Self-taught artist from Italy, just drawing my ocs and dnd characters, mostly. Also pirates.
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Halloween Fic - Chapter 1
Halloween fic - chapter 1
I don’t think anyone really cares about this but I’m dumping my dumb moden AU Halloween fic about my dnd character in here because I’m emotional and I want to bother people with talks about him.
No beta, not even a true review and I won’t pretend I have a fixed schedule in mind to post this. I have to chapters done, the others will come. Maybe. At some point.
Anyway have axiety wizard part 1/?
MxM modern AU, no magic but also kinda with magic, anxiety, 2553 words
Rating: currently G, but there will be fucking
Elam accidentally summons a devil in his room.
The soft, plush carpet isn’t doing much to shield from the cold and hard surface of the floor tiles below, and despite his best efforts, Elam is forced, once again, to shift his position in the desperate research of a comfortable arrangement.
With a defeated sigh, he opens his eyes and gets up, tiptoeing his way around the incense holder and the colored candles scattered in the room, trying to reach the window aided only by the flickering light of the small flames.
It takes a long time, longer than if he had just turned the light on, but he finally manages to reach his destination and crack the window open, shivering as the cold air crashes into him. For a couple of minutes, he just stands there, elbow propped on the windowsill to support his chin as he lets the stale air in the room flow out.
For all his fascination with the occult, he should have known that spirit work wasn’t the right practice for him. Already during his research, the amount of meditation suggested had him internally (and often externally) groaning. The idea of sitting still without doing anything was already daunting by itself, but emptying his mind? Not thinking about anything? He doesn’t even know how to start to do that.
He gets up from his position at the window only when he has to stifle what is probably the tenth yawn of the evening (note for the future: next time don’t try meditation late at night after a long day) and decides, eyelids heavy, that this is enough magic practice for the night.
He barely has time to undress and messily fold the clothes on the desk chair before he launches himself on the soft duvet and he’s falling asleep to the gentle patter of rain starting to fall.
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When he wakes up it’s to the deep rumbling of thunder and for a couple of seconds he can feel the panic rising, the sound of the storm outside the open window mixing in his head with the screams and the sound of the sirens, a memory and a leftover of his nightmare.
He forces himself to breathe deeply, hand clenching on the duvet cover trying to pull himself back in his room.
He has to keep his eyes closed and just breathe slowly for a couple of minutes before he feels the frantic beat of his heart subsiding and he dares to slowly open his eyes.
The difference is barely perceptible at first, it’s late at night (3.54 am, his phone helpfully informs him after he manages to find it where he tossed it on the bed just a couple of hours before) and the little he can see is only thanks to the distant light of the streetlamps outside and the intermittent flash of lightings.
He belatedly realizes he’s shivering, having fallen asleep on top of his sheets wearing only his boxers, and when he gets up to find something to cover up, he almost steps into one of the candles he forgets to put out and tidy before going to sleep. The idea of candles left unattended spikes his anxiety once again and, as he treads towards the corner in the room where he knows he dropped a hoodie at some point the night before, the sensation of discomfort lingers, and swell, skin prickling with the feeling and the thought that something in the small room is amiss.
He carefully looks around, trying to spot what exactly is wrong, and he can’t stop the scream when in the opposite side of the room, scarily close to the foot of his bed, a pair of glowing eyes alight with the next flash of lighting. The deep shadows engulfing the corner shift and move at the scream, gliding away from a huge humanoid shape like water.
The already towering figure slowly stands, movements careful, until the tip of the curved horns sprouting from raven black hair is scraping at the ceiling and Elam takes a step back, blood thundering in his ears as panic spikes up for the third time since he abruptly woke up.
There’s a puff of breath from the figure, a laugh maybe, before it moves toward the smaller men, crossing the room in just a couple of large and surprisingly careful steps to crouch in front of him, face just a handful of centimeters from Elam’s pale with fear one.
If the inhuman nature of the creature wasn’t already obvious before the next flash of lighting eliminates all doubts when it reveals the sharp features of the creature, and the big tusks sprouting from his lower lip; at the sight, the smaller man open his mouth, maybe to scream, maybe to plead for his life, but all he manages to produce is a small whine of fear as blood rushes to his head and the world starts to spin, plunging back into darkness.
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When Elam wakes up it’s to the chirping of birds and the soft rays of dawn; he arches his back in a lazy stretch, before curling up under the soft blankets draped over his almost naked form. Slowly, eyes still closed, memories of the weird dream he had the night before starting to trickle in. Something about storms and devils.
“Oh, you’re waking up, finally!” the voice is deep and rumbly, if somewhat cheerful, and completely unexpected. With a startled yelp Elam sits up, crawling in the further corner of the bed, blanket held up as if hoping to use it as a shield from the huge creature awkwardly sitting at the side of his bed.
Now, at the light of the sun, Elam can finally notice all the details he missed the night before, both because of the dark and the panic. To his dismay, he didn’t imagine the sharp tusks and curled horns, and now with the first rays of the sun, he can finally really appreciate how utterly inhuman the creature looks, all sharp claws and marked greenish-gray skin, more akin to a lichen-covered statue than a human. And there’s a pair of huge leathery wings sprouting from his back.
How the fuck did I miss the wings
Before he can say anything else the creature speaks, lifting his hands as to signal his good intentions.
“Calm down, I have no intentions to harm you” he pauses a second, to gauge the reaction of the smaller men, and not noticing any shift in the behavior he continues slowly, trying to keep his deep voice as calm and reassuring as possible
“You’re smart, right? - he matches the words with a small nod to the pile of textbooks on his desk - don’t you think that, if I had any intention to harm you, I would have done so in the two hours I’ve been sitting here?”
Elam, still curled up on the bed, doesn't exactly relax, but he can hear his heartbeat slowing down and the deepest, more convinced, intake of breath as he manages to somewhat stop his rising panic. When he finally speaks his voice is still shaky
“What are you? And why are you in my room?”
there’s an amused smile on the creature’s face now, as he points to the candles and incense still scattered around the room
“Weren’t you the one trying to contact a devil yesterday?” against all common sense for the situation, Elam blushes at the words and buries himself more in the blanket
“I...I was trying to contact a spirit! And...I didn’t...I wasn’t expecting one to appear in my fucking room!” the words are followed by a deep thoughtful hum from the creature
“Mh and what were you expecting then?”
“I don’t know! Uhm...visions? Earing some shit? Some furniture moving at best! Not...what are you doing still here” the creature, the devil, burst in a mirthful laugh at that, and suddenly amid all the panic Elam is also pissed
“What is your name, boy?” deciding against pointing out the missing answer to his question, or the weird nicknames, Elam squints at the request, suspicious
“I’m not…” the devil interrupt him with an almost pained groan
“Oh come on! What am I supposed to do with your name?”
“Why don’t you give me your name first, then?”
“Zolas” the answer comes quickly and sure and the sith eating grin accompanying the word for some reason makes Elam furious, still he hesitates, even in the face of the obvious challenge in the devil’s voice
“So? Listen I’m not a fae, I don’t know what you think but…”
“Elam” the devil smiles brightly, and it would almost be cute if not for the unnerving sight of the sharp tusks
“There you go! Elam. I like that.” he relaxes another bit at the words, letting the duvet fall and pool up in his lap, apparently convinced the devil isn’t going to murder him for now (or resigned to the fact that soft goose feathers aren’t going to stop him if he decides to), and exhales another slow, measured breath
“So...Zolas… - there’s a barely noticeable twitch in the pointed ears of the devil at the name, and Elam decides not to examine it further - once again. Why exactly are you still here? Don’t you have anything better to do?” it’s the devil time to huff now, clearly annoyed
“I’d love to, but I’m kinda stuck with you until you make some kind of deal with me”
“I...I’m sorry what?”
“Make a deal with me, pretty boy” he can feel himself flushing again at the nickname and as his brain stutters to a halt he has to stop for a second to push the embarrassment down and recollect his thought
“I’m not going to do that?! I don’t want to! And...and don’t call me that!” the devil just shrugs and nonchalantly sits more comfortably on the ground with an amused smile
“Oh, that’s bad...I have all the time of the world to wait and well...” he doesn’t continue, instead letting his eyes roam over the smaller man’s form and the exposed skin of his chest, lingering a second longer on the two blue tits tattoos on his chest. At the blatant gaze, Elam immediately picks up the covers again and go back to hiding behind them, cheeks and chest once again tinted red
“Stop doing that!”
“But the view is lovely, blåmes...would it be better if I undressed too?” he’s not done talking yet that he’s already lowering the light fabric partially covering his ample chest, exposing more geometric markings and the beginning of a tattoo. That’s all Elam manages to see before closing his eyes and covering them for good measure
“NO!” the scream is almost panicked and would be embarrassing, if not for the fact that he’s already blushing so much he doubts anyone would be able to notice the added redness to his cheeks anyway.
He keeps his eyes covered, even after he hears the rustling of fabric he prays means that the skimpy toga-like garment the devil is wearing is back in place
“Anyway. There isn’t really no way for you to leave me alone without having to make some sort of deal?” the answer comes after a pause, and the devil’s voice is serious enough that Elam deems safe to open his eyes again
“I’m afraid not...It’s not like we can jump on this plane and back as we please...we have a job to do here - another small pause, and when he speaks again the tone is almost sheepish - I...don’t exactly have the best track record, I can’t really afford to fuck up” the reaction of the devil has Elam slowly threading his fingers through his hairs, still disheveled by his agitated night, in an attempt to make something make sense
“Okay okay...maybe...maybe it might be a small thing? I can ask you to get me breakfast?” the devil snorts at that
“You would trade your soul for breakfast?” a defeated groan escape Elam at the remark
“Must it be my fucking soul? Can’t you get something...more inconsequential?” the devil just shrugs, and there’s no need to add more
“Fuck...fuck no. Listen. I’m...I’m sorry for your situation. But I’m not going to trade my soul. I’ve read enough shit and...that’s not...that...it never ends well. Not for me. Again I’m very sorry but...I’m sure you can go back and you’ll be fine, right. Right?” Zolas starts to stand up halfway through Elam’s rambling monologue and stretch lazily, almost knocking the ceiling light with a horn, before striding towards the door of the room.
He doesn’t even look back as he opens the door and steps out of the confines of the bedroom
“Well...I hope you’re not against a roommate, blåmes”
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For the time Elam’s tired brain finally catches up with Zolas’ words the devil is already out of the room, the door once again closed behind him, and the realization makes the blond men jump out of bed, already halfway to the door before he realizes he’s still wearing only a pair of boxers.
Quickly he throws on the first hoodie he can find and a pair of shorts, before following the devil out of the room, only to find his big form crouched behind the kitchen counter, focused on exploring its content. Before he can say anything he’s once again startled by the devil’s voice
“You need to buy groceries, this place is empty” again, for a second, Elam just stand there without saying anything, dumbfounded
“I...I had an exam to...why are you rummaging through my kitchen!” the annoyance finally unlocks him and he bound towards the kitchen corner of the big room, slamming the cabinet shut as soon as he’s in reach, eliciting a groan from the devil
“You can’t stay here! I don’t want a roommate. I don’t want a devil roommate” the devil stand once again only to tower over him and ruffle his hair with a grin
“Well, you can throw me out, if you can. I’d like to see you try” the gesture and the words for a second flare-up Elam’s rage, only for it to melt under the pressure of his dread, fear, and exhaustion.
Standing is suddenly a herculean feat, so he weakly bats away the devil’s hand from his head and drags himself to the old couch, plopping down on it only to hide his face behind his hands, breathing deeply.
He can feel Zolas move, crouch in front of him, but he doesn’t lift his head, not until the alarm on his phone rings, reminding him that outside his small apartment the world is still moving, and despite the devil in his living room, he still has lectures to attend.
He gets up like in a haze, ignoring Zolas still kneeling in front of him and the vaguely worried expression on his face; he starts to get ready, mechanically following his habitual morning routine, not really registering his movements, stopping only when opening the fridge makes his stomach turn with nausea. He shuts the door again, slips on his jacket, and is out of the door before he can allow the devil to say anything or stop him.
Final notes:
In the dnd game Zolas is half goliath and half orc, I’m using swedish for giant.
Next chapter might come quickly, I don’t know about the rest
More Posts from Smaelstrom
“Hey, Cay-leb!!”
The breath is knocked clean out of Caleb when Jester throws herself into his arms. He only narrowly manages to keep his balance as he laughs and ruffles her hair, his heart swelling with affection.
“Blueberry, it’s good to see you,” he says, grinning at Fjord, who claps a hand on his shoulder. Sun and sea and a new child have put a few more wrinkles around Fjord’s eyes and mouth. It suits him very well.
Livvy raises her chubby arms toward Caleb, squirming out of her father’s arms. Fjord hands her over, and Caleb receives an armful of warm sleepy baby, the soft heft of her settling against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. No, not a baby anymore, Caleb corrects himself, his throat constricting. She’s growing up so fast. The small blunt ends of her brand-new horns are already starting to poke through her black hair.
“I gotta go now, but I’ll come by as soon this whole thing is over,” Jester says, apologetic. “Then we can all have dinner together, okay?” She taps Livvy on the nose. “Behave for your uncle Caleb!”
Caleb laughs as Livvy lets out a murmur in response, cuddling closer and burying her face against his neck. “We’ll be waiting. Are you sure you don’t need me to teleport you there?”
“Nah, I’ll take the scenic route.” Jester kisses Fjord and waves goodbye without further ado. “See you later!”
“I wasn’t expecting you so early,” Caleb says, embarrassed at being such a poor host. There isn’t anything edible in his house save for a couple of shriveled apples and a half-empty cask of beer, but Fjord doesn’t need to know that. “I meant to go and pick up a few more things for dinner–”
“Not at all,” Fjord says easily. “A walk sounds nice.”
It’s a very pretty day, the late afternoon sunlight turning everything it touches to gold. Livvy is properly awake now, chattering as she plays with Caleb’s amulet. She likes the way it glitters when it catches the sun.
“How have you all been?” Caleb asks.
“Not bad. The seas are pretty rough this time of year, so we’ve been home the past few weeks. Between us, it’s a bit of a relief to stretch my legs,” Fjord says, chuckling. “How have you been? Teaching going well?”
“Ja. As well as can be expected.” Caleb smiles as Livvy coos, fascinated by the gold chain around his neck. “Maybe you will think about coming to the Academy again, one of these days.”
Fjord shakes his head, a rueful smile on his face. “Not to be too on the nose about it, but that ship has sailed for me, you know? It’s a nice thought, though.”
“The offer for private tutelage is still on the table, if you’re interested,” Caleb says, raising an eyebrow. “You know you and Jester are always welcome. And Livvy, of course,” Caleb says, laughing as a chubby hand bats at his nose. “Then you and Beauregard and Yasha can go for a couple of rounds in the fighting pits in the evenings.”
“Tempting. But it won’t be any fun if you and Jester aren’t there to cheer us on.”
“Who else is going to look after this one?” Caleb smiles at Livvy, who makes a surprised oh and pokes the dimple in his right cheek. “Besides, if you ask me, you all deserve a break.”
“And you don’t?” Fjord’s tone is teasing, but his eyes are entirely serious.
Caleb takes the out he is offered. “You know me. I like to keep busy.”
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