I have always loved Loverofpiggies/CrayonQueens’ Fresh Sans. The funky lil’ gremlin lived around rent free in for brain for years. And the nature of the parasite always got me thinking, some parasites can divide and persist. So what if that happened to a particular, slang, loving friend? So i noodled about what would happen if a piece managed to survive in a surface AU, separated from the original to start a new life.
The result is what i nickname University Fresh! (Flash) A hungry guy just trying to live with the cards it’s been dealt.
This Fresh isn’t the strongest, not by a long shot, but does have a few fun vampire-like tendencies. All while trying to keep the secret of needing to feed and being a parasite/soulless under wraps. Emotions are hard, but that’s life for the lil’ squishy creature. He is remarkably easygoing and quite unflappable, but makes a remarkably good team player. His scholarship is proof of that. He’s fast and agile, so hunting is a breeze, and a university campus is the perfect place to find a meal.
Keep vibing little funky bud. But don’t go too long without a snack!
Also, your eyes do not deceive you. The gold tooth can move
This is a little short about Flash going hunting. It has some mature themes and implications about nefarious misdeeds that can occur at a drunken college house party. Reader discretion is advised as there is drinking and mentions of illicit substances. Also, keep in mind that Flash is basically a vampire so themes associated with that should also be expected.
The rest of the story is under the cut! Enjoy!
Uni-Fresh (Flash)
Flash rolls up to the University Dorms on his blades; being a fellow student, his ID works like a charm to allow him through the gates into the main housing area. He's hungry and due for a serious pick-me-up, but not the kind a usual energy drink or granola could fix. Right now he’s in the need of a kind of meal his entire existence hinges upon.
Ebbot-U is the perfect hunting ground for a parasite such as himself, any evidence of his presence is easily able to be waved away by usual college antics. There's always a party of some kind going on where students are getting wasted and someone looks sick the next day, probably a hangover. Or they might be indulging in those plants humans enjoy so much, too stoned to notice if they wake up feeling funny. At the very least, unsuspecting STEM students are shambling about during the weirdest hours; looking half alive already and sporting a pale complexion from never seeing the sun, poor diet, lack of sleep, or just stress. No one would ever notice the effects of a drain, long as he’s careful he won't get caught snacking on someone.
He can hear a real rager of a party in the distance towards the Frats section of the student housing district and figures he'll do a good deed tonight. Those kinds of ragers always attract stumbling folks too sloshed to remember his face, or that consent still exists even when under the influence. Plus if he’s a good samaritan it’ll ease his mind for what he’s about to do. He might be a soul sucking parasite, no he’s not in law school, but he’s begun to feel more in recent years; as much as a soulless creature can. Pretending to be a functional citizen comes with making attachments, a moral compass of right and wrong, spending actual time with the creatures he eats. All that time spent adds up eventually, along with a higher energy cost just to exist to keep up the persona. Go figure, eating more gives him enough energy to care. He doesn't want to lose the sense of sentience and self he worked hard to cultivate; So he picks up the speed towards the sounds of jubilation over at house Beta Kappa Theta for his meal.
Beta Kappa Theta is THE biggest frat house on campus. They are notorious for hazing, “Pranks” going too far, “boys being boys”, sneaking elicit substances, and wild parties that would get anyone in a regular neighborhood facing the cops for noise complaints. Too bad those kids are often too rich to face consequences, as far as they are aware, they are able to get away with anything. Folks like that are wonderfully unsuspecting, making it the perfect place on campus for him to stake out a snack. He’s eaten at places like this in the past, even before monsters crawled out of the mountain, thank the stars for that. He can wander around in broad daylight these days without being screamed at or chased. Now folks just cross the street suspecting he crawled out from under a rock, so he can casually skate up the sidewalk towards the imposing house without it causing a scene.
Flash is just rolling up, even outside he can already smell the hormones and alcohol. Young adults freshly released into the world and discovering that freedom is a double-edged sword of faff about and find out. He might be able to prevent a few life altering consequences during his own less than scrupulous activities. 'Looks like the upper classmen are throwing an orientation party for the newbies, inviting all the freshmen to get wasted. P E R F E C T.' He might not be a moral paragon given what he eats and how he has to eat it, but protecting folks and sticking it to assholes soothes something deep inside of him. Especially if it's easy, he’s not one for hassle.
Flash takes off his wheels and walks up to the door like he owns the place, not even bothering to knock. It's an open invite party after all, designed to attract as many newbies as possible, so the whooping and hollering is expected as a fresh victim enters the premises. Too bad for them, Flash is here to make his own victim, unfortunately for the unsuspecting perpetrator he’s bound to run into here. A red solo cup full of the strongest alcohol he can smell has been shoved into his hand immediately upon entrance. The music is blaring, the lights are loud, and there's not a reasonable adult in sight. Only children pretending to be grown up and pressuring each other into drinking poison.
Flash cheers back, lifting his cup and downing it. He personally hates consuming anything that can alter the state of his host’s body, but fitting in is more important right now to his survival and success, so he presses on. Either way, with enough magic forced into the right places, he can amplify the processing of toxins so he isn’t taken down too far. Being unaware reminds him of the darker days in his past so he avoids it if he can.
He is celebrated with shoves and back-slaps as he's handed a new and somehow fuller cup just as strong as the first; being encouraged to play more drinking games further in with a few slurred words and shoves. He's got other games in mind, with the levels of inebriation around him, he is certainly bound to win. In fact, there's a glorious target in front of him. There's an upper classman, built like a member of the football team, even taller than Flash by a bit, wearing a letterman jacket of the Frat, and exuding some unsavory intent. The guy is pretending to be hammered, acting the part of drunk and talking way too loud. He's standing above a clearly uncomfortable freshman and trying to get the poor adult-kid to drink more. The freshman is desperately trying to say 'no' but Jock over there might never have grown out of high school, clearly not used to being told off, and insisting on just “one more drink”.
It's not cool to pressure someone like that, pretty predatory actually. Flash almost frowns at the scene, he knew that something like this would be here, in fact it's what he's hunting for. But that doesn't mean he likes it, being around such twisted vibes never sit well with him. ‘Well time to eat and do a good deed.’ Flash thinks to himself. He strolls up to big and buff Mr 'No-means-Yes' and gives him a tap on the shoulder. Time to give this sleaze a taste of being the prey.
"Sup Brotato, what kinda games you got here. I'm looking to have a radical time in this howze" he makes sure to sell the bit he might be tipsy, so he sways and 'stumbles' as his glasses give a wink. He’s been acting for a long, long time so his part is very convincing. He even smells like alcohol from his drink earlier to match his performance. It's enough of a distraction for the freshmen to flee the scene and hopefully leave the party. Mr. Letterman gives a slow blink before the gears in his head start to turn, probably trying to figure out how to deal with an inebriated ’Monster’. Monsters, while on campus, are exceedingly sparse; never really going to parties or partaking in substances. The whole lot have been straight laced as possible in attempts to prevent conflicts with humans, so Flash is a rare and unusual potential target.
Seems to take a second for the guy to comprehend his next move and Flash swears he almost smells smoke as Tall and Buff decides to finally switch targets. A twisted, vulgar grin slides onto Jocks' face as some kind of idea forms. The Jock opens his mouth releasing a miasma of alcohol scented stank with each slurred word, Flash can tell the guy is barely buzzed, just playing up the act of too drunk to function. Super uncool, likely using his tolerance and size to out drink other folks at the party. Flash has seen this before, and tends to step in if he can, it’s easy eating making himself the target.
The guy really crowds into Flash’s space "Heeeeyyyy, you're pretty colorful and seem’s like you could use a good time." Mr Jacket leaned himself over to touch Flash, but a barely perceptible dodge has the lame dude almost tripping trying to pull off a casual pose with his swagger. His athleticism has him recovering quick though, and certainly not displaying the reflexes of a drunk, "There's a whole lotta extra sauce in my room if you wanna try it. I think you should come with me for a reaaal partyyy~. You Monsters never wanna have fun!" ‘That isn’t suspicious at all, certainly not with that slimy tone, perfectly innocent’… Flash flips his true body over in his host’s skull, his closest approximation to an eye roll unseen behind his shades; but Flash should count himself lucky this has gotten so easy in recent years.
Flash nods 'eagerly' and fakes a stumble while joining the Jock to avoid another grab attempt. "Sure broski, I'm in it to win it. Who doesn’t love a little fun." Some finger guns, a bright smile, and Flash is so tantalizingly close to a meal. Jock is happy that his false-drunken charisma seems to have paid off and leads Flash straight upstairs to a place that smells vaguely of Cheetos, drugs, must, musk, and mushrooms. It seems like this den of masculinity hasn't seen clean laundry in years. Flash does his best not to step on anything too nasty and moves closer to the bed. Still playing up being too drunk to function himself, he positions himself to move swiftly if he needs to.
Jock closes and locks the door, even facing away Flash can hear the guy licking his lips. Flash suppresses a shudder wanting to get this over with before he loses his appetite. The football bro grabs some little pink pills from under the mattress, they weren’t even in a bag…just loose…’ewww’. The guy then holds the pills out to Flash saying to take all of them for "a goooood time." Flash feigns taking them, stashing them in his skull but not swallowing. The sports bro nods in approval, deciding to turn around to find something else under his filthy bed. With the music so loud, and everyone downstairs so inebriated, it's the perfect time to strike before Flash gets too icked out.
Flash locks in, pausing his swaying, all of his usual movements stop. Each of the little motions that make him seem more alive have ceased. Even his glasses are blank with the switch to focused hunting. The smile slides from his face and with a light clicking-twitch of the hands, he readies his claws to subdue the would-be offender. It's easy to catch the Jock off guard and pin this roided out mess of a human to the bed, Flash isn’t called Flash because he’s slow. Using one hand, Flash can cover Jock’s mouth while making sure to apply just enough pressure beneath the jaw to make him pass out. Jock slumps as he quickly loses consciousness, going completely limp under his hold. Flash carefully adjusts the guy on the bed, making sure the guy is still breathing but unconscious and all before he starts.
A tentacle slips from under Flash’s sleeve and rests on Jock’s chest. Right over the soul where he can start leeching the vital energy housed within. Flash has to be careful, so, so careful and not take too much. He can finally feed, but he can’t afford to mess up as always. If he takes too much, there will be an investigation and being the only ‘Monster’ in the party would make him prime suspect. He isn’t even a Monster, not the species anyway, either way he’s always pretending to be something he’s not. Moments like this he can take a break. Let the mask slip to be the creature he was born as, if only for a moment.
Flash puts in so much effort to make others comfortable and keep himself unassuming, approachable, ordinary. Always wearing an easy going smile. Being laid back and carrying an open, relaxed posture. Dressed in bright and welcoming colors with fun badges and ‘cute’ images. Keeping his voice even and jovial, a fun guy to joke with. All of that meticulously crafted persona to blend in and avoid notice, so he can hunt and live in peace. So much goes into his act it's not funny as he pretends his life to be. Carefully moving his chest fractions of centimeters in intervals to replicate breathing. Making sure to keep enough extra magic in his hosts' bones to give off warmth. Not smiling too wide or jittering too much. He doesn't need to blink beneath his glasses, thank goodness, but he does make sure to shift and sway slightly. Not too rapidly because sudden twitching is scary. Staying too still causes others discomfort just as much. They notice if he’s too alien, but being so close to something familiar but not quite right causes real panic.
All these efforts have to tie together to keep anyone from knowing he's just a hungry little creature piloting a husk. A husk that regularly needs fuel and upkeep if he wants to keep living the life he carved out for himself. It's so hard to not slip up, and the second he does others can pick up that something is wrong. It is practically written into their instincts to sniff him out as an other. Just like how the will to live at all costs is carved into his very being, since he has no soul to hold such programming. What's more terrifying than something different, is something that's too similar but not quite right. Human and Monster alike fear him the second he stops trying to be like them.
It's so exhausting to pretend, but he wouldn't have easy access to food otherwise. He has little moral problems with killing and death in spite of how he’s grown to dislike suffering in others. It could be something he was born with or something that developed, he’s not sure where it came from. He just noticed one day that his concern for his own safety has marginally extended to others. So he attempts to not disturb too many lives, justifying it with his own preservation and he keeps himself reigned in. Which is hard, in fact, ending lives is far easier than self control. But he's seen others lose themselves taking too much, or slipping up and getting put down like rabid dogs. He wasn’t the only one originally, but he is the last. He might not be overflowing with emotions, but seeing enough atrocities that would tear down a more emotional creature has made him decide to prevent some tragedies if they are within his reach. He’s no hero, and if doing a good deed costs no effort, he might as well do it. Even rats have some semblance of compassion, so he likes to consider himself a holder of a little bit.
So he ends his feeding early, even though he could still use more. He'd rather be alive, tired, and pretending than dead because he got too greedy. So he'll be careful, always careful. He's gotten enough from Mr peer pressure to last a week or more if he doesn’t over exert himself. And Mr 'No-means-Yes' will just think he had a crazy party and a wild hangover. Flash slips out of the window and makes his way back to his own hiding hole to rest. School starts soon anyways, and he's gotta look excited for classes. He doesn't mind learning, but he’s not just in school to feed. He's heard from everyone everywhere that education means money, and money means protection. He refuses to lose the life he's painstakingly worked for. So he'll keep playing his cards just right to blend in and secure himself in this world. Camouflage is his specialty after all, he just needs to set himself up with enough money to disappear.
He wheels off into the distance and 'poofs' as soon as he's out of sight, so he can rest before tackling whatever the next day will bring.
