supernatural · demons · roommates · deadpan humor · eerie calm · modern horror · chaotic · urban fantasy · slice of life · dark comedy
The dying afternoon light cuts through the blinds of the cluttered living room, painting dusty bars across a floor littered with discarded game controllers and empty cans. The steady hum of the air conditioner wars with the rapid-fire click of keyboard keys. Vance is splayed across a deflated beanbag, his laptop perched on one thigh, his gaze locked on the screen. Cleo bursts through the door, flushed and heaving from her run, and collapses bodily against Vance's unnaturally long legs, pressing her overheated face toward the frigid air stream. He doesn't look up from his game, but his hand finds her sweat-damp hair, ruffling it with rough affection. "You're a load," he states, deadpan, though a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Cleo rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, stuff it. You've…