smokersdilemma

[smokersdilemma]

♢- midterms are over with, so i'll try to be focusing a bit more on writing. ♢- though, i'll probably take time off for family soon; i'm sure you understand why. ♢- thank you for being patient! <3

[smokersdilemma]

SMOKER'S DILEMMA (2)

⚠- Trypophobia, disturbing imagery and light violence.

It was a rough night for Rocket, the discomfort of the tight feeling in his lungs was mostly the thing that kept him from sleeping peacefully. Though, it gave him the excuse to stay wrapped up in Sword's embrace, so that made it more bearable at the very least. His wings were always a nice touch.

The morning wasn't much different. Turns out Medkit stopped over pretty early, as he got woken up by both coughing and the feeling of an oxygen mask being forced onto his face. Why? Apparently it was supposed to help with his breathing-that’s what Medkit said anyway, and who was he to argue? It was early and he was the doctor here, not him. For some reason, Medkit seemed to be murmuring things about something being 'strange' and another thing about smoke.

If he was more awake, maybe he would've cared more about the statement.

Thankfully though, they at least let him wake up more before they continued talking about more important things. Not like he didn't understand them, just that they didn't process. Regardless, he explained what he saw last night, and as he continued, Medkit's eyebrows furrowed in skepticism. "He didn't have his horns?" Rocket only shook his head. Medkit crossed his arms, leaning back in his stance. "I don't know about that. You could've just not seen them. It was dark, wasn't it?" He did bring up a fair point. What if he didn't see them? Zuka did paint his horns black, so maybe it was really just harder to see..

But that didn't explain the smoke. And that's what worried him most.

"I don't think that kind of smoke can condense like that, can it?" Sword piped up, his wing slightly tightening around Rocket. Medkit tilted his head in contemplation. "It shouldn't. Especially not in a house with circulation." He squinted and brought one of his hands up to put it under his chin, tapping his foot quietly on the ground. He shifted his one-eyed gaze back to Rocket. "You said there was more smoke coming from him?"

"It looked like it." The response only made Medkit huff in frustration, closing his eye in thought. "Look," Medkit started, opening back up his eye. "We'll go back to see Zuka. If there wasn't anything wrong, you've wasted my time." There was an underlying hint of a threat under his words, but it was.. decently normal, coming from him. Rocket quietly laughed nervously. "Haha.. I got it.."

They made sure everything was alright (mostly with Rocket, making sure his lungs felt fine) before they left. As the three of them were walking, Rocket couldn't help but notice the faint sight of smoke rising. Someone must be having a fire, he thought, but shrugged it off. It was normal for demons more used to the heat to start fires, especially around this time.

When they got back to his home, he frowned at the realization he never closed the door in his panic last night. Oops. On the bright side though, he didn't see much more of the smoke, though it seemed some of it was slowly and steadily rolling out of the house. It was weird it hadn't all filtered out already, given the amount of time the door had been open. But… he could faintly hear the shuffling inside, just as he had heard before. It made him shiver. Sword seemed to notice his unease and stepped closer to his side. Letting their shoulders touch, he looked down at him with a concerned look. Rocket only gave a reassuring smile, to which the other gave a small nod and turned focus back ahead.

Medkit watched the smoke that ran out of the door carefully and silently. He lifted his gaze to look up at the door. It was quiet. Too quiet. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, there was a low growl from somewhere within. It seems whatever is in there knows they're here. Rocket felt a familiar shiver down his spine. Luckily, it was bright enough outside so that there wasn't a need to turn on the house lights. After just… waiting for a bit, Medkit gave a small hand gesture to let them know they could continue on.

It was.. hazy inside, to say the least. Foggy, hard to see much, and the strong smell of cigarette smoke was still enough to give Rocket the urge to cough again. And, he couldn't help but notice that ever since the quiet growl could be heard inside, Medkit had been more on edge. Though, it didn't take a genius to know why someone might be more defensive after hearing that. It didn't sound like an animal or anything either, more of a demon-more feral than anything.

They continued walking on. Along some of the walls, there was this black, tar-like liquid. Sprayed around haphazardly, or just in puddles or smears. He couldn't help but notice that some of these smears, especially on the walls, looked like hand marks or claw marks. The ones on the ground had trailing footprints as well.

The strange noises were getting louder as they went closer to a hall. The smoke also seemed to condense more, making it much darker than it should be. Something was telling his instincts that maybe it wasn't a good idea to be sticking around here for long. They barely went down the hall before Medkit put his arm out to the side to block them from walking further.

"Wh-" Rocket started, but was rudely interrupted by a quick hiss from Medkit. "Quiet." The seriousness of the tone caught him off guard, so it effectively shut him up. On the floor, just a bit away from them, looked like.. a horn. Black on the outside, but an azure blue on the inside, like the outside was painted. He hesitated to look up from it, but did anyways.

But that's when he saw It.

Just beyond the discarded horn, there was someone-no, something. He took a step back, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth as he stared into the eyes of this thing. That's why the sound of breathing was louder. That's why there was more smoke. He felt nausea build up in the pit of his stomach. "Deities above-" He only whispered before backing more into Sword, who was staring wide-eyed at the creature in front of them.

Why did he look so... different now?

Medkit gripped his revolver that rested in its holster on his belt, eye trained carefully on the Thing that was before them. It looked like Zuka. It probably was, if he didn't know any better. His arms, elongated with various holes in different sizes, seemed to shake and breathe as it held itself up.

Then it spoke. Near breathless, strained and barely audible, but it succeeded in making his hands shake.

"ₛₒₙ"

"ᵢ'ₘ ₛₒᵣᵣy"

"dₒ yₒᵤ fₒᵣgᵢᵥₑ ₘₑ?"

He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. It sounded just like Zuka. He was brought out of his trance by the sound of something clicking quietly. The safety of a gun. He cautiously looked over to his side to see Medkit raising the revolver to aim down the hall.

…Something made his legs move. He didn't want to, so why was he? He stepped away from Sword's warm side and in front of the Thing-no, Zuka. He was in there. He.. just knew it.

"Rocket?!" Sword flinched as he too was brought out of the scared trance from the sight before him. "Don't shoot him!" He disregarded the worry and fear that was evident on Sword's face, the way the feathers on his wings seemed to fluff out. He held his arms out to protect Zuka and to shield him from the gun's barrel. "Rocket. Move." Medkit didn't drop the steady aim of the gun, eye narrowing.

"He's still there! You'd be killing him!" The words flowed from his mouth. He felt like he wasn't in control of his body anymore, and it freaked him out. This was his body, so why did he feel like he was in the backseat?

The breathing got more ragged and picked up in speed behind him, increasing the breathing down his neck as he heard snapping as well. Sword moved his hand to the scabbard of his.. well, sword. His expression had hardened as he looked at Zuka behind him. In swift movement, he unsheathed his sword and went past Medkit, who looked startled himself.

He practically stabbed Zuka and brought him away from him. Behind him, there were screams of breathless agony, a mixture of feral growls, hisses and screams. When he felt the contact of Sword's hands and arms around him, he was brought back to the front seat of his own body. His mind barely processed the sounds of a gun firing and the talking of the other two. He was fixated on the figure of… this thing once more. Eyes glued onto it's hollow sockets. Even though he couldn't see his eyes, he knew that they were looking directly into his.

He had to be practically dragged out of the house by Sword, his hands shaking as he sheathed his sword and made sure to hold him firmly and securely. He wanted to deny everything that happened since last night. This was a sick and crude dream, it had to be.

But he knew, deep down, it wasn't.

[smokersdilemma]

♢- new part in the morning.

♢- next one after that may take longer to get out as midterms are coming up.

[smokersdilemma]

SMOKER'S DILEMMA

(1)

It was a cold night in Crossroads, expected as the seasons were changing from the warm summer to the cool fall, as evident by the recent changing of colors of the surrounding foliage. Rocket walked down the pathway with Sword, who insisted on walking him home. It was a usual routine, a comforting one, even though they both knew they could protect themselves if anything were to happen.

…Not that anything would, of course. They were high enough up from the lower rings that it was extremely uncommon. Still, there was always a chance, and Sword was determined to protect him. Rocket smiled to himself.

"Call me if you need anything, 'kay?" Sword stopped in front of Rocket's house, giving a small kiss to his temple. Rocket made a feigned indignant huff, pushing Sword's face away from his own with a pout. "I got it, I got it! You let me know that a lot." Sword only smiled and pushed him forward. "I know! Can't blame me though." Sword winked and Rocket rolled his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips, as reluctant and hidden as it was. Rocket walked up to the front door, waving goodbye to Sword and unlocking the door.

Preparing to take off the bandanna that was covering his mouth and nose to protect it from the cold and crisp air, he unlocked the door. He knew Zuka would probably be waiting by the door, disappointed in him being home so late. Though, it was mostly just parental instincts, Rocket figured. He's an adult now, so he'd calmed down on the worry. Or maybe he would be happy to see him, seeing as he hasn't been able to be home for a few days since he's been busy with Phights-much to Zuka's disappointment. Though, when he opened the door, he was instead met with the darkness of the house. Odd.. He could have sworn Zuka would have been home. These thoughts scattered when he was hit with a pillow of some kind of heavy air. He recoiled quickly, stepping back away from the door and to the side, coughing as the sudden shock of a bit of strange gas filled his lungs. It… smelled familiar, in a strange way. He'd smell something similar on Zuka before, but… this was different. Something made a chill go down his spine. Something wasn't right, that much he knew. He watched this strange gas flowed out from the door and move across the concrete with a thick fluid-like consistency. As Rocket watched it, he only grew more confused. But he knew one thing was for certain-

This was smoke.

And not just any regular smoke from a fire, but.. why? Zuka didn't smoke around him or in the house, he knew how bad second-hand smoke was. And… this was too much. How did the smoke condense so much that it filled the house like water? It shouldn't be possible. He couldn't imagine what it was like inside the house. The smell of the cigarettes outruled any other possible explanation for what it could be. He froze when he heard a shift from inside the house, made more clear with the silence of the area.

What if that was Zuka? Was he okay?

Gripping his trusty rocket launcher with a newfound resolve, he entered his home, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Why was he so nervous? Phights were much more dangerous than this, and this was his own home too! Steeling himself and making sure the bandanna was secure around his mouth and nose for his own comfort, he stepped into the smoke-filled home.

It was dark, and the air was suffocating. His lungs felt like they were being pressed down, the fresh oxygen being wrung out of them like a wet rag. He suppressed a cough, not wanting to inhale much of.. whatever this is. Making sure to breathe shallowly, he continued on.

"Dad?" He called out into the darkness, the light from the door illuminating some of the curling smoke that filled the room. It was impossibly both hot, cold and humid in the room, that or it was from the cold sweat he started to get. Something about this was really, really wrong. He hesitated as he started to walk around the living room, wanting nothing more than to find his dad, or just leave. But he couldn't.

He listened as he looked around, the shifting of the sound he heard of earlier starting to become louder. This continued, until eventually he started to hear breathing.

… Breathing?

Something was behind him. It was coming from behind him, there was something breathing behind him. He could feel the air on the back of his neck, the way more smoke seemed to curl up from behind as well, confirmed by the light that poured in from the still open door and the streetlights. He could feel his heart start to speed up, the feeling of icy fear and hot adrenaline coursing through his veins simultaneously. Something was telling him to run, telling him to GET OUT-

He lifted his gaze up to a wall mirror instinctively, gazing into the reflection. The soft, idle blue glow illuminating a small area around him. But one thing caught his attention. Not the smoke, or the haunted look in his eyes, but the confirmation that something was behind him. He recognized the figure and he knew it well.

…He was missing his horns.

He didn't hesitate any more. In a burst of movement, he quickly exited the house, not even daring to steal a glance behind him, he just couldn't. He just wanted to go, go somewhere safe, because something was seriously wrong here.

He quickly dialed Sword's number once he was a large distance away from the smoke-ridden home, just praying that he'd pick up. Tapping his foot and pacing, he just wanted to hear his comforting voice. Eventually, Sword picked up, sounding a bit groggy. He must've woken him up by accident.

"Mmnh? Rocket..?" Sword's voice rang out from the speaker like a soothing balm, making Rocket exhale a breath he didn't know he was holding and relax his tense shoulders slightly. "Sword! Something's wrong with dad-with Zuka- I-I don't know what it is, there was all this smoke and-" Rocket was cut off from his nonsensical rambling by Sword, his voice cutting through his thoughts like a sharp knife. "Rocket! Slow down!"

He explained the situation to Sword while pacing around the area he was currently taking refuge in. Passing demons probably thought he was insane, on drugs, or both. He didn't blame them either. Sword decided he had heard enough of this over the phone and offered for Rocket to come over for the night, and maybe stay until everything gets figured out. Sword has suggested getting Medkit, but any decision would probably have to be made tomorrow.

Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't seen Broker, knowing he tended to linger around him and Zuka. He never trusted him, but he was.. worried that he might've been related to this. For now, he decided that he would deal with it in the morning, the totally responsible adult he was, and headed to Sword's who welcomed him with opened arms. And also a thorough check to make sure he was okay. In all honesty, he still felt like his lungs were tight. Maybe it was the cold, but he had to fight down the constant urge to cough constantly. He was sure he'd feel better in the morning, but Sword only shook his head and told him that he'd have Medkit check him out as well tomorrow.

Well, there was no arguing with him once he set his mind to things.

He couldn't get the previous sight out of his mind. He didn't know if he was going insane, or the fatigue of recent Phights catching up to him, but… seeing Zuka without his horns haunted him. It shouldn't be possible. He'd be dead, right? Right..?

…

He shook off the thought. He didn't want to think about it right now.

[smokersdilemma]

♢- hi i'm makos. ♢- they/them.

⚞- this is a phighting infection au that'll mostly be written with maybe some drawings sprinkled in here and there. (all my original art) ⚞- asks will eventually be open. more detail about it will come then. ⚞- i'm bad at personality stuff so if i mischaracterize anyone then oopsies (if it's like. really bad. lmk.) ⚞- no set release dates for new chapters.

au stuff below

⚠- trypophobia, strong language, violence and disturbing imagery. ^ not here, obviously, just some warnings. i'll put a warning at the start of a chapter if it applies. ☾- swocket is canon here, up to interpretation for any other relationships outside of them. ☾- i'll be implementing my own hcs. small example; russian subspace

i'll add tags for filtering when things get more crowded.