|I think this is my most popular deviation. Didn't do the picture, but I made the story.|
“Come now Shizu-chan, you've gotta have better aim than that if you want to hit me~” The teasing of the black haired male simply drove his attacker into even more of a rage. The soda machine, which the other had thrown in an attempt to seemingly murder the nuisance, smashed to the ground right where he was standing a moment before. It would've been plain idiotic to remain in harm's way, so of course he moved. The mechanisms inside the metal casing rattled and sprung out of place, causing can upon can of various sodas to tumble out. The one with black hair walked over to the busted machine, picking up one of the cans and tapping on the top several times as he turned to face the other again. His reddish-brown eyes lock with his opponent's hazel ones as he popped open the top of the can, his regular smug expression turning to a bit of a smirk. “Or is it you don't want to hit me? Is the monster of Ikebukuro starting to have feelings other than anger?” he chuckled, tilting his head back slightly as he took a sip from the soda. It wasn't particularly good in his opinion, far too sweet. Orange soda with an excessive amount of sugar. Though, he still didn’t mind it. Soda was soda after all.
His foe, the affectionately nicknamed “Shizu-chan”, seemed to be growing red with anger. Not only was this person taunting him, but he also had a habit of messing up everything he got near. “Dammit… Stay still so I can kill you!” he shouted, looking around for something else to throw. He looked from a medium-sized car, to the crowd of people that had gathered to watch the fight, to a street mail box. No, none of the objects would hit him easily. And he'd already thrown all the signs in the general area, so that wasn't an option. Though, he soon noticed a streetlight near to him that hadn’t yet been ripped from the concret. Rather large around the middle like a log, and tall as well. He walked over to it, grasping onto both sides of the metal with his hands, and beginning to pull the fixture completely from the ground. “Izaya…” he growled out behind clenched teeth, looking at the cocky male with pure, animalistic anger in his eyes. The underground wires that connected to the light stretched and snapped, letting the metal pole be uprooted. The man turned the street lamp so that he held it above his head sideways. He then moved his arms back a bit, before forcefully chucking the heavy object at his foe. “Just die already!”
Izaya, the man casually drinking soda, just kept his smug smile. Though he was actually a bit annoyed. He saw “Shizu-chan” as nothing more than a monster, something that wasn’t anywhere close to the humans he loves so dearly. And yet, even someone as animalistic as he seemed to be learning Izaya’s patterns of dodging. With the way the lamp post was thrown, he couldn’t effectively dodge left or right without being hit. And ducking under it was far too risky as it could completely crush his skull if he wasn’t careful. Though, he could still move backwards. Lazily, he dropped the can of soda onto the ground, allowing the large amount of sugary liquid to spill onto the pavement, it reflecting a light orange color in the sunlight. He placed his now free hand into his pocket, jumping backwards slightly as he did so. He watched with a grin as the post crashed to the ground where he had once been, the large bulb shattering as it did so. Izaya landed smoothly on the ground, chuckling faintly as he sighed, moving his shoulders up slightly in a shrugging motion. “Like I said earlier Shizuo, you really need to work on that aim of yours.” he states plainly, a cocky undertone lining his words. He watched calmly as the other became even more enraged by the comment, enjoying every moment of watching his anger build up. His grin faded however, when he heard a loud and blaring noise coming from his left. He looked down towards the ground, taking notice that he was on the road now, rather than the sidewalk. He turned his head slightly to see if someone was waiting on him to move, though his eyes widened at the sight of a large transportation truck barreling down the road in his direction, going far too fast for the speed limit of the road. It wasn’t slowing either it seemed. Panic crossed his face as he tried to move out of the way, though he wasn’t fast enough. Pain shot through his entirety as the front grill of the vehicle slammed against his body, sending him skidding across the asphalt.
Shizuo had watched all of this, his anger slowly beginning to fade from his face. Sure, he could easily survive a truck crashing into him, but Izaya wasn’t anywhere near as strong. He hadn’t even had the chance to brace himself for the impact, much less avoid it. As much as he wanted to see the smug bastard hurt, he didn’t want him to really die. At least, not in this situation. He could easily be blamed for his death in this case. He never wanted to have blood on his hands, not even Izaya’s. He took a hesitant step forward, unsure if he really wanted to see if his foe was alive or not. He watched as the truck that had run into the other sped off down the road, not stopping to see if Izaya was alright. He figured it was someone else that the information broker had managed to piss off, which didn't really narrow the search at all to be honest. Some would even say that he had it coming due to all the shady business he deals in.
The crowd that had gathered to watch the fight between the two had moved to the sidewalk, some even in the road. Many pulled out their phones, trying to call up an ambulance for the injured male, though among them were the ones who just took pictures of the seen. Some people even went over to Shizuo, asking a variety of questions. “Why'd you throw that at him?”. “Did you plan for the truck to run him over?” Questions and statements akin to that rang in the air, awaiting a response that would not come. Shizuo clenched his fist tightly, biting down on the bottom of his lip for a moment as he tried to push past the growing crowd. His eyes scanned the street, looking for where Izaya might have landed. He took notice of a thin stretch of blood, as well as some scattered pieces of jeans fabric, both from him skidding on the rough ground. Yet, there was no body. He let the stress in his hand release as he looked up and around. He couldn't have just vanished after all. And if he did survive, it makes sense that he'd try to get away from there. Izaya and hospitals never seemed to get along, probably due to how vulnerable he was while in them. Going into one after this kind of event was the same as putting a large target onto his back. As Shizuo looked for the man, he managed to catch a glimpse of a black jacket with gray fur rimmed on the bottom of it escape into an alleyway. It was rather easy to recognize it as the rather wealthy man’s jacket. It always had looked somewhat expensive, perhaps even custom made. He clenched his jaw, proceeding to try and make his way over there. He was, however, stopped by even more of a crowd. They had questions like the others, but these ones were more persistent. Likely a mix of reporters and bloggers, all itching to turn a tragedy into a profitable story.
In the distraction, Izaya had managed to limp his way further into the alley, leaning back against the wall. He was holding onto his left arm tightly, making sure it hurt enough to keep him conscious. He could tell that the bones in his arm were broken now due to pain that pulsed through it. That truck had hit him with a devastating force after all. Broken arm, fractured ribs, a bleeding head, and no doubt some internal bleeding as well. He didn't have time to wait for an ambulance, he'd be dead by then. “Dammit…” he mummered to nobody in particular. He was angry, but not at the driver, not even at Shizuo. He was mad at himself for not paying attention to where he was. He'd gotten so caught up in taunting his opponent that he'd forgotten to look out for any others that might want him dead.
He wanted to slump back, to just let himself rest in these fading moments, but he refused. He released his broken arm, instead reaching up and pressing his fingertips to the source of the blood that dripped down his head. He turned to the wall he had been leaning against, beginning to draw a circle with the red liquid. Once that was done, he drew an upside down star in the center of it. The process took time, but he was determined to do this. He wouldn't accept his death, not when it was a result of his own stupidity. When he had finished the pentagram, he placed his hand over it, leaning slightly against the wall once again as he did so. He slowly started to slide down, smearing the symbol as he did so. But before it was broken, it started glowing a faint dark purple shade.
On the opposing wall, a crack formed, slowly opening up to reveal a large void, with that same color of violet swirling within it. Izaya kept his eyes locked on the emptiness, wanting to walk into it, if only to see where would lead him to. Yet, most all of the feeling in his legs had dissipated into nothing. The limbs that he relied on the most were now useless sticks of broken flesh in his eyes. He simply waited, moving his mostly intact arm so that he could once again grab hold of his broken one. He needed to keep feeling something, and pain was as close as he was going to get right now. After all, if he lost consciousness it would all be over. He'd die in that alley, be buried in the ground, and rot away into nothing. His soul would no doubt be eternally damned, and he didn't really like the idea of burning for eternity. He wouldn't mind it if it meant he could still exist, but there was a better alternative that was more promising. He just watched that portal on the wall and waited for something to happen.
Soon his patience seemed to pay off. A tall figure, one that would tower over him even if he were standing, exited the empty void. The first thing that Izaya took notice of was the piercing red eyes, ones that seemed to glow in the darkness of the alley. Their brightness was a heavy contrast to the dark, almost licorice colored hair that messily topped his head. The figure, with the appearance of male, seemed to have a face of rather soft features, at least in the dim lighting. That face, however, did not become Izaya's point of focus. After taking note of the eyes and hair, his attention was instead drawn to his inhuman features. Like the somewhat thick horns that went out from the side of his head, and moved upward and outward, ending in a sharp point. They seemed to have rings on them, each one leading to a decrease in size, though this was mostly speculation from Izaya, as his vision was beginning to blur. He took a quick note of the large wings that the man seemed to have folded in slightly, black as well, but with a bit of a gray towards the bottom of the membrane. And, as if to complete the look, he also had a tail that swayed behind him, the tip of it ending with an arrowhead that looked like it could slice someone open if need be. Izaya didn't need to identify all of this mentally, he knew who, and what, he has called here. After all, this man was an old acquaintance of his. Keiji Rey Haruki, the demonic general of hell.
“Yeesh.” the demon mused, crossing his arms in front of his body. “You've certainly looked better Izaya.” He was smirking. The information broker didn't even have to look at him to know this either. He knew the other’s personality. Keiji would mock him for his human nature, as usual, uncaring if he was dying or not. After all, this creature would happily drag his soul to hell if the urge struck him. And that's just what he wanted.
Izaya coughed, half to clear his throat, and half because blood was beginning to leak into his lungs. He'd die soon, and he had accepted that fact. He knew how to prevent it from being eternal though. “I've felt far better too…” he sighed. He had to get the other to focus, or he'd die without getting what he wanted from him. “But I didn't call you here for idle chatter. I want to make a deal with you.” His own reddish brown eyes locked with the demon's glowing ones, as if to show that he was serious. Demon deals, after all, were something that was not to be joked about.
Keiji paused a bit at that, expression dropping for a moment, before it returned to his usual smirk upon realization. He knew what the other was implying. Izaya had never had the slightest urge to deal with him before after all. He still wanted to mess with the dying man a bit though. “What, you looking to stay outta hell or something?” He chuckled and rolled his eyes after saying this. “You know, most people try to call angels when they want to be saved. You're one of the only people I know who'd call a demon.”
“I don't want salvation. I'm too far gone for that. Give me eternal damnation…. But as a demon, not a soul.” he states, a small smile forming upon his face. It wasn't exactly forced, but he did hurt still, quite a bit actually. He just wanted the pain to end. He'd lose his soul to have his body survive, and he didn't mind. There were questions to be asked, like what would happen if he died as a demon, though that didn't matter now. The one thing on his mind was survival.
The demon couldn't help it, he laughed aloud, putting a hand to his head as he swooped his messy hair out of his face. His pearly teeth were very much visible as he did so. His canines were sharper than normal, as we're all of the others that lined his jaw. They looked like they could crush bone if he were to bite down hard enough. “That's a pretty tall order. I need to know what you'll give me in return. I can't exactly have your soul if you're a demon, so that's out of the question.” He shrugs his shoulders a bit, placing his left hand in his pants pocket. He was rather amused by this, as he often was by the other's actions. This human was, after all, the type of person who’d burn this city down out of pure boredom.
Izaya thought for a moment, wanting to find something that could also benefit him. It's what he did. If he bargained with someone, he made sure that any outcome would work out for him no matter what the other party did. As his mind whirred, he recalled that in the past Keiji had said that newly made demons were violent and unstable. Apparently they needed time to learn to control themselves. “...I'll work for you for a few years. You pick how many.” He had to swallow his pride for that. He liked his work, not so much working for others. But he knew it was the best way to get what he wanted, and to learn how to control himself when he did become a demon. After all, he couldn’t have himself going on a citywide slaughterfest. That would draw unnecessary attention to himself.
The other’s smirk faded into a smug grin. He knew what Izaya was playing at, it wasn't terribly tough to recognize. He didn't make the mistake of underestimating him after all, which many other demons would've. That very fact was probably why the two got along so well in the first place. “Heh, sounds like it could be fun.” he hummed, mostly to himself. He raised his shoulders a bit in a half shrug as he chuckled. “Alright. How about…. Three years. Then you're free to do what you want.” He spoke that as a statement, not a question. When a demon decides on something, it doesn't often change its stance on a topic. Keiji was no exception to that rule.
The slowly dying information broker thought on it for a few moments. He knew he'd gotten a good deal right off the bat. He was also aware that Keiji had only been so generous since they already knew one another. Any other demon would've demanded ten years at the least, maybe even a lifetime. He was also aware that Keiji just wanted to see what he'd do with his powers. His eyes wandered to the opening of the alleyway, watching as the crowd of people began to disperse. Shizuo would likely be here soon, and he didn't want him to interrupt. “Alright, deal, just get me out of here.” he says simply, grinning slightly at the demon before him.
The taller male laughed faintly in response, walking over to Izaya. He reached down, holding out his right hand to the other. His wings opened slightly and his tail swayed behind him. It'd been awhile since he'd made a deal with someone, and especially long since it's been someone with a soul as rotten as the one before him. He was getting rather excited in all honesty, but he still kept his composure about him. “So then, do we have a deal? I make you a demon, and you loyalty serve me for three years.” he purrs, ensuring the terms were clear. Even if he was an acquittance of Izaya's, he'd have little to no problems leaving him here to bleed to death if he didn't agree.
The human smirked a bit, not hesitating as he lifted his right arm away from his left, grasping tightly to Keiji's hand, looking at him with a determined expression. He knew what he was doing. He'd thought about this in the past, and now he was doing it. “Deal.” he says calmly. The demon chuckled to himself, amused by this. He knelt down, moving his arm under the other's, helping him to stand up. He knew that Izaya would be unable to walk on his own after all, so he essentially carried him over to the black void that he had came from. As they drew closer, the human could see an entirely different world on the other side of it. Fire, damnation, a large castle that appeared to be charred. This was it. This was hell. Most would quake with fear at seeing this burning world before them, but not Izaya. He smiled, he embraced the heat, and, with Keiji's help, he walked into the portal, ready to give up his existence as a human. The swirling void began to shrink in size once they had passed fully through it, completely dissolving into nothing more than a thin crack in the stone wall of the building it had once been on. And, right as it went away, a figure entered the alley, polished shoes clacking softly against the pavement.
With the crowd having gone from the area, and no one asking him any more questions to which he gave no answers, Shizuo had managed to get to the alleyway like he had intended to a while ago. He had expected to find Izaya laying in a pool of his own blood, or slumped against the wall, unmoving. He had been prepared to face the fact that he'd caused a death, though he loathed the very idea of it. However, when he saw nothing there other than some smeared blood on the left wall, his stoic expression changed to something akin to confusion. There was no way he could've gotten that far in the condition he was in after all. He took a small, white bag out of his pocket, removing a cigarette from it and placing it between his teeth. He placed the bag back, removing a lighter instead. His hand covered the flame from any wind as he lit the rather addictive drug. He thought of where the information broker could've gotten to that quickly, but he then chuckled slightly. “He must've planned all that. Damn flea.” he murmured, cigarette still between his teeth. He put the lighter away and took hold of the white stick with two fingers. He glanced up at the sky, blowing a bit of smoke out from his mouth. “Looks like it's gonna rain…” he said to himself, turning and leaving the alley in favor of returning home. He didn't want to get his suit pointlessly soaked after all.
He passed by several cop cars and an ambulance, the police men opting to ignore him. They didn't really bother with trying to control the damage Shizuo caused anymore, and they didn't have any way to pin him to a murder. After all, all the witnesses did see the truck as the only thing to have successfully hit Izaya in that fight. He scoffed a bit, knowing that they wouldn't find any body. He was convinced that the information broker would be back to his regular crap in a week's time. Yet he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach, something that was telling him that he was wrong, that he wasn't accepting the facts before him. He tried to ignore that sinking feeling, but it just refused to go away.
Weeks passed, no sign of Izaya. The police continued to search, claiming publicly that he had gone missing. Shizuo was just waiting patiently for the flea to show himself again. He knew he would, he always did after all. He convinced himself that this is how Izaya was, he's vanish for a long time, then return when he got bored. Needless to say, he was relatively unconcerned.
Months passed, no sign of Izaya. Even the gangs were now starting to fall apart without his help. Everyone who knew Izaya was starting to get nervous, except for Shizuo of course. He has a feeling he had just gone into hiding for the time being, maybe to get away from the no doubt angry gangs. He did, however, find that his anger issues were getting even worse without some kind of effective outlet for it. He had somewhat relied upon the other for having a focus for his violent tendencies. And now, without something to direct it at, he was far worse off than before.
It took a year to pass before the police opted to close the case completely, pronouncing him as dead. They stopped searching, letting the news stories take over in getting the word out. Papers that had previously been reporting about the gangs crumbling, as well as circulating rumors about the missing Izaya Orihara, were now getting word out about his apparent and mysterious death. Some mentioned the large truck as the primary suspect, and others jabbed at Shizuo, claiming that he was the one to cause the death. A few claimed that the gangs were behind it, but those reports were few in number despite being entirely possible. People love a good story after all, not a taste of reality, and the threat of gangs as of late was very much real.
Izaya’s sisters, despite them claiming to be fine with him dying in the past, did actually suffer a period of mourning. He had been a caretaker for them whilst their parents were overseas. And despite having messed with their heads severely, they still were glad that he had at least been there for them both. They even held a small funeral for him, only inviting people whom would notice his absence. He didn’t have many friends after all, mainly just acquaintances. In total, only eight people showed up. The twins Mairu and Kururi, Shinra, Kida, Mikado, Anri, Celty, and Shizuo. They had tried to get Simon to show up, but they he had been delivering sushi at the time they went to inform him of the time.
The ceremony was being held on a not-so-surprisingly gloomy day, over a coffin with a few of Izaya’s things in it. After all, his body was never found, forcing them to make do with what they had. One of his fur-lined coats, a pocket knife, and one of his many, many cellphones. There wasn’t much else that could serve as things that were ‘special’ to him after all. There was no preacher, as Izaya had shown no belief in religion whatsoever. As the group silently looked at the wooden casket, with its simple designs and dark color, all of them felt a bit less like themselves. Izaya had tormented them all in a variety of ways...but he had also managed to make their lives far more interesting. They all secretly dreaded falling into the lull of normal life once again.
The two sisters shared an umbrella, despite it not yet raining, not really talking to anyone as they just stared at the mostly empty coffin. They were genuinely missing their asshole of a brother, though neither wanted to admit it. Shinra seemed to be the most affected visibly when compared to the others. He and Izaya had gotten along from time to time, enough so that he would not hesitate to call the other one of his only real friends. He did not cry however. Despite his distraught mindset, he managed to keep a cork on his emotions all the same. Celty didn’t feel much of anything, not because she didn’t care, but because she was having trouble believing that Izaya was really gone for good. All of these things just didn't add up in her mind. Even when she went to investigate the alley he has vanished into, things didn't seem right. Kida, Mikado, and Anri all were having some trouble mourning the information broker’s death. They all felt bad, of course, funerals always give off the painful aura of sadness. But even in death, they all had a bit of trouble forgiving Izaya for all he did to them. He'd put all three of them against each other to an extent, he'd manipulated them out of sheer boredom. They couldn't just forget all of that. And then….there was Shizuo.
Nobody had expected him to even show up to the funeral, due to his hatred for the deceased, but he came anyways. He still wore his regular bartender outfit and stayed to the side while everyone walked up to the coffin as was custom. He smoked one of his cigarettes, just watching the display of somewhat forced mourning. Up until that moment, he’d been having trouble in believing that Izaya was actually dead. But now, seeing that dreadful box there in front of him, he was starting to think it true. After all, there was no way that he would’ve turned down an opportunity to show up at his own funeral. He loved to throw people off, and making an appearance here certainly would. Maybe he really had mistakenly killed him. Maybe it was a criminal that Izaya had managed to screw over. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. In his eyes, the blood was still on his hands for this. He’d taken a life, even if by accident. Despite his unchanging posture and expression, he felt a knot building in his stomach once again. He just wanted the ‘flea’ to step out from behind a tree, grinning his usual smug grin. Shizuo would threaten him, chase him...things would feel normal again.
Soon enough, the group began to disperse, leaving behind the bodiless coffin. The twins had hired some people to lower the box into the ground after everyone left, and now they were just waiting on Shizuo. The workers didn’t rush him though. They had no intention of getting beat to a pulp by the strongest man in Ikebukuro. The somewhat tall male walked up to the coffin now that everyone was gone. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, holding it at his side and lightly tapping it, getting some of the burnt ashes off from the end. “So…” he began, unsure of what to say to the objects. It wasn't Izaya, not even his body, but he still had to talk the objects as if they were. It was the closest that he would get to making his peace. “I guess you really are gone, huh? Damn…” His hand moved the cigarette back up again, letting him blow a puff of smoke before he let it lower once more. “Never thought I’d actually be standing over your coffin. Not as satisfying as I thought it would be….” He glanced up slightly at the sky, looking at the dark clouds overhead. They blocked the moon out, leaving it darker than the night tended to be. “Well...I guess this is it, huh Izaya?” Shizuo turned away slightly from the coffin, taking off his blue tinted sunglasses and tucking them into the black vest of his bartender outfit. “Goodbye then...It was fun...while it lasted.” he says simply, walking away from the funeral area now. He saw the group of men out of the corner of his eye, going to bury the casket since everyone else had left. He felt a tightness in his chest, as though a large void had opened up in him. He had devoted a good portion of his life to trying to kill Izaya, and now there was no way to fill that emptiness.
Two more years passed by, with very little happening in the city. Gangs were forming and disbanding, the high schoolers were getting through their classes, Shinra was working as the black market doctor he always had been, and Celty had taken it upon herself to try and keep the peace. Shizuo still had his job as a bodyguard, though his increased anger had resulted in several mandatory breaks, which he did not enjoy. All in all, however, the city was rather uneventful without Izaya there to spark anything. Things had fallen into that dreadful lull that nobody truly could enjoy. It was a boring time for most everyone...a time that would soon end. After all, it had been three whole years since the day of the truck incident.
Cywren Caster and Ryx Tyrant - 1Cywren smiles faintly as she reloads her beloved pistol, holding it steadily in her hands. She was keeping her eyes out for any Raiders as she went, since they tended to ambush people on the paths. Timebomb and Quasar were following her closely, ready to defend her from Wasteland foes. The nineteen year old girl was glancing about as they went, also searching for landmines. She despised landmines.
Timebomb, meanwhile, was smiling as he thought about the girl he followed. She had saved his life before, and then returned to check on him many times. And after saving his home, she brought him with her on her adventure. He would be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for her by now, but she didn’t seem to return the affection. Still, he intended to keep her safe, no matter what. He owed her a great debt.
The small group continued to walk along, when they heard a pained screech from nearby. “What was that!?
Jimmy Casket X ReaderYou yawned faintly, curling up in bed as you got comfortable. You had just met this nice fellow, Johnny Ghost, who had gotten rid of a pesky paranormal entity that possessed your toilets repeatedly. Yeah, it made you walk to your neighbor’s house to use their toilet for a while. The ghost hunter had been really nice and only charged you half of his usual price, which was good since you didn’t have much money. Your thoughts kept drifting to him as you adjusted yourself in bed.
“He was so nice…I’ll have to call him again to thank him later.” You said softly as you closed your eyes to fall asleep. “Johnny Ghost….” You trailed off, sleep getting hold of you with ease as you drifted off. Truth be told, you liked Ghost quite a bit. He just had this charm about him you liked.
A few hours later into the night, you felt warmth beside you in bed. Slowly waking up from your sleep, you
Jimmy Casket Takes Over
A maniacal smile played across Jimmy’s lips as he approached his next victim. He held his knife at the ready, slowly creeping towards the old man he had cornered. The man was very old and bald, with a mustache and stubble on his chin. His clothes were rather torn and old, but he still looked tough. The man was also holding a shotgun, which he had aimed at Jimmy’s head. Both of the men have heard about each other, which made this even better for the killer.
Jimmy knew his soon-to-be victim as Papa Acachalla, the man who would never stay dead. Once he had heard about him, he had grabbed his special knife and started hunting him. His ‘special’ knife was enchanted. Stolen too. Basically, whoever it killed STAYED DEAD. No coming back. No nothing. And Jimmy wanted a chance to test it out.
Papa Acachalla knew the killer as well. Jimmy Casket, serial murderer. Though, until he saw the mu
Liu CasketJeff pulled up his hood as he walked down the road. His head was down a bit, hands in his pockets. It made him look completely normal, which in turn made finding new targets an easy task. He passed by plenty of people, but none of them too interesting. Though, soon, one person caught his full attention.
A man with light brown hair and rather pale skin was walking in Jeff’s direction. He was wearing a blue hoodie with a red triangle on it. In front of the triangle was a gold-colored V. His hands were stuffed in his pants pockets and he was looking down slightly. Though, that wasn’t what had captured Jeff’s attention. It had been the faint smell of blood around the man, and the strange familiar feeling Jeff got from him.
The two people walked past each other, Jeff pausing a moment when he got a better look at the man’s face. His eyes had been closed, but it still looked like the face of none other than Je
Random Vore- Wolf Love Random Vore- Wolf Love
(Two OCs. Lycan is mine and Sheila is my friend's)
It was a pleasant afternoon. Sheila, the new Egyptian cat goddess, as well as part werewolf, was finishing the preparations for her wedding. She was going to marry a werewolf named Lycan. They were truly in love, and Lycan made sure to do everything he could to protect her and make her happy. He was fairly tall, with a thin build. He had muscles, but wasn't overly muscular. He had shaggy brown hair and enchanting green eyes. He was incredibly attractive, but very loyal to Sheila, never straying away from her. He wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans. He also wore a wolf-shaped charm around his neck. It was made of silver, but it didn't hurt him. What it did do was keep him in his human form. He isn't able to properly control his transformation, so he would be a wolf all the time if it weren't for the charm.
Lycan also happened to be the o
Random Vore- Skyrim- Silver Hand Fail Random Vore- Skyrim- Silver Hand Fail
I bolted awake suddenly, breathing heavily. My mind was fuzzy, and I was having trouble remembering what had happened. Last thing I remember, I was in a small room under the Companions' Sky Forge with two of the other Companions...but I can't remember their names. One was human, or at least looked it, and the other...a beast...a monster...a werewolf. I can't really remember our conversation, but it involved drinking the blood of a werewolf...and becoming one. For some reason, I accepted. The werewolf's wrist was cut, its blood pouring into a large stone basin. I dipped my head down and drank...that was when my mind went fuzzy.
I sighed, unable to remember anything else, and looked around. It was a small, metal cage. Like a prison cell. The only light came from a small candle, right past the cage doors. Beside me was a small hay pile, probably for sleeping