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[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

Where We Stand

As it may be obvious already, this blog has not been a priority, and will probably continue to not be, as I’m discovering that as much as I like reading exo fic, I don’t vibe much with it writing.

I might still occasionally post something if the mood hits me, and eventually I’ll get around to reblogging some or all of the fics in my likes to here, but don’t expect much content around. 

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

‪2020 is the year we start kissing every joyously consenting haunted thing full on the lips in love and friendship. If you are early to the tradition congrats big trend setter.‬

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

In the Snow (An Orcish Adventure Tale) 1

Characters: gender-neutral reader, nonbinary orc (they/them)

Content Warnings: None? Trapped in a blizzard, probably inaccurate descriptions of hypothermia

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2235

Part One of a Three-ish Part series. I’m planning for this to be a little bit more of an adventure story with a romantic sub-focus instead of a straight romance. 

You shivered, hunching your shoulders and pulling your coat closer around you. The wind howled, snow swirled, and shadows danced between the skeletal trees. You sank further into the knee-deep drifts and sighed. You had hoped to make it back to town today, ideally before the storm hit fully, but at this rate, there was no chance of that. Looking through the gloom, you hoped for a place to take shelter instead and trudged onward when you saw nothing.

Several hours later, the forest had plunged into total darkness, you had lost the path completely, and the snow and wind cut off whatever hope you might have had, slim as it was, to spot anything. Still, on you walked, shivering incessantly, nearly doubled over to shield yourself from the wind, hoping that you hadn’t gotten turned around and would eventually clear the trees before you froze to death.

You were beginning to give up hope. You wanted to cry, but it was too cold and the moisture seemed to freeze within the ducts. You stopped short as you suddenly crashed into something solid, soft-ish, and just a little too warm in the depth of the snow to be anything but alive.

A gasp caught in your throat as whoever, or whatever, it was slowly turned to face you. Even in the total darkness, their eyes seemed to reflect a light as they stared down at you. They towered over you, surely at least seven feet tall. They inhaled deeply, and for some reason that made you flinch.

“Little human,” the deep, rumbling voice, almost a grunt, jarred you after the silent (or near silent if you counted the wind through the trees) forest. “You should not be out here.” Their accent identified them, after a moment, as one of the orcs from the nearby stronghold.

“I know,” you felt annoyed at their statement of the obvious, “but the storm hit before I made it to town. Didn’t have much choice to keep going or freeze to death.”

“You’ll do that anyway.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence. And who are you to judge me when you’re also standing around in a blizzard? At least I was moving and trying to get out of the storm.”

“Some of us aren’t so weak as others.”

“Weak? Really?” you glared, despite not being sure if they could even see you.

“Yes,” you could see just enough to guess that they shrugged. “Might not be your fault, but it’s still a fact.”

You felt a particularly intense shiver run up your body, followed almost immediately by another, so forceful and all-encompassing that you could not respond and struggled to even keep your feet. You tried to keep the panic from your mind, knowing that it was a sign of your body shutting down.

The orc in front of you grunted, almost scoffed, and bent, hooking an arm behind your knees and the other under your armpits, effortlessly scooping you into a carry-hold against their chest.

“Wha…what are…you…d-d-doing?” you struggled to force sound out through your frozen lips and chattering teeth, every breath needed to do so feeling like knives down your throat and into your lungs.

They said nothing, merely turning and trudging off into the trees. As you were carried off, you struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting nothing more than to sleep but fearing what might happen if you did.

“You can rest, Little Human,” they grunted upon feeling you jerk yourself back awake for the third or fourth time. “No harm will come to you.”

A voice in the back of your mind told you not to believe them, not to risk it, but you ignored that voice, your body sapped of too much energy to fight it any longer.

~

The first thing you noticed when you stirred was warmth. You still felt the chill of the snowstorm at your core, but it was less severe, less total than it had been, and the air of your surroundings was no longer making it worse. The next, as you slowly came back to full awareness, were the softness and weight of the blankets piled on top of you and the soft, orange light of where you were. It didn’t reach the ceiling, but it flickered along the wall beside you, exaggerating the cracks and irregularities in the rough stone.

Pulling the first layer of blanket tighter around you, you slowly sat up and looked around further. You were in a small, roughly egg-shaped cave. The tunnel entrance at its “point” was dark, unreached by the light of the fire that had been set in a shallow bowl at the center of the space. The only other thing in the room was a shadowy shape against the opposite wall, which you assumed was your rescuer, or were they now your captor? Their soft snoring mingled with the crackling of the fire in an oddly comforting symphony.

Sighing softly, you slowly climbed to your feet, wincing as you made contact with the cold stone floor. It was then that you really noted, almost absentmindedly, that you had been stripped to your underclothes and the rest were laid out by the fire. You padded over to them to discover that they were still damp. You shrugged and pulled the blanket even tighter around your shoulders, and moved toward the cave entrance.

“Don’t,” you started at the soft grunt from your companion.

“What?” you asked, wincing at how loud your voice bounced around the room.

“You should stay here,” the orc said, sitting up, blankets pooling at their lap and exposing their bare shoulders.

“I was just going to look around,” you offered, frowning. “Is that a problem?”

They shook their head in response. “It’s not safe to wander around, Little Human. The storm won’t have stopped yet, and the others won’t like that I brought you here.”

“Others? What others?”

“This cave, it’s part of a sort of…warren of safe resting places. The only people who know about it are the hunters and scouts and leaders of our clan. We’re not the only ones waiting out the storm here tonight. If they caught a stranger, particularly a human, here all hell would break loose I think.”

“Then why bring me here if it would cause such a problem?”

“Would you rather I left you to freeze to death?”

“I didn’t say that! I just don’t get why you bothered or didn’t just take me somewhere else?”

“It needed to be somewhere close, you were in bad shape. It wouldn’t have been right not to help.” They shrugged nonchalantly. “Human or not.”

“Well, thank you, I suppose. But what happens now?”

“You should rest more. It is still late. Later, I will check to see if the storm has passed, and collect us food from the communal stores. Once it is clear and we have rested and eaten, I will escort you home safely.”

“I don’t need an escort. Just point me in the right direction and I can manage alone.”

“No. I will escort you. It would be pointless to have saved you just to let you wander off and get hurt.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. “I don’t feel like I need more rest. Can’t we just leave now?”

They shook their head and chuckled. “There is no way the storm has passed. Be patient, Little Human.”

“Well then, can we talk instead of sleeping? It’ll still be somewhat restful, and I’d like to know more about my savior.”

They nodded in acquiescence and you moved back to your nest of blankets, bundling into them and sitting to face the orc, studying them. The fire light danced along their long raven-wing-colored braids and pebble-grey skin, and you couldn’t help the light flush that crawled across your cheeks as you admired their muscular form.

“So, Little Human, what would you like to know?” They raised a scarred black eyebrow.

“What’s your name?”

They smiled, large lower canines poking out over their upper lip. “I am Vornan Girsmak, as you can guess of the Kheredod clan.”

“Nice to formally meet you, Vornan.” You smiled back and introduced yourself in turn.

“What were you doing out in the storm,” you asked, “especially so far from the stronghold?”

They chuckled. “I cannot tell you that, Little Human. All I can say is that I had duties that took me into the forest, and was as caught off-guard by the snows as you.”

“But you were just standing around like you were waiting for something.”

“I was.”

“So saving me got in the way of your job?”

“The person I was waiting for won’t have risked the weather. We will meet another time.”

You were silent for a long while, staring into the fire thinking on what you knew and wanted to know.

“What about you Little Human? What brought you into the storm?” they asked.

“I told you, I was travelling and the storm hit before I could make it back to town.”

“Travelling where?” they frowned. “There is little through the forest for humans to take an interest in.”

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell them about what had brought you out so far from the standard path.

“You need not tell me if you don’t wish to.”

“I was running from the ambassador’s caravan to the Kheredod Stronghold.”

A shadow crossed Vornan’s face and their voice was tinged with a new darkness when they asked, “And why would you do that?”

“I work for the diplomat’s wife,” you said as if that explained anything. “I…saw something I shouldn’t have. I felt obligated to take it back to Lord Dumas.” You bit your lip and turned away, fearing what you might see on their face.

“Is my clan in danger from what you saw?”

You sighed. “I don’t know. Not directly, but it’s complicated. If their secret purpose is successful, the backlash may be against your clan, but the direct target is the Lord and town.”

“That is sufficient. Say no more,” they nodded and then stood. “I will check on the state of the storm and get us food. Wait here.”

They exited swiftly and you waited, simultaneously hopeful that it was safe to travel and apprehensive of what awaited you at the end of the road. When they returned a short while later, they handed you several large, lumpy biscuits and placed a small pan over the fire, rough hunks of bacon (or at least salted pork of some sort) sizzling immediately.

“The snows are still heavy. It would be wise to wait,” they said, sighing and poking at the meat rather than meet your eyes. “But if you think it necessary, we could leave now.”

You shook your head, swallowing a mouthful of surprisingly soft biscuit before speaking. “Better to wait until we’re sure than leave now and risk getting caught out in a worsening situation again.”

They nodded. “Good.”

A moment later, they passed you several pieces of the meat, grease almost instantly soaking into the split open second biscuit you used in lieu of a plate. Silence settled over the cave, heavy and thick as the pair of you ate, but it was surprisingly not an awkward one.

~

The journey back to your sleepy little town of Rivermarch was smooth and quiet, taking the better part of the day for you and Vornan to make your way through the snow-blanketed forest even at the clipping pace they set. The snow was knee-deep at its lowest, and some drifts came to well past your hips, slowing you down as you tried to plow through. The pair of you didn’t speak much, but even in the silence you found yourself drawn to the orc and wanting to spending more time with them.

It was nearly sunset when you arrived at the gate. They stopped just out of sight of the guard peering suspiciously out from the top of the wall.

“Our people are not enemies, Little Human,” they said when you gave them a quizzical look, “But we are also not exactly welcome in your town all the same. And I would not have my presence taint your news with suspicion.”

You nodded. “I understand. But is there some way for me to contact you, you know, if things look bad?”

“Very wise.” They thought for a long moment before reaching into a belt pouch and pulling out a battered tin whistle. “There are birds that my people have trained, hawks and the like. Three short notes on this will call one. Attach your note and tell it ‘return.’ Be sure my name is on the note’s outside and it will get to me.”

You took the whistle, tucking it carefully into the inner pocket of your coat.

“Well, this is where we part then,” you said, thrusting your arm out to invite a handshake. “Thank you again for your help Vornan.”

They grasped your arm at the elbow, pressing your forearms together.

“Farewell, Little Human. May the ancestors smile on your path for many years to come.” They released you and turned back the way you had come. You watched them fade into the evening shadows beneath the trees, a strange lump in your throat. Then, setting your shoulders, you walked to the gates of Rivermarch to finish your mission.

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

A Modern Horseman

Characters: Male Dullahan, gender-neutral reader

Content Warnings: house fire, car accident, reference to depression/suicidal thoughts

Rating: Orange/PG-13

Word Count: 2467

You stared in horror at the black smoke rising from your home, trying to figure out how this had happened. You lived alone with a particularly grumpy tabby cat named Morwen, and never left candles or the like lit if you weren’t right there. And yet, you came home to the building on fire.

“Oh no! Morwen!” you suddenly cried, rushing forward with the realization that your cat was still probably trapped inside.

A hand reached out, grabbing your upper arm to hold you back and making you stop short in shock, after all until that moment you thought you were alone. You turned to glare at the stranger, annoyed that they were getting in the way of rescuing your cat. He was tall, thin, and incredibly pale (you might even have called it a deathly pallor if you were thinking about such things). He wore all black, pants, button down shirt, and long trench coat, nearly blending into the shadows of the alley around him. His thin lips curled into a frown.

“It’s not safe,” he rasped, shaking his head gently.

“Let go of me,” you snapped. “I’m not leaving my cat in a burning building!”

When he showed no sign of letting go, you yanked out of his grasp. You just made it across the street and to the corner of your lawn when you were thrown to the ground by a blast of heat, as the fire blew out your windows, raining glass shards across the grass and sending fingers of flame up into the sky. You heard a scream, only realizing belatedly that it was your own. Hot tears poured down your face as you continued to stare at the utter destruction before you.

Suddenly, the stranger was in front of you holding out an irate ball of fur toward you.

“She made it out the kitchen window before it exploded,” he said, struggling to keep her in his outstretched arms.

You frowned, puzzled at the statement since your kitchen windows weren’t open, but decided not to question your good fortune as you took Morwen from him and cuddled her against your chest. Immediately, she began purring and nuzzled further into you. When you looked up from her, to thank the stranger, he was gone. You heard the sound of a motorcycle engine fading into the distance before it was drowned out by the sirens of emergency vehicles arriving on the scene.

~

The next time you saw the stranger was about six months later, as you walked out of your office for the last time, a small cardboard box of belongings and a very small check all you had left of the job you had dedicated yourself to for three years. He was across the street, dressed the same as he had been the night of the fire and leaning against his massive, old-fashioned black bike. He raised a hand in a gesture of greeting, your eyes meeting across the lanes of traffic, and then rode off again without a word.

You tried to tell yourself it was coincidence as you walked to your car, dumped the box in the back seat, and pulled out of the parking lot.

~

The third time was when you were headed home for a while to visit your sister and her newborn daughter. A driver who had been weaving through the lanes of traffic clipped the corner of your own car, sending you spinning off the road and careening through the guardrail into a ditch. The first person who stopped to offer you aid was a tall motorcyclist in all black. You had hit your head on the steering wheel and was fading in and out of consciousness as he gently lifted you from your wrecked vehicle, laying you on the grass and taking off his helmet and then his entire head to bring it closer and listen for your breathing and heart rate.

“My cat,” you murmured, trying to convince yourself that you hadn’t seen what you thought. “My cat was in the back seat…”

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent tingles down your spine. “Always you and this cat.”

When you woke up in the hospital, thoughts swirling with images of handsome headless motorcyclists, you were told that you were lucky to be alive. By some bad luck of manufacturing error, the car had thrown you on impact, but that throw might have saved your life, since shortly after, the engine had caught fire.

“Morwen?” you asked, heart in your throat.

You mother patted your hand, careful to avoid the bandaged lacerations from your broken windshield. “She’s fine dear, the EMTs arrived on the scene just after the fire and heard her yowling. They got her out before she got hurt. She’s waiting at the house.”

You nodded, flooded with relief. But still your mind swirled. You were certain that you hadn’t been thrown from the car, and your injuries were fairly minor for that having happened. When you tried to ask about the motorcyclist who had stopped to help you, no one had any idea what you were talking about.

~

After you had recovered from your accident and returned to your regular routine, you couldn’t get the stranger out of your mind. Late one night a month or so later, as you laid awake staring at your ceiling, you thought you heard the sound of a motorcycle coming to a stop outside your new apartment. Heart in your throat, you threw a sweatshirt over the tank top and shorts you slept in, shoved your feet into a pair of tennis shoes by the door, and ran outside.

Sitting on his motorcycle in the shadow between two streetlights, was a rider in all black, his head detached from his shoulders and sitting on the handlebars. His body seemed to be twisting to look behind him while his head seemed intent on your building.

You gasped, and his body snapped toward your direction, lifting his head and tucking it under his arm, shielding it from view as if trying to protect it from getting stolen.

“Either I’m dreaming, or you’re a…” you paused, searching your mind for an appropriate word before awkwardly settling on, “…not human.” Your voice was soft, more curious than frightened or accusatory as you approached him.

He swallowed, an odd sight since his head and body both moved, but not quite in sync with each other.

“You are…” he shifted uncomfortably, “not dreaming.”

“Oh. I don’t think I understand what’s going on.”

“I can explain if you wish.”

“I’d like that,” you said, then shivered, pulling your sweatshirt closer, “but it’s pretty cold out here. Do you want to maybe come upstairs to talk?”

His eyes widened. It belatedly occurred to you that you were inviting a total stranger, who had multiple times been around when you had some sort of misfortune and had admitted to not being human, up to your apartment in the middle of the night, but shrugged. Something about him made you feel safe; you trusted him despite how little you knew.

“That would be…nice.” He said hesitantly, slowly rising off the bike and walking toward you, moving as if he was afraid you would panic and run. Quickly, you led him inside, just in case one of your neighbors decided on a late night walk, and gestured to your couch.

“Do you want any tea or coffee?” you asked.

He shook his head and you nodded and filled the kettle to make yourself a cup. He settled himself on one end of your couch, lanky legs folding surprisingly gracefully under him, and placed his head between his knees. Clutching your steaming mug, you sat on the opposite end and mirrored his criss-crossed pose.

“So…” you started, full of questions.

“I am happy to explain as much or as little as you would like,” he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his pinkie visible above the line of sever.

“I guess, let’s start with who you are.”

“My name is William DeLoe. As for what I am, since I’m sure that will be your next inquiry. I’ve never quite figured that out for certain. Some sort of ghost, I think. A bit like the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow, I suppose, except I can find my head and have no horse.” He laughed.

“Okay…” you frowned, puzzling through the information. “You have a motorcycle instead though right? How did you end up like this? Or, I guess you don’t have to answer that if it’s too uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I guess you’re right about my bike, I’ve never thought of that. I died in a crash back in the 60s. I’m pretty sure the guy that ran me off the road meant to do it, but I never proved it. Anyway, after I died, I woke up and just…kept going. Figured out eventually that if I’m careful, I can wear my head for short periods of time, which helps, but for the most part I carry it around.”

You were fascinated by his story and wanted to ask more questions but one thing was nagging at your mind first. “You keep showing up in my life, especially when I’m having…bad luck…”

He nodded. “I know what you’re thinking, but I promise, your house fire and car crash were not my fault. Sometimes I get this, sense about a person or a place, and I know I need to keep an eye on them. Usually, it’s someone who’s about to die; the dead spirits who struggle to cross over sometimes it helps that I’m around to talk them through dying and all.”

“So I’m marked to die and just haven’t yet?”

“No. I mean I don’t think. You felt different. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on you and protect you.”

“Oh. Well thank you, then I guess.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure it’s my job so…” he rubbed the back of his neck again. “But you don’t make it easy, constantly trying to go back into terrible situations for your...stupid…cat…” as he spoke, you noticed that Morwen had snuck up on the pair of you and was rubbing against his head, butting into it and shifting it around his lap.

You couldn’t help but laugh as she pushed him aside and perched herself where it had been, delicately washing a paw and purring.

“I’m sorry,” you said through barely suppressed giggles as he stared up at the ceiling from his new angle. “On the plus side, that means she likes you…”

He huffed and righted himself, moving his head to the arm of the sofa, since Morwen refused to budge. “It’s fine. I’m glad she approves. She obviously means the world to you.”

You blushed lightly. “Yeah, it’s cliché, but we rescued each other. I was in a pretty bad place when I found her, sleeping in my engine when she was a kitten and…well I couldn’t go anywhere if I had to take care of her, you know.”

He bowed his shoulders in what you thought was a nod. “I’m sorry to hear that you went through that. Are you still…?”

“No, I eventually got out of that low spot and got things under control. It’s been about two years since I had any…thoughts.”

“Well then,” he lifted his head and brought it to level with Morwen. “Thank you for guarding them until I came along,” he said seriously. “The world would be darker and less beautiful without them. And my unlife much emptier, lesser.”

You blushed, ducking your head. “I can’t remember the last time someone said something nice like that about me,” you muttered. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came into my life. And not just because you saved me, twice. I don’t know you well, yet, but I’d really like to.”

“Especially since, for a headless dude, you’re really cute,” you added under your breath.

Faster than you would have thought possible, and much to Morwen’s distress, he leaned forward, practically folding in half and holding his head so you were nearly nose to nose and staring intently into your eyes. Absently, you noted that his eyes were a beautiful, almost amber shade of brown.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, softly, almost breathlessly. “All of it? Even the part you hoped I didn’t hear?”

You blushed even brighter, and stuttered. “Yeah, I guess I did. I dunno.” You tried to shrug it off, but even still he smiled wildly, eyes sparkling.

He leaned back and Morwen squawked in indignation before jumping down to the floor to wash herself, pointedly.

“I look forward to it,” he said. “But as your semi-official guardian ghost, I’m sending you bed tonight. It wouldn’t do any good for us to get to know each other if you’re too tired and fall down the stairs to your death in the morning.”

You laughed. “I highly doubt that would happen, but I’ll take your point anyway. Let me walk you out first?”

He nodded. You rose, setting your half-empty mug on the kitchen counter as you slipped your shoes back on. When you turned around, he was standing surprisingly close to you, head tucked under one arm.

“Before we go, since we won’t be able to talk outside, in case someone spots me, may I try something?” he asked, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

You felt your heart beat faster, and nodded quickly, not trusting your suddenly dry mouth to form words.

He grinned and lifted his head to be level with your own. Holding it slightly forward, he gently pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with a gentleness that seemed almost hesitant. Smiling into the kiss, you returned the pressure of his lips with your own. As quickly as it began, the moment was over, and he pulled back, staring at you with adoration.

“That was…wonderful. I think there will need to be more, practice, to work out how kissing should be done best when one person’s head is not attached to their body, but we have an excellent starting point.”

You laughed. “I look forward to our experiments. And hey, at least you won’t have to bend down to meet my height.”

He chuckled in response. Reluctantly, holding hands with one another, you walked down your buildings staircase and all the way back to his motorcycle. He released you and casually, gracefully swung one leg over it.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, longingly. “Until the next time we see each other.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t wait so long next time,” you said, teasingly. “I like seeing you better when I’m having a good day than a bad one.”  

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

I’m so sorry to ask this again.

I hate, I absolutely hate, that I have to do this again, but I need help. The back hatch on my car, the entire thing, has to be replaced. It’s going to cost me at least $900 and I do not have it.

You can donate through my paypal or buying me kofis, although kofi takes out fees. Any little bit will help.

I know I’ve asked a lot of you guys, and I’m so sorry to do it again, but if you can spare any little bit, you have no idea how grateful I would be.

I’m so sorry.

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

Gala (MLM)

Characters: Male ¼ Dragon, Male reader

Content Warnings: a few instances of mild language; making out; fade-to-black/implied sexytimes

Rating: Lime; or if you prefer non-fruit ratings we’ll go with M(ature)

Word Count: 2878

You sighed, resisting the urge to drop your head to the green silk-clothed table in front of you, and asking yourself for the third time that night what cosmic power you had angered to draw the short straw of representing your employer at the world’s dullest charity gala. The salads had only just been cleared away and there had already been four different speeches by ancient white men about how important these rare books were that needed preservation. Now one of the event organizers had just announced that there would be a five minute break between speakers and then the audience would be hearing from one of the preservation experts who had been selected for the project with an explanation of the process.

You rolled your eyes at the tittering jewel-toned gossips who thought they were being inconspicuous with their hands blocking their mouths from view, as if you didn’t know they were commenting on the fact that you were practically the only person attending the party without a plus one.

Black and white clad waiters circled the room, half of them placing large, heavy ceramic plates with about three forkfuls of some sort of odd vegetable and pasta dish in front of each seated guest, and the other half filling empty crystal wine glasses with a deep red wine that you suspected cost more per bottle than you made in a year, maybe two. The same event organizer that had spoken before was back on stage, listing the credentials of the restoration expert, someone named Reeves Ahura, who had so many specialized degrees that added letters to the end of his name that he may as well have had the whole alphabet, twice over. Finally, a polite smattering of applause signaled the end of the introduction. The audience sat in hushed silence for a moment before he came on stage, at which point a shocked gasp rippled through the room, enough to get your attention and make you look up from poking at the food before you.

Not wanting to be rude, especially since the rest of the audience was less than subtle and he seemed to be shifting uncomfortably because of it, you tried to stifle the gasp that rose up in your throat.

There was no other word that could describe Reeves Ahura than gorgeous. Clearly, he was somehow dragon, but, you suspected probably a draconic grandparent at the most. His broad-shouldered form perfectly filled out his cleanly-cut black tux and pale blue undershirt, which made the deep, blood-red of his scales seem all the sharper in contrast. Two horns protruded from each side of his temples, framing a slightly wild mane of curly brown hair that cascaded down to his shoulders (or possibly further, it was hard to tell from your place at the back of the room). His snout was the thing that most betrayed his mixed heritage, being much stubbier than that of the dragons and half-dragons you had met and blending more slightly into his rounded face rather than having a more distinct and prominent shape. Still, you thought it made his face more open and friendly which only added to his charm. He raked one four-fingered hand through his hair, knife-sharp black talons catching the stage lights, and began to speak. Despite having no actual interest in it, you found yourself hanging onto his every word, his smooth, sonorous voice as hypnotizing as his appearance.

All too soon for your liking, his speech was over, and he was walking off stage to tepid applause which quickly trailed off into an awkward silence. Quickly, someone came up and introduced the next speaker, and you let your focus drift for the rest of dinner. Following the four course, disappointingly small-portioned dinner, it was announced that there would be ninety minutes of dancing and then the evening would round out with a silent auction to raise more proceeds for the restoration project. You picked a spot in a corner and settled, leaning against the wall to wait until enough time passed to make it polite for you to leave, closing your eyes to try to enjoy the music without the distraction of too many dancers all following their own pattern of steps.

You weren’t sure how many minutes had passed when you felt a shadow move in front of you and someone cleared their throat. “Hello,” a familiar voice said.

Your eyes shot open and you stood up straighter with a jolt. Reeves was standing in front of you, smiling charmingly, sharp, pearly white fangs actually glinting in the lights of the banquet hall, and you found yourself imagining seeing that smile forever. You noticed immediately that he towered over you, and probably would have done the same to pretty much everyone in the room, but rather than intimidating you, it only made you feel more drawn to him.

“H…hi,” you squeaked, caught off-guard, and winced at the sound of your own nervousness.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re over here, unaccompanied and apparently disinterested in the evening’s festivities.” A claw raked through his hair as he spoke.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m just here because the company I work for donated a bunch of money to the project and needed to send a sacrifice…er, representative. Unlucky me.” You shrugged, trying to play it cooler than you felt.

He laughed. “If it was me in your shoes, I would have at least brought a date, try to impress them.”

“It was offered as an option, but since I have no one…”

“A handsome, unattached gentleman, hm? Well isn’t it my lucky night.”

“What?”

“Dance with me?” He held out a hand to you and you found yourself taking it.

He pulled you out onto the dance floor with a dramatic sweep before wrapping his other arm around your waist. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling of his hand on your hip, and you hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. Clearly he intended to lead you, and you were content to let him. The pair of you moved in smooth, dramatic loops of the floor, not showing off but not shying away from the attention either. Neither of you seemed inclined to speak, so you took the opportunity to study him further. Up close you could see that his scales glittered in the light, as if someone had dusted over the red with a fine golden powder. His ebony horns were similarly gold-flecked.  A long tail trailed down, close to his body, and brushed the floor like the trains of many of the ladies’ dresses. As one song transitioned into another, his hand gripped your hip a little tighter, guiding your bodies closer until they almost touched, only a hair’s breadth between you.

Several songs later, he cleared his throat again.

“I’ll keep dancing like this all night,” he practically purred, leaning down to speak softly directly into your ear. “But if we’re going to do that, we should get to know each other.”

You nodded and gulped, your mouth suddenly dry and all words gone from your mind.

He chuckled. “No need to be nervous, handsome. I’m not talking about life stories. Hell, I’d be content with just your name if that’s all you wanted.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and get your head back under control.

“Right, sorry,” you smiled sheepishly and introduced yourself and then trailed off into silence again.

“If you’re just trying to be polite, you can tell me and we’ll part ways. I won’t be offended.”

“No!” you both flinched at how loud your voice suddenly seemed. “It’s not that…I’m just…trying to figure out how I went from being absolutely miserable on a work assignment to dancing with the most gorgeous person in the room.”

He ducked his head, a mix of bashful and playful. “That’s twice now you’ve brought up work tonight, what is it exactly that you do? So I know what company to be grateful to for bringing us together.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm with a blush. “I work at Sanger and Durst, you know, the…” you frowned, pressing your lips together while you tried to work out a polite way to phrase what your employers did.

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t meet many people who deal in cybernetics. And I’m a bit surprised they have an interest in preserving antiques.”

“They don’t, per se. But they’re trying to build up a bit of a better public image, so they’re dropping money on a lot of charities and sending employees to make appearances at major events.” You shrugged. “I don’t plan to work for them forever, but I’m trying to make the best of it while I’m there.”

“By going to boring charity galas you have no personal stake in?”

“They pay time and a half for it.”

He pouted dramatically. “I’m hurt you didn’t tell me that you were here because you’re secretly fascinated by the art of restoration or the history of ancient religious and magical texts.”

“Well I’m not about to lie in order to stoke the ego of a stranger.”

He dipped his head low again and his voice had taken on a distinctly husky tone when he whispered, “and what if we stopped being strangers?”

You swallowed heavily. “Well, then I’d say this evening turned out even better than I hoped.”

He smiled wolfishly at you but returned to dancing as if nothing had happened and leaving you utterly confused. Over the course of several songs, you began to notice that the pair of you had moved away from the center of the floor where you began, edging closer and closer to the exit of the hall. You raised an eyebrow at him and he winked before tilting his head upward to glance around the room. Satisfied with whatever he saw, or didn’t see perhaps, he dropped the pretense of dancing and gently tugged you through the open double doors. You followed behind as he led you around a corner and through another door. Only the light from behind you shone in, but you could tell he had led you to the coatroom, though it was mostly unused, given the warm summer night.

You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing but were cut off by him crashing his lips to yours. His hands came up to frame your face and he seemed to mold to you, backing you up until your back was pressed to the wall. Almost on reflex you pushed back as if trying to prevent even the slightest wisp from passing between your bodies. You heard a click as he pushed the door closed with his tail, plunging the room into almost complete darkness.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, tugging gently. He responded by growling against your mouth and moving one hand down to your neck. Even without pressure, the roughness of the minute scales on his palm and the fingers curled around your throat caused a shiver down your spine and you groaned, parting your lips. He snatched at the opportunity you presented and quickly your kiss became a passionate battle for dominance, as much teeth and tongue as lips.

Your lungs practically screamed for air before you parted. He smirked at you, moving away from your mouth to trail down your jaw and nip at the soft skin behind your ear. Unwilling to let him be the one with all the control you rolled your hips against him to put him off guard, causing a groan that almost sounded like a growl, and then spun the pair of you so that he was the one pinned against the wall, your legs intertwined and bodies pressed impossibly tighter together. Your lips came back together and hands roamed inquisitively over each other’s bodies as if mapping every curve and plane. You gasped when you suddenly felt something else wrap around your waist, stroking your backside a few times before giving a gentle smack. You jerked away from him, startled, and he chuckled, making you realize that it was his tail.

“Reeves,” you whispered breathily. “How secure is this closet?”

“It’s another hour before anyone’s going to leave. The staff will wait until the last possible minute before sending someone to man this place. We should be alone for a while.”

“Good,” you sighed, guiding him out of his suit jacket before bringing your fingers up shakily to pull at his bowtie.

As you continued to undress him, you pressed gentle kisses to his jawline, neck, and every new inch of skin exposed by the undoing of a shirt button, marveling at the rough feeling of his scaled skin under your lips. When you pulled off his belt and moved to unzip his trousers, he made a clucking noise with is tongue and pulled you back to him.

“Oh no, handsome, I’m not about to let you expose me completely while you get to stand there fully clothed and dignified,” he teased before pinning you to the wall again and kissing you heartily.

He was far less cautious and slow when it came to undressing you than you had been with him. In fact, you were almost certain that you felt some of your shirt buttons pop as he tugged at your clothes, but you found yourself unable to care, too wrapped up in the feeling of him sucking at your pulse point and his hands travelling lower and lower down your body. When he’d gotten you down to your boxers, kicking off his own pants to match at some wholly unnoticed point, he paused. He brought his hands up to plant them on either side of your head and placed more distance between you than there had been since the moment you met.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly. “We can stop here, no questions, if you’re not absolutely certain.”

You leaned toward him and noticed that he shifted to keep the distance between you. “I want this,” you whispered, “I want you. Do you want this too?”

“Gods above and below, yes,” he groaned. “I want you so bloody much it hurts.”

You smiled coyly. “Then take me. I’m yours, any way and every way you want.”

Evidently, that was all he needed to hear because he practically fell on you with a growl. If you thought it had been intense up until then, it was nothing compared to the feelings and sensations and ecstasy that passed between you from that point on.

All too soon, you parted to redress, knowing that your time was up and you needed to make yourselves decent and make an escape from the coat closet.

“So,” he said, passing your suit jacket to you without turning around, as if he was afraid to meet your eyes.

“So?” You questioned, letting your fingers brush the inside of his wrist as you took it from it and frowning at his resulting flinch.

“Is this the part where we walk away, never speak again?” A pin drop would have sounded like canon fire in the deafening silence that followed.

“Is that what you want?” you asked eventually, trying, and failing, to hide the hurt in your voice.

He shook his head sharply. “No. It’s not what I want at all. But to ask for what I want would be presumptuous and you wouldn’t be the first person in the world to hook up with a stranger just to liven up a boring party.”

“Reeves,” you said as you moved back over to him and slid your arms around his waist, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade through the material of his silky dress shirt.

“I think I like you a lot,” you mumbled into his back. “If nothing else, tonight made me want to get to know you better.”

“I don’t know, I think we got to know each other quite well just now,” he joked ask he turned around to face you.

You rolled your eyes. “I meant on the inside,” you held up a warning finger, “don’t say it.”

He pouted dramatically at you as you crossed over the threshold of the closet and headed back down the hall to the exit, following close behind you and twining your fingers together.

“I want to know more about you than that you’re incredibly smart and unfairly gorgeous and apparently able to find the innuendo in anything. If you’ll let me, I want to learn everything.”

He smiled brightly then. “I like the sound of that. I like it a lot. Can we start over dinner tomorrow night?”

You nodded and returned his grin with one of your own. “Perfect. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you sighed, pulling apart from him. “I have to go pace and hop around like an idiot until I can find enough signal to call an Uber back to my apartment.”

He reached out, a gentle hand curling around your wrist as you raised your phone in the air to pull you back to him and kiss you fiercely.

“Or,” he said, his lips brushing yours, “you could come home with me?”

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

I had hoped to get a lot more stories up by now, especially some LGBTQ+ ones for Pride Month...

Unfortunately, time has escaped me and it’s almost the end of the month so I don’t think that’s going to happen. But I’ll get at least one up because I’ve got one coming this morning as soon as I come up with a title. 

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

Holy shit this is gorgeous!

Also, it’s inspiring some things, but I don’t want to write them without permission because that kinda feels theft-like. Do you mind if i write a weird meet-cute-like fic and link it back to this art (with the url in the fic info)?

i made a pretty Drider <3 half humanoid/half spider. Even tough they look rough, they are very kind monsters <strike>in my headcanon, and i like drawing monsters cause beauty and the beast, just let me be happy

i’m sorry if you are afraid of spiders…just keep scrolling, please, i just like drawing monsters and villains/antagonists lol

mixed media

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

Decided not to post this story after all, because it’s just...not that good. It made me feel better to write but would serve no one to post.

But I do plan to post something soon. Just have to polish it off.

Am I writing a grossly self-indulgent reader-insert story right now because I’m emotionally hurting and wish I had a sweet, loving partner who could and would eat someone for me? …yes.

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

Am I writing a grossly self-indulgent reader-insert story right now because I’m emotionally hurting and wish I had a sweet, loving partner who could and would eat someone for me? ...yes.

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

The Mysterious Dr. Web

Characters: Male Shadow Demon, Gender Nonspecific Reader Content Warnings: kinda detailed references to and descriptions pain/illness of mild-to-moderate severity (the flu); references to loss/death; mild swearing Rating: Orange, maybe? I’m going to go with Orange just to be on the safe side. But like a candied orange, because it’s also teeth-rottingly sweet. Word Count: Just under 3k

You weren’t sure how it was possible for a creature with no actual mouth to frown, but somehow Teziral managed it while he twisted his eight long fingers around each other nervously and hovered beside your bed. The sight made you smile and you immediately winced, pain lancing through the space behind your eyes at even the slight movement. You hoped he didn’t notice; it would only make his anxiety worse.

“Beloved One,” he kept his voice low and soft, knowing that you were sensitive to sounds in your current state. “Beloved One, please, tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how I can fix this.”

“There’s nothing you can do for me Tez,” you mumbled, tugging at one of the pillows beside you, trying to find a way to cover your eyes and block the light without actually having it touch you and moaning when the attempt failed.

“Nonsense, Beloved One. My power is at your disposal. I would burn a thousand worlds if it ended your pain.”

You groaned. “I just need quiet and darkness and to sleep for like a hundred years and I’ll be fine.” You burrowed further down into the blankets piled high on the bed, shivering despite the fever, mumbling in annoyance, “stupid little plague carriers and their stupid grubby, germy fingers.”

Teziral was still for several blissful moments before he sighed, brushed a kiss lightly to your forehead, and glided out of the bedroom, closing the door as silently as he could behind him. You sighed in relief.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love your demon boyfriend, but he wasn’t used to human immune systems and had been practically smothering you since you had come home from your kindergarten teaching job two days prior, feeling a bit under the weather and suspecting that one of your twenty-five students had infected your with a cold, or worse the flu. You had been loath to use your very limited sick days, but when woke the next morning to find that your temperature had spiked to 100.2° and every movement caused a wave of nausea, you took off the rest of the week, planning to sleep and drink tea until you recovered. Tez, bless his blackened heart, refused to leave your side, asking a million questions to get you to describe your various aches and pains to him, unless it was to get you something you needed, or he thought you needed, in the case of the bowl of entrails he had offered as dinner (according to him, such things as the heart of the morning’s first crowing cock, and stomach of a newly felled boar were surefire cures for any failing of the mortal body, but you felt no desire to test his theory, or ask where and how he had gotten the ingredients).

You grumbled again, bemoaning the whole disaster to yourself, and finally found a position that was comfortable to nap in, falling quickly into a deep and hopefully restful sleep.

~

A few hours later, much sooner than you wanted, you were jolted awake by Teziral bursting into your room. You flinched and moaned at the stab through your brain caused by the sound of the door slamming into the wall.

“WHY HAVE YOU BEEN PRETENDING THIS IS NOTHING SERIOUS BELOVED ONE?!” he shrieked, rushing to the bed and dropping so that he was at something closer to eye level.

“If you don’t shut. up. I am breaking up with you and banishing you back to the Void,” you growled through pain-clenched teeth, trying to pull as far from him as possible.

His shadowy form, which had been spreading to fill more of the room, as he often did when he got particularly worked up, shrank rapidly until he was rail thin, more a line than an humanoid outline.

“Beloved One,” there was a hitch in his voice, “I am sorry to cause you more pain, but I have terrible news…” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.

You pinched your eyes shut momentarily in discomfort, now both physical and emotional. “What is it Tez?” you asked in concern, studying his face.

His glowing amber eyes were round and wide and stared at you with an intensity you had rarely seen before. You noticed their light wavier, just slightly, as if…was he crying? Could he cry? The strange newness of the situation was enough to make you pick your head up from the pillow and lean toward him. One hand curled gently around your shoulder and pushed you back to the bed.

“Please don’t move, Beloved One, it could make things worse for you.” He hesitated before ever so gently pulling himself onto the bed beside you, impossibly long limbs curling around you protectively. “I have been doing research into mortal ailments. I wanted to know what was happening to you so that I could properly help, since you did not want the entrails I brought you and everything I did seemed to make you worse—”

You gently placed a finger over where his lips should be, silencing him. “Tez, it’s okay. You meant well, and it made me feel better knowing you were looking out for me.” You felt him sigh beneath your hand and smiled softly, snuggling down into the crevice of where his torso met the mattress. “All I needed was some rest. I’m still not in top shape, but I feel better than I did before my nap. Just…stay laying here with me and relax. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“Beloved One,” he said solemnly, taking your hands in his and pressing them to the center of his heart, “I will stay beside you until the end if that is what you wish…”

You hummed contentedly before his words fully registered, at which point you pulled back, frowning at him in confusion. “Don’t say it like that Tez,” you joke uncomfortably, “you make it sound like I’m dying.”

He turned his head away from you. “That is what I have been trying to tell you Beloved One. I have consulted the Dr. Web about your symptoms. He says that they are a brain hemorrhage and that death is likely to occur. I will not lose you, Beloved One. Not now or ever. Not to this thing which tortures you…but I wanted to speak with you and memorize your every detail before I go…just in case you…” his voice waivered as he spoke, unconsciously pulling you tighter to him, as if he needs every part of himself to touch you.

“Wait, what are you talking about Tez? Who is Dr. Web? And why are you and he jumping to the worst possible case scenario instead of considering the logical option that I have a cold?” Your voice is muffled by the fact that your face is pressed gently to his chest by one long hand tangled gently in your hair and resting against the back of your head.

“Dr. Web. The one in your computer. I typed in all the things you told me were wrong and his answer was the first to come up. He said brain hemorrhage and when I used the mouse to ask for more it said that your vessel was broken and killing cells. Your pain is from pooling of your blood and pressure. Even if I were to take you to him, wherever he is, you could lose brain function or die!” the last word wrenched from your lover’s throat like a sob. “But I will not allow it. I will not. I have already contacted my brethren and they have agreed to help me find a way to save you. It will cost me dearly, but any price is worth it, Beloved One.”

You sighed in frustration. “Tez, honey, you’re overreacting. I promise you, I don’t have a brain hemorrhage, I’m not dying, even though I may feel like it. It’s just a cold, humans get them all the time, especially people like me who work around children or in places that don’t get disinfected on as regular a basis as they should.”

There is a knocking sound from elsewhere in your apartment. Tez slowly unfolds himself, reluctantly letting you go and standing up from the bed. “The first of my brethren has arrived.” He bends to kiss you, lips pressed desperately to yours. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, but at that same moment he breaks contact with you. “Rest well Beloved One. I promise you, I will fix this.” He leaves the room with near-impossible speed, the door heavily falling shut.

You blow out a long breath and flop back onto the bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Nothing you say seemed to be enough to convince Tez that this mysterious ‘Dr. Web’ was wrong and you were not dying. You supposed your only hope was that something in the process to ‘save’ you would set him right, and that his brethren wouldn’t extract too high a cost in response. A wave of dizziness washed over you and you could feel your headache slowly returning, amplified by the stress, so you closed your eyes and drifted off once more.

~

You awoke from your nap against your will for the second time, startled awake by a horrible cacophony coming from the living room. Clangs, hissing and a horrible screeching sound echoed around your apartment, accompanied by the smell of smoke. Groggily you threw back the blankets and stood, pleasantly surprised by the lack of a spinning feeling and spots in your vision.

“Tez?” You called warily, poking your head out of the bedroom. When no answer came, you ventured further, shuffling slowly down the hazy hallway toward the source of the noises, wincing as they grated on your ears and caused a throbbing in your head but determined to continue and find out what was going on.

“Tez? Honey?” you called again. “What’s going on?” You stopped in the kitchen, unable to go any further for fear of being overwhelmed by the sounds or choked by the thick, acrid air. You coughed and boosted yourself up into one of the barstools at the countertop where you and Tez often ate, resting your head and arms on the cool countertop beside your open laptop and waited for your boyfriend to answer you.

Minutes passed and the only sounds you heard were the ones that had drawn you from the bedroom and the gentle hum of your laptop’s fan.

“Dammit Tez! If you don’t answer me or get rid of whatever is causing that racket I swear I’ll…” you shouted toward the living room’s closed door. “Well I don’t know what I’ll do but it won’t be pretty!” Still no answer. “You and your brethren had better not ruin my couch with whatever it is you’re doing! If you do, I won’t be the one that needs saving! Not that I do now, but you get what I mean!” You growled in annoyance and gave up trying to draw him out. For all you knew he couldn’t even hear you over everything else. If you wanted to know what was going on, you were going to have to go in there.

You braced your hands against the counter, steeling yourself to move again when a thought occurred to you. You settled back into your seat and ran a finger across your mousepad, waking the screen and gasping. Suddenly everything made sense. You rolled your eyes and winced when it sent pain shooting through your head again. Of course Tez thought you were dying of a brain hemorrhage, the overdramatic corn-ball had been searching your symptoms on WebMD.

“Why does this stupid site always put the worst things first anyway?” you muttered, pushing back to your feet. Now that you knew the whole story, it was time to interrupt the ritual.

The wooden door felt scorching to the touch as you pushed it open, straining against some force trying to keep you out. A horrific red light painted your entire living room a bloody glow and hot, foul-smelling winds swirled around the circle of seven shadows, all identical to Tez and blending into one another at the edges.

“Tez!” You called, forcing yourself to step closer. “Tez! Stop whatever this is now! Please!”

As one, the demons turned to you, a rainbow of glowing pairs of eyes watching you closely. You locked eyes with two points of orange.

“Tez,” you said intently, reaching out for him. He hesitated and shook his head slightly. “Beloved One, I cannot break the circle or all this will be for nothing and I could lose you…” he said mournfully.

The topaz-eyed demon tilted its head to study you. Then from its depths a laugh like birdsong rang out. In a voice you recognized as belonging to Relora, the only one of Teziral’s sisters that you had met, the demon mocked your boyfriend.

“Oh Beloved One, I would die without you!” she raised her hands dramatically before letting them drop to her sides and turning to her brother. “I always thought you were the inspiration behind…what was that character of Will’s called again?”

“Which one?” a gravelly voice, which you thought came from the violet-eyed demon opposite Relora, asked.

“The whiny, stupid one that got himself killed for no reason over a girl.”

“Romeo.”

“Yes! That’s the one,” she snapped razor-tipped talons. “And now you’re acting just like him, Tezzy.”

“What are you talking about?” Teziral snapped peevishly.

Relora stepped out of the circle, drawing a terrified gasp from Tez, and moved over to you, draping one long arm over your shoulders. “Your ‘Beloved One’ isn’t dying.” She snapped. “There’s no evidence anywhere in this adorable mortal shell. Although there is a bit of a hint of it on the breath, but more like the eating corpses kind than the death rattle kind.” She waved a hand dramatically in front of her face.

“I’ve been sleeping off a cold,” you said with a mock-glare. “Sorry I haven’t got minty-fresh breath right now.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I can suffer through it. Just maybe, point that way,” she gently gripped your chin to point your face away from her. “Or hold your breath?”

“What are you talking about?” Tez was still upset and getting more worked up by the minute. “What do you know of mortal ailments Relora?”

“Enough to see the obvious.”

“But I asked the doctor in your computer, Beloved One. Dr. Web. I thought if he was in the device you use so often he must know you well and…”

Your laughter cut him off and you walked to his side without trouble now that the winds had died down, the sounds had faded, and your living room was, mostly, back to normal. You wrapped your arms around his torso and looked up at him.

“My sweet, idiot demon,” you said softly. He made a grunt of protest at your affectionate insult but said nothing as his arms came down to wrap around you as well. “WebMD is an informational database meant to give people a better idea of what to talk to their doctors about, what sort of questions to ask, what warning signs to look out for if they think something is wrong. It’s just a program, so it uses the information you put in to create a list of every possible thing that could have those symptoms, or any combination of them. It’s…far from a fool-proof system and should never be a first source.”

“But…how was I supposed to know…” he sighed grumpily.

“I know you were trying to help, but maybe next time, just listen to me?”

He nodded. “Of course Beloved One. I am so sorry.”

“Good,” you smiled and shifted to lean back against him to look at the others. “Thank you all,” you say hesitantly, unsure how formally you need to address them. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you were all willing to come here and help Teziral. But if I’m being honest, 'now that the crisis is averted, I would love to just have a peaceful quiet home back and take a nap?”

The demons nodded as one. And then Relora chuckled. “Yeah sure, enjoy your ‘nap’ you two. We don’t want to be around while it’s happening anyway.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the odd sight of her trying to do air quotes with an extra joint on each of her fingers.

One by one, the demons nodded to you again and walked through what should have been a closet door, disappearing. The last of them, the red-eye demon, paused before passing through.

“It was nice to meet you Teziral’s Mate. Perhaps next time, it will be under better circumstances,” it hissed softly. Before you could answer, it too was gone.

“Is there a permanent portal in our closet?” you asked Tez.

“No. They will have closed it behind them after Morokon left here.”

“Good. I want to be able to get to the fuzzy blankets on the next movie night without ending up in another plane.”

Teziral laughed. “If you had gone somewhere, I would have come for you.”

“I know. But why waste the effort? I’m not going to ask what you were about to do in here, because I have a feeling I really don’t want to know. But I wasn’t kidding about the nap. Are you coming?”

He nodded before sweeping you off your feet to carry you back to the bedroom. “Now that I know you’re not dying, I want you to rest as much as possible so you are well and no longer in pain. There are…more interesting things we could do with your time off than tiptoe around in the dark and try to avoid making you wince.”

It’s the first time you’ve dated a demon and it’s also the first time you’ve gotten sick since you’ve been together. A fever paired with a throbbing headache has you hiding in bed for most of the day, trying to sleep whatever bug you caught, off. Your demon lover, on the other hand, is beside themselves and has turned to Google and WebMD on how best to take care of you. They now think you are dying because of your symptoms and are devising a way to save you.

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

And now for one last test post, which is also a PSA

Hopefully I will have my first fic up some time tomorrow. I just have to give it another edit through first.

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

Hi, I hope this isn't a bother, but you're such a good writer and I'd love some advice. I'm trying to get into writing more original works (especially monster fics now that I've realized how much fun they can be) but I'm not good at coming up with names and I'm scared that it will ruin things for my reader if I have, like a minotaur named Dave or something. So I guess my question is where/how do you come up with names for your characters?

Fantasy name generator is a great place to go. It’s has them narrowed down by race, which is pretty cool. Also, I just pick names that I like personally. I mean, I have a minotaur named Duffy. I don’t think the name will bother people too much if the story is compelling enough. I could name a demon strawberry shortcake, and people would probably love that.

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

due to personal reasons, i will now stare at a blank word doc for 8 hours