded in its forehead in the mockery of a crown, dripping with black and red blood. Similar pieces were buried in its spine and shoulders, bristling like spines.

“Shit,” you murmured.

With another snap, its head spun back around.

The demon’s face was pale, almost bloodless, and you could see the spiderweb of blue-black veins that ran below the surface. Pitch black holes were nested where its eyes should be, white, cat-like pupils narrowed in on your trembling figure. It grinned as you made eye contact, running a blue tongue over- what the hell, how many teeth does this guy have?!

If you squinted, it would almost look human. A spiky, aggressively emo human- but a human nonetheless. However, since you had somewhat of a sense of self-preservation, you weren’t doing that. No- you were wide-eyed and gaping, glued to the floor as you stared at the monstrosity before you.

“Excuse me,” it chirped, looking far too smug for its friendly tone to be genuine. “You summoned me, didn’t you?”

You blinked down at what remained of the grimoire. “... I guess.”

It grinned brilliantly, still with too many needle-like teeth. “Excellent!”

Then, it stepped over the salt circle. You hardly had time to squawk before it had seized your chin in its hands, turning your face this way and that as it inspected you. You would’ve pulled away, but the brush of the demon’s talons against the delicate skin of your throat was enough to have you falling still.

Every piece of media about demons you’d ever seen were different, but one thing seemed to largely hold the same: they couldn’t cross salt circles. It was one of the only effective ways to trap them, besides silver mirrors and maybe not summoning them in the first place- at least, according to what you’ve seen.

And then this asshole goes and dropkicks that knowledge into the fucking sun.

“Oooh,” it hummed, gaze calculating. “You’re a looker, aren’t you.”

It glanced down towards the hasty bandage job you’d done, a sly smile playing on its lips. It reached down, either oblivious to or ambivalent to your protests, and ran a finger through the still-drying blood.

Licking its hand clean, it’s pupils flared, growing to the size of nickels. “Tasty, too.”

Regaining your nerve, you shoved it away, stumbling back. It watched you go with an almost disappointed (?) expression, folding its arms across its chest. You finally stopped when your back hit a wall, refusing to take your gaze off the creature in front of you.

“... What the hell,” you managed to croak out. Was this shock? Were you going into shock?

The demon smirked. You were really starting to hate it when it did that.

“Indeed.”

Picking up the knife you’d set on the counter, it toyed with blade, whetting it against its talons. It paused, looking at it contemplatively, before rolling its eyes back to you.

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t a question.

Hesitantly, you nodded. While you were seriously regretting your decision to summon a demon of all things instead of, like, one of the easier spells, you didn’t see a point in lying to it about that. As far as you knew, magic wasn’t real up until two minutes ago.

The demon sighed. “Alrighty then. I thought you would be- it makes more sense.

“So, this is how this thing works. You ask for something- I don’t know, you want some guy who crossed you to mysteriously disappear, endless riches, fame and beauty- and I make it happen!”

It’s eyes gleamed red. “For a price, of course.”

Despite your fear, you deadpanned. The last thing you were doing was signing a deal with the devil. “No, thank you.”

“You don’t have a choice,” it countered. “You summoned me. I can’t return back to my realm until our, ah… business is complete.”

You threw your hands up. “Well, I’m not selling my soul or whatever else a creature of darkness would want!”

The demon pouted, looking almost offended for a moment. You didn’t trust it. “Hey- rude. Depending on the boon, I would only ask for, like, your childhood memories. Maybe your firstborn?”

“This is not helping your argument,” you sighed, glaring at it hollowly. It stared at you, grin melting until its expression was blank and unreadable. It’s tail lashed, slashing bluntly at the floor.

“If you don’t make a deal, I’m stuck here with you,” it cautioned once more.

You bared your teeth at it. “Fuck. You.”

It blinked, and for a moment you thought that this was it, you were going to die. Your last moments would be spent with a creature that wanted your soul for nefarious purposes, you would never get those hundred dollars-

The demon laughed, nearly doubling in on itself from the force. After a few seconds it looked back up at you, wiping a tear from its eye that sizzed as it hit the floor. In a blink, it was in front of you, staring at you with blown pupils.

“You’re delightful,” it whispered, sounding awfully delighted itself. “This is going to be so much fun.”

You blanched as it took your hands in its own, flipping over one to press a sharp kiss to your inner wrist. The demon grinned up at you, sly.

“Good luck getting rid of me now, angel. I’ll have your soul whether you want me two or not.”

It stood up, lengthening the spine until it towered over you. Its pupils burned in the shadows cast across its face, exactly the same as the flames at its back.

“The name’s Tango, sweetheart. You won’t forget it.”

There’s no turning back now for you- you were his. Tango would make sure of it.

@blufr0st @itsonlydana @amearla @bapthadapper @redactedsouls @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish @blockyshieldmaiden

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scarlettriot · 1 year

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Heh, yeah, it’s about to be another series folks

Pairing: Demon!Kirishima X Demon!f!Reader

Warnings: Demons (obviously), Character Death (becoming a demon), mentions of cancer, hurt comfort.

Contains: Aged-Up Kirishima, Kiri and Reader both have demon forms. Readers is not described so picture them however you like ♥️, mental break down, and angst!

Word Count: 2.1Kish

A/N: This really was just supposed to be some random ass idea I had but it's kinda gotten out of control... whoops. Hope you all enjoy it though. There will eventually be a part two.

No one knew about the deal with a demon Kirishima made when he was just 15 years old. The one that granted him 20 years of courage and strength to always stand up and protect those in need.

In exchange, at the end of those 20 years, he’d become a demon himself. His mortal life would be over, and his life as a demon would begin. He’d serve for 500 years. Making deals of his own to gain power he could use once his contract was up.

To a 15-year-old just wanting to be brave, the deal seemed worth it. He signed his name, and that was that.

And, so, at the age of 35, Kirishima’s mortal life came to an end, and his life as a demon began.

He left everything he knew behind. His wonderful family, his amazing friends, and his partner, who he loved more than anything. They believed him to be dead, but really, he’d just changed. Become something different.

Still, he belonged to the underworld now. He had a new place to live. A new body that was definitely gonna take some getting used to. He couldn’t just go back and pretend like nothing happened.

But he did good in those 20 years. He made the most of every second! And he couldn’t take back what his younger self had done, so he tried to focus on the good and not on what he lost.

Now, he had 500 years to make new contracts and deals. Every one of them would bring him greater power in the afterlife. But that was so much easier said than done.

The problem was Kirishima retained too much of his humanity to form most of these deals. To take things people held dear because they were desperate for solutions. He still just wanted to help people at no expense to them. And most of the time, he did just that.

It started to break him down, and as his neighbor in the underworld, you watched as every day his shoulders slumped a little further, his head hung a little lower, and you really started to feel for the man.

You'd said hi to him in the weeks since he moved in, and at first, he’d smile and wave. Make some small talk, and you exchanged names. Slowly, you started calling each other friends and opening up to each other little by little, but there was always this sadness in his dark eyes that never really went away. His smile wasn’t as full as you imagined it once might have been.

And, lately, he couldn’t even meet your gaze, let alone say hello. It was odd to see a man so big look so very small. Until the day he came home and didn’t even bother closing his door.

Worried for him, you followed him inside.

“I can’t do this–!” He roared, falling to his knees with tears in his black eyes. You asked him over and over what happened, sinking to the floor with him.

“A– a mother– I felt her calling for help, so I went.” You nodded your head, following his story. Demons could not only sense each other but also souls of the desperate with nowhere else to turn; it made finding those willing to deal easier. “She was in a hospital. Her baby– her little girl– she’s got cancer. She’s only got a few weeks left to live. The mother wants to make a deal; her life for her daughters…”

He wept openly in front of you, his head falling onto your shoulder. “How– How am I supposed to take a mother from their child? How is that fair! But, that little girl could have a life–” Kirishima just broke off into rigid sobs.

Your arms wound around him. You hated the way the system worked. Demons like Kirishima were contractually obligated to obtain years of life from mortals. They didn’t always have to ask for years as payment, but it often seemed like the best deal because those years granted you power and respect, and you gained higher standing within the underworld society. Why would you think to ask anything else of a mortal being? Of course, there was more to it. A deal was never that good. The whole point of contracts was so the underworld could continue to run. Without years of life, the underground would go dark. A portion of every contract would go to ensuring that didn’t happen. Every Contract Demon had a quota to fill, but it was up to them how they achieved it.

Making deals with the helpless and hopeless was never something you could stomach either. But, deals with mortal garbage… well, you rested easy knowing they got what was coming to them. It was a decent exchange; you got some power and met your quotas, and their lives would end abruptly, and they could never torment anyone again. But those deals weren’t enough to free you from your contract so quickly.

“Kirishima, do you know there’s another way out of the years on your contract?”

Slowly, he pulled his head back, “What?”

You nodded, “If a demon doesn’t care about power, they can still help people outside of contracts and dealings. Obviously, the help they grant isn’t as great with the lack of power, but for every soul you aid, a year is removed from your contract.”

“But… the quotas…”

“Yeah, but there are plenty of horrible people wanting deals, you just have to know how to find them, and I can help with that.”

“Why the hells would I want to help awful people? They don’t deserve–”

“Kiri, I know they don’t.” You cut him off, and he quieted, “You give them the bare minimum and then snatch the rest of their lives. It does a lot more good, you meet your quota, and you gain some strength. That strength can be used to help people even more.”

He blinked a couple times like he was processing everything you were telling him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“It worked for me. 250 years of service, done in 10.”

“Why doesn’t everyone just do this then?”

“Because helping people takes more time. It’s not as easy. And there’s not many demons who retain enough of their humanity to care enough.”

“It’s not that hard, though. I’ve been doing it since I got here.”

You smiled softly because that showed just how much of Kirishima’s humanity really was left. You wouldn’t be surprised if damn near all of it was still intact.

You held his face in your hands and brushed away his tears, “Then you probably already have a few years taken off. C’mon, let’s go to the records office, and we can check.”

It was the most hopeful you’d ever seen the man. He actually stood at his full height, towering over most other demons you passed. He walked so damn fast down the street with his wings tucked in that you practically had to jog just to keep up with him!

The two of you waited in the obscenely long line at the office and were finally called back to a cubicle.

“You’re sure you want to discuss your contract with another present?” The slender agent asked, looking down their nose at you.

Kirishima nodded his head. “Yes, they’re completely fine! Could you just tell me how many years remain on my contract?”

The agent adjusted their glasses and looked at the front of his life. Their prompt laughter made both you and Kirishima frown. “You entered your service just this year! What in the hells makes you think you have any time deducted?”

You reached for his hand, offering some support. “Could you please just tell him what remains?”

They rolled their eyes but flicked open the file. Eyes scanned along the pages, down to the proper section, and then they went wide. “Twenty years…” They mumbled, and both of you thought they meant he had twenty years taken off.

“That’s a really good start! You’ve only been here a couple months and–”

“No,” The agent cut you off to correct, “He only has twenty years left to serve.”

“WHAT?!”

There had to be some mistake. The three of you agreed on that right up until the agent noted what he’d done in his mortal life. “Oh, I see you were a Pro Hero.”

“Um, yes, yes I was.”

“A rather selfless one at that.”

His hand went to the back of his neck. “I dunno about that. I just did my job as best I could.”

“And modest, too,” They mumbled, quickly leafing through the rest of the pages before addressing him again. “Mr. Kirishima, when a person helps or harms an individual, those actions are taken note of. It doesn’t matter where you go for the afterlife; these instances of help and harm are still called into consideration. What afterlife you end up in dictates what is done with these, let’s call them, points.”

“Demons use them to either add years if harm has been done or reduce years if help. Now, an average mortal might help or harm a person or two in their life, it’s negligible really, and they often don’t know it’s happening. The exceptions are usually medical professionals and those in careers that protect people, as you were. Those people, when their time comes due, they usually end up, well, not here.”

The agent pulled out a calculator and began entering numbers. “In your mortal life, three people lost their lives as a result of actions you took.”

You saw the way he shifted uncomfortably in the too-small chair. “Correct. I remember.”

They nodded and continued. “Right. That would’ve technically brought your total to 503; however, it seems as though the lives you saved as a mortal were high enough that the three weren’t even added to your time. So, as a mortal, you saved 468 lives. Since you’ve become a demon, you’ve saved 12. And that leaves you with 20 to go, and your contract will be completed.”

The whole walk home, Kirishima grinned. He was quiet but smiling.

“I– I could go back.” He said the words so quietly you almost didn’t hear them when he closed the door. He looked up at you, “I could go home.”

The last thing you wanted to do was rip away this newfound hope, but he needed to know the risks. “That’s not really wise, Kirishima. Your friends and family, they think you died. Going back would raise a lot of questions because you’re not who you once were.”

His smile still didn’t falter. “I still have my quirk! And I will just stay in my human form! I can just tell them I was on some special assignment.”

“And when you don’t age? When they begin changing, and you remain the same, then what will you tell them?” You took a step forward. “You’ll watch them fade before your eyes.”

For a moment, he chewed his lip, considering your words and what they meant. “Is that why you never went back? Your service was up in ten years, you could’ve, but you’re still here.”

It wasn’t something you ever talked about. There was no real reason why you stuck around in the same apartment you started off in. You could’ve moved out. Start over someplace new, either in the underworld or the mortal realm if you were careful enough. You just never really saw the point. And going back to see people from your old life, it just didn’t work out.

“Let’s just say it didn’t work out like I’d hoped.”

He nodded, seeming to understand what you were getting at but still, “I’ve gotta try.” He looked so earnest as he spoke, “If I’ve got a chance to see my parents again, my friends, to be with my partner and give them the life I never thought I could. Y/N, I gotta try.”

His dedication was admirable. It was one of the many things that had you crushing on the massive demon for weeks now. And, so, you’d stay optimistic for him. Keep hoping he’d find a way to make his happy ending come true. If anyone could make it work, it’d be Kirishima.

“I got twenty more lives to save, and I know you don’t have to by any means–”

“I’d be happy to help you.”

He grinned a sharp-toothed smile. The purest one you’d seen in a really long time. With thanks on his tongue, he stepped forward and wrapped you up in a bone-crushing hug. And you decided at that moment you’d be there for him always, no matter the outcome.

#TW: Demons #TW: Character Death #TW: Cancer #mha #bnha #kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima angst #kirishima hurt comfort

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danascullysjournal · 1 year

Text

If You Will Let Me

An X-Files Post-Milagro Fic

WC: 4,200

This is chapter is part of a larger fic on AO3. If you like, the full work is available here.

TW: Demonic possession, Demons, Physical Harm, Trauma, Medical Trauma, Mild Alcohol Use

____________________

Chapter 19: Protecting Us

Sleep had come in short, interrupted segments during the red-eye flight from Chicago. Though both were leery of letting down their guard, sleep deprivation had taken its toll, and Scully had found herself succumbing to the constant white noise and gentle vibration of the airplane as it carried them home. Instead of nightmares or demons, she was roused by turbulence and sporadic cries from a baby a few seats in front of them.

Through slitted eyes, she saw Mulder’s head cocked back, lolled to one side. His slow, quiet snores were strangely reassuring. Here, there was rest. A cautiously optimistic thought drifted through her tired mind. Maybe they really did leave the demons behind them. Sighing contentedly, she carefully lay her head on his shoulder and drifted back to sleep.

The plane landed in DC well after midnight, leaving both agents partially rested, but groggy and sluggish as they collected bags and headed out to the parking garage. Their footsteps echoed through the empty concrete cavern, closing in on the car. Each step was further from the calm security of the airplane cabin, further from the reassurance of other people around them.

“Just us again.” Mulder offered a thin grin. “Ready for more quality time?”

Scully pressed her lips together, looking up at him. “I can’t be that bad, can I?”

“Never.” He meant it, but somehow the sentiment caught in his throat and the word fell to the ground, hollow.

Weary, they headed home through empty downtown streets, uneasy silence between them. Bleak buildings towered above them, their shadowed facades sliced by dull blades of flickering street lights. The darkness was suffocating.

Neither dared to mention it.

____________________

The lights in Scully’s bedroom were on, but it did little to calm the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. The unease had only grown since leaving the airport. Since being alone with Mulder again. She sat up for what felt like the hundredth time, studying him carefully.

There had been no question, once they had finally landed in DC, of where Mulder would stay. His apartment was still drenched in the memories of her blood, and she couldn’t bring herself to sleep alone. But her bed felt smaller, shrunken down by their bodies prudently spaced apart. It was uncomfortable. Awkward. Mulder was doing his best, she knew. He was respecting her insistence on putting their relationship on hold… But it all felt stilted. Cold. The void between them was mere inches, but somehow insurmountable. It was a chasm she had created for protection, but it only served as a glaring reminder of her vulnerability, her loneliness. Her emptiness.

It ached to be filled.

She felt the pang just as much, if not more. Their breathing seemed magnified, echoing within the emptiness, reminding her of what should be. With each breath, she cursed the house. Cursed the demons. Cursed the chasm of her own making.

Cursed the breaths she took and let out, silent, too afraid to begin again.

Sleep wouldn’t offer her a reprieve. It kept its distance, just as Mulder did. Just out of reach. She fidgeted with the oversized comforter, examining the machine-made stitching that divided the blanket into thick patterned poufs. Stitching fabric, stitching skin. That was easy. But all of this… this was not.

The question of Padgett was layered thickly over the uneasy confusion between them. That man… or body… or spirit… She couldn’t reconcile the pieces. She had been held fast and attacked by a man she knew to be dead. But it had happened. Hadn’t it? Residual visions of the cold corpse strangling her, cutting into her, challenged the validity of her memories of the body. The autopsy. Everything.

It had been him. But logically, it couldn’t be.

Except…

Samantha hadn’t been real. Mulder had said as much. She coveted the certainty he seemed to possess. In the midst of insomnia and awkward tension, it seemed as good a topic to bring up as any. Anything to break this barrier of emptiness.

She cleared her throat.

“Mulder, how did you know it wasn’t her?”

He stared at her for a long moment. The silence was sharpened by the disbelief and hurt etched on his face. When he finally spoke, it was with the voice of someone betrayed. “How could you ask that, Scully?”

“I-”

“Don’t you think I would know the difference between my own sister and an evil spirit?”

She hurried to clarify, struck by the anger in his eyes. “Mulder, I do, that’s why I’m asking- what was your litmus test? How did you know? Because I really think that was Padgett… but that’s impossible. He’s in the morgue.” She licked her lips nervously. “Isn’t he?”

Her eyes screamed the fear she refused to admit.

Mulder’s glare softened.

“Oh.” He lowered his head, rubbing his forehead with his hands. “I’m sorry, Scully. I shouldn’t have thought-”

“It’s okay.” Her fingers touched his. “We’re just… both on edge.”

His hand closed, enveloping her small fingers in his palm. He squeezed softly, briefly, before his hand retreated back to his side of the canyon between them. He gazed toward the corner of the room, at nothing in particular, recalling the demons that had manifested the shell of his sister.

“It was almost her. Almost.” His voice was grim. “It looked like her, walked like her. Acted a lot like her. But the voice.” He nodded, as if to himself. “That’s how I knew for sure. Every time she- they- appeared, the voice would be close to what I remember, but not quite. It’s like… they could get every other part of my memory of her right, but something stopped them from having her voice.”

“Like they didn’t know how?”

“Or they couldn’t. I’m not sure yet, but I think it has something to do with possession. Owning. But the demons don’t have my sister, they don’t have her soul, or her voice. So they… try, with what they can get from our minds, but it’s a facsimile.”

Scully’s brow furrowed. “Like a bad photocopy.”

“Right.”

Crossing her arms, she straightened herself up. The implications of Mulder’s theory shook her. “If you’re right… they have him.” Her blue eyes were uneasy. “That voice… the body… it was Padgett.”

“You’re sure?”

She looked away. “I’m sure. I don’t know how they would have gotten him… unless he isn’t in the morgue anymore.”

Mulder thought for a moment. “What if it isn’t about the body at all? Maybe what they need is the spirit. The soul.”

The bedroom fell silent again, save for their breathing. She felt him watching her, carefully, like a parent watches a child who has just fallen hard. Checking for signs of injury, of fear. Ready to console and reassure. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she resented it.

“I’m fine, Mulder. Really. And anyway, maybe they won’t come here. We’re so far from that place.”

Mulder studied her, the skeptical eyebrow she usually wore planted firmly out of place on his forehead. “How do you think demons travel, Scully?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I don’t know.”

“I don't know either, but I doubt a few miles are too much for them.” He considered. “I should be thrilled you’re so open to demonic possession as a possibility, really. Never thought I’d see the day. Wish it was better circumstances though.”

She cast an irritated sideways glare.

“I’m not just open to anything. I know what I saw. This particular incident- it’s hard for me to refute.”

“But you could.” His tone was flat. He sat up alongside her.

She shrugged. “Anyone could. It could be hallucinations induced by psychosis, perhaps exacerbated by sleep deprivation, or-”

“That’s what you believe?”

His voice held a tinge of ridicule, but she chose to ignore it.

“Of course not, Mulder.”

He nodded, then looked at her pointedly. “You don’t believe it, but that’s what you’ll say to Kersh?”

Scully sighed.

“Not just that, no, but I do feel it’s my obligation to provide all the facts as well as offer plausible explanations. I’m aware of what Kersh will think if I only present one account with little or no verifiable proof.”

Mulder scoffed. “That’s my point. You’re good at that. Explaining things away. We were almost destroyed, and possessed, and you come up with some alternative, something that’s logical, and safe.”

“There has to be an explanation for what we experienced, Mulder. Supernatural or otherwise. I’m not denying what we saw, what happened. I was there too, remember?” She felt anger rising and tried to tamp it down. “And what’s so bad about being safe?”

“Safe isn’t always what’s right. Or best.”

She eyed him carefully, her lips sealed in a grim line, and stood slowly. Arms crossed. Shielding her heart. “This isn’t about the case, is it?”

He held her tired gaze with his own exhausted eyes.

“Maybe I should sleep on the couch.” He sighed as he pushed aside the plush comforter. His feet padded down on her floor.

She watched, pensive, caught between turning away in defeat and anger, or lunging at his hand in desperation. Her body failed her, and she stood dumbly, staring. As he turned and grabbed his pillow, she cleared her throat and found a quiet sliver of her voice.

“I’m trying to protect you. To protect us. All the I love yous in the world mean nothing if we’re dead.”

Mulder stopped short, pillow dangling from his unconsciously tight fist. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “I respectfully disagree, Scully. Every time I said ‘I love you’ to my sister, it mattered, every time you said it to your father. And to your sister. You can’t say death negates that- you’re the one with a good family. A nice, loving Catholic upbringing- how am I the one explaining this to you?”

His eyes bore into her, demanding an answer that she couldn’t give.

It was no easier for her to banish the demons herself than it was to admit to him: fully loving someone, anyone at all, was confusing. His idea of love in her family was so very opposite her actual experience. Much as the Scully household had lauded it, love was a word. A duty. What she found with him was different from any of the compulsory, sanitized definitions she had learned in childhood. She found herself possessed by it, but paralyzed by her own confusion and fear.

When she finally spoke, it was cautious. Timid. As if her voice carried words that would shatter, should she dare throw them carelessly.

In truth, the words couldn’t shatter. But she could.

“I think… you know more about love, believe more about it, than you say you do.” She drew in a deep breath. “More than I do… but I - I want to learn...” Suddenly she felt astoundingly ignorant. Love should be the first thing learned in life. But what she had learned, had experienced, seemed horrifically wrong. A shadow of what should have been.

If her assertion meant anything to him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he surveyed her thoroughly, almost clinically, studying the creases in her forehead, the thin, drawn line of lips pursed tight. The squeezed skin and fabric on her chest from protective crossed arms, wrapped too tightly. The blinking of pale eyes that fought emotion. He was a profiler at work.

Finally, his eyes rested back on hers.

“Do you feel protected?”

Scully pressed her lips together even tighter, the soft rose color draining from them in favor of nervous white. She lowered her gaze, well aware that he already knew the answer.

“Me either, Scully.” He ran his fingers through his hair and over his jaw, raking over scratchy beard stubble. “Listen. I’m tired, I'm frustrated and I don’t see a point in pretending there’s nothing between us when there is. And we know it. And I’m pretty sure the demons know it too, or I wouldn’t have ended up a possessed puppet on the floor.” His voice was rising, exasperated. “And then, after shoving me away the entire day, you try to tell me that love is meaningless? I don’t understand, Scully. I’m trying. But I don’t.”

“I didn’t mean that it’s meaningless. It isn’t meaningless.” She felt hot tears she had fought so hard to contain, and turned abruptly. “I’m getting us something to drink. That might help.”

She moved to the doorway, checking each corner carefully as she went as a matter of course. And paranoia.

Mulder looked at the clock on her bedside table. 2:37 a.m. He blew a heavy sigh. “I dunno if that’s the best idea, Scully. We have to be back at work in 6 hours.”

She shrugged and left the bedroom without looking back.

____________________

He should go after her.

He stood staring, his lips twisted in an uncomfortable frown. Maybe he had been too harsh… almost certainly, he realized. They were both haggard from the past few days, and he felt his patience stretched too thin, balanced precariously on the blade of a knife. He should go in, apologize, and be there for her. He tried to work himself up to it.

“Dammit, Scully… I’m no good at this either. I’m sorry.”

His muttering was nothing if she didn’t hear it, though. He tossed the pillow back onto her bed, moving toward the doorway.

The shuffling in the kitchen, opening of cabinets and drawers, made Mulder hesitate. He could hear her talking quietly to herself. Processing, or cursing him, he couldn’t be sure.

He huffed in irritation, wishing he could see inside her mind the way the demons had seen into his own. But he was not omniscient, and stood painfully aware of his inadequacies. Without speaking to her, he would remain woefully incapable of seeing or understanding what she truly needed from him.

____________________

Scully startled a bit, surprised by Mulder’s silhouette in the doorway.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you coming.” She shut the cabinet door with the back of her hand. The wine glasses made a pleasant clink as she set them on the counter. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I won’t pour much. I don’t want a hangover any more than you do… I just… It’s been a rough week, we both could use this.”

She grabbed the corkscrew from the counter and twisted it into the top of a new bottle.

“We um… we didn’t have some amazing family, Mulder. Not like you think. Not- I mean we had everyone.” She kicked herself for being so callous. “I know it was hard for you, with your dad. And Samantha.”

The cork pulled from the bottle with a low, satisfied pop.

She looked him over, his tired, worn features darkened in the doorway, his eyes studying her. Part of her still wanted to hold back, to keep her emotions and experiences locked away, where they couldn’t be used against her.

So many people had used her weaknesses as weapons to break her down. Including Padgett.

But this was Mulder. If she wouldn’t take that chance on him, would she ever, with anyone?

She gathered herself. “We cared for each other. We still do, what’s left of us. But… Dad was military, you know. We had respect. Duty. Loyalty. I know he loved us, but he didn’t say it much. Didn’t show it.” She looked down, feeling small. Vulnerable. “Not like you do, I mean. Didn’t hug much…. He tried, did the best he could. But. It did hurt Mom… and us.”

Sighing, she turned from him to pour the wine.

“When I said you know more about love, I meant it. It’s… it’s hard for me. You’re different, and caring, and… I do want to protect you from them, if they come here, but I’m also just scared. Scared that I won’t be what you really want. That I can’t be, because… I don’t know how.” She took a small sip from her glass, letting the red wine warm her throat. “But I want to learn. I do.”

She turned back, regarding him cautiously. So much of herself had been laid bare, and she searched his face for signs of understanding. Anything that would help to unbind the thick knot in her stomach.

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thoughtful line. It was a small gesture, but encouraging. He took a step forward.

“Thank you for listening, Mulder. For being so patient with me.” She smiled softly, holding out a glass. “To learning what love is. With you.”

He offered a strange, tilted grin, stepping closer.

She felt a sudden chill on her skin.

“Love is complicated.” The voice rasped unnaturally through Mulder’s mouth, and the grin grew into a sadistic smile.

Scully’s eyes widened in realization. She shuffled backwards, running into the counter. The wine glass dropped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.

His sneer stretched, shifting. Changing. Molding itself into the sallow face she had come to fear more than anything else. In her periphery, she could make out black, wavering mist filling the kitchen, dimming the lights. Pulling itself into pillars of smoke. Before she could think, the dark shadow of his hand clamped down on mouth, hard and cold, slamming her head against the cabinet.

Her stifled cry slipped through the blacked fingers.

“Dana wants to know how to love.” Padgett’s voice trickled through pale, cracked lips tinged a washed-out blue. “I could have taught you. But. The heart wants what it wants. Doesn’t it.” An icy finger traveled across her collarbone, fingernail raking across the path the scalpel had pulled through her skin.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, its rhythm mixing with whispers of ravenous souls that beckoned from the inky swells. She shook her head against the force of his hand, straining against his leaden weight.

Mulder… he was still in the bedroom.

Maybe he could hear.

She tried to scream, but only managed a muffled, gasping yell against the rotten skin of his palm.

____________________

The clattered ringing of broken glass made Mulder’s stomach drop.

He ran.

“Scully?” He barreled through the hallway and into the kitchen, driven by a panic that had become second nature. As he entered, the familiar, writhing darkness surrounded him.

Whispers called to him from inside the mass of smoke. Whispers that sounded almost like Samantha. And another voice, one he wished to never hear again.

____________________

“We can’t leave a story unfinished.” The words wavered, sung in a sickening chorus of voices, Padgett, and thousands more. His cold eyes stared, unblinking. “It’s time.”

She felt the licking of dark mist over her arms, beginning to grasp and tighten. Cold. The souls pricked into her pores. Opening her. Pressing in as Padgett’s body held her fast, his icy fingers digging at the flesh above her heart.

Her blood, a sacrifice to them.

Her heart, his possession.

Her soul, theirs.

A feral scream retched out of her lungs.

“Scully!” Mulder’s voice cut through the whispers around her.

Like a rag doll wrung by a child, Padgett’s head twisted backwards. He stared Mulder down, thin hiss began to rise from his throat. His eyes shone white, glowering at the interruption.

The inky swells of spirits drew themselves up into wavering pillars, pressing on the ceiling, pulling themselves toward Mulder.

It was a small distraction. But enough. Gathering all her strength, Scully pushed herself away from the counter, turning to shove her shoulder into Padgett, forcing him off. She met nothing but the chill of stale air and tumbled down, landing on the hard kitchen floor. The dull thud of her body was muffled by violent hisses of the demons around them.

The kitchen lights were obliterated by the masses filling the apartment. Scully tried to focus through the darkness. She felt dizzy from the gash on the back of her head, sickened by the oppressive smell of rotted flesh that hovered in the room.

“Mulder?” His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer.

“Scully, I’m here.” His eyes searched, frantic in the darkness that had filled the kitchen. “Keep talking… I can’t see you.” He was breathless. “Please? Scully!”

She answered with a weak, muffled moan.

Padgett’s form had dissolved itself into a thick, inky mass, covering the floor, enveloping her. Mulder plunged his hands down into the icy swells, searching desperately. His fingers met clammy, cold skin. Slick with blood.

“Come on.” Mulder’s hand traversed the wet skin on her arm, finding her fingers.

“I can’t.” The voice was small.

He squeezed her hand tightly as the towering forms that filled the room unwound themselves and poured over them.

“We can, Scully. We have to.”

But she didn’t want to.

Neither did he.

The darkness washed over, whispering. Calming. He felt ribbons of inky fingers wrapping around him, digging in. Beginning to enter.

A cracking, thunderous pounding shattered through black kitchen. Again. And again.

“Open the door!”

The apartment door shook with another fist.

“Ms. Scully? Open up!”

Ringing inside his head, Mulder heard the demons scream.

He screamed with them.

Metal jingled, then scraped and turned inside the deadbolt lock. The door flew open, slamming into the wall, doorknob crumpling the drywall behind it.

The demons released their grip. He could feel them in his skin, like a needle pulling from a vein, as they ripped themselves away.

The kitchen lights glared into his eyes, and he squinted.

He could just make out the blurred forms of four men before he lost consciousness.

____________________

The landlord stood near the doorway with the police officer, giving space for the paramedics to work.

Glass shards were strewn across the kitchen floor, sparkling in the incandescent light. In the middle of the room two figures lay still, hand in hand. Spilled wine and spattered blood marred the floorboards.

The blonde paramedic surveyed the kitchen, shaking his head. “Looks like it started as a fun time, anyway.” He stepped over the empty wine bottle on the floor, making his way to the bodies. “These usually do.”

“What do you mean?” The landlord looked irritated, while the remaining men exchanged looks.

“Off record,” the officer said blandly, “looks like domestic violence. Started as a good night, then things went wrong. And now there’s a mess, probably some charges to press when they sober up.”

“Pulse and respiration on both?”

The dark haired paramedic nodded to his partner. “Yeah. Barely.”

The landlord stared at the two forms on the floor. Behind the woman trailed a smeared path of wine mixed with blood, as if she had been pulling herself toward the man.

“Doesn’t seem like domestic violence to me.” He shook his head and looked away.

The officer squinted and surveyed the glass shards on the floor, the blood spattered on the cabinet door. “We’ll decide that. Tell me about this renter.”

“Well, she’s really quiet, but a good tenant. Pays rent early. Works for the government, I think. Takes great care of the place, it’s one of the best kept apartments in the building.” He shrugged. “She’s almost never home, but when she is home, there’s never complaints.”

The police officer nodded, writing in his notepad.

“Do you know the man here?”

“Not by name. I’ve seen him a few times, I think. Nothing unusual or bad that I recall.” The landlord sighed. “Sorry ‘bout all this. Just, Barbara never complains. She’s been here forever, so when she called so concerned at this hour, I figured there’s a problem.”

“Yeah…” Raising his eyebrows, the officer pursed his lips. “It looks like there was a problem, alright.”

“This one’s pulse is really weak. Let’s get her out first so we can start an IV, get her stabilized. Then we’ll move him.” The blonde paramedic rose to retrieve the gurney from behind him.

As if in response, the man on the floor gasped for air, arms flailing wildly. His eyes were wide and he growled, as if fighting something unseen.

“Whoa!” The dark haired paramedic grabbed an arm, pinning him back down. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.” He turned to other men, frantic. “Can I get a hand?”

The officer was already crossing the room. He planted himself firmly on the other arm while the paramedic tried to calm the man down.

“Sir, you’re safe-”

The man’s eyes rolled backward, and he stiffened, turning his head to the side.

The policeman looked to the paramedic, concerned. Just as they began to roll his body over to a safe position for a seizure, the man’s eyes refocused. He blinked, twisting his head back slowly to look up to the officer.

“Where… is she?”

The officer hesitated, but saw the panic in the man’s eyes. “We have her, sir. She’s safe. Who are you?”

The man’s body relaxed and he closed his eyes, satisfied that the woman he was with was alive. He licked his dry lips and drew a labored breath before he spoke.

“Fox Mulder… FBI. She’s Dana Scully. FBI… You have to… keep her safe. Don’t leave … don’t leave her alone…”

The men glanced at each other.

“What happens if we leave her alone?” The police officer’s eyes shot back to the bloody cabinet door.

Fox Mulder rolled his head toward the voice and cracked open his eyes. “If you leave her… if you leave us… he comes back… they… they come back.”

____________________

A huge thank you to all of you who take the time to read these updates, to encourage, and to wait while I take too long to write! You are so very appreciated.

#today-in-fic #txf fic #msr #msr fic #horror fic #mulder and scully #TW: demons #TW: trauma #TW: medical trauma #TW: seizure #TW: blood #TW: mild alcohol use #dana scully #fox mulder #the x files #x files

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goldkirk · 2 years

Text

I’m back to dissociating as of yesterday, which honestly was pretty nice of my brain because I thought it’d happen right after we got back from the visiting family trip but instead it waited a weekend and a week and only hit now, when I’m not behind on work too badly yet. That’s new.

(tw: unreality for anyone who needs that warning)

I hadn’t noticed the signs yesterday but then in the afternoon I was staring in the mirror at myself when I was suddenly washed with that icy skipping-freakout-and-just-going-straight-to-freeze-paralysis-while-hearing-and-motionlessness-are-your-only-awareness glitch that was EXACTLY what I felt all childhood up till last year the second anything remotely possibly supernatural or angry-person-scary caught my attention, and then half a second later my brain went full on “you feel like I pilot of a mecha body today and did you see your eyes just now? Pupils are black soulless voids, they’re just holes, and you just had a demon fly straight into them and waltz in to devour and control you because YOU WEREN’T GOOD ENOUGH AND YOU LET HIM IN” and I was like “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHY AM I FROZEN I SHOULD JUST MOVE THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS DEMONS OH MAN THAT DOESN’T MATTER THOUGH BECAUSE IM STARING AT WHAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE ME AND IT DOESNT LOOK REAL, no demons YES DEMONS I’m an atheist now YOU OPENED YOURSELF UP TO POSSESSION nooooo I DID open myself up to possession WHY AM I FROZEN WHAT DO I DO I’M SO SCARED and then I was like “hang on, hey. hey wait just a minute. wait. hey. this feels like a danger’s-not-real moment. What is ACTUALLY in my surroundings” and then I almost immediately un-froze my limbs from there and did a dissociation workout instead

even though this is stressful because I know there are things I should be thinking about or worrying about and getting done and it’s frustrating to not be able to make myself care, I do deserve 10,000 points to recovering-me because of how quickly I caught that one. The last time I had a flashback like THAT it lasted almost an entire day and a half. Look how little time I had those total panic chemicals going! That was incredible!

#religious trauma #tw: disssociation #tw: derealization #tw: depersonalization #tw: demons #tw: unreality #mirrors don’t do anything good for me when I’m dissociating #at best I get confused and at minimum I usually end up rubbing or scratching my face repetitively #trauma recovery #personal #shh katie #cult escapee

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alex-the-polykin · 2 years

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People be like "Alex!1!1!! Stop summoning demons at 3 in the morning!!1!!" but the demons want access into the mortal realm, and I refuse to disappoint them.

The only issue is when I have to draw the pentagram on the floor, and my antlers keep hitting the floor.

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1c3d-choco · 2 years

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Ibis Paint X has given me so much pain while drawing the demon himself

#wednesday infidelity #WI satan #tw: demons

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nina-and-rosa · 2 years

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Intro + OC lore

Greetings. My name is Nina, and I, along with my best friend Rosa, will be answering any questions you have about us, along with explaining details about ourselves.

But first thing’s first. “Who are we?” you may be asking, “and why are you Gacha eww” you may also be asking. Well, we can answer the second question later, but the first question is the most important. Who are we?

To explain that, I will explain how we joined together to form the Chaotic Gem duo.

So it all began on April 7th, of which the exact year is unknown. I had recently transferred to a new school not because I wanted to, but because I HAD to. There was a prophecy put out that the “Endless Dark” will happen, which is the day Hell opens it’s gates and demons will pour out of the sky. Sounds edgy, I know, but I knew it must be some serious shit, so against everyone’s wishes, I left my home city and arrived at Chaogo, which is where the gate opening was set to happen

During my first day of school, I came across this girl named Rosa Hardwell. My god, she’s the sweetest person I ever met, but oh my god she was so naive. At least at first. When the gates opened and demons poured out, I tried my best to stop it, but in the end I was outnumbered. They were too much for me to handle.

That’s when Rosa came in.

Now, Rosa was the only one left alive in the battlefield along with me. I had no choice but to give her a Chaotic Gem in order for her to battle those monsters.

I originally contemplated NOT giving her the gem, as the powers it holds are dangerous and could put someone like her at severe risk of being killed if not handled properly, but seeing as everyone either evacuated or died, I had no choice but to do it

She... what can I say? It’s like I saw a whole new person in her. Someone who was the complete opposite of her. Someone who was so chaotic, so unhinged, that they’d slaughter an entire demon army by only ripping and tearing them like Doom Guy. She was incredible. Even though she did collapse into a coma for two days afterwards, it dawned on me that, if she used such energy properly, she could even defeat Satan himself. But, deep down, I really didn’t want to turn her into a war weapon. After all, she had a life ahead of her that wasn’t just burning down cars and dropkicking small children. So I decided to take her under my wing

Now we work as a duo together, fighting demons, demolishing the government and most of all, defeating the REAL enemies to the world: small children

Ok, now the entire story’s done, let’s just get on and explain ourselves already

*sigh* Ok Rosa. I’ll just let our admin deal with it

Name: Nina Way Age: 16 Gender: Female (She/her) Birthday: August 6th Occupation: Student, Magical Girl Born in Pissville, Pissvania. Became a magical girl at age 8 after a Chaotic Shard fell from the sky and hit her hard in the head, killing her and then resurrecting her after her body absorbed the energy and formed a Chaotic Gem. A literal edgy teenager, with her playlist consisting of only Skrillex, Linkin Park and MCR. Is literally immortal, as she can die and then come back with a hot emo goth chic and a can of mocktail a minute later

Name: Rosa Hardwell Age: 16 Gender: Female (She/her) Birthday: April 24th Occupation: Student, Magical Girl Born in Chaogo, Pissvania. Live a generic shoujo anime protag life until Nina arrived at her school. Became a magical girl after being given a Chaotic Gem shard by Nina, who was outnumbered and severely wounded by demons. A typical “kind and caring” girl who becomes a unhinged shitposting powerhouse as a magical girl. Also a fan of Lemon Demon And with that done and pinned, I hope y’all enjoy the blog -Soul, Admin P.S. to identify who is who Soul (the admin) Nina (the whiteish-blue haired one)

Rosa (the pinkish-red haired one)

#N&A #Nina&Rosa #nina and rosa #NinaAndRosa #tw: death #tw: demons #tw: wounds #tw: child abuse #in a ironic sense -rosa #ask me questions #ask #askblog

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thecollectibles · 5 months

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Ars Goetia Demons by Zhengyi Wang

#art #digital art #Illustration #creature design #Zhengyi Wang #tw body horror #tw blood #demons #horror

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hopsof · 5 months

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Various dungeon meshi sketches bc i love this series

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goryhorroor · 17 days

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horror sub-genres: cannibal

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deunmiu-dessie · 25 days

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a paralysis demon plays with you at night, this time you're finally awake to see it.

you're not sure how it started. just that one day it did.

you'd wake up with sticky inner thighs and ruined sheets; the familiar pulsing of your clit, begging for attention almost overwhelming, and your muscles ached as if you had run a marathon the day before. tentatively you'd dip your hand into your panties, nimble fingers finding the hood of your engorged clit, eyebrows pulling together at the almost painful feeling it brought; then they'd drift lower, immediately sinking into creamy, wetness that pooled from your entrance and smeared your labia.

this perverse ritual had become your waking nightmare, weeks upon weeks of waking up to ruined panties and an insatiable hunger that couldn't be sated alone. frustration and tears intertwine, as your lithe fingers desperately caress and coax your clit but to no avail. it'd leave you cranky most days and unapproachable the rest.

what the hell was happening? at first, you believed it to be mere wet dreams, lost in the recesses of your mind. but the inability to find release, even with your touch or the mechanical hum of a vibrator, defied all reason. your sanity teetered on the edge, the constant ache and unrelenting wetness between your thighs, the demands of university, and the grueling hours at the fast-paced coffee shop on campus only exacerbate your torment.

breathe; you had told yourself. you just needed a day to sleep, in order to get back into the groove of your usual hectic life. and so, you make the decision to abandon your responsibilities, forsaking work and classes, seeking solace within the confines of your bed.

but that day you saw it.

as the night grew later, you found yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep your eyes open, you clung to the last shreds of wakefulness, determined to finish the movie that had lured you in with its promises of thrills and chills. the laptop, perched on your chest, emitted a faint glow, casting eerie shadows across the room. but despite your best efforts, the battle was futile. with a heavy sigh, you surrendered, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

that should've been it, you should have gone to sleep and woken up the next morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no longer raging and horny, stressed and tired— just your normal self. yet, as if possessed by an unseen force, your eyes snap open, jolting your mind from the peaceful slumber you had so eagerly embraced, but not your body.

the room was cloaked in darkness, save for the feeble glow of a night light by the door. the time couldn't have been later than two in the morning, leaving you with ample hours until you needed to start getting ready for the day…so why were you up?

grunting you attempt to reach across to your desk and grab your water bottle, your throat suddenly dry and scratchy. but you couldn't move. in fact, your whole body felt numb, as if you'd been submerged in an ice-cold lake. you could feel the hair on your arms standing on end, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage, desperate to escape from your chest and out the window just above your bed. frantic, your eyes darted around your room, flitting over the darkened corners and further on before subconsciously gazing upwards. it gazed back at you.

it was inky black, as if a void had materialized on your ceiling. barren of any discernible features, a foreboding presence emanated from it, sending chills down your spine. its limbs, neck, and torso twisted unnaturally, giving it a grotesque and elongated appearance. tears welled up in your eyes upon witnessing it, and you attempted to scream, only to find your mouth was sealed as if stitched with needle and thread.

the creature descended from above with erratic movements, settling above your figure and menacingly bringing its face closer to yours. this couldn't be happening, it must be a dream and in a desperate attempt to escape, you tightly shut your eyes and began counting backward from ten, gasping for air with each haggard breath.

however, a phantom graze on your thigh startles your eyes open. the creature was still there, its taloned, inky black hand slowly trailing along your clammy skin. even without a face, you could feel its gaze upon you, sinister and scheming. swallowing thickly, goosebumps follow in the wake of its touch, like tiny flames igniting your skin.

and almost as if accustomed to its advances, your body ignites with a dizzying heat, pussy weeping and your clit throbbing eagerly, readily despite your heart skipping and restarting all in one second with fear. its touch is tantalizing and deliberate, momentarily vanishing underneath your oversized night-shirt before returning to the heat of your thighs, talons pricking your flesh.

the creature's game finally comes to an end as it finds your fattened clit, which eagerly presses against the fabric of your panties, craving any form of touch. its assault is steady but firm and the touch immediately sets you off. your body, needy from weeks of being unable to orgasm, finally reaches its limit. you can feel the knot tightening in your tummy, a sharp, zinging pain in your lower abdomen, and the tensing of your thighs.

however, just as you approach your climax, the creature abruptly stops, shifting its touch to your slick inner thighs, face pressing closer to yours, leering and mocking. without the constant stimulation, your orgasm subsides, leaving you with a throbbing ache in your hips, cunt drooling with your arousal profusely.

your eyebrows cinch together, tears staining your cheeks before you're hit with a realization. the constant feeling of never being satisfied and not being able to cum, was because of this…creature.

its pitch-black visage suddenly splits into a sinister grin, revealing rows of serrated teeth gleaming with viscid, thick saliva. its voice is otherwordly deep, it's guttural, and raspy; fingers returning deftly to your clit to rub circles. "do you remember now?"

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elsa-fogen · 21 days

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Alastor's apologising (part 1)

It happens after this and before this

Part 2

susan doesn't have wiki page lol, no colors for her jddlfhskdhsfsk

It's gonna be... bore than one part in between first and last one. Maybe 3, inclusing this. I hope there won't be more.... for something that shouldn't have continuation, this thing has awfully many parts

fire can hurt him while he's moving as a shadow because it's, like, LIGHT. And light and shadows don't mix together very well. Alastor did not know that. Nobody knew (and knows) (he never told susan how much damage she caused).

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #radio demon #radiorose #platonic radiorose #hazbin niffty #niffty hazbin hotel #niffty #susan hazbin hotel #hazbin susan #tw blood #tw injury #Main Hazbin Headcanon (EF)

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danascullysjournal · 10 months

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If You Will Let Me

X-Files Post-Milagro Fic Chapter 21: Help

TW: references to demonic activity, mild references to injuries, hospital setting. Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to each of you who are following <3 This chapter is part of a larger work on AO3. As AO3 is currently down, this work and preceding chapters are all searchable under #If You Will Let Me

____________________

The phone finally ceased its insistent ringing as the machine clicked, taking over.

It beeped angrily. The signal of a disconnected line, a wasted call. Anyone who was not privy to knowing about the safety precautions would take it as such, hang up and move on.

After two solid minutes, the beeping stopped. The silence was brief before a familiar voice began to speak.

“Guys, it’s me. I’m at Memorial Hospital. Please come, it’s important.”

There was a muffled, clattering shuffle as the receiver fumbled over the phone cradle, finally coming to rest with a plastic clack.

The recorder clicked itself off. Silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the whirring of computer fans.

Dim morning light dusted itself sparingly across shelving and computer towers. The message replayed as the men stood in anxious silence.

Byers eyed the other two men. His face was grim.

Langly scrunched his nose, skeptical. “You think someone put him up to it?”

Byers shook his head.

“Not Mulder,” Frohike was quiet, but resolved. “He wouldn’t do that. But he knows not to just ask us to come out like that.” He drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him.

Langly stood, adjusting his glasses. “He could be hurt, can’t come here himself. But why call us, why not Scully?”

The men were quiet for a moment, considering.

Frohike broke the silence. “It has to be bad.” He sighed. “Well. Let’s go bail his ass out.”

____________________

Mulder’s clumsy hand made a few vain attempts before it figured out how to hang up the phone next to his hospital bed.

Abby helped to readjust his pillows and offered a supportive smile. “You got through?”

“Yeah. They’ll get it.”

He sighed. He was certain they would hear his message, but coming to visit during the day in a very public place? That was asking a lot from men whose lives depended on secrecy and anonymity. He could only hope.

The nurse stared at him for a long moment. “Well. If your friends come, I’ve already notified the nurses’ station on her floor. They’ll be expecting someone. But if anything goes wrong…”

“If anything goes wrong, I forced you. Threatened you. Whatever. Say what you need to say. Make sure it doesn’t ruin your future.” Mulder was used to being blamed. He could think of no reason to take the full fall that was nobler than protecting Scully. He would do it a hundred times over.

“Yeah.” Abby’s lips were twisted in a strange, nervous line. “And you’re sure… this thing, whatever it is, it’s not here. It won’t…” Her voice faded.

“Come for you?”

She nodded weakly.

“No. I can’t guarantee it’s not here… but it won’t come for you. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t… It doesn’t want anyone else.” He stared vacantly out the window at the clouded, deep indigo of early dawn. “Just us. He just wants us.”

Her lips were turned, brow furrowed. She cleared her throat and started for the door.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back before my shift ends. As often as I can.”

He offered a small, grateful smile.

She raised her eyebrows. “Of course, Beth will be coming in too, ya know.”

“Oh good, she’s my favorite.”

Abby rolled her eyes and grinned. As she left, her soft laugh danced through the doorway.

He blinked slowly, then moved his unfocused eyes toward the blanched, pockmarked ceiling tiles above him. Though his system was dutifully purging the chemicals from his veins, he still felt heavy. Drained. His focus wavered. His glassy eyes drifted closed.

_____________________

A knock at the open doorway snapped Mulder’s eyes open, and his gaze settled on a familiar, ragtag group of three mismatched men. One wore a well cut beard and a suit to match. The other two wore baseball caps and track suits, attempting to blend in. It had quite the opposite effect of what they intended. Mulder winced as he sat up in an attempt to greet them.

He was immediately under interrogation.

Langly blinked through his thick framed glasses. “What put you in the hospital this time? You do look like hell- what happened to your face? And you’re really pale- is it vampires again?”

Frohike stepped forward, his eyes squinted in faux clinical analysis. “Yeah, you look even worse than usual.”

Mulder began to grin, but stopped abruptly at the tight, painful pull of newly healing skin. “Thanks, Melvin. I missed you, too.”

Near the doorway, Byers pressed his lips together, holding in his amusement.

“You owe us, ya know.” Frohike huffed and crossed his arms. “Landline contact from a very public facility, plus demanding we come into said public facility.”

“Demanding? Hardly. Dramatic today, aren’t we?”

Frohike ignored him. “You put us at serious risk, my friend. Not to mention, we are putting some highly sensitive research on standby for you right now.”

Langly nodded, his long blonde hair nodding with him, and spoke in an enthusiastic whisper. “It’s true, Mulder, you would find it fascinating. I can’t go into specifics here- obviously - but it has to do with the Bermuda Triangle and advanced technology.” His eyes were wide with excitement.

Mulder shook his head, immediately regretting it from the way the room began spinning. “No... no. I’ve had enough of the Bermuda Triangle to last me a while. But I’m okay, mostly. I called you guys for Scully. Not me.”

“We wondered. Usually you call her. You calling us was a big red flag.” Frohike’s face grew more serious. “Is she okay?”

“Boy you don’t care about me at all, do you?”

Frohike shrugged. “Not as much as her. No.”

Mulder nodded. He understood perfectly. Scully meant more to him than anything on this cursed planet, yet here he was, tied down by IV tubing and kept from knowing anything about her.

“Fair. Well first of all, you need to know that they won’t tell me about her, won’t let me see her. Some of the people here think I did something to hurt her- and I didn’t.”

Frohike’s eyes narrowed. “Did you do something on accident?”

“No! Absolutely not.”

“Jeez man, just asking.”

The slumped shoulders and the angry, pained look in Mulder’s eyes were enough to silence any more sarcasm.

He rubbed a hand over his forehead, down to rest on the bridge of his nose, and heaved a deep sigh. “I have been trying so damn hard to keep her safe… and I can’t.” His confession whispered through his lips, and he felt himself break at the admission of his own impotence. Uttering it aloud somehow made all of his attempts to protect her seem pathetic. “I need you, and so does she.”

Langly adjusted his glasses and moved to the bedside, focused solely on helping the battered, frustrated man before him. “You know us, Mulder. Anything you need, we’ll do.”

Mulder nodded slowly, composing himself. There was too much at stake for his volatile emotions to win. Not now.

“This won’t make sense, and we don’t have time for me to explain. There are demons that want us both. Lots of them.” Mulder wondered at himself. He had lived it, and yet it sounded insane even to him. “It began with Scully, but somehow I’m part of it, too. They’ve… claimed us. I can’t think of a better way to explain it. Claimed her… and if we don’t figure out how to stop it…she’s…” He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t.

The Gunmen looked at each other, faces grim.

“Tell us how we can help.” The voice Byers used was quiet and calm, but he rocked his body back and forth behind the other two in an unconscious, nervous rhythm.

Mulder offered the best smile he could. It was miniscule.

“Thank you, guys.” He drew a breath. “Well, we need information, and I can’t help until I’m released from this stupid room.”

“No problem, finding information is our specialty.” Langly offered a genuine, reassuring smile.

“I know.” Mulder felt his spirits rise slightly. “I need you guys to find out everything you can about Phillip Padgett. He was an author, and was part of our case last week. He was somehow able to write things that came true. He’s responsible for the deaths of at least three people- and tried to kill Scully.”

Frohike sputtered, furious. “That bastard! You caught him, right?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh. Well, that takes care of that.”

Mulder’s lips were drawn in a thin line. “It should. But I’m not sure. Scully definitely thinks he’s part of this, somehow.”

Langly squinted at Mulder quizzically through his black frames. “How can a dead guy be part of what’s happening to Scully? Do you think he faked his death?”

“Could be. But Scully performed the autopsy… and she was pretty, uh, familiar with his face.” Mulder felt his stomach clench at the memory of Scully sitting on Padgett’s bed, so close to him. “I need you to get all the details you can find, Langly. Anything about him. Where he was from, where his ability to write things could have come from… and if that body is still in the morgue. And we also need information on the area surrounding Laroy, Illinois. Any paranormal activity, missing person files… anything that can help us figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Can do.”

“Now you guys,” Mulder directed his attention to Frohike and Byers. “I need you here. This is gonna sound insane, but… Well, when we are alone, the demons seem to have access to us. I don’t really understand it, but that’s how it seems to work. It’s like… something has us… marked.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve seen them almost take her. Me being there doesn’t help, I’m just more food for them. But last night, in her apartment, the police came for a disturbance call, and-”

Frohike interrupted. “Well, what were you two doing?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Mulder pointedly ignored him. “They were everywhere, and… in us. I know this doesn’t make sense, but when the men came through the door, everything stopped. The demons have the ability, almost like permission, to attack us. But when other people- other souls- are there, they can’t do what they want. Or can’t complete what they begin. So they leave.”

The concept of souls, of some eternal aspect of self, had always seemed odd to Mulder. Somewhat contrived and self important. It was a way for mankind to believe they had a larger supposed worth. Yet now, he found himself at a loss for any other explanation. It was terrifying. Yet the thought of an eternal piece of himself existing with Scully, somehow… he found himself desperate for that aspect to be real.

“I know you guys like to work together, but we really need you to split up and keep us from being alone. Otherwise… well, we might not be here for much longer.”

The men nodded, though their faces were reluctant. Being stuck in a hospital room with no special equipment and no defined ending time sounded torturous.

“You,” Mulder nodded to Byers. “I need you to be Scully’s protection. Make sure she isn’t alone. And let me know how she is, if you can.”

Frohike balked, his mouth agape. “What? How does he get that assignment?” He waved his hand at Byers dismissively, who stood awkward between them, attempting to avoid eye contact. “What makes Byers the guy for the job, when I-” He stopped himself short.

Mulder’s thin smile returned. “When you what, Melvin?”

“Phhh. Nothing.”

“Byers is the most normal looking, disarming guy in this room. No offense, but you and Langly stick out of any crowd. Even with your sexy tracksuits. We need Byers to be Scully’s brother… someone who could get medical information, who could stay with her. Someone the medical staff wouldn’t question. Besides,” Mulder’s smirk returned. “I’ve missed you, Melvin. I thought we could spend some quality time together. Maybe even cuddle.”

Frohike shook his head. “You’re an ass.”

____________________

Golden light glimmered through the windowpanes, flashing off the metal railings and IV stand in a blinding glare. The walls, pillows, blankets, even the pale wooden doors were illuminated by morning light that shone unnaturally. Propped up with pillows in the glaringly white bed, Scully rested, half conscious. Auburn hair splayed tousled and tangled around her head, and waffled strips of sterile white gauze wrapped expertly around sections of her arms.

When she finally attempted to open her eyes, she was blinded by the glow that filled the space before her. Pieces of her body burned, but everything around her was feather light. Peaceful. It was a calm, silent space. She took a deep, contented breath, nuzzling her head further into her pillow, only to feel a sharp sting on the back of her scalp.

She groaned and reached behind her cranium, fingers settling on a bandage. On shaved skin. She startled. Why hadn’t she noticed before? She began frantically feeling the rest of her head for hair. Her fingers combed through strand after tangled strand, and her quickened pulse slowed.

She blinked, heaved a sigh, and looked down dully at the bandages on her forearms. She hadn’t noticed them the night before, either. From the glass on her floor, she realized. Turning her arms over before her, she wondered absently how many shards they had to extract from her epidermis, how many had pierced deeper, and how many new scars she would wear now, this side of heaven.

She let her eyelids drift closed, attempting to quell her dismal thoughts. It occurred to her that when one is so lacerated and abused, the scar tissue takes over and the softer, unmarred flesh is barely visible, but hidden and safe underneath.

Her heart felt that way now. She loathed it.

A knock at the doorway rattled her.

“Agent Dana Scully? You’re awake.”

A young police officer stepped a few feet into the room, squinting at the brilliant light. He attempted a polite smile.

“Yeah. I’m awake.” She looked him over, trying to place him. He stood tall and lean, with sandy brown hair, freckles, and a face yet to be worn down. He looked no older than 25, she guessed. Though she prided herself on remembering details, this face escaped her. Her stomach clenched.

“Have we met, Officer…?”

“Matt Harris.” He smiled again. “We haven’t actually met, no. I responded to a call about a disturbance at your residence. I asked the doctor to notify me when you were alert so I could ask you a few questions.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her bandages once more.

Officer Harris took another step into the room. “It’s okay, Dana. You’re safe here. We just want to know how this happened so we can keep it from happening again. I have a few questions, they won’t take long. Is it alright for me to ask you a few things? Do you feel well enough for that?”

Scully frowned, but caught and held his gaze. He seemed to be a real person, but her fingers found the “call nurse” button that lay next to her on the bed.

As if a nurse could do anything to a demon.

She was familiar with these interviews, and the very notion that some stranger could consider her a victim in that sense made her smolder. There was no word, no feeling she despised more. Besides, she couldn’t tell anyone the truth. Not the police officer. Certainly not the medical staff. At best, they would assume she was lying to protect someone. At worst, she would be held for psychiatric evaluation.

“I… I really don’t feel up to questions, Officer Harris. But thank you.” She offered a superficial smile.

Shifting in place, the young officer looked indecisively toward the door, then back to her. “Well… could you let me know, was anyone else in the apartment with you, Ms. Scully? Did you let anyone in, or did anyone force their way in, or…”

Her forced grin fell off her face. There was nothing she could offer him, truthfully, that would answer his questions. She sighed, weary.

“Listen. I appreciate this, I really do. But I’m fine. My partner, well, my friend was with me, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Ever. There wasn’t anyone else that I remember being there.”

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She supposed, though, that a spirit didn’t technically count as another person. Physically at least.

Officer Harris raised an eyebrow, then cleared his throat. “You said ‘that you remember.’ What do you mean?”

“At some point in the early morning… I became unconscious.” She knew how it sounded, and winced internally at the judgment she saw on his face. “I’m tired, officer. I really just want to rest.”

He frowned to himself, scratching a note on his notepad. “If you happen to remember anything else, please get in touch.” He walked to her bedside, placed a card on the table, and stared down at her. His eyes were serious. “But off record, Ms. Scully, I suggest you and your friend stop fraternizing if it ends like this.”

Her face was stone. “There is nothing else. Agent Mulder had nothing to do with what happened to me. And if I do have any more details, I won’t be calling you, because off record, Officer Harris, I have observed many well done victim interviews.” She glared up at him. “This wasn’t one of them.”

He blinked, turned abruptly and left.

The condescending tone in his voice had reminded her too much of Kersh. She slumped back into the hospital bed, furious, but too exhausted to do anything about it.

Almost against her will at first, she felt herself beginning to drift back to sleep, and chose not to fight it. The darkness wasn’t here. It wasn’t here.

But before she could fully succumb, another knock sounded loudly at her doorway. She jolted awake.

“Ms. Scully?” A nurse with a kind face and bright, cartooned kitten scrubs peeked in. “I’m sorry to disturb you, hun, but your brother is here to see you. I can send him away if you’d rather not have company.”

Scully blinked. Who had called Bill? And if Bill was here, her mother wouldn’t be too far behind. She groaned inwardly, but forced a small smile.

“Sure, yeah. He can come in, I’m awake.” She tried to sit up a bit, to look less battered. She was certain, with her bandages and her hollowed eyes, she looked not unlike Lazarus. Bill would be furious to see her like this.

A well dressed, bearded man stepped through the doorway. He offered an awkward grin, and an equally awkward wink.

“Hey, sis. I heard you’re feeling bad, and you could use some company.” Byers walked across the room to the chair by her bedside. “I came as soon as I could.”

“You two have a good chat, Ms. Scully,” the nurse called. “Press the button if you need anything at all.” Her footsteps retreated down the hospital hallway.

Byers leaned in, attempting to be quiet but reassuring. “Mulder sent me. He told us what happened. I’m your personal bodyguard, I think. For now anyway.”

Scully smiled. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “So, is he…” she trailed off, glancing down at her bandaged arms.

“Oh, he’s okay. He’s okay.” Byers’s face was sincere. “He just can’t come see you right now, but he’s just on the next floor down.”

“They hurt him again.” Scully’s tired eyes grew wet, in spite of herself. “It’s not going to stop.”

“No, it’s going to be okay. Really.” Byers cleared his throat and patted his hand on hers. It was painfully evident that he had little experience in comforting another human, but she appreciated the effort. “The guys are taking care of it. And Mulder. And I’m here taking care of you. We’re going to figure this out.”

She nodded. A tired grin graced her lips for a brief moment, then darted away. “Tell me how he is. Please.” She felt her desperation rising to the surface. “I just.. I want to see him. I need to see him.”

“Soon,” Byers promised. “But you should rest. Mulder’s okay. I’m sure he’ll be released soon. He seemed ready to leave his hospital bed immediately to come find you.”

She breathed a soft laugh. “Mm. Typical Mulder.”

“He’s safe. And so are you.”

She scoffed inwardly.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” She carefully adjusted her head on the pillow. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll be fine.” She wondered at the last three words. How often she had lied them.

Byers leaned forward. His face was suddenly very serious. “I won’t leave. Mulder said you can’t be alone.”

She would have folded her arms, were it not for the IV tubing and painful sutures. She settled for a skeptical glare.

“I wasn’t alone. He was at my house and they… they came anyway.” The memory of Mulder’s face twisting, melting into the hollow, haunting visage of Padgett made her stomach suddenly sick. “He tried to stop it. He couldn’t.”

____________________

“Mulder, you’re not gonna believe this.” Langly’s excited voice greeted the men from the doorway.

“I hope it’s good news.” Mulder tried to smile.

“Sure. Good news you aren’t on my missing persons list.”

Mulder and Frohike glanced at each other.

Papers rustled in Langly’s hands as he walked toward the bed.

“I dug into the small town in Illinois first, and a Philip Padgett was actually listed as a resident of the Laroy area in the last two censuses- and since he was listed as a minor there, I traced the family back. Before they moved, he lived in Springfield, Missouri. They moved when he was around seven, and his mother left soon after. Just disappeared. She’s one of sixty-eight people listed as missing from the Laroy area over the past thirty years. Not all from that town, but most are from the same county. They seem to be grouped into clusters, three here, five here. I’ve organized the disappearances chronologically and listed the dates for you.”

He placed the papers on Mulder’s lap.

“Anything specific about Padgett? We couldn’t find any criminal record. Or friends. Or family.”

Langly shook his head. “Nothing. All his rentals have been in his name alone. The only time spent away from Laroy was his time in college at Illinois State University. English and language arts major, minor in religious studies. No surviving family. His father died two years ago. Looks like he moved to DC shortly after that.”

Mulder chewed his lip in thought.

“I went ahead and printed all his former addresses. His last one was in your building. Crazy!”

Mulder grimaced. “I know. It wasn’t a coincidence, he planned it.” He continued to flip through the pages, slowly studying the new information. So many missing people. So many lost souls.

“You have been a busy bee haven’t you?” Frohike teased.

“Doing my best while you sit on your ass with Mulder all day.” Langly turned his attention back to his wounded friend. “I’ll have to check for the body when they finally bail you out. I can break into places, I can get you full family histories and social security numbers, but overriding morgue security and breaking in solo… even I can’t do that.”

Frohike put his hand over his heart. “Ah, it’s good to be needed, isn’t it, Mulder?”

Mulder did not respond. The color had drained from his face.

“Mulder?” Langly stepped closer. “What is it?”

Mulder’s eyes were trained on the page of Padgett’s former addresses. Washington, D.C. Normal, Illinois. Laroy.

“This address. 1650 Hainsville Road.” His voice was tight. “You sure he lived here?”

Langly nodded.

“That address… is the one that Scully tried to take us to. We ended up at a farmhouse. With demons.”

The Gunmen looked at each other. The afternoon sunlight was tainted by uncomfortable silence.

Frohike sucked a breath and spoke. “But… how would Scully know his old address?”

Mulder’s pupils were laser focused, burning a hole through the paper.

“I don’t think she did,” he said quietly. “I think… she said what he wanted her to say.” His mind was reeling, his stomach twisted.

“I don’t understand,” Langly said, regret evident in his voice.

“Have you ever wanted something so bad, you would do anything to get it?” As Mulder spoke, his words were chalk in his mouth. Eyes unfocused, brow heavy with sickened understanding. “What if… what if Padgett found a way to do just that? What if he made some supernatural attempt, some bargain to get who he wanted?”

“You meant what,” Frohike said.

Mulder shook his head, slow. Afraid. “Not what. Who. He wants Scully.”

_____________________

#TW: medical situation #txf #x files fanfic #txf fanfic #msr #If You Will Let Me #casefic #txf casefic #TW: demons #TW: reference to demons #mulder and scully #Scully and Mulder #Fox Mulder #Dana Scully #Lone Gunmen #the lone gunmen

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