AN: So I saw a prompt for Alcor interacting with demons, and thought hey, why not a fic about Alcor facing off against a minor demon in the Dreamscape and defending his turf?
And then I pumped out this wisp of a drabble instead. Ah well. Hope it’s enjoyable.
———-
He could’ve magicked himself a gun.
This was the Dreamscape, he could do anything here. Any possibilities he could think of. Limited only by his own imagination.
(So what did it mean now that his teeth stained themselves red and eight other colors besides.)
Viscera, came the word; on his lips, on his tongue, his hands, scatter shot in his hair even. He remembered a small boy, fists clenched, up against something he’d brought forth to the world, sharp and destructive and intent on hurting. That time he’d been able put it back (bruises and pain besides (Robbie owed him so much)).
He looked at his hands again.
This he could not put back.
oh goddamn
backup 