#Entowrites

[entomolog-t]

Bitten - Part I

What is this?? A written post?? My Bite Me size swap is finally up (sorta). I initially was going to post this all in one shot, but it got long so enjoy non canon Bite Me content 💕

I've been absolutely swamped lately, so hopefully me posting is a sign that things are finally easing up!!

Shortly after the events of Chapter 10 Aedes wakes up to a rather big surprise- or perhaps more accurately, a small one.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

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Next Part

Word count: 1238

CW: Nudity (non-explcit/implied), Adult language

Warm hands envelope Aedes in a way that dances on the border of intimate and claustrophobic. His thoughts felt thick, almost sticky in his mind, as they struggled to flow. Those soft doting hands clung to him, overwhelming in their size, anchoring him firmly in place. He can’t move- but … was that really so bad? With his mind in a daze, he didn’t have the capacity to tell himself he hated it. Far from it… There was an undeniably comfort in the silken touch, warm in a way that surpassed intimate. Warm in a way that would melt pain from his chest, render flesh from his bones and put him together anew. Those plush hands dotted over him, filled him with life - with such vigor and… and- 

Want. 

So much want. 

He knew her taste, its memory, sweetened with time, dances on the tip of his tongue just out of reach. So did her name. What was it again… He’d seen it somewhere…

If only he could drink. He was sure he could find her name and so much more hidden away in that taste. 

From her hands, all encompassing in their grasp, he felt her pulse. The rhythm of her rattles his bones, shaking him to his core. Each beat moves him, yet he himself remains unable to do so- anchored in place by strangely sticky thoughts and firm hands. God, if only he could just turn his head. If only he could sink his teeth into her… have just the smallest taste- 

A drop. 

He would gladly drown in a single drop. 

If only he wasn’t stuck- if only he could be set free from their grasp. 

Then, all at once, he was. 

Falling. 

Without their warm embrace- their suffocating hold, was sent falling back-

Or maybe, falling into himself? Aedes awoke as the ground met his face. 

The fall, it seemed, had not been exclusive to the dream. 

Rubbing his face, Aedes feels the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something was off. He grimaced- not at all fond of the strange stain the remnants of the dream, no, nightmare, had left on his brain. It left him with a strange chill on his body, as if he was yearning for the warmth of the dream…

Or… clothes? Aedes looks down, startled by his own apparent lack of modesty. Why am I… 

As Aedes moves to sit up, the strange realization is immediately put on the back burner as a much stranger realization takes its place. His stomach lurches as his mind struggles in vain to right itself. 

High. His stomach lurches, as if forgotten someway far below. Too high- Why was he so high up?? Vertigo hit him with all the grace of a car crash as he heaved- his very being ripped away from the ground and rocketing up by his own doing-  much too high much too fast.  

Slowly, on his hands and knees, Aedes blinks. 

The dizzying spin didn’t leave- but his breath certainly did. 

If he hadn’t so abruptly woken up he would have thought he was still dreaming. Cool morning air sent a chill over his skin from a window he could reach out and touch. Books fit for his hands lined the shelves he had so recently scaled. Clawed fingers traced the various knick knacks that should have dwarfed him… 

That, until this very morning, had dwarfed him.

How…

His mind scrambles to make sense of it all. He needed answers. 

He needed to know how this happened-

How could this happen?

But more than anything, Aedes needed to know how to breathe. 

Each shakily attempted breath felt stuttered, the tightening feeling in his chest constricting each and every inhale. His heart pounded wildly against his lagging lungs, yet it wasn’t the beat of his own that concerned him. 

Aedes' ears twitched, straining to hear the faint thrum, the slightest indication of something, someone, alive in the room with him. 

His eyes locked on the source in an instant. 

June. 

Her name finally finds its home on his lips- stolen from some hastily placed piece of ID left laying on her desk. June Murphy. 12 Oakline Road, Saint Mira Lake, ON. Born June 18th. 172 cm.  Aedes swallowed a lump of mixed emotions at the sight of her.  

Small… God she’s so small. 

And he… was not. 

Nearly buried in a mass of blankets and oversized clothes, June Murphy stares at the relative behemoth in front of her- mind reeling as they lock eyes.

This… This has to be a dream right? 

Yet she was all too aware of reality, having been jolted awake by the thunderous impact of what she’d initially assumed to have been … well, really anything but the reality that was staring back at her. A car could have plowed straight through her living room wall and it would have made more sense than what she was seeing.

Yet despite the unfamiliar perspective, she recognized him in an instant. The tousled black hair, the pointed ears… 

Those piercing eyes. 

Aedes. 

In an instant, he was on his knees, moving at a speed June found to be even more unsettling now that he loomed above her. The sight of him so close was… bizarre… Uncanny even. Sure, she’d technically seen him far closer, when he’d been… 

Pressed up against her lips… 

In the palm of her hand…

June’s face flushes at the memory. You really don’t get much closer than that… and yet… even at what must have been a foot or more away, she saw him far more intimately than when she’d… June’s thoughts wander off, far too entranced by the man in front of her to remain focused on anything else. 

Aedes was far more handsome than she had initially realized, and she’d already had quite the high impression of his aesthetics. His pale skin was smooth, bordering on flawless even at such a scale, his features were defined, a straight nose, distinct jawline, yet the edges had a softness to them, smooth in a way that seemed inviting- as if they’d been carved from marble. Her gaze lingered on the soft yet rich color of his lips, the realization that this man really wasn’t human hitting her hard- the knowledge that there were teeth behind such a pretty feature sending a shiver through her. Though none of his features held a candle to his eyes. Piercing and black, this stare bore into her… defile her, even…

June scrambles back, face hot. 

Aedes does the same, reeling back at her sudden movement, as if somehow seeing her move confirmed this was, in fact, reality.

Oh… A knot forms in his throat, She’s afraid of me.

He swallows, the act noticeably harder than it should have been. 

Of course she is, he thinks, unable to hold her gaze. She looks so… helpless.  His face grows hot at the thought, guilt, like bile, rises in his throat. 

Did she think he’d hurt her?

“Shhh,” Aedes hushes, hands reaching cautiously towards her, afraid she’d run off if given the opportunity. “Please… don't be afraid.”

He would.

As he reaches, Aedes’ eyes catch sight of his blacked claws. The sight freezes him in place, stomach churning at the thought of what he must look like to her. She had been terrifying. If this woman before him had been terrifying- what was he?

[entomolog-t]

VERSION 2 BECAUSE BOTH SUGGESTED OPTIONS ABSOLUTELY SLAP (Version 1)

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As you open the front door, the wind outside rips it from your grasp and sends its slamming against the wall. You feel your stomach drop. The storm is bad. You waste no time, running to the opposite side of your bedroom window. The moment you step outside you are nearly instantaneously soaked; the downpour heavy and unrelenting. 

Your thoughts are sporadic, with conscious linear thought giving way to adrenaline and instinct. 

Find them.

Help them. 

In an instant, you drop to your hands and nears. Thunder roars as your knees hit the ground, a strangely timed coincidence that seems to emphasize your relative stature. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. A pang of guilt grips you as the realization hits that your heart is beating in excitement. You feel it deep within you. A primal curiousity. A desire to know. A desire to catch. 

You shove those thoughts deep into the recesses of your mind. You could confront those thought when you found the little creature... when they were safe. 

You run your hands feverishly through the tall decrative grass you planted along the wall, cursing yourself for having wanting such thick harden coverage. Where were they??

 Rainwater runs down your face, hair and clothes alike sticking to your skin. You know you should feel cold but... you feel alive. 

Alert. 

Present. 

Excited.

With purpose. 

The mix of emotions gives rise to a dirty feeling. A part of your knows this excitement is wrong, but did intent matter as long as in action and execution you would be providing help. You find yourself biting your lip as you search, fearful of your own thoughts. 

So wrapped up in your internal turmoil you nearly miss the sensation of flesh grazed beneath your fingertips, and the soft yelp that follows.  You feel a chill run up your spine.

Found you. 

You pull back the broad hosta leaves to reveal a tiny form. Your heart seems to skip a beat seeing them again. Part of you couldn’t believe your own eyes, but there they were; tiny human frame pressed against the wall, wings folded back.

A fairy. 

Lightning flashes, illuminating the sheer terror that paints their face. The sight makes you feel hollow. Ashamed. You can see their body wracked with tremors. You try to find the words, any words. You want so desperately to let them know you’re here to help, that they can trust you... but its as if the doubt in your own thoughts chokes the words out in your own throat. 

They’re so small. You feel the urge to gather them up in your grasp, press their soaked body to your skin. The urge to coo and comfort. The urge to protect... but as you take in their tiny frame, you see more than just a small and scared being. Scars decorate their skin, a lattice work of painful memories. A beautifully decorated bag sits at their hip, clearly made by hand... and their hands. Despite their tiny stature you could still make our the bruised knuckles, the relative broadness of their grasp, and the rough texture of their palm.

They felt so adult.

They felt so human. 

Your words seem to spill from your mouth before your mind can even determine what you should say.

“Please, come inside.” You nearly don’t recognize your voice. Shakey and uncertain. Desperate. Begging.

They shake their head. Fast, clear and absolute. No. 

You wince. Their fear is palpable. Tentatively, you reach a hand forward.

“No!” Their voice rings out above the downpour. Lightning flashes again, and you feel yourself grow desperate. You catch a small trail of crimson, diluted from the rain, as it drips down their arm. You watch as their left leg shakes, struggling to support their weight.

“Look,” You say, your voice growing more steady, “You can come inside...” You draw in a deep breath, “Or I can take you inside, but you need to get out of the rain.”

You cringe at how your words sound threatening. Niceties be damned. They were hurt and stranded and you could help. Time passes slowly in this awkward position, chest cold against the ground, face nearly in the dirt. Your gaze never leaving their face. You let your ultimatum hang in the air. Willingly or not, you would be getting them inside. 

Suddenly, they move. Hands dive into their bag, rummaging for something. Despite their size, you feel an unease building up. You reach towards them hesitating briefly as they pull a spherical shape from their bag; bright pink and organic. As your hand closes in around them, so do their hands close in around this strange object. 

It cracks, the sound vaguely like crumpling paper. A puff of smoke seems to rise from it just as your hand makes contact with the tiny being.

Lightning flashes above you.

No. 

Below you. 

Bright white light seizes your vision. Your body grows warm. Hot even. 

Just as suddenly as it started, it stops. 

Heat replaced by the chill of the rain. White light replaced by blurred darkness. 

You feel movement in your grasp. 

The movement feels wrong, strange and uncanny. The shape not quite right. 

As your eyes come to focus, the feeling of unease grows. Still crouched in the dirt, yet somehow not where you once were. In your hand, there is no fairy, but instead... a limb? 

You gasp.

Your eyes are slowly drawn upwards, as your hand clings to the fabric of the pant leg. On your hands and knees you lay before an imposing figure, as they now loom over you. 

Their eyes meet yours, and for a second your expressions seem to mirror eachothers. Shock meeting shock, until the strange silence is broken by nervous laughter.

“It worked.” Their voice is low, a slight rasp, “It really worked.” They seem taken aback, speaking not to you but to themselves. That changes as their attention turns downward to you, a smile tugging at the corners of their lips. Faster than your brain could keep pace, they raise their leg and send it crashing down on your back, flattening you in the wet soil below. 

Everything else seems to fade away as instinct takes hold. The uncanniness, the growing understanding of the situation... they all fade to black as the pain registers in your mind. 

Your hand shoots out gripping the heel of the foot not planted on your back. You drive your feet into the ground and run your legs, ploughing your shoulder into the side of their calf as your grip stays hooked on their heel. 

The topple back. In a second your on top. The fairy moves to strike, but with their back against the ground their punches have little wind up. You catch one of the stray punches and drive their arm to the ground, quickly pinning it in place with your knee. As you secure the other arm you hear them cry out, voice wracked with pain. You lay onto of them, body awkwardly straddling them to hold their limbs in place. With them firmly secured, your thoughts seem begin to catch up with the events.

This was the fairy. 

This being. 

This being that is the same size as you.... a fairy. 

The same fairy you were trying to help... to catch. 

Up close you could see the blood you’d spotted earlier seemed to be coming from a few notable gashes. There was bruising along their right side. They still looked scared... albeit, a whole lot more pissed than before. 

You feel yourself shake, although the cold doesn’t seem to reach you. You feel as though your mind is leaving your body. You feel dizzy. 

“What... what did you do?” You ask, your voice nearly a whisper. 

Despite their subdued position, the a proud smile crosses the fairy’s face. 

You feel your blood boil. 

“What did you do?!”

G/t scenario rotting in my brain:

A storm began blowing in outside your window, causing wind to whistle through the windowsill and leaves to come flying off the trees.  You weren’t paying too much attention to it when BANG, something about the size of your hand hits the glass pane.  Your window is thrown open and something.. only slightly inhuman steps through.  They look like a person with little bug wings — a fairy.  But it couldn’t be…  With a bit of force, they shove the window back down and dust off their hands satisfactorily.  Turning a circle in the air, they look to you.  You watch as their expression scrunches up in concern when they get a good look at your face, your jaw hanging open in shock.

“This is the safehouse, isn’t it?”

What?  “Umm, n-no?”  Thunder roars overhead as your unexpected visitor’s face pales, eyes growing wide.  They hover slowly towards the window again, backing away from you, but they flinch as rain begins pelting it from the other side.  Their gaze drifts between the storm and you as if they aren’t sure which side of the glass was more dangerous.  Before you can say anything, the fairy — if that’s even what they were — reaches for the window and throws it open so swiftly you thought it would shatter.  In the blink of an eye, they shot out back into the storm once again, only to be blown to the ground.  Only sparing a moment to close the window to prevent the rain from soaking your things, you dash outside to find where your tiny visitor had fallen.

idk where it goes after this. If anyone wants to continue it, be my guest. I was thinking some typical slow trust building or the fairy get spooked by the Big coming at them and shrinks them to better deal with the problem, but now they’re both stuck out there at the same height.

[entomolog-t]

Bitten- Part II

Back to back posting ? Its more likely than you think! Can't keep you guys waiting too long 💕 I've been having so much fun with this AU while trying to actually get ahead with Bite Me

In this part we see that though the dynamic might have changed, these two most certainly have not.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

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First Part

Next Part: Tuesday!

Word count: 2030

CW: Nudity (non-explicit), Adult language

Aedes, thought June, was indescribably fucking hot. 

Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were dying to throw itself at him. A wash of emotions swirling in her chest as she stares up at the man in front of her. 

What the fuck is going on? This has to be a dream, right? A wildly vivid dream brought on by a guilty conscience? Her eyes wander, catching sight of his … lack of clothing. 

Perhaps this was a different kind of dream.

“June…” his whisper came as a low rumble. June’s breath caught in her throat, heat rising to her face as if she were a kettle reaching its boiling point- though, thankfully, she refrained from screaming. Since when did he know her name? 

At her non response, his brows knit together, the massive landscape of his face shifting to that of concern. A shiver ran down her spine at his gaze, so overwhelmingly locked on her. It was… stripping in a way, seeming to take so much of her in that it left her feeling bare.

It took her brain an awkward second to realize that the feeling was not exclusive to her mind. June Murphy sat there, in a bed that seemed like it could have hosted a football game, let alone her, completely and utterly bare naked. 

Aedes watches June as her hands, so unfathomably small, grip her blanket and slowly pull it to her chest.

His brain freezes at that last word.

Her… naked chest. 

Heat rising to scorch his cheeks, Aedes turns his head, a muffled noise escaping him as all at once the awe and strangeness of the situation evaporates- like a fog being lifted by the heat of the rising sun, or in his case, the heat of his rising embarrassment. Gaze averted, his mind races. 

Just what exactly was going on? He’d avoided seeing her, let alone speaking to her since… they met… a meeting he certainly wasn’t keen on revisiting… Yet now, in the unprecedented strangeness of whatever the fuck was going on, it was clear he couldn’t just go back to avoiding her.

Aedes swallows, a nervous lump forming in his throat at the thought of just how he was supposed to navigate something like this. 

Should he apologize? 

Did he even have something to apologize for? 

She was the one who defiled his pride. 

She was the one who poisoned his mind with whatever sickness she’d put him through. 

Sure he’d yelled at her, insulted her, but -  His ears perk up at the sound of her voice, far softer than he could have anticipated.

Far softer than he liked.

“Did… did you do this to me?” 

Aedes’ eyes widen, his rising frustrations deflating in an instant. She thinks I've done this? 

Stunned, Aedes slowly shakes his head. 

“No. I…” His voice trails off. Even with her mostly covered by the blanket, Aedes can barely look at her. The sight of her shaking filled him with guilt, seemingly for his very existence. Even as he averts his gaze, he doesn’t miss how her heart hammers in her chest. Aedes grits his teeth. 

He hates this. 

“Here.” His voice nearly cracks, words sticking awkwardly in his throat. Aedes stands, though his heart fills with lead upon hearing June’s gasp. 

God, he hates this so much.  

June Murphy, however bizarre and terrifying the situation, could not say she hated it.  

Perhaps, five minutes from now, when the reality of the situation sunk in… maybe then she would hate it. Maybe then she’d be completely and utterly terrified. 

But at this moment in time her mind was completely and utterly occupied with the very large, very handsome, and very naked vampire man who’d turned to rummage around her room.

Why? She had no idea, and frankly- she wasn’t sure her mind had the capacity to care. 

She would panic later. 

Aedes turned back, seemingly a little more aware of his lack of modesty as he made an awkward attempt to cover himself as he reapproached. Again, he kneels down, his piercing gazing locking June in place for the briefest moment, before he turns his head away, not wanting to look at her like this. Slowly brings his hand to her. In it, his shirt, now embarrassingly small. It was uncanny to see his clothes like this… to imagine what he had looked like in them... What he had looked like to her.  

She doesn’t take it. 

It doesn’t take Aedes long to reason why.

My hands… His throat constricted at the realization of what his hands, blackened and clawed, must look like at her size. Why would she take anything from hands like mine? 

Before he can pull his hand back, June speaks.

“Thank you.” Her voice, far too soft for his liking, is all the warning he has before he’s met with the strangest sensation. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels her touch, warm and feather light, take the shirt from his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Aedes begins, still averting his gaze, his hand moving to hide his teeth as he spoke, “That's the only clothing I have to offer-”

His apology is interrupted by a sound Aedes had not anticipated. 

June laughed. 

“Oh no- You’ll have to forgive me, but I think I have even less I can offer in the clothing department.”

Aedes remained frozen in place- stunned. She was laughing?

How could she be laughing?

His ears twitch, faint sounds of fabric being shifted and slid against soft skin pricking at his senses. Slowly, he turns back, a look of confusion on his face. He wants to ask her why she’s not panicking- Why hasn't she hid from him? He wants to ask her a whole myriad of questions, but at the sight of her sitting there in his shirt, the only sound that manages to escape him is a sharp inhale. 

It was a peculiar sight, seeing his clothes too large for her frame. His shirt hung loosely on her, hanging off her figure in a way that somehow seemed more lewd than her bare form. Ears hot, Aedes swallowed- quickly excusing himself to route through her wardrobe. 

----

“You really don’t know what's happening?”

In lieu of speaking, Aedes, clad in June’s loosest pair of baby blue shorts and what was supposed to be an oversized t-shirt, shook his head. He’d heard smallfolk talk of legends, of human blood giving his kind power but those were… vague superstitions? Or at least, he’d always assumed so- just some overly mystified explanation of his nature. 

Sitting on the floor beside June’s bed, Aedes frowned. He’d been drinking blood all his life and nothing more abnormal than a full stomach and some blood drunk thoughts had ever occurred. 

Just what exactly was going on?

Here he sat a hundred times the height he’d been the night before, and there she sat- magnitudes smaller.

His frown only deepened.

Had he…? He couldn’t have…

Aedes rests his head on the bed, trying desperately to grasp at a situation that, even now, seemed far too big for him to handle. He eyed June, her once imposing frame now dwarfed by her surroundings, the pillow she leaned against threatening to swallow her whole. 

Serves her right. He thought bitterly, his eyes lingering on her hands. Though he couldn’t ignore the itch that persisted at the back of his mind, an itch that gnawed at whatever mental fortitude he’d summoned to banish it from his conscious thought.

You’re lying. 

Aedes sighed, as if he could somehow expel the invasive thought from his mind. He didn’t miss the way his breath ruffled her hair- nor did he like it. 

She has no knowledge of the way my world works… She’ll trust humans-

Worse yet- she trusted him- at least enough to stay put. Once again, Aedes’ scowl deepens. 

How would she live like this?

How would he? 

His size was what allowed him to feed unnoticed. Like taking a sip from a lake- a way for him to hunt without killing. As meager as his stature had been, he’d had his stealth, his ease of access… he'd had plenty- his feedings a relative bounty every time.

Aedes chest tightens, a groan threatening to push past his lips. He runs his hands through his hair, trying and failing to ignore the growing sense of unease. 

How would he feed like this?

Brow furrowed, his ears flicked in agitation.  This was bad. 

This was dangerous. 

He was dangerous. 

Was this his life now? Aedes bites his lip, only to quickly cover his mouth a moment later, lest she see his teeth as she was. So close to being human, to having some shred of humanity- no longer something that could be seen as a pest, yet now someone that could be seen as something far worse. He tries in vain to swallow the growing panic rising in his chest.

He wouldn’t be seen as something worse, because he would be worse. He- 

As he stared daggers into the comforter, Aedes caught movement from the corner of his eye. 

June stood. 

Aedes froze. 

She walked towards him. 

He didn’t even breathe. 

As June moved closer and closer still, Aedes remained motionless, a deer caught in the headlights of a, very small, oncoming car. As she draws mere inches from his face, Aedes moves to pull back, but instead is stopped, the soft hum of her voice anchoring him in place like a leash around his neck. 

“Stay still.”

So he did. 

Ears folded back, he stayed, unmoving, as she brought herself so close to his face his eyes wouldn’t focus. So close he breathed her in on every inhale- sweet cream and carnal spice. So close if he so chose to, he could taste such a luxury. 

“You’re not… afraid of me?” His voice is low- hesitant even. 

Her touch makes him flinch. Gentle, as if he were still mere inches tall, June brushes back the stray hairs his frustrated mussing had garnered. She hums thoughtfully, and he finds himself wishing that sound would once again rattle his bones. 

“Should I be?” Her voice didn’t carry a hint of doubt. Though concerned, her voice felt …warm. 

Aedes hesitates for a moment.

“... yes.”

He wanted to lie- like she did. To tell her she would be safe with him. That he wouldn't hurt her. Yet he couldn’t bear to entertain this sad little fantasy where he pretended not to hear the way her heart raced, or see the way her hands shook- and selfishly, he couldn’t bear waiting for her foolish bravado to run out, lest he start believing he was anything but what nature had made him to be. He knew what he was- A monster.

It was time she learned that too. 

If this illusion had to be broken, it would be on his terms. 

June swallowed, biting her lip as his head, like a monument come to life, rose from where he rested it on the bed and closed the nearly nonexistent distance between them. He tilted his head just so, the way one does when leaning in to steal a kiss. Her knees felt weak, as did her resolve. As he moves closer, his nose brushes past her side, slowly, until it was his lips brushed up her frame. The wash of his breath as his lips part sends a shiver down her spine, a shiver that only grows as very large, very inhumane, teeth were revealed.  

“Don’t be foolish.” He whispered, voice silky and stern, lips brushing intimately against her body as he spoke, “Do you not think I’m tempted?” 

There's a pause, his question hanging heavy in the air before his lips pull back into a sneer, teeth bared as he adds, “I could have you in a single bite.”

June inhales, breath shakey as her thoughts run wild. Before she can even contemplate a response, she's already speaking, the words seeming to fall from her lips as easily as breathing. 

“So bite me then.”

[entomolog-t]

Finding Strength- Chapter 2

Nearly A WHOLE YEAR after the first chapter WE ARE BACK !!

Meet Rose, a varsity athlete who should needs to pay more attention to the concussion safety protocols. Also Grayson (you'll see a lot more of him eventually)

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Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 2160

CW: Adult language

Rose smiles. She smiles as the sweat beads that slick her brow drip into her eyes. She smiles as her limbs grow heavy, arms burning and near useless. She even, to the displeasure of her teammate, smiles as she drills. Her grin an ever present, and rather unnerving, fixture on her face as the duo works their way through their umpteenth repetition of speed drills. 

Through gritted teeth Grayson Wilder manages to hiss out a quick knock-it-off before being met her forehead ramming square into his gut as she shoots yet another blast double. As her she makes contact, Grayson is swiftly reminded why pre practice Mcdonalds was a terrible idea. 

Who even drills blast doubles during speed drills anyways? 

As Rose plows through the take down, Grayson uses the brunt of his mental fortitude to curse their coach for having dared to suggest that doing some extra drilling with Rose would be light go’s for him- that, and to keep his meal firmly where it belonged. 

Grayson lands with a grunt, and Rose takes the time to give him a sympathetic look before the two hustle back to standing, only to repeat the whole process again.

And again.

And again.

And- 

The sound of the score clock's buzzer could have been a choir of angels to either athlete at this point. Sweaty, drained and sore, Rose sighs- not from fatigue, but instead satisfaction. There was a buzzing in her arms, shaky and electric with that telltale combination of adrenaline and exertion. Speed drills objectively sucked. Getting stuck with one of the 90 kilo men for a partner sucked even more. But losing her shot to go to Nationals last season has sucked the most. This season would be great- even if that meant she would have to favor the monotony of drilling rather than the excitement of scrimmage.

Think big. Rose grins, testing the sound of her new little mantra in her head. First early birds, then provincials then-

“Rose!”

Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a shout from her coach. Hank Miller beckons her over, a cheeky smile on his face as she jogs towards him.

“Another double and Grayson looked about ready to turn Green… son.”

Rose wishes she has the self control to groan, but instead, she laughs. 

“Think he’s McLovin it?”

“He’ll be McLoving his sauna suit, that's for sure.” Hank shakes his head. With sigh he hands her a packet. Though as Rose grabs it, Hank doesn't let go. Eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile is replaced by a more stern expression. 

“Filled out by Monday, got it?” 

Rose rolls her eyes, but Hank’s grip remains firm.

“Don't lose it.” 

In a feat of self control that could rival that of monks, Rose resists the urge to inform Hank that it's not impossible to print another copy. Though in fairness, with his downright cretaceous tech literacy, there were good odds that for him, it may in fact be impossible.

“Yes, Mom.”  Finally, he relinquishes the thick stack of redundancy forms. With the packet in tow, Rose makes a B-line for her water bottle. Quick drink, stretches… maybe some footspeed drills? The thought of managing to get her legs to move with the growing weight of fatigue and lactic acid setting in was far from appealing, and there was also the weight of impending assignment deadlines to consider…

It should be a felony to have assignments due the first week of the school year...

With a groan, Rose downs her water as she meanders back on the mat to start her stretches, the cool water an oasis in the mugginess of the wrestling room. Though, the coolness of the water does nothing to hide the red hot glare she can feel burning a hole into the back of her head. A quick glance behind her reveals Hank, with a frustratingly smug pair of raised eyebrows as he casts a nod toward her packet; left abandoned on the sidelines.

With all the subtlety of an air horn at a funeral, Rose makes a show of bringing the oh-so-precious forms to her bag, grin smeared across her face as she plays up her exasperation. She can hear Hank laughing behind her, along with another “Monday” for good measure. 

Looking over her shoulder Rose makes sure to shoot him a glare of her own as she shoves the papers into the front pocket of her-

A scream.

Head on a swivel, Rose's eyes immediately lock onto the source-  a strained yelp escaping her as the sight sends her sprawling back. Her mind races, fumbling as it strains to make sense of what she was almost certain could not have been in her bag. 

“...You good?” Hank’s voice feels like a lifeline back to reality, reeling Rose in from her shock. 

“Uhh y-yeah, no. I'm good.” She lies,  “Just, uh, papercut.”

Rose didn’t move. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she had been breathing. She was frozen- feeling as if even a blink would dispel the almost certainly not real reality that stared back at her.

There's…. There's a man- A very small man- in my bag.

Rose swallows nervously. Had she hit her head and not realized? Grayson had made her eat mat on at least one failed attempt at a leg shot… Could concussions cause hallucinations? 

There's a tiny man in my bag.

They definitely could, right? Rose couldn’t help but notice the irony that she couldn’t remember the stupid Safe Sport Concussion Awareness presentation. What was more concerning?  Hallucinations from a grade 2 concussion, or finding a tiny man in her bag?

Rose blinked.

There's still a tiny man in my bag.

In a far away reality, she hears the muffled voice of Hank asking if she's sure she's alright. 

Rose hurriedly gathers up her bag at his approach.

“I’m good. Totally good. I… I uh… gotta go.”

_   _   _

Those few stuttered words were all the warning Tamius had before he was flung backwards as the bag was torn from the ground. 

A plan- he needed a plan. Anything- 

Instead, Tamius was met by sheer chaos. His word topples over itself, rising and falling and sending him careening into the wall of fabric. A horrible realization dawns on him.

She’s running. 

Dread seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality as Tamius remained a victim to gravity’s indecisiveness. 

He’d been caught. 

That behemoth idiot had fucking caught him- Tamius grit his teeth.

No. Not yet. 

White knuckled, Tamuis clung to the fabric of the bag. His eyes desperately scanning in the low light for the hole he’d cut.  If he could make it back into the larger compartment he could buy himself some time taking cover in her clothes- there’d be an opportunity for escape. He was sure there would be. He’d make one.

In a mix of determination and desperation, Tamius fights against the rhythmic lurching, an awful feeling of vertigo boring down on him as his hands scramble for new grips, something- anything- to pull him closer to that fucking hole. 

A lock clicked. 

The sound slicing through him-  an executioner's bell condemning him to his fate.  

No, no, no- not yet! 

The stillness that followed was truly terrifying, a contagious beast freezing him, and time itself, in place. Reality itself seemed to hold a change, like the feeling before a storm- his muscles tense, and hair standing on its end, as if current was running through him. It was an electric sort of dread- a missed step, an object about to fall, the moment before impact- 

No.

The impact came in the form of five grotesquely large fingers diving into the pocket, looking far more like a Hellish mass of writhing limbs than the hands he was familiar with.

Every ounce of his being screamed- all thoughts coalescing to one;

Get to the rip.

In that moment, Tamius was not a man. He was not a being of higher intelligence. In that moment he felt no soul, no empathy, no love. He was a desperate animal scrambling towards a corner. There was no safety waiting for him just beyond the rip. All that waited behind the fabric were a few extra tortured seconds of delusion. A few painful moments where he could pretend he could reason his way out of this and avoid the reality barreling down on him in the form of five gruesome fingers. 

Though reality, it seemed, had other plans.

That gargantuan fucking idiot. 

The fingers coiled around him, engulfing Tamius in their impossible mass. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, echoed by that of the flesh pulsing around him- the feeling so deeply sickening he could taste bile on his tongue. Tamuis’ stomach lurches as he’s dragged out, hands grasping pointlessly for anything as he's brought forth in front of a sickeningly familiar face.  

He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to kick, and bite and scratch until she had to let him go. He wanted so desperately to be the cause of even the smallest amount of pain. Anything to wipe that ridiculous awestruck stare off of her stupid face. Anything to pretend like there was something he could do to change the outcome.

But Tamius The Bestoyed,  was a man far too smart for his own good. Cursed with reason, he was granted no security in ignorance. Pride was reserved for those who could delude themselves into believing they were in control. Much to his horror, Tamius knew better. 

He’d been caught. 

Trapped in the fist of a colossus, Tamius swallowed his pride. Tamius was a man of intellect and reason. So he did what any man with intellect and reason would do. 

He begged. 

“Please.” His voice shook, thick with fear and desperation as garbled pleas spilled forth like a river in spring. The knowledge he so prided himself with failed him, his words a stunted mess of gasping pleases and begging to be let go. 

Her brow furrows. 

“Pl-please.” Despite himself, Tamius uselessly strained against her fingers, wracking his brain anything he could say. Her eyes, wide and gray, were locked onto him. 

Gray. 

Gray like foreboding skies. Gray like- 

She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as some sort of thought passes through the near impenetrable density of her gargantuanly thick skull. For a moment, her mouth hangs agape- a look of confusion crossing her face as she takes her time forming a thought. 

“... Why are you crying?” 

Of all the things she could have said, Tamius had not been anticipating this.

What?

As if experiencing sympathy stupidity, his own mind goes blank, struggling to keep pace with her words. Was he? His face felt wet. 

Wait- what did she mean why? How stupid could she be- As if she wasn’t obviously the reason!  

Tamius wants to say something, but calling out her oblivious stupidity was out of the question. Before he’s able to gather his words, her hand opens up. No longer restrained in her grip, Tamius, completely and totally dumbstruck, finds himself sitting splayed out in her much too warm cupped hand. 

He’s hit with an onslaught of thoughts, as he rapidly begins reformulating any semblance of a plan.

Could he jump? Run? Where was he? Could he fit under the door? How would he get home-   

“Did I …” His thoughts are immediately silenced as she addresses him again, “... hurt you?” 

Her words catch him off guard, but not nearly as much as her expression. Concern. Embarrassment? She seemed horrified at the thought, her grey eyes scrutinizing him for any sign of injury in a way that bordered on violating. 

Too close- too much. 

Unable to find his voice, Tamius shakes his head, scrambling back as much as the limited surface of her hands would allow. The massive, and now that he had the chance to get a good look at her, very sweaty woman eyed him curiously. She thinks for a moment, brow furrowed as the act of thinking clearly was not something in which she was well practiced.

“How did you get so small?”

What? Get? 

His own expression mirrors hers, brow furrowing as realization dawns on him. 

This idiot Gargo thinks I’ve shrunk… 

If he wasn’t so terrified he would have scoffed. It would be his luck that he managed to have encountered the most gullible specimen of humanity imaginable. As if people just go around shrinking- wait. 

People.

She thinks I’m human.

His hands rush to his ears, relief washing over him as he feels his hair, mussed just enough from this whole ordeal to have covered their not quite human shape. This… this could work. Despite the way his hands shook, despite the way his heart pounded in his chest, despite the way this was far beyond the bounds of a worst case scenario, a wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

What an idiot.

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me

My first OCs June and Aedes are finally getting their story told!! I'm so excited to finally be posting this. This chapter acts as a sort of prologue to their OG lil comic. I'm very happy to announce I've got 10 or so chapters already written so for the next little while I'll be uploading this story weekly!

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Word count: 759

CW: Vampire adjacent mild gore (mentions of blood, drinking blood)

Darkness had always been a comforting embrace to Aedes. There was an innate safety amongst the shadows, and a beautiful stillness under the light of the moon. Still- but not quiet. The night, in all its ethereal splendor, held a delicate symphony; Wood frogs and crickets sang with fervor, the leaves in the canopy above whispered subtle secrets, and the thrum of a heartbeat rang out in the distance- a sirens song to someone like him. 

Aedes listened intently, following the slow rhythmic beating with well practiced ease- a predator stalking its prey. His mouth watered. It had been so long since he last fed. This rural town afforded him a certain safety, but the cost of less frequent feeding was a hard price to bear. He was starved. Hunger gnawed at his insides, relentless and unforgiving in its demand to be sated, the alluring call of a potential meal pulling him forward as if it were reeling him in. 

He felt almost as if he were in a trance, his fixation on the thrumming causing the world around him to fade away. The nightly sounds seemed to dissolve more and more into the ether with each percussive beat. He followed the beat, his steps marching in time as if dancing to a stranger's most intimate song. Like a doting partner, he let the song lead him, each beat bringing him closer and closer to the unwitting musician. 

There he stood, a quaint two story home before him, its sage green siding looking at home within the menagerie of plant life growing wild around it. As he scanned the building, his eyes fell on an open window. He smiled. It seemed the people of rural towns found a certain safety here as well. 

With the utmost care, he heaved himself up, sliting the screen along its edge as he climbed through the window. He paused, taking in a deep breath as he perched on the window sill. Closing his eyes, he drank in the smell. A scent, smooth and sweet filled his lungs, so tempting it made his breath hitch. His hands shook, and his heart pounded with anticipation- His more desperate instincts calling on him to rush towards that effervescent scent and abandon all rationality. Patience. He steadied his breath, letting his urges feed his excited anticipation. 

A woman lay right there beneath him, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her heart. Bathed in the pale light of the full moon, he marveled at her ambrosian beauty. Under the glistening light, her soft and subtle skin looked as though she was made of milk and honey, her nectarous lips full and blushing, the sight of their colour teasing hints of that… vigor that flowed so closely beneath her skin. 

And her neck-

He found himself baring his teeth involuntarily, his body begging for him to drink. 

She lay with her head to one side, such an innocent position filling him with such a potent hunger, as if she left herself open and vulnerable just for him. Adrenaline and hunger mingled together, dizzying in their intensity. His own heart thrummed alongside hers, beating much more wildly- a symbiotic dance between predator and prey, the thrill of the hunt intertwining with that ever-present dread of being caught. 

He couldn't wait any longer. 

Silent as the dead, he descended on her- his movements fluid despite their uncanny speed. The call of her heart beckoning him, compelling him to indulge.

Indulge he did.

His teeth sliced into the flesh of her neck, her soft skin offering no hint of resistance to his bite. He suppressed the urge to groan.

The taste - he shivered. 

She tasted like life.

On his tongue, she was a reprise. Her warmth filling him- her blood rejuvenating and invigorating. His mind felt dizzied, dancing on a drunken high he never quite understood. He felt a stupor come over him and welcomed it, riding out the bliss as he drank. 

An oasis is she,

So sweet on my tongue,

If I could drink my fill I would drown- 

He gulped with a primal desperation, his gluttony feeling boundless.

Such an insatiable creature am I,

You, the ambrosia my lips pursue 

Dear, my hunger consumes me,

please, let me consume - 

Her breath hitched. 

Suddenly, the night was no longer still.

In the blink of an eye, his world shifted- or more accurately, flipped- as gravity suddenly ripped him away from his indulgence. His mind reeled, desperate to understand what was happening.

To his horror, he found himself falling. 

[entomolog-t]

The Shadow We Cast - 4

Two guys and too many beers leads to more shenanigans.

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5 (Coming Soon)

Word count: 2998

CW: Adult language, substances (beer/drinking), animal death (fishing/hunting)

It was beyond crazy to me that the most normal I’d ever felt was drinking beers with a weird little man who stood no more than, what, 6 inches tall at most? How many years had it been since the last time I had this much fun? The last time I felt like I could talk and laugh this freely? It just felt so… normal? The thought seemed ridiculous- I mean, the situation was anything but… and yet here I was, thoroughly buzzed and listening intently as if we were old friends.

Sal paraded around the table, reenacting some grand adventure I could only wrap my head around with the help of however many tallboys I’d downed over the past few hours. Tales of hunting monstrous beasts and climbing unfathomable heights. He wove wild stories of a world so foreign yet so familiar… quite literally a world in my backyard.

As I nursed another drink, Sal set the scene, recounting a day-long trek he'd made out to the lake. Mist rose off the water as loons called to one another, their haunting voices echoing off the calm water. He watched intently as they slipped under the water, barely even a ripple disturbing the surface of the lake.

As if he was painting a picture in my mind, I sat enthralled, feeling as if I could feel the crispness of the water washing away the heat of the sun as he spent the day swimming in the shallows. The way he spoke… It didn't feel like I was imagining his retelling from my perspective- but his own. His perspective felt like something … almost fantastical.

"I tried to lure some of the minnows, but I couldn't get close enough to spear them without them darting off.” As if still wielding a spear he eyed the non existent minnows, patiently following some unseen motion as he remained poised to strike. “The bigger minnows seemed slower, but they wouldn't come near shallow enough. I ended up using some of the dried grub rations I'd brought with me as bait, and boy did it work like a charm. I swam I bit farther out with the bait and-"

Spear raised, I could practically see the imaginary impact- watching as the massive fish- or minnow, thrashed against the sharpened twig. I was enthralled- the way his muscles moved with the motion was almost… intimidating, bringing forth thoughts of him human sized, spearing a monster of a fish while swimming in some dangerous Amazonian river. 

“The damn thing was a bitch to swim with,” he groaned, annoyance clear on his face, “For one- it was heavy. But worse,” Sal huffs, “It was still moving.” Despite the exasperation on his face in recounting the ordeal, the man’s face couldn’t help but return to grinning. 

“So then I’m swimming back, right? Honestly more like flailing with the stupid minnow in tow, but I’m keeping above water for the most part… but I keep hearing this clicking… almost squeaking noise? Weirder yet- it's coming from below me.” He pauses, lowering his voice and I’m quite literally reeled in by his story, leaning forward on the edge of my seat. 

“Then- whoosh!” 

Sal grabs at the air. My heart jumps in my chest as the man’s hand lashes out just inches from my face. 

“This monstrous bastard of a creature - absolutely huge,” He pauses, shooting me a cheesy grin, “Second only to you, big man.” I snort and Sal picks right up where he left off, “It was all murky brown with thick these thick… whiskers? And it just sucks me into its mouth with this horrific gulp. Next thing I know I’m being dragged underwater, half in its mouth, pounding on its head just hoping it’ll let me go if I hit it hard enough.”

My breath hitches, a shudder running through me as I make the connection- A catfish. 

“With nothing to lose, I stab it. The spear goes right through its eye and-” Sal pauses, making sure he has my full attention.

“And?”

“Nothing!” Sal laughs as if it was hilarious and not down right horrifying, “That stupid thing didn’t even flinch! I don’t know if it didn’t go deep enough or if I just missed any vital enough part, but it did absolutely nothing!”

He leans forward, no longer laughing as his face takes on a grim expression.

“At this point I start to get worried.”

“Start?!” I scoff. Sal dismisses my interruption with a wave of his hand.

"My lungs are burning, and the thing’s clamped down hard on my stomach. I'm stuck holding that stupid spear for life as it keeps doing this.. this…” He shudders, face twisting in disgust, “-weird gulping thing,” Sal shakes his head as if banishing the memory, “So I ripped that spear out and using everything I had I-” His fist came down, “- drove that spear right back into its head.” 

Sal pantomimed a gruesome show-  stabbing again and again in the world's most horrific display of charades as he brutalised the memory of the catfish. 

“Finally,” He says, voice filled with a mix of relief and exasperation as if he’d just relived the whole ordeal, “it dies.” 

I, stupidly, sigh in relief, as if somehow I couldn't have predicted the outcome with him quite literally standing in front of me.

“My lungs are on fire as I swim to the surface- and man, air never tasted so sweet.” Looking down at Sal, he's beaming, laughing like a kid as he recounts his victory over the massive fish. “And then it hits me- tasted!” 

I furrow my brow, not quite following. Sal continues, frustration returning.

“No spear- and no fucking minnow! As if, after all that, air was gonna be the only thing I’d be tasting!”

After a brief pause I couldn't help but laugh. His smile grew even wider as he raved on, swinging his hands as he continued on about his harrowing ordeal.

“I refused to swim back empty handed after that shitshow- So I spent the whole afternoon dragging that giant bastard back to shore!” 

Fuck. I stare at him, eyes wide. I can’t shake the disbelief as I try to think of what would be the equivalent feat- Dragging an orca back to shore? …Something bigger? I’ve never been an avid fisherman (nor did I have any plans to start) and really had no concept of how big the catfish in the lake got aside from the notion that they were definitely bigger than Sal.

“I get that monster to land- spend about 30 minutes on a fire that just won't start, until I'm finally able to start cooking that beast!” 

He paces along the length of the table, his steps not nearly as sure footed as they had been a few hours prior. Even with his tiny frame I can easily make out the sheer rage simmering behind his eyes.

“And y'know what?” His voice, now starting to slur, is teeming with all the theatrics of a man at his absolute limit. I swallow, desperate to hold back a laugh I know is coming.

“What?”

“That fucking thing tasted awful!” Each word was spat with such ferocity it was as if he was trying to spit out the memory of the creature's taste.

There was no helping it.

With my inhibitions long since drowned, I laugh. I laugh louder than I have in years. I laugh until my sides ache- until tears prick at the edge of my eyes.

And he laughs with me.

“Pond scum! Tha' shtupid thing tasted exactly how pond scum smells!”

My vision blurs, tears threatening to spill over as he continues to rant and rave, but the sound of my laughing completely drowns out whatever critical opinions he was espousing on catfish edibility. 

Wiping at my eyes, my brain takes a few tipsy seconds to focus back on the little man. Still shirtless, Sal had sat back, reclining with his back against one of the many empties as he lifted up what was arguably the equivalent to a very generous pitcher to his mouth with little effort- the relative ease of the action catching me by surprise as I imagined myself fumbling at doing the same. 

He… he was built. 

Quite literally a brick shithouse, if said shithouse belonged to Barbie.  

Broad seemed like a fitting word. Broad chested, broad shoulders, broad smile- Hell, even his legs had a width to them. Sal looked as if he had stepped directly out of an instagram fitness post, with his … excessive biceps flexing under the weight of the shot glass, the act a paradoxical effortless display of effort. Even at his diminutive size, I could tell this man was anything but small. He-

He coughs.

My eyes dart away from his body in an instant, snapping back to his face… accompanied with heat rising in my own. As my eyes meet his, I’m again struck with the absolute absurdity of the situation.

I'm here… getting drunk… with a tiny man… He’s right there- arms reach in front of me… 

And yet he still doesn't seem real.

My hand twitches at my side.

Touch him.

As my hand slides towards him, his gaze quickly flicks from my face to my hand and back to my face again. Confusion flashing across his features for a brief moment before his lopsided grin reappears. My finger tips barely graze him as he sidesteps my hand, shoving my fingers away. 

Huh. There's a surprising amount of weight behind his push. 

“Hands t'yourself, Big Guy.” Sal laughs, “You gotta take me to dinner first.”

It takes a moment for my brain to follow his words, and I snort. 

“Is that not what I did?” 

Sal blinks.

His own brain seeming to lag as realization dawns on him. After a moment's delay, he laughs. 

Sal takes an unsteady step forward, the sway in his weight more noticeable than before. He’s still smiling, but a look of concern crosses his features as he stares at the ground in front of him.

“I feel weird.” 

“You’re drunk.”

He looks back up towards me and I point to the drink. After a moment', Sal nods, seemingly cluing in. Maybe? I really couldn’t tell.  For all I know, that nod might have been him nodding off with how stunted the gesture had looked. 

“It…” He starts his sentence and seems to forget it half way through, taking a long blink in between words “... makes you dizzy?” 

I lean forward to rest my head on the table, starting to feel all too alike. 

“Mmm- yeah, when you’ve had a bit much.” 

With that, I slid the shot glass away from him- An act which was apparently the most egregious party foul ever to have been committed. Shouts of protest erupt beneath me, as he trails after the glass. 

With a laugh, I try to shoo him away, but man, the little guy can move. Despite the sway to his stride, Sal ducks my hand with ease.

“Dude,” I laugh, opting to pick up the glass, “You.. uh, you’ve had 'nough- you're gonna get sick.”

My words feel thick, almost sticky, in my mouth, and the thought crosses my mind that I should probably be taking my own advice.

“'m fine.” 

I snort. The man didn't even know what beer was all of two hours ago, and here he was thinking he knew his limits.

“'s if you’d know,” I chuckle. “You're stumblin' 'round.”

Sal narrows his eyes.

“I am not!”

“Oh really?” My words slur together, thick with condescension and alcohol as a smile down at him. I shove a finger to his chest, I give a little push. Sal shoots glare as he staggers back.

“See?” I chuckle, “You're totally shtumbling!” 

Eyes wide, he stares up at me, brain seeming to short-circuit for a moment before a goofy grin plasters itself across his face. I feel my own face mirror his expression as we break out into drunken laughter. 

The laughter hit me hard. 

I laughed at Sal's near cartoonish drunkenness.

I laughed at how he stumbled with a push from a finger.

I laughed at the strangeness- the reality shattering strangeness- of his very existence.

This... this is really strange...

As our collective laughter died down I took in a deep inhale. I needed to know more. I couldn’t keep up the half assed charade of normalcy. 

“Sal-”

In the brief moment I’d let my guard down, the tiny man quite literally pounces. I yank my hand away a fraction of a second before he lands, Sal stumbling as his weight falls forward. Before his face makes contact with the table, Sal seemingly just… goes with it? Just flowing with the momentum as if stumbling forward had been completely intended. With surprisingly little effort, his would-be fall morphs into a drunkenly graceful forward roll, carrying him to a stand- albeit, an unsteady one. 

For a moment, I’m at a loss for words, and before I’m able to react to whatever odd show of athleticism I’d just witnessed, he’s already at it again, eyes locked onto the shot glass like a cat locked onto a mouse. I move to shoo him away with my free hand, yet I’m met with nothing but empty space as Sal scrambles underneath the gesture. 

Again, he tries for the glass. 

Launching himself at my hand, I feel his hands graze my own before I lift the glass out of reach. Sal lands with a stumble, a lopsided grin sitting smugly on his face as he looks from the glass to me. 

Sal lowers his stance, looking something between a sprinter at the blocks and a mountain lion set to pounce. 

Seeing the gears in his head turning (albeit, slowly), I clue in. Before he gets the chance to scale me for the beverage, I make a grab for him. 

And yet, despite my efforts, somehow Sal winds up on top of my hand. It was like trying to grab at water- with him just flowing out of my grasp. Abandoning the shot glass, I grab at him with my free hand- watching dumbstruck as he drunkenly pivots, turning to jump at my in coming hand.

I freeze- Trying and failing to keep my hand steady as Sal hangs off my fingers. 

With my lack of reaction, Sal takes the opportunity to climb my fingers like some sort of rope ladder. 

To my horror, he climbs all of them, heaving himself to a shaky stand on the side of my index finger- Hands on his hips and grin on his face. 

I meet his gaze and he laughs, his expression smug as he wags his finger at me.

“Too shlow.” 

Arms out in a stumbling balance act, Sal begins walking across the edge of my hand looking oddly similar to a failed roadside sobriety test. Pausing, he frowns, pouting in frustration before bending over. For a moment, I think he’s about to throw up. Instead, he plants his hands firmly on my forearm.  

My stomach drops.  

With no effort whatsoever, Sal switches to walking on his hands- somehow just as drunkenly. Swaying side to side, every “step” seemed to overcompensate for the last, looking as if he was perpetually on the verge of tipping over.

And then he did.

In a split second, I’m sober.

My hand darts out, closing awkwardly around his form with all the grace and fine motor skills of a man marginally less drunk. Unmoving and unblinking, Sal stares up at me, a strange sound escaping him… almost as if a hum got caught in his throat. I could have almost been convinced he was nothing but an action figure with the way Sal went rigid- if not for his heart beating wildly beneath my fingertips. 

My own heart drummed in my ears, and for a moment, just a single moment, it didn’t bother me that he was sticky. 

He swallows. The tiny, but very human action feels uncanny at his size. The rise and fall of his chest, the strangely sizable weight of him in my hands… all of it is just so… strange. He feels solid - tense beneath my grip. Fuck- even at his size he felt strong. My eyes trace over the myriad of scars that marred his skin, gaze lingering over the clear bite mark that covered his shoulder and chest…

I hadn't even noticed my thumb tracing over it until I felt him try and push the digit away.

“Mark-” 

“Oh- sorry.” I adjust my grip into something I assume is more comfortable, opting to hold him in a way that left him semi-seated in my palms rather than awkwardly dangling from a first.

It's a weird sight, seeing a grown man sitting in your hands. Every small movement I make has him sway, his head drunkenly lolling back as he slurs a few indistinguishable words with a chuckle. Up close like this he looks just about as drunk as he sounds- red in the face and eyes struggling to stay open. 

Adjusting my grip, I cringe.

He was more than just a little sticky.

His pants clung to my skin, peeling off as I moved like a Band-Aid being removed. The mental image sends a shudder down my spine.

I consider taking the opportunity to wipe off the concerningly sticky little man while I have the chance, though a more rational voice in the back of my mind argues that a good host doesn’t assault their “neighbor” with wet wipes. 

Below, Sal grumbles something unintelligible, clearly displeased with me as he swats at my fingers. Though despite his attempts, my fingers lingered. 

Ugh- He left a stain on my hand! 

I glare at the dark smear of sauce he’d wiped off onto his pants, silently reconsidering the option of dousing the man in dish soap, let alone wet wipes, etiquette be damned. 

Instead, I opted for another drink.

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is here!! Slight deviations from the OG lil comic, but that just means I will have to redraw it. Aedes is having a pretty rough night.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien

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Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 1686

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language

June Murphy sits bolt upright, awaking to a sharp pain on her neck. A small but significant weight falls onto her lap as her mind blinks away the remnants of a dream. Confused, she looks down, squinting in the dark of her room. There was something on her lap- 

It moved.

The sudden movement catches June off guard- a startled yelp escaping her lips. Something was in her bed. Something alive. Was there a mouse in her bed?? A rat?? The… thing takes off, scrambling in a way that causes her unease to rise. It didn't move right- It's limbs too long for a rodent, it's body far too thin. What could it- before she could finish her thought, it stood. 

She didn’t scream - she couldn’t. Fear seemed to constrict her voice into some strained combination between a gasp and a yell. 

What the fuck was in her bed!?

This felt like it should be a dream... but everything, despite the absurdity, felt very, very real. Yet, as if under the influence of some bizarre feral instinct, she feels like a bystander as she watches her hand shoot out, catching the figure in a tight fist. As soon as her fingers clasp around it she feels it squirm and thrash within her grasp, weird not-rodent legs kicking wildly. She shudders. It… it was snarling… was it feral? She feels as it claws into the flesh of her palm and a sense of dread wells up along with the pain; What if this thing was rabid?  

In the dark of her room, June struggled to make out details, but whatever it was it did not like being caught. Steeling her nerves, she hesitantly brings it closer to her face. Her movement seems to only result in more frenzied struggles from the…the… What the Hell was that??

She blinks. 

The scene before her is beyond surreal. A man- a very tiny man- thrashed about wildly in her grasp. As her eyes adjust to the dark, they meet with its- his own; wide with horror. 

Her gaze falls to his lips- smeared red with blood. It gives a terrified little cry, sounding all too human in its fear.

All at once, June was wide awake.

It… it really was a man. A very tiny and very terrified man in her hand… A million questions seem to sound off at once in her mind. Was it really a man?? Maybe he was some sort of …creature?? Could he speak? Why was he in her house? Her last question fills her with a growing sense of horror at the snarling being in her hand…Why… Why was he in her bed?

The creature snarls, and before June has time to react- the creature bites, her hand releasing reflexively. She watches in horrified fascination as the thing jumps, diving off the side of her bed, its desperation all too clear in the way it scrambles to its feet.

The tiny frame of the… the what? The creature? The word felt wrong in her mind. That was no creature. That… that was a man. She watched as the tiny frame of the something darted around the corner of her desk. June felt like her brain was on autopilot. In a flash she was out of bed and dropping to her hands and knees, sliding herself in place between the door and the…. The… being. 

“No, no, no, no-” A flurry of desperate words came from the creature. June drew in a sharp breath at the sound… It could speak. For a second, the thought sent a shiver down her spine. What the Hell had she found? As her eyes strained to adjust in the dark, she began to make out more details in its form. It moved erratically; head on a swivel- until its gaze settled on her… She felt uneasy. It looked intelligent… It looked like a man.

He was long limbed and lean, with a mess of black hair cut short at the sides. Her eyes were drawn to his ears, long and pointed and certainly not human. Was he an… elf ? A fairy? Despite him being directly in front of her, her mind dismissed the thought. That was ridiculous… Though, this whole situation was ridiculous, wasn’t it? 

His chest heaved he backed himself into the corner of where her desk met the wall. It… he stared up at her, his large ears pinned back. She thought she might have glimpsed tears glittering in those tiny eyes… but more unnervingly, she could very easily see the blood on his lips. As he catches her eyes on his face, he frantically wipes the blood away- his movements unnaturally quick. 

"Please." His voice, far deeper than she would have expected, cracked as he spoke. The sound made June wince, "Don't…" He stared up at her, eyes wide as he choked out his words "-hurt me."

His words caught her off guard- why would she… she wouldn’t-  oh.  June sees the way the little man holds his side. Had she hurt him when she grabbed him? She hadn’t meant to but… she certainly hadn’t been gentle in her panic either. 

"Oh… no-I …I would never…." June struggled to find the words. She was still battling with the absurdity of the situation and his near palpable fear seemed to catch her off guard. For a moment, a fraction of the tension leaves the little man's frame. Almost as if acting on its own, June’s hand slowly reaches forward, wanting to comfort the pitiful sight. 

The movement, however subtle, did not go over well. The man fell back, his back pressed firmly in the corner of her desk and the wall. Had there been even the slightest gap between the two June had no doubt he would have shoved himself between the two to avoid her touch. His face twists to a look of complete terror- eyes desperate and pleading.

“No! No, please!”  She froze. Never in her life had she heard a voice so filled with fear, “Stay away from me!” June immediately withdrew her hand. His chest rose and fell with such speed it made her sick to her stomach. She felt her throat tighten… the thought of causing someone so much distress was overwhelming to the point of suffocating. She racked her brain for something-anything to say, but his shakey words interrupted her frenzied thoughts. 

"Are you trying to catch or-" his voice faltered, "-kill me?"

Oh.

She grimaced. June didn't like that question… mainly because she was all too aware of her answer. 

"If I'm being honest," she began, the words feeling like sandpaper on her tongue, "I do want to …um, catch you." She cringed. The word itself seemed to catch on her tongue..it felt dirty. You didn't catch a … a person. Was that what he was? But people… well people certainly weren't this small- And he was in her house! At the very least she deserved some answers... But even as those thoughts rose in her mind she knew all too well that they were just justification for a much greater force at play; curiosity. For a brief moment, the little man's breathing stops, his jaw agape, frozen from her admission. June watches as he looks quickly to her side, clearly looking to make a dash, then thinking better of it. As his eyes square back to her there seems to be a shift in his demeanor. She fumbles with her words, trying to elaborate in a way that doesn’t sound so blatantly awful, “I mean- It.. its not-”

“-And what if I don’t want to be caught?” There's venom in his words. His voice is angry… accusatory, but most potent of all, his voice is racked with fear. The raw emotion distills an unease June, as if the potency is just too much to take in. There was no lying to herself, no pretending she was unaware. Even in the dark corner of her room his fear was clear as day, and she knew without a doubt she was the source. Yet, his fear of her wasn't quite the source of her unease. No… it was that she knew she had all the power to stop it. She could just let him leave, whatever he was… but she wanted- no, she needed answers. She refused to outright think it, but the concept was still there in her mind, abstract and untouched; Until she got answers, his feelings came second to her own. 

“If you didn’t want to be caught by me, then just what were you doing in my house?” 

All at once he goes rigid. Petrified.

Shit. 

June swallows her frustration, immediately back peddling. 

“Look, you’re not- I don’t have to ca-” June sighs, rubbing her temples. There really was no good way to word this. "You don't have to be… caught…”  The word still sticks in her throat, “I.. I just need some answers.”

She swallowed. Both literally as well as the guilt that gnawed at the edges of her mind. He looked horrified. 

“I.. I really don't want to scare you... I just… don't want you to leave…Not before I get some answers.” June grits her teeth. Each of her responses left a foul taste in her mouth. She knows what her words truly mean;  you’re my hostage until I get what I want. She pushes that thought deep down, wanting to forget her disgust.

“I don't have to be caught as long as I don't leave??” His fear seemed to evaporate for a split second as fury bled into its place, “Being caught and not leaving are the same damn if the premise is I don't want to be here!!” Just as fast as the rage had filled him it left… deflating him. His expression turned desperate, "And what happens if I try to leave, huh?" June sees tears welling up in his eyes. "Would you just catch me then?"

“I-” June’s voice falters. She knows her answer instantly, worse yet, she knows the shame on her face makes it clear.

" … I'm sorry."

[entomolog-t]

How many characters do you have?

ACK! Too many. I think this is a nice opportunity to show off some wips/art of my mains 💕

Currently I have 4 ongoing stories (Which you can find here on my Masterpost)

Bite Me has Aedes and June

The Shadow We Cast has Mark, Sal and Betty (with another character to be introduced very shortly)

Finding Strength has Rose and Tamius

INSTAЯ has Dawn, Honey, Bram and Clyde

These guys are still going through designing, but I should get a design settled soon!!

----

I am still on a bit of a posting hiatus until I make a big enough buffer to post regularly, but on my return I'm planning to post one chapter of each story, followed by weekly Bite Me updates, and monthly updates for The Shadow We Cast. The other two will have sporadic updates until I either finish Bite Me/TSWC or create a big enough buffer for either of them to put on a posting schedule.

[entomolog-t]

Finding Strength

Finally finished a G/t July Prompt; Impulsive! I’ve been planning this story for a little while based off of this post, and I’m so happy for an excuse to start posting it! 

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Word count: 2715

CW: Adult language

Life was good, thought Tamius, and he needed it to stay that way. The tiny man slipped out from the small hole he’d made behind the fridge, with more than just a little skip to his step. He found himself dancing as he trotted out from beneath the appliance, some peculiar human song stuck in his head as he strutted out in the open. Like clockwork, at 4:01 pm he had heard the human clamor down the stairs, apparently giving up the hunt for some misplaced bottle of perfume, followed by the thud of the door as she darted out of the house. A near identical scene would play out almost every other day; Always in a rush. 

This human's apparent lack of time management leading up to whatever it was humans did when they left their homes was the greatest blessing he could ask for. That titanic fool would pick up her phone, notice the time and barrel out of the house, hastily leaving whatever it was she had been doing unattended. Most days this was usually in the form of food left on the table, alongside whatever they had been doing on their laptop. 

He quickened his pace to a jog, the air around him filled with the scent of something absolutely divine awaiting him on the kitchen table. His parents had been so worried about him going out to find a place of his own- but man, they were worried for absolutely nothing. All that fretting and bothersome nagging about safety protocols and potential dangers had nearly had him question if he was ready to go out on his own- but this was so easy! He’d somehow managed to stumble across the easiest human imaginable; The epitome of obliviousness. This colossal oaf a woman was scattered, unorganized, and inattentive; the perfect combination in his mind. Scavenging was always plentiful, and even better yet, she never noticed a single thing he took. 

A total ditz, he thought. 

His luck hadn’t stopped there either. Even with her chaotic nature, this perfect mess of a human was somehow still wonderfully predictable; Out of the house by 4:00pm nearly everyday, back by 7:00pm, in bed by 10:00pm.

But the best part? That enormous twit was the least intimidating human he’d ever seen. He had watched them countless times, almost pitying them as they struggled with each step up the stairs. Their movements were perpetually stiff and sluggish, as if they were perpetually exhausted… The only time he’d seen any sort of energy from them was when they’d dart out of the house. 

He tossed his hook upwards, a smirk playing across his face as it caught the edge of the table on the first try. Oh yeah, this borrowing stuff is a cakewalk. Hand over hand, he scaled the length of kitchen twine he’d swiped a few weeks back, loving how its rough texture provided him extra grip as he climbed.

Heaving himself up, he surveyed his score. He could have kissed that bumbling idiot. There it was, a half finished stack of banana pancakes, complete with chocolate chips and maple syrup. His mouth watered. He walked up to the plate, hands perched on his hips. He had brought a wad of cling wrap to take back food in his bag… but…

Fuck it. 

She wouldn’t be home until 7:00, why not enjoy a meal at the table?

Tamius continued to hum that strangely catchy human song, reveling in the freedom of being out in the open. He found himself bouncing along to the rhythm, anticipation building for the oh-so-sweet bounty before him. Nimbly, he danced around the plate, his skillful movements filled with lighthearted vigor, as he avoided stepping in the pools of syrup. He ripped off a large and syrup soaked chunk of pancake, and proceeded to stuff his face. Thank God for dumb huma- 

His thought was interrupted by the slam of a door and a myriad of expletives. He felt his body go rigid.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m going to be late.”

Fuck was right. 

Deep breath. He hastily scanned his surroundings. Kleenex box on the table. Cup to his right. Bag on the chair- Bingo. 

He dove. 

Tamius landed in the open bag with a soft thud, rolling into a stand. 

He felt a familiar cocksure grin creep back onto his face. Too easy. This human could throw no curveball that could catch hi-

For the second time in the span of less than a minute, his thoughts were interrupted. His world lurched and he was flung back, narrowly stifling a yelp.

Oh- oh no.  

She had come back for the bag. 

It was his turn to curse; a torrent of expletives slipped from his lips, whispered fiercely through gritted teeth. Where the fuck was he supposed to hide?? He was trapped. Unknowingly caught. No. This couldn’t be happening. His heart pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out the thunderous steps taking him further and further away from his home. He felt his throat tighten. Fuck. He ran trembling hands through his hair, pulling at firstfulls as if should he pull hard enough he’d rip an idea straight from his scalp. The booming slam of the car door pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. 

He needed a plan, and he needed one now. 

Breathe. Scan. Asses. Decide. He inhaled deeply, and tried desperately to ignore how his breath quivered in his chest. He was fine. Not scared at all. This human was an absolute ditz. The epitome of human idiocy. He just needed to figure out how to keep out of that colossal ditz’ line of sight. The car engine roared to life and Tamius felt as his every muscle stiffened. They were leaving.  He steeled his nerves. 

Think. Don’t focus on the car. You need a plan. 

His legs seemed to move on their own, as if trying to keep pace with his frantic thoughts.

Okay, so I’m trapped. We are driving away from the house. If I stay in the bag, the bag will get brought back to the house around 7:00…

He chewed his lip. Three hours was a long time to lay in wait in the stupid confined space of the bag, but what other option did he have?? He could try to escape while that big oaf was driving, but then he’d still need to get back in the bag to get back into the house… The house that was growing farther and farther away by the second. 

What if he had to abandon the bag? He had no idea where he was. Even if he did, the distance to get back would be insurmountable. His heart hammered in his chest. Leaving the bag was not an option. There was no way in Hell he was leaving this easy life behind. He would figure something out… He had to. 

Tamius scanned his surroundings. The bag hadn’t been zipped all the way, and there was just enough light pouring through the opening that he could aptly assess his situation. He sat atop a towel, a pair of shoes to his left, haphazardly thrown in. There was a water bottle beneath him, along with various articles of clothing and a mishmash of smaller items scattered about; pens, deodorant, a granola bar, lip chap, perfume... He let a small smile creep on his face. This human was a mess, and he would not let himself be unintentionally found by someone incapable of intentionally finding their own belongings. If this idiot would just put things in the proper pocket, she’d have no- 

Thats it!

He took the small knife he’d fashioned from a discarded razor from his hip. That massive idiot never used the proper pockets! Carefully, he crawled towards the front of the bag. Closing his eyes, he tried to visualize how the pockets were oriented on the bag. In his mind's eye, he saw it; the pouch that sat at the lower half of the front of the bag. Yes! This would work! Opening his eyes, he cautiously judged the distance to right and left. He was dead center. Perfect. 

Taking his knife, he sliced methodically, keeping the incision as small as he could manage, lest his handiwork be noticed before returning home. Gingerly, he cut his way into the front pocket, clambering inside. He breathed a sigh of relief;  it was completely empty. She had no reason to peek in this pocket. He was safe. 

Tamius barely managed to finish his sigh of relief when he felt himself lurch forward as the car came to a halt. He clenched his teeth. Everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about. The dumb human was just going to do dumb human things for a few hours and then he’d be back home, safe and sound. He just needed to wait it out. 

His world was jostled as the bag was haphazardly lifted up and slung around the human’s shoulder. He gripped onto the internal fabric of the bag’s front pocket to avoid getting sent flying around. His stomach felt as if it dropped farther and farther with each step, and he swore he could taste the sweetness of the banana pancakes rising up in his throat. Tamius swallowed hard. 

Enough of that. This was pathetic. He’d found a safe spot. All he had to do was wait around for what? Like 2 hours and change? A total cakewalk. Baby Food. An absolute nothing. This was fine and he was fine. 

He listened intently, trying to gather any information he could about his location and surroundings. The sound of a door closing shut... Foot falls echoing… Voices… Voices with a particular resonance. He grimaced. Wherever he was, it sounded like a large open space. As he continued to listen, his scowl deepened. He counted the voices; one, two.. Three… four, five, six… seven… 

He stopped after he reached 10. Suffice to say there were too many humans. 

The feeling of dread was overwhelming. He couldn’t see a damned thing, and though he doubted he wanted to see his predicament, the lack of sight gave him a creeping feeling of being vulnerable. The booming voices resonating in an open room so far above him… he felt so small. 

No. 

Not felt. 

He was so small. 

Of course he knew he was small. He’d never stood taller than a coffee mug for the entirety of his life… and yet… he never truly felt small. Not like this. This was overwhelming. The mental barrier he'd work so hard to wedge between his conscious mind and the primal fear that lurked just beneath the surface shook under the realization of his own insignificance. Just the presence of beings so astronomically larger than himself made his stomach churn. His head fell into his hands as he struggled to keep himself from shaking. God, he felt pathetic. Just a few hours. He could manage. He would manage. 

The booming chatter died down as the sound of human music filled the room. A strange rhythmic thundering coincided with the change in ambiance. He could feel the floor shake beneath him. As strange as the surrounding noise was, he welcomed the sound of human music. 

You could never know what it's like

Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice

And there's a cold, lonely light that shines from you

You’ll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use

He found his voice joining in, shaky and soft,

"And did you think this fool could never win?

Well, look at me I’m coming back again, 

I got a taste of love in a simple way, 

And if you need to know while I’m still standing, you just fade away,”

As he sang along softly he felt his anxiety melt away, slowly but surely. The minutes dragged on, punctuated by changes in songs, and occasional muffled shouting, indistinguishable from the surrounding noise. Tamius tried to calculate how long he had left by adding up the approximate time of each song… two minutes here, four minutes there - 

Thud. 

A tremor far more impactful than all those preceding it shook him from his thoughts. He heard a distinct grunt, and then, again, another thundering sound of impact, like something colossal crashing down. The noise was far greater than any foot falls he’d ever heard. 

Thud. 

He heard a human speaking somewhere above him. Though muffled, he recognized it as his enormous dolt of a human. She had muttered something about needing to use more.. hip?? Surely he couldn’t have heard that right. 

Thud. 

“Better, but like, I feel like I’m not getting any pop, you know?” What??

Another voice muttered something in apparent agreement. 

“You mind if I try one more time?” 

This piqued his interest. Carefully he gripped the rear of the zipper, opening the front pocket just a fraction. Just enough to see what could be causing such a commotion… and what it could possibly have to do with hips and popping??

As he laid his gaze on the pair of humans the fear he felt was instantaneous and palpable (tasting strangely like banana pancakes). He knew no amount of quiet singing would quell the rising panic from what he’d seen. For a moment, it was as if his brain refused to register the scene before him, as he stood unmoving, mouth agape. He saw his human, but it was as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. 

Her messy hair, slick and soaked in sweat, and tied back revealing sharp and focused eyes. Her figure, no longer drowning in her typical oversized clothing, was not at all what he had expected. Her broad frame had always seemed to suggest she was heavier, and he'd assumed they had just been soft, or chubby… Looking now, she was certainly broad, but the size she carried was overwhelmingly muscular. Each thundering step caused her legs to tense and relax, giving Tamius flashes of muscular definition. He swallowed numbly. Awe and horror swirled in his mind. He wanted to look away… pretend he'd never seen the sheer power that had been sitting underneath her lazy attire, but he couldn't. This couldn’t be her. 

She was smiling; saying something to another human towering above him. He hated how familiar it was; her smile, her laugh… it was undeniably her, yet it was as if he could barely recognize the behemoth standing before him. He stared up at the pair, mind somehow both racing and numb simultaneously… And then they moved. 

He felt like the wind had been sucked out of him. 

Humans were supposed to be slow. His human especially. But the reality he had become so accustomed to seemed to crumble around him. The other human reached towards her, but with uncanny precision, she redirected the incoming arm before it could touch her, her body moving with obscene fluidity. Tamius found the ease of her movements disturbing, as he watched her clear past the oncoming arm, stepping in flush to the other human's side. Her free hand reached around their body, with her trailing hand snapping around the opposite side, locking her grip tightly around the other human's body. 

Before Tamius’ brain could catch up to what was happening, the human was airborne. 

Thud. 

His whole world seemed to shake. Both physically and metaphorically. 

No. 

No. No. No. 

He felt bile creep up his throat. This… this couldn’t be her. She's a mess. An idiot. A ditz. Not.. not this!  She fucking threw another human with such well practiced ease as slinging a bag over her shoulder. His knees trembled for a brief moment before giving out entirely. He fell back into her bag, tension rising as reality set in around him. 

That human was a threat. 

He looked down at his hands. They trembled. Stop.... Stop. Stop! STOP! FUCKING STOP! It felt as though he was pleading with his body, begging it to submit to him. His hands never stopped shaking. Hiding was all he had, wasn't it? Not strength, not speed, not agility… The only thing keeping him safe was the fact he was too small to be noticed.

And he needed it to stay that way. 

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me - Chapter 3

Not so fun conversation topics for two total strangers; Can June put two and two together?

We have officially passed the og comic so this is all uncharted water (though I would love to draw this out eventually!)

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word count: 1116

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, Dehumanization

Aedes stared up at the looming woman before him, her apology- no- her admission hanging heavy in the air. Her answer hit him like ice; both chilling him to the bone and freezing him in place. She admitted it. He was trapped, the weight of her admission holding him in place... and yet there he stood, cornered, but still free from her grasp. 

"Then what?" He growls. The sound of his own voice grates on him; for all the raw anger in his voice, he hates that he can still hear his own desperation slipping through. 

" I.. I don't know.” She bit her lip. His skin bristled at the sight of the woman's teeth. He watches as she grows uncomfortable. Good. “It's not like I planned what to do…” 

He snorted. She didn't even know what she wanted to do with him? Catching for the sake of what?? Just wanting?? Was he that fucking insignificant? Was this some sort of sick fun? Just a game of cat and mouse? She couldn't even just be bothered to reach out and grab him- instead just prolonging the inevitable. His hands shook, claws digging into the meat of his palms as he clenched his fists. Her nonchalant attitude fed into his growing nausea. He could feel the blood he'd so recently drank rising up in his throat. Her answers terrified him. 

"And if you catch me," despite being cornered, he made sure to emphasize the word if, "would you ever let me go?"

Genuine shock seemed to dash across her features at his words. Her expression softened, as did her voice,

"O-Of course!" It was strange. She sounded… almost remorseful. "Look, I'm not…I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hold you hostage- like that’s obviously wrong- it's just… this is weird, okay? You're in my house- my bed!” 

It takes all of his willpower and probably some years off of his life to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. If you know it's wrong, why apologize ?? Just stop!?   He grits his teeth. If she didn't care enough not to hold him prisoner in this stupid corner then why would she care enough to let him go?

“Of course?” He didn’t believe her, but he played along, counting his blessings that he remained out of her grasp for now,  "So… if I let you quell your curiosity," He says, unable to keep the snide tone from his voice, "would I no longer be your hostage? Would you let me go?" 

"I admit, that wasn't really the best wording-"

"Would you?" His voice, though fearful, is firm. 

To his shock, she seems to shrink back at his tone. She nods. 

"I… I'd just like answers…" She states quietly, her voice nearly a whisper. He narrows his eyes. Fuck. What was he supposed to say?? The moment she puts two and two together she’ll- He shook his head, frustrated. He needed a plan. An idea. Anything. His chest tightened as his mind spun. What was he supposed to do? Why did he have to tell her anything in the first place? Did she just expect him to act like a dog and sit and speak on command? The thought grated against his pride. He grit his teeth. She’d already told him to stay. 

“And what?” He spits, “I’m just supposed to talk because you tell me "speak" ? Am I a pet or a person to you??" He winces at the bitter venom he tastes in his words. She holds all the cards. He shouldn’t outright try to provoke her, but his mind is spinning in desperation. What was he supposed to say?? She wanted answers he desperately did not want to give. The thought sends a shiver down his spin. Yet, to his surprise, his words didn't seem to anger her. He watched as she looked away- for a moment he was almost tempted to run, but surprise had him glued in place. She looked conflicted- or ashamed? He swallowed dryly, heart pounding in his chest Did she actually… could she actually see him as a person? After a long pause, she spoke.

"A person... I think?" His brief sense of hope seems to decay in his grasp- a sickening feeling of foreboding taking its place.   

"You think?”  He yells, voice growing louder with each syllable, "How can you not know?? Am I, or am I not a person to you!?” As he spat the question at her as he struggled to hold her gaze, his heart begging for her to see him… To his dismay, instead he saw himself; Reflected by the dim light from the moonlit window he saw his reflection in those too large fern green eyes. The sight disgusted him; A scared and pitiful creature trapped in the stare of being that was just so much… more. As much as he hated it, he refused to look away. However, she did. 

"I- " she pauses, her gaze turning back to him- eyes pleading… for what?? Why did she look like she was pleading to him??  "I don't know. I mean, I know you're not a… pet. You're a talking, thinking being." 

Oh?

Maybe there was hope… maybe she truly could see him…

"-but,"

Ah. There it was.

"I’m going to be honest… This feels different. I wouldn't contemplate catching a person... or you know, force them into a conversation with me. I-” She bites her lip, struggling to pick her words. “I don't want to lie to you. I promise you, I don’t see you as a pet, but honestly" She swallowed, seeming almost.. nervous? "I don't really see you as a person either."

Of course she didn't. What else did he expect? He wasn't a person to her- but then again, he wasn't a person at all. He wasn’t human- he was a parasite. The word tasted like poison on his tongue. He knew what he was, but if not a person or something to be had, what was he to her? Why was he still cornered? 

“Then what am I?” He hears an angry desperation in his voice he hadn't known was there. Had she figured it out? If not a person or a pet, did she know he was a pest?  She starts to answer and abruptly stops, reconsidering. After a moment, she continues;

"You tell me. What are you?"

He wanted to lie. To say he was nothing more than a man, just… a small one, but she had caught him in the act. How could he explain away… feeding. He grimaced. Why did it matter what he was? He was a thinking, speaking being-  just the same as her! 

“My name,” he sneered, “is Aedes.”

[entomolog-t]

INSTAЯ (4)

Technically a SUPER late promtober prompt (Puzzle)

Thank you to everyone who's been asking about INSTAЯ! As a lil treat I thought I'd post this before coming off of my writing hiatus.

Also HUGE thank you to @imber-rose for their AMAZING FANART of Bram and Honey???? I am SO FLATTERED???💕

I give you - charades, anxiety, and the magical art of tidying up.

This chapter deals with the unforseen messes left in the wake of sci-fi mishaps (both literal and mental) so please take a peak at the content warnings.

Taglist: @imber-rose

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

Word count: 4230

CW: Gore (descriptions of viscera and butchering), mild body horror, mild panic/anxiety, vague dehumanization, Adult language.

Almost as quickly as the panic had come- it was gone. He’d gone silent in my grasp, having slumped to the floor, leaning with his back against the palm of my hand- still draped loosely around him. He never once looked toward me- instead he stared blankly forward, mind clearly elsewhere as his …mouthparts and antennae twitched with some sort of agitation. 

Without warning, his tiny frame jerks upright, shoving himself out from the tangle of my hands and making long strides towards the notepad, chittering to himself as he paced. His gaze flicks to me briefly, before all too quickly turning away. Hefting up the pen, he leans it against his shoulder- both sets of arms working to stabilize the awkward writing utensil in his grip. 

H…I…D…E

My stomach drops- the hastily scrawled word sending a chill through my spine. Before I can question the message, he clicks, drawing my attention back to him. He points to the word, then to himself, before clasping his hands together, as if… praying? No- begging. 

“Hide you…” My voice is almost a whisper, “From what? Where? I- I don’t- What’s going on?” I can feel my voice raising as I flood him with questions, as if some mental dam had burst. Though, much to my frustration, he holds up a hand, a sharp series of distinctly aggravated clicks interrupting me. Shushing me. He shakes his head- dismissing my questions. Instead, he points to the pile of the discarded exoskeleton in the kitchen, then toward the direction of the living room. Before I’m able to ask for clarification, he resumes writing. 

B...U…R…N

A dryness fills my mouth. I swallow. A single word forms in my mouth,

“W-why?”

Each letter feels as though it takes an eternity to take shape as he struggles with the pen. Dan? Dang?? My face falls, realization hitting me. 

D… A…N…G…E…R

As he finishes the last letter, he turns, pointing the pen towards me. 

“M-me?” I stare at him, stunned- unsure of what to say, “N-no, I - I’m not-”

He huffs- handing off the pen to his lower set of arms as he dramatically gestures with his primary pair. Arms outstretched towards me he makes a loose fist with one hand, and with the other he shoves his fingers into the first in an almost crude gesture. He does the gesture again, this time even more exaggerated, fingers making an arching path towards his fist. 

“Inside?” He shakes his head, chittering with annoyance. He teeters a hand back and forth making a so-so gesture before pointing to me, replicating the unknown sign and then pointing back to danger.

“I.. I’m… in-” All at once it clicks- my heart stopping in my chest with the realization, “I’m in danger.”

He nods vigorously. I swallow the quickly building feeling of unease in attempt to squeeze out simple yet poignant question;

“From… you…?”

He hesitates for an uncomfortable moment before bobbing his head side to side, repeating the so-so gesture. A knot tightens in my stomach, a feeling of unease twisting and snaking in my gut as if my insides had been turned to eels desperate to escape the confines of my body.

“From that??” My heart races as I point to the remnants of his shed exoskeleton. Was it toxic? I touched it- Honey had chewed on it - 

He shakes his head.

He points to me, and as if on cue I echo the verbal component to the sign.

“I…”

He points to his head. 

“Head?... Brain? Think-”  He abruptly holds up his hands, halting me from continuing guessing.

“I think…” Nodding, he then points to himself, then to danger.

“I think you danger?” My brows knit together in confusion at the stunted sentence. He repeats the gestures, this time adding a long pause before pointing to danger. 

“I think you; Danger?” Even though he nods, I feel lost. Was I supposed to follow? He repeats the sign for think, followed by slowly pinching his finger and thumb together, then giving me a thumbs up. 

“Think small.. Good” I say almost to myself, before attempting to somewhat correct the sentence, “Think little; good.”

I think you; danger. Think little… good??

What the Hell was that supposed to mean? 

I mull over the words, trying to make sense of them. 

I think about you, danger- think less is good… dangerous to think? Dangerous to know..? 

I freeze- the garbled sentence suddenly seeming to click. A much clearer phrase reinterpreting and replacing the stunted translation of his signs.

“It's dangerous to know too much. The less I know the better?”

He claps his hands together, giving me a ridiculous four thumbs up. He drops his hands, looking away for a moment before seemingly reconsidering. He holds up a single closed first, slowly raising his fingers one at a time until he reaches four, before pointing to his wrist as if asking for the time. 

I smile, a weird sense of pride bubbling up as I feel myself starting to get the hang of this strange guessing game.

“For now.”  He nods, and I continue, “Can I at least know your name?”

He looks startled at the question- his tail swishing back and forth as he considers. With the unwieldy pen in hands, one at a time he points to a handful of letters he’s already drawn out;

B… R… A… M

“I can’t say it’s been nice to meet you, Bram.” I say with an awkward chuckle. My chuckle turns to a genuine laugh as one of Bram’s many hands flips me off, the casual human-ness of the gesture looking almost comical when juxtaposed with his less than human physique. Carefully, I pinch the obscene gesture between my thumb and forefinger, suppressing a cringe at the all too insect-like feel of his appendage. The texture somehow both hard and thin- something between an eggshell and dried leaves.

“Dawn Delacroix” I say, giving his hand a gentle shake, “How can I lend a hand?”

Bram pulls his hand away to immediately begin gesturing again. His gestures are sharp and insistent as he points to the word hide, then himself, before repeating his signs for four and now. 

As soon as I nod, he continues, gesturing to shush, pointing to burn, and once again signing now.

“Burn it now and keep quiet about this - right?” 

Bram chirps, nodding. I nod along. I comprehend the message, yet internally my mind is whirling.

What the fuck was I getting myself into… Hide him?? From what? Why was I burning the…- was I burning evidence??

With a deep inhale, I force the questions to the back of my mind. Just get him out of sight for now. One thing at a time.

I eye the strange little man up and down, shifting my weight from foot to foot.  

“When you say 'hide’ you don’t just mean keeping you in the house, eh?” I note, my brow furrowing, “Like, you want me to hide you like ‘my house is going to get searched’ hide you?”

Slowly, he nods. 

Despite suspecting the answer, I feel the blood drain from my face all the same. Instinctively, I go to chew on my thumb, stopping myself with a grimace before actually biting down.

“Fuck. Okay. Right. This is- It’s fine.” I lie. My mind is a freeway of thoughts rushing past me- and I’m stuck feeling like some poor animal dodging transport trucks.  

Why was he .. like this?

What happened to him?

Why were people after him?

Had he escaped something? Hurt someone?

I had somehow come to have tasked myself with protecting him from some unknown entity without knowing a single thing about the situation. What kind of people pleaser bullshit was this? I was in way over my head. This was dangerous- yet here I was diving in head first.

As I tried to shake the questions from my thoughts, one seemed to stay stuck- as if it had somehow become a permanent fixture in the forefront of my mind;

Should I really be doing this? 

Despite all that I want to tell myself, I know I don’t have an answer. 

Restless, my hand drags along my face and I aggressively rub at my brow as if forcing my face to relax would somehow force me to relax as well. Unsurprisingly, the action is utterly useless. Fuck. What am I doing? What if I’m in trouble? What if I make things worse? How am I supposed- 

There's the sudden sensation of contact- an involuntary shiver shoots down the length of my spine. 

As if pulled back to reality from his touch, my eyes fall onto Bram- one of his tiny hands laid on top of my own. He stood, looking up at me with what I could only assume was concern in the inky black of those far too many eyes. A shudder creeps its way across my neck- feeling all too similar to the sensation of an insect crawling on my skin. His touch made my skin crawl- it was uncanny in far too many ways. So human, yet so …. Not. He himself was too hard, yet his touch too light. It lacked warmth, not in intent, but physically lacked the warmth of human touch. His clawed fingers felt as though a pin was being dragged on my skin, not painful… but catching. 

As if some primordial instinct takes hold I yank my hand back, fingers curling into a fist as if to hide themselves from the unexpected and unsettling contact.

Bram’s antennae fold down, his hand still hanging limply in the air where mine had been not a second ago. The sight of him sends a wave of guilt crashing over me. With a forced smile, I let my hand relax in front of him, awkwardly pretending as if I hadn’t just cringed away from his touch. 

For some reason unbeknownst to me, my mind wanders back to his horrified reaction to his… current state. The way he’d cried into my hand- the feeling of helplessness that washed over me... Being able to do nothing but offer what little comfort I could. My stomach twists as I think of him trying to do the same for me. This had to be horrifying for him… For all my feelings of helplessness, I couldn’t imagine a fraction of the helplessness that he must be going through. 

I exhale. The act seeming to catch him off guard- his antennae shooting up as he regards me.  

Now was not the time to chew on these heavy questions. He needed help, I would figure the rest out later. 

Man, I need a drink- 

As soon as the thought enters my mind it's as if it sets a cascade of dominoes in motion. I’m met with teenage memories of Clyde and his buddies sneaking whatever alcohol they could scavenge into some ridiculous hiding spot he'd jimmy rigged straight into the drywall behind his bed. 

I smile.

That could work…

"Let's get you hidden, Big Man." His eyes narrow at the impromptu nickname, but he keeps his chirps to himself. I move my hand towards him before we both simultaneously pause, likely sharing one very awkward thought;

How was this going to work?

In something weirdly akin to two people trying to walk past one another but unsure of which direction to pick, we both continued in an awkward stop-start motion. 

"Here- uh, just let me-" I slid my hand behind him, scooping him at his knees. Rather than calmly remaining seated, a shrill chirp was all the warning I had before he began scrambling in my grip, his weird insectoid claws gripping into my skin in a way that, while not physically painful, was mentally disturbing. 

"Woah, woah- Bram!" My free hand shoots up to block the edge, as if he were some frightened animal about to jump to "safety." Instead, all four arms latched onto my finger, squeezing with a significant amount of force for his size. My brow furrows as I regard him,

"You good?" 

His head swivels, looking over his shoulder and back at me with a palpable anger in those tiny eyes. He let out a string of strained chirps, and despite not understanding a word he was saying, it didn't take much to understand it was littered with profanity. 

"Not a fan of heights, I'm assuming?" If looks could kill I'd be dead last week. In a gesture that needed no translation, Bram flipped me off.

As he tugged against my finger, I took the hint and curled my grip around him- wincing at the uncanny sensation of him in my grasp. It felt like holding a particularly large and eerily human-shaped beetle. Though, despite my own discomfort, Bram seemed at least somewhat more at ease in the security of a closed fist. 

I took a step. 

Immediately his primary set of arms were once again gripped onto my finger, claws digging into the meat- not enough to break the skin, though I assumed that courtesy was unintentional. At my movement, I heard the telltale jingle of Honey's collar as she padded to my side- clearly excited at the notion of some sort of activity other than gnawing on discarded exoskeleton.

Bram chittered nervously at her approach. I pull him close to me, making sure to hold him out of reach as Honey circles us, tail wagging with excited curiosity.

"Don't worry," I say, trying to put his nerves at ease, "She's a good girl, I promise- just a little excited after… everything." 

Though even as I say that, thoughts of Honey snapping at June bugs fill my mind- the nasty crunch they would make when she eventually caught them seemed to ring in my ears. I swallow dryly. 

Maybe it was best not to leave her unattended with him.

In the least obvious way I can manage, I shoo her away, nudging her with my foot as she circles around me. Honey somewhat acquiesces to my unspoken command, opting instead to trail behind me, still noisy but thankfully not nearly as pushy.

Good enough. The thought feels like the mental equivalent of a sigh. 

As I walk, I can’t help but notice how he flinches with every step, his whole body bracing as though I’d suddenly forget how to carry something. His tail flicks with what little room he has under my snug grasp, yet he remains quiet, eyes glued straight ahead as I make my way to Clyde's old room.

He all but dives off my hand as I move to set him down on the floor beside me, quickly moving himself out of the way as I join him on the floor. A flock of dust bunnies scatter as I reach under the bed, groping around for a solid spot to grip the small section of discreetly altered baseboard.

A smile crosses my face as the "door" swings open- immediately vanishing as my eyes fall on the interior of the wall. My smile is replaced with horror at the sight of empties littering the length of the inner wall- empties undoubtedly left from Clyde's long since passed teenage years. 

"Well look at that! Your room even comes with its own bar." I catch a whiff of the sour smell and grimace. Bram’s inky black eyes glare back at me, and even with his lack of visible sclera, I had no doubt he had rolled his eyes at the remark. 

"I'm sorry-” I chuckle awkwardly, mortified at the sight, “Brothers aren't really known for being the cleanest of creatures." Unable to add anything of note without the aid of the pen and paper, Bram shrugs, offering a half hearted thumbs up in response. His talon-like claws click softly on the wood floor as he moves to investigate his potential temporary residence. 

"You know," I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips, a small half laugh slipping out at the strange turn of events, "When I first found you this morning I was terrified at the thought of you escaping into my walls."

His antennae perk up, oddly reminiscent of eyebrows raising in shock- or, more likely, offense.  That distinction was made much more clear as he proceeded to flip me off while buzzing angrily, the sound somewhere between a phone vibration and a particularly offended bee. 

His casual demonstration of profanity for some reason or other, put me at ease. I chuckle, the tension leaving my body, if only for a moment.

“I'll be back soon.”

Without further charades, I close the door, sealing Bram inside the wall. Part of me feels a pang of guilt for not thinking to grab some sort of light, but beggars, as well as potential fugitives, can’t be choosers. As I push myself back to a stand- physically feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on me. A nagging urge to stop and critically think about what on Earth had transpired itches at the edge of my mind- yet I refused to scratch. There was a sort of mental momentum I had built up, a series of tasks to complete one after the other, and the knowledge that the moment I stopped to pick apart the situation in its entirety said momentum would send me crashing into reality. 

We can panic about this later. One thing at a time.

One foot in front of the other, I tear myself from the room- away from the strange little man who probably had all the answers, yet none of the words, or willingness, to share them. Honey reluctantly follows, letting out a soft whine in protest the same way she would if I were to take away a toy or an old bone. I grimace at the comparison. 

Yeah, let's not leave her alone with him.

________

I surveyed the sci-fi nightmare my home had become. Kitchen to livingroom, various degrees of carnage were scattered, and worse yet, splattered, around across the floor. With no small effort, I resist the urge to gag. My once beautiful hardwood was littered with discarded… parts of what had apparently once been Bram. The cracked bits of his outer shell, while undeniably gross when I thought too much about it, were not that bad. 

It was the flesh that made my skin crawl. 

I was no stranger to flesh. Hunting had long since suppressed my gag reflex when it came to viscera… and yet that was precisely what made it worse. I knew what it should be. I knew how it should feel… and that knowledge left me deeply aware of just how wrong everything was.

It was the colours that I noticed first.

Some flesh seemed almost normal, save for something uncanny with the degree of saturation, but the more I cleaned, the more oddities I found. Pieces of flesh so deeply red they neared the point of being back. The pieces far too tough, almost solid to the touch. 

Everything was coated in a strange slick opalescent mucous. Everything had this odd iridescent sheen. Though the fluids weren’t limited to the unnatural looking mucus. For a lack of better terminology, there was a general… ooze.  A sickly blend of various fluids; an opaque pale yellow transitioning into some sickly greyish green… and red… so much red the floor looked black until disturbed by my frantic wiping. 

What… what was all this?

What parts of him?

My stomach churned. The shed remains weren’t all just one consistency. There were… shapes in the flesh, lumps in the ooze. Whatever the inconsistencies in the gorey sludge had once been was impossible to tell, the lumps having lost much of their shape as if degraded by something.

My eyes flashed to my gloves- thankfully, still intact. 

I sigh, wincing as I inhale the strange stale smell that had undoubtedly bled into the flooring. It wasn’t particularly foul, in fact, it was almost familiar, which in itself made it far worse-  the smell of raw meat. 

My throat clenches at the thought, and I struggle to suppress the involuntary response to start dry heaving. 

Don’t think. Just clean. 

No different from gutting a deer. 

No difference at all. 

My hands move idly, picking up piece after horrific piece. The pile dwindles, replaced by a collection of dangerously heavy garbage bags in the center of the room, leaving nothing but the slowly congealing ooze to tackle. Armed with a worryingly complex array of disinfectants, I begin working away at the fluids.

My stomach churns as I try desperately to force my brain to think about anything else aside from the liquid carnage I’m sopping up with a month's worth of paper towel. Anything at all. 

Though the ‘anything’ that seems to permeate my mind, while less disgusting, is no less worrisome. 

Just what was happening? My teeth dug into the flesh of my lip as I scrubbed harder, as if the answer lay somewhere under the layers of- 

Was Bram really human? He seemed human... Maybe? His mannerisms were normal enough, save the extra appendages. But if he was human…

Why was he hiding? A distinct anxiety began to swell in my chest, and with it, a much more worrisome question came rising into my throat

Just who was he hiding from? 

…and how long until they got here?

_______

For all my monumental efforts in cleaning, it seemed as though Honey lived to do the opposite. Her fur, once a light golden color, was a horrible mishmash of the various fluids that had been splattered across my floor. Snout to tail she was caked in a thick mucosal slime that had rapidly begun to crust over as it dried, becoming flaky and, ugh, crunchy. 

From behind the filth, Honey stares up at me, her warm brown eyes filled with an innocent pleading as I stare down the nozzle at her- my finger hovering on the trigger. 

She whines softly.

I don't hesitate. 

Without a second thought, I spray her down- holding tight to her collar as she squirms in my grip, the cool spray from the hose apparently far less appealing than the rapidly decaying innards of some sci-fi mishap. I empty a container of dawn dish soap over her as she whines in protest, all the while desperately hoping that if Dawn worked for ducks in oil spills it’d work for dogs in biohazards as well. 

From I could tell, it seemingly had done the trick.

As I finished rinsing her off, Honey finally managed to wriggle free, zipping off to dart around the yard to run off her offense at, God forbid, being clean. 

My eyes hesitantly left her, moving to scan the lengthy driveway. I was almost expecting to see some unmarked government vehicle driving down to come and interrogate me.

How much time did I have before someone showed up? What was I even supposed to say? Hell- what were they going to say? ‘Hey Ma’am, have you seen a strange bug-person-thing in the area?’

A shaky breath blew past my lips as I forced out any hypothetical thoughts. 

We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. 

My eyes flick towards the stack of pallets and scrap wood leaning up against the garage. 

But first we have more important things to burn. 

__________

The warmth of the fire pricks at my skin, or maybe it was the lingering bits of Bram sludge and it's undetermined acidity slowly burning through my skin-

With an exhale, I banish the thought before it can fully form. 

Everything’s fine. Kind of. Not really. I was harboring what was more and more in hindsight seeming like some fugitive alien or awol government experiment within the walls of my home. There was no way this wasn’t some type of felony, right? I was tampering with… evidence? A crime scene? 

What even was this?

I massage the bridge of my nose, my eyes immediately watering at the remaining smell of gasoline on my hands- no other reason. 

The fire continues to blaze on, the occasional pop and hiss emanating from the rapidly shrinking pile of charred remains. Around me, birds sang. I could hear the trill of chickadees and vireos as they hopped along the edge of the treeline. A soft breeze whispers through the foliage, rustling the leaves scattered on the ground. The early morning fog seemed to ease and give way to the everwarming rays of sunshine… 

I took a deep breath. 

Aside from the pungent odor of gasoline, there was a freshness in the air, as there so often was in fall. A crispness to the chill entering my lungs, with the sharp scent of evergreen dancing on each breath. I held out my hands, letting the heat from the fire soak into them.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day- clear skies, with the sun passively warming the October air. The atmosphere seemed to set a precedent. A subtle nod that everything would be okay.

I exhaled. 

Maybe everything really would be fine.

A soft vibration at my side pulls my attention to my phone. 

In my chest, my heart turns to ice- a sinking feeling of dread washing over me as I read the notification. 

Trail Cam Alert: Movement detected by NW BOUNDARY CAM at 8:06 am

[entomolog-t]

Spoiled Snacks

I love the concept of size shifters who unabashedly love being small. Not so much in a fluffy sense where they just feel so safe and comfy... But in a spoiled wanting to be pampered sense. Like smug little gremlins who just want to be carried around.

Word Count: 632

CW: Fearplay,

---

No matter how many times you ask them not to walk all over your plate, they never listen. Every meal time its the same thing. They shrink down, hoisting themselves up onto the table, and walk right over to your plate, enjoying whatever you’ve made for yourself. 

“Ohh,” their voice is thick with that quintessential mocking tone, “but I’m sooo small. You won’t even notice what I’ll take.” 

You narrow your eyes. 

“I wish I didn’t notice you.” They snicker at your remark, continuing to pick off of your plate. The first time they had shrunk had been jarring to you both. It had been without warning. One moment they were walking towards you, and the next they had seemed to vanish into thin air. Had it not been for their soft yelp of surprise cutting the silence you weren’t sure you would have noticed them. 

Things... things had changed since then. You almost missed the days where they had sat in your cupped hands, eyes wide with fear. The way the had to close their eyes before you touched them, the way their hands shook before they touched you... With the privilege of hindsight, they had been adorable. While you didn’t want them be terrified of you again, anything was better than this. 

What had once petrified them had quickly become their preferred state. You couldn’t remember the last time they willingly walked somewhere; you having become their primary mode of transportation. Personal space had so quickly become a thing of the past. They quite literally had taken to walking all over you, and they absolutely knew it. 

They were smug.

You try to shoo them away from your plate with a spoon but they duck and weave, nimbly avoiding being pushed from your plate. Their laughter feels taunting. You lean closer to them, eyeing them up and down. All you get in return is a smirk as they sit on the edge of your plate.

“I miss when you used to be scared of me.”

For a split second, that smug little smirk gets wiped right of their face. You don’t quite catch the emotion that replaces it before they begin to chuckle, but you didn’t miss the way the tips of their ears had turned bright red. 

“Thats on you.” They say nonchalantly, as the pull some more food directly from your plate. When they see the confusion on your face, they continue, “I never really thought of you as a gentle person until all of this” they say, gesturing to themselves. “But boy was I wrong. They way you’d dote on me left and right? The concern in your eyes every time you picked me up? How am I supposed to be afraid of someone as soft as you?”

You snort. Soft, huh? You can feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. 

“How are you supposed to be afraid?” Slowly, you pinch their ankle between your thumb an index finger, “How about I show you?” 

You lift up, bringing their foot up towards their head and sending them tumbling to their back. Before they can sit back up you press your fingertip to the center of their chest; pinning them to the table. The feeling of their heart beating wildly in their chest is oddly exhilarating. 

“How about you stay off my plate,” you say, as you loom over their tiny frame. You bring yourself much closer, face inches away from their body. “Lets I mistake you for something a bit more-” you pause, flashing them a toothy grin “tasty.”

The change occurs suddenly. 

One second you’re looming over a miniature human, the next, there's a full grown person splayed out on your table, eyes wide, cheeks red, and completely on top of your plate. 

You’re the first to break the silence. Doubling over, you laugh. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you look at their flushed face, expression completely dumbfounded.

“Don’t you worry,” you tease, “I don’t eat spoiled snacks.” 

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me - Chapter 10

What is this? Highschool musical?

June stress cleans, and Aedes stresses.

Pumped out another promptober prompt!! Glipse

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

- - - -

Previous Chapter : Chapter 9

Next Chapter: Chapter 11

Word count: 2520

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, mild depictions of anxiety

As if a passenger in her own mind, June watches her actions playing out before her as her mind hums, buzzing with thoughts of the night- thoughts of Aedes. The shock of realization, the way he moved both too fast and too rigid. She remembers his voice, silky smooth and deep- how it cracked as he begged her to stop. She grimaces as she remembers the fear so clear on his face- and how deeply she desired it. 

As her hands numbly move from task to task her thoughts seem to ebb and flow- at times, however briefly, placated by the monotony of cleaning. At first it was easy- she made her bed, picked up discarded clothing, and straightened the various contents of her desk. Yet, as her room became more and more tidy, she became desperate to find more tasks to occupy her mind. 

She rearranged her plants, switching their positions from her desk to the shelves to the window sill. 

Play with me, my human

She optimized the layout of her room, moving her laundry basket right beside her dresser to keep things thematically consistent- to find a logical flow. Or so she told herself. There had to be some reason- some excuse to think about anything other than him. 

Indulge your delusion

His words seemed to echo in her mind and June found herself craving more stimulating tasks to busy herself- to quiet her mind. To quiet him. 

So she continued on. The guitar should go near the desk, not the stand mirror.  The rug looks better at the side of the bed, not the foot of it.  Maybe the bed should face the other way? 

June sighs. 

This was getting ridiculous. 

Looking at the space in front of her, her room was as meticulously kept as it had ever been. Immaculate by her standards, and yet the thoughts of him persisted. Her lips drew into a tight line. How could they not? Everything about the night was so far beyond her realm of normalcy she hadn’t even initially believed it herself. 

Even now she found herself full of questions and doubts. The reality she was apparently living in felt inconsistent with the reality she’d always known. Why was he so small? How could vampires exist- what even constituted a vampire? Was he immortal? Or was he just some guy who drank blood? Two lines of thought thrashed against one another, competing for her attention. Logic, alight with curiosity, demanded answers, while the more empathetic part of her wanted a conclusion- needed an apology to be heard, a way to show him she was sorry.

Each question seemed to compete for her attention, growing louder and more desperate as she shoved them to the back of her mind while simultaneously shoving book after book back into her bookcase. Though she meandered about in silence her thoughts were loud. Unbelievably so- as if they were drowning out all actual sound. Her mind was loud- but she could be louder. 

A song, gentle and familiar, starts to form on her tongue. 

I fall to pieces

Each time I see you again

The notes felt smooth in a way it was hard to describe. Smooth in a way that seemed to soften the sharpness in her mind, as if the softness of the song could dull the edge of her emotions. The melody a soothing balm on her agitated mind. 

I fall to pieces

How can I be just your friend?

The tangle of thoughts that constricted around her mind seemed to relax, coming undone as though the song pulled just the right thread to untangle the mass, pulling the thoughts further and further from her, as if sending them floating away on her melody. 

You want me to act like we've never kissed

And yet, for as placating as it was… something felt off. June couldn't shake the thought that something was amiss- an unsettling undercurrent lingered just beneath the shallow tranquility of the song. A particular unease seemed to creep at the edges of her mind. Not a foreboding dread, but instead something lighter, almost like deja vu, as if it was something she should have known- The feeling of forgetting something but not being sure what; The feeling of pulling a loose thread only to unravel a crucial stitch…

You want me to forget 

Pretend we've never met

As she sang she felt as thoughts, abstract and formless, seemed to shift in the back of her mind. As if the words of her song had breathed life into something dormant lurking in her subconscious. The words were familiar, yet not, taking on an enigmatic allure-  as if they held secrets she ought to have known. With each lyric that escaped her lips, a subtle transformation occurred, as though the music itself was a conduit, channeling something she felt compelled piece together. 

And I've tried and I've tried

But I haven't yet

Movement out of the corner of her eye catches June’s gaze

All at once, her heart stops and the gears that were futility catching finally seem to clunk into place. Aedes… he hadn’t left.

You walk by and I fall to pieces

I fall to pieces

The lyrics became a prophecy to unfold, as June falls to pieces. The words barely register in her mind, her lips numbly singing the words as her eyes stay locked on him for the longest second of her life. Something in her feels as though it crumbles. She’d sung the song countless times, and yet it was as if she’d never known it. The words seemed to resonate in more than just her chest. Her very being shaking under the resonance, it was as if she’d unlocked a new understanding- a whole new song. The words hadn’t changed, neither did the notes. It was something in her. 

June looks away, feigning that she was looking at something just near enough, but not him. Heart beating wildly in her chest she desperately fought to keep her face as neutral as possible. How could she bring herself to look at him after all that she'd done…

He… he was still here…

He hadn’t left…

June felt a lightness in her chest. Like a flower pushing up through the concrete, a small fragment of hope seemed to bloom from within her. 

Should she- 

No. She dismissed the idea before it could fully form. She’d done enough damage. 

But maybe she could make it right if she just- 

June chews her lip.

Just what was she supposed to do? Just waltz up and say ‘Hey I’m really sorry for scaring you- it's just that you being terrified really turned me on and I kinda thought you were into it’ ??

Embarrassment hot on her face, June flops to her bed, wishing she could just scream into her pillow, but the awareness that she had company forced her to keep some sort of decorum. Instead she reaches for her nightstand, pulling out the relic that was her childhood mp3 player. 

God, she wanted to make this right. 

He hadn’t left yet… maybe she still could. 

---

Aedes' heart seems to jump in his chest as for the briefest of moments he is once again trapped in her stare- captive in her overwhelming gaze. 

Or… not? 

She moves on, still singing that enchanting melody. 

He releases a breath, his body all at once relaxing. She hadn’t seen him. 

Slowly, he backs away. He’d been stupid. He’d nearly gotten himself caught, and for what? To watch some natural disaster of a woman sing? He sighed, making his way back to the far corner beneath the dresser. 

He could have sworn they’d locked eyes… 

A part of him, as terrified as he was, almost wished they had.

Her song finishes, fading off into a melodious hum as he hears her settle on her bed.

Something felt off-

No, not felt- sounded.

While his spike of bloodlust had abated for now, his ears could still pick up the faint sound of her heart beating in the distance.

It was fast.

Far too fast for someone laying down.

Fuck.

She had seen him hadn't she? But she hadn't said a thing- she hadn't even made a move in his direction…

Was she just waiting for her chance- wanting to catch him off guard? 

He scowled. That didn't make sense. He was cornered. If she wanted to catch him she absolutely could.

The sound of her movement makes him jolt- nearly thwacking his head off the low cover of the dresser. He watches with his heart in his throat as she pads away from the bed and towards her closet, rummaging around in boxes she had moments ago neatly stacked away. His eyes follow her as she moves to sit at her desk- back to him. 

He swallowed. 

She wasn’t acting like it but he couldn’t shake the suspicion she had seen him. He frowned, not fond of staying in the spot where she had glimpsed him. He needed a better spot, and thankfully he had quite literally been delivered one. The freshly placed laundry bin perfectly covered the once bare space between the dresser and standing mirror. Carefully, Aedes made his way out from underneath the dresser, squeezing himself between the wicker laundry bin and the wall. 

Nothing. 

She continued to sit at her desk, idling fiddling with something. 

Aedes frowns. 

While entering the window and getting to the bed had been a quick and easy drop, the same couldn’t be said for the way back up. With no headboard to the bed Aedes found himself eyeing her desk as the only means to scale back up the window sill. 

With her back still turned, Aedes darts from the laundry bin to the mirror- peaking back to see the human still occupied at her desk. She hummed softly to herself as she sat hunched over something, her scale and his relative angle completely obscuring whatever it was that had her focus. 

Aedes sighed. Whatever it was that she was doing, he didn’t get the impression she’d be moving on anytime soon. He let him slump back against a large potted plant that sat decoratively beside the mirror. The cool ceramic felt nice against his skin. He felt his body once again start to relax, the sudden heaviness of exhaustion finally hitting him, as if he only now was bearing his full weight. 

Once again, he was back to waiting. 

Waiting for her to open the window.

Waiting for her to leave the room. 

Waiting to get away. 

The sun cast the room in a smothering warmth. Cozy, yet too much. Her hum droned on in the distance, with the occasional odd sound of her fiddling at her desk. Even in this relative calmness, the light of day was still so busy. Aedes found himself longing for the night- a cool breeze and fresh air. Peace and tranquility and freedom. He couldn’t wait to leave. To feel the crunch of dirt under his boots. The tall grass providing cover as he searched for something to feed on. A dark sky above him, stars bright and clear- the compelling song of a heart beat singing in his ears even more clear- Crystalline. A soft wordless melody filling him with vigor- resonating in his chest. The blood, sweet on his tongue, filling him with a hazy warmth. A cozy warmth. Enveloped in soft hands. Lips on his stomach. Her inaudible whispers hushed against his chest. What was she saying? He couldn’t hear her over the sound of her heart beating. Thunder in ears. So loud he could feel it- a vibration shaking him. The floor trembled beneath him

The… floor?

Aedes jolts awake.

His breath catching in his throat as her steps shake the floor. Fuck. 

He scrambles to his feet, peaking around from the cover of the plant.

There she was, in all her magnitude, walking straight towards the dresser. His throat tightened as she knelt down. 

No. 

She had seen him. 

Fuck. 

Was she looking for him?

He held his breath, heart slamming against his chest as his body tensed, preparing to run the second she turned her attention his way. 

Only- she didn’t. 

She knelt for only a moment, and then moved on- standing up and exiting the room, a soft hum fading into the distance as she left. She hadn’t reached under the dresser, hadn’t even looked. Aedes felt as his brows knit together. She had left something. A small vaguely rectangular shape sat just beneath the dresser. 

He swallowed. There was no denying it. She had seen him. She knew he was here. 

So just what was she doing?

His eyes flicked from the strange rectangle back to the door. She had left. the air around him felt lighter. More crisp, as if the tension of her presence left some kind of haze. His relief however, was short lived, as he attention was brought back to the window- still closed. 

Trapped. 

She wasn’t even here and he was still trapped. 

He drags his hands along the length of his face, frustration building. Think. There had to be something he could do in the meantime- someway he could move himself closer to escape. 

His eyes flicked back to the rectangle- curiosity gnawing at his focus. 

His eyes, adjusted to the daylight in the room, couldn’t quite make out what she’d left under the dresser with it obscured in the heavy contrast of shadow. The whole thing felt off, like a trick or some sort of trap, yet off in the distance he could still hear her, however faintly, humming to herself. 

Aedes scowls, eyes narrowing as he tentatively moves back toward the dresser, ready to sprint away in a second notice should he hear her return. 

Drawing closer, he makes out more details; black, soft edges, folds. Aedes’ frown deepens. The more he saw, the less sure he was of what exactly he was looking at. 

Was it… fabric?

He nudges the folded fabric with his foot- nothing feeling amiss, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for.  

Aedes pauses for a moment, considering if he should touch it- the weight of the action sitting heavy in his mind. She had left this for him clearly, in taking this he was essentially confirming that he was here…

But there was no harm in looking, right?

As he lifts it up, the fabric unfurls, and for a moment, Aedes isn’t quite sure what exactly he’s looking at. He would have thought it a blanket if it wasn’t for the strange way it hung from his hands- stitched together at seemingly random points. He turns the fabric this way and that, trying to figure out how it was supposed to be oriented. His eyes fall to something pinning two points of the fabric together - a silver stud. 

Aedes blinks, some part of his mind seeming to recognize the shape.

His heart freezes in his chest as the familiarity dawns on him,recollection drawing his face into a deep scowl.

A cloak.

[entomolog-t]

I want to read an absolutely ridiculous Gt soulmates!au.

Like, picture this.

You're going about your day, and bump into someone on the street. You turn to say something but they make some snotty comment and you get into a bit of a confrontation with them. Nothing serious but enough that it leaves you in a foul mood.

What a cold personality. Who raised someone who could be that rude to a stranger? Maybe you fantasize a little about them tripping into a puddle. You definitely replay that argument over in your head a few times, wishing you could replay that moment and say that banger of a comeback you thought of just a smidge too late.

As the day passes, this mood lingers. Isn't it funny how one bad interaction can just ruin a perfectly good d-

You hear a yelp.

You turn to face the direction, and it's like the world falls out from underneath your feet. You almost missed them initially, but you caught the movement at the very periphery of your vision. That nasty person from earlier stands right at your feet, tiny ... and absolutely terrified.

No.

No. No. No. No.

Not them.

Why them??

It wasn't supposed to go like this! You'd spent so long daydreaming of the day you'd meet your soulmate. It was supposed to be cute and fun. Maybe a little awkward, but this???

You feel your stomach in knots as you look at them. A thought that a piece of your soul that small was with them right now was chilling. Maybe it was a mistake? Could you accidentally drop a bit of your soul?

You sigh. As much as you want to doubt it, you know there's no doubting... something to do with compatible frequencies that create an attraction? You never paid much attention during that class in high-school...

You bend down to get a better look at them. They aren't bad looking... quite the opposite... and at this size? They're pretty cute. You take a deep breath. Everybody had bad days, right? They're probably-

"This has got to be a mistake."

Nope. That's it. They suck.

------

OK OK OK LIKE???

When you meet your soulmate this sort of metaphysical reaction occurs where the souls have complimentary frequencies and this somehow acts as a sort of magnetic reaction, pulling a small bit of someone's soul away from their whole. That small bit of the soul then physically manifests as them.

BASICALLY, soulmate au where your soulmate finds a tiny version of you, and vice versa.

You don't share a consciousness with your shed bit of soul, maybe some kind of shared dreams or something, so you have no idea what some part of you is dealing with.

AHH I love it. It's stupid and silly and adorable.

Angst potential?? Fluff potential?? CONSTANT SIZE SWAP DYNAMICS???

I beg of thee

Please use this silly au.

SoulSwap au? SoulShard? I dunno.

If anyone has any cutesy names for this, please share

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me - Chapter 7

June and Aedes exchange choice words (too bad their choices suck)

This chapter deals with miscommunication and conflict regarding consent between the two, as well as themes of shame surrounding intimacy.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias @soapysoap69

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 6

Next Chapter: Chapter 8

Word count: 1722

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, Dehumanization, Minor injuries, Whump, Panic (onset panic attack), Conflicting feelings of consent

What had once been unintelligible whispers, hushed words on muggy breaths, now suddenly were raw shouts. Pleading- though not to continue, but instead begging to stop. June freezes, feeling as if she's been broken out of a trance. To her horror she tastes blood on her tongue - The taste of power turning sour in her mouth. Her eyes immediately fall to his body, catching sight of the angry red markings that drag along his pale frame- raw and bruised. No… She’d been careful, hadn’t she?  Her stomach drops, weighed down by the heavy realization of her actions.

 It… it had just been teasing, right?  

Her gaze flicks to his face and she falters. The once piercing stare had turned to wide eyes, brimming with tears. There's a desperation in his eyes, though nothing about it feels romantic. No, instead all she can see in his expression in terror. No, no, no- I went too far. I shouldn’t- Did I hurt him? She can barely keep pace with her mind, thoughts racing yet she herself feels frozen in place- Stunned as she stares at him. 

Between her pinched fingertips, June feels his hands shake, fists clenching and unclenching involuntarily within her grasp. She swallows the lump that rises in her throat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A string of expletives fill her thoughts at the physical manifestation of his panic, He’s shaking. Oh God- he’s shaking so much... She releases her grip on his wrists, though even as she lets go of his arms, his near palpable panic does not subside. He scrambles to all fours, shakily resting on his haunches in her palm.  Face white, he gasps for air as if he’s been choking, all the while his gaze refuses to meet hers. 

June's throat tightens, She hadnt meant to- a ruthless voice in the back of her mind stops her, the truth in the words cutting as if it were a blade, Oh but you did. You wanted this. You wanted to scare him, didn't you?

She doesn't want to look at him- doesn't want to see what she's done, but her eyes are glued to him, watching the rapid heaving of his chest as if watching a car crash- the wreckage mesmerizing in the most horrific of ways.

June tries to keep her hands steady, but the sight of the terror on his face and quickly forming bruises on his skin make her stomach churn with regret. What had she just done?? Why would she scare him like that? 

A chilling question snakes its way to the forefront of her mind, 

Why did she like it?

Part of her feels as though a rug has been pulled out from underneath her. When had it stopped being playful? The thought of him looking into her eyes, his expression nothing short of lecherous as he told her to play with him… to indulge. The thrill and desire that had been coursing through her veins seemed to turn rancid, as if the sickening realization of her depravity was poisoning her. She felt dirty- as if part of her had been irreparably tainted- Stained not just by her actions, but the pleasure those actions had wrought. 

As her mind raced, Aedes remained frozen in place, face wet with tears.  Moments ago the tiny man had seemed larger than life, but the sight of him frantic and trembling in her hand was a painful call back to reality. He looked small. He looked terrified. 

June swallows.

Now was not the time to dwell on her own remorse. 

"H-hey, it's okay. It's over. I'm done. Shhh. Please don't cry." she coos, trying to keep her voice soft and steady. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“Stop.” Despite his distressed appearance, there is an eerie steadiness to his voice. He sounds hollow. Though despite the firmness of his command, he does not look at her. Instead, he stays motionless on all fours, staring at the meat of her palm. 

“Why…” The warm flirtatious lilt is gone. His voice cold and harsh, like ice to her ears, “WHY would you do this?”

“I..I’m sorry. I thought-” 

“You thought!" He scoffs, "You thought WHAT exactly??” His gaze snaps up to hers, his eyes filled with rage, “You thought I would like that?? That I would enjoy-”

“Yes!” The words fall freely from her mouth before he mind even registers she's speaking “You said play with me! You said to indu-”

June watches in horror as his face goes red, the look of hatred etched into his features is unmistakable. He stands, his legs wobble on the uneven surface, but June doesn’t dare to help him. 

“Do you think this is funny? This was just a fun game, right?” The anger and accusation in his voice cuts deep. Though his shirt now hides most of the damage, she can still see the bright red trail of those angry marks peaking out, and the quickly forming bruises along his chest. 

“No, I…” June finds herself at a loss for words, her gaze flicking between his eyes and the raw scapes along his flesh. 

Aedes eyes narrow.

“No?” He scoffs, “No what?”

“No, I don't think this is funny. I- I thought… “ June pauses, despite the gravity of the situation, the gap between her thoughts and her voice feels like a chasm. The right words elude her, dancing just beyond her reach, leaving June trapped in a silence built of her own inadequacy. She takes a breath, desperately trying to reign in her own emotions. Her words didn’t need to be perfect, but they needed to be true. 

“You bit me!” His face is flushed and his teeth are bared. June's jaw clenched. She feels herself growing frustrated. She’d told him she was going to- he had played along! She could admit she went too far, or that she had been too rough- but was he just going to act like he hadn't been playing along?

“Aedes, I really did think you were enjoying it. The way you were speaking to me… it did feel like a game, but one that you were playing along with. I-I didn’t mean to scare-”

“Lets not forget you bit me first!” June feels the frustration rising in her voice,

“Well, my apologies for trying to survive.” Aedes voice nearly drips with sarcasm, the offense to her words clear as day, “I was starving. I needed food.”

Food.

June cringes at the word. The thought of being referred to as food had a wrongness to it. It felt… dehumanizing… violating. There was something deeply devaluing about the concept, as if her own sentience was being overlooked. She grits her teeth, trying to quell the unease rising up within her thoughts. The situation was so bizarre; He’s a vampire. He needs blood. Logically, she knows it's not like he could just casually ask to feed on someone, but to refer to her as food? It felt…. Stripping. 

June sighs, reminding herself once again that this wasn’t about her. He’s so small. Of course all of this would be terrifying to him. I hurt him, I freaked him out. He has every right to be angry. Her attempts to try and see things from his perspective help calm her in a way, but they also seem to reinforce the reality of this situation. Up until now, everything had felt so fast paced. One moment she had been sleeping at the next, she was getting handsy with a pocket sized vampire who had broken into her room. The whole ordeal would be hilariously absurd if it wasn’t for the very real emotional reactions. 

“Aedes please. I’m sorry. This… This is all very strange. You’re a strange little creature in my house-”

“Oh, this is strange for you, huh? A strange little creature in your house?” There's a mocking tone to his voice, an unmistakable sarcasm. June feels herself bristle at his words. The annoyance in his voice is clear, “Is that all I am? Some strange little creature? Some pest that intruded into your house? Some little bug?!" He practically spits out the last word, fear replaced by an accusatory anger wielded like a knife. 

For fuck’s sake-

"An annoying little creature drinking my blood? Sounds like a mosquito to me…" The words tumble forth without a second thought, snarky and blunt. 

The instant the words pass her lips she regrets having responded at all. 

June watches as her insult seems to hit him physically - Aedes taking a small step back as if pushed by the weight of the words. A look of panic crosses his face, a mix of disbelief and horror, before being replaced with something much more potent; rage.

"You… You-” He sputters for a moment, his fingers flexing as if clawing at the air before tightening to fists at his side, his movements stiff and erratic- almost jagged. “ENOUGH!" his voice comes forth nearly as a roar, furious and raw.

He jabs an accusatory finger at her, “You’re fucking vile- a sick creature - nothing but worthless flesh to carry worthless blood!” Each word is hissed through gritted teeth, and bared fangs. June flinches- though at what she’s not quite sure; His yell, his teeth, his words. She feels tears sting at her eyes as regret for her own hastily spilled words rises in her chest. She had meant for them to sting, but not to cut- not like this. An apology starts to form on her tongue but withers away as she watches Aedes’ anger suddenly evaporate- a stunned expression slowly crossing his face, as if taken aback by his own words. A shaky hand rises to cover his mouth, almost like he was trying to physically swallow back his words. 

With what little space he has on her palm, he takes another step back, his legs unsteady beneath him. June curls her fingers instinctively as he wobbles back- a tiny sob escaping his throat as his eyes settle on her own.

"Please." His voice is barely audible.

A lump rises in June’s throat at the sight of fear and panic returning to his features.  His voice catches, and the once raw shouts quickly return to nearly unintelligible whispers.

"I-I'm sorry. I... I didn't- I didn't mean it... I didn't mean to... I... I'm sorry."

[entomolog-t]

Ento's MasterPost

Howdy Everyone! Here's my Big Post of all projects past present and future. You can find my writing (as well as smaller prompts and blurbs) under the tag EntoWrites, as well as my art under the tag EntoDraws.

Commissions are currently OPEN (See my commission post for more details)

I'm always excited to talk about my OCs and stories (as well as just interact in general) so feel free to send asks and dms at your leisure! (I will cry with joy)

Below are my individual stories. Each title will bring you to that particular story's MasterPost, associated art, and character information.

Bite Me (Ongoing)

June wakes up to find a vampire has broken into her room- while she hadn't been under the impression vampires existed in the first place, she certainly hadn't envisioned them as diminutive human-like parasites with strangely alluring voices...

Tags: BiteMe

AUs:

Paranormal!Au (coming soon)

Mer!Au (coming soon)

The Shadow We Cast (Ongoing)

Mark can't seem to catch a break in life until life forces a break on him. Having recently moved into the middle of absolutely nowhere in some obscure little Northern town he soon finds out that he's not alone in his new home after a run in with a mysterious little wildcard of a man named Sal.

The spider loving little man is strong, fearless, and full of life- everything Mark wishes he could become (though he could do without the spiders). Yet Sal has his own personal battles he's facing.

Tags: The Shadow We Cast, TSWC

AUs:

INSTAЯ (Ongoing)

Dawn Delacroix lives alone with her dog in the boonies on a large property surrounded by woods, so when she spies something walking towards her house one cold October night she immediately knows something isn't right.

There's a creature outside... and it's getting closer.

Tags: INSTAЯ

AUs:

Finding Strength (Ongoing)

Tamius has life made. The human of the house is a Borrower's dream! Forgetful, slow, and regularly out of the house. Life couldn't be any easier- that is until a series of snap decisions leaves him tagging along with her to her regular 4:00 pm outing and he has some big revelations.

Tags: Finding Strength, FS

AUs: Fantasy!Au (Coming Soon)

Men are from Mars (Coming Soon)

One Shots

In Need of Support