#no longer human insp

[alifitoc]

The Story of Barnaby Michaels - Part 1 of 2

Synopsis: The story of a traumatized, sociopathic, 26 year old law school grad Content warning: Murder, Mentions of Suicide, References to Pedophilia, Descriptions of violent acts, guns Word count: 1.3k

If there is one thing I have found that man does best, it is lie. To cheat and to steal, to put up facades and to obscure, that is the nature of the men I have seen, and undoubtedly will continue to be the nature of all men I do see. I myself am no exception.

My name is Barnaby Michaels, I am 26, and for all intents and purposes I am not a good man. Far from it, I am a manipulator, a cheat, a hack, a scoundrel, some people might even dare to call me “evil”. Though I pay no mind to it. To me it is all just what I am. Besides, we’re all like this, it’s just some choose to run from it, while others, like myself, embrace it.

I cling to my selfishness for no other reason than the fact that it is what has worked for the 26 years I have been alive. All four of my grandparents died before I was born so I had no elderly to listen to, I am an only child, so I had no brothers and sisters to collude with, and both of my parents were dead before I even turned 16. A shot to the head both times. Though my father preferred a shotgun over a revolver.

Now here I am. What do I do you ask? Well, after the violent and noisy deaths of my two heaven appointed – though now hell residing – guardians, I managed, somehow or other to finish high school, a year early at that, though of course I conscripted the help of a few notes outside of the standard curriculum. After that, to the shock of no one I’m sure, I resolved to become a lawyer. Like a moth to napalm.

So, I continued on my path towards the courts, utilizing much the same methods I used in highschool, and somehow always succeeding. Perhaps the devil is kinder to his patrons than god is to his servants. Lucifer may have beguiled some mortal men to sign over their souls but good old padre in the kingdom above has committed mass genocide as a reset button. Anyhow, after a good few years in a place filled with supposed adults, writing paper after paper, case study after case study, I got my license to practice.

It's been a year since then and while I don’t appreciate having to lick up to the dirty boots of the senior partners, as a first year there’s not much I can do. To pass the time, and to stop myself from committing mass assault, I commit murder.

Now, how pray tell does a 20 something, sociopath with a full-time white-collar job commit murder? Well, with the internet anything is possible. I simply go on to a variety of discord dating servers, under my false alias “Alice06uwu” and start playing the part of an underaged girl looking for “friends”. Eventually, one of these “friends” will come sliding into my DMs and from there it’s just a matter of time. All I have to do is type the proverbial phrase “do u want to meet up lol” and much like Eve when she saw the apple, they take the bite.

My first was a man named Kevin. He was 35, a typical age for someone with his “proclivities”, had black curly hair and was borderline obese. I told him that I had left the door open so that he could just waltz right in. I also assured him that my “parents” weren’t home at the time.

Sure enough he came wandering in.

“Alice, you there?” he said with a gleeful tint of joy in his speech.

I was behind him, wearing all black and hidden within the darkness of the lamp that I decided not to turn on. I saw him, with his green cargo pants and his black T-shirt that had some Japanese text written on the back. His shoes were beaten black and white sneakers, and his glasses square with thick green rims. He disgusted me, and so I attacked.

With a crowbar in hand I struck his temple from behind, Immediately he was on the floor. My strike left a minor gash in the back of his head where it oozed dark red. He was out, but not permanently. It sent shivers down my spine, my eyes widened, and my whole body was jittery, it felt as if my skeleton was jumping from within.

Is this what true excitement feels like? I thought to myself.

Usually, my mind is pretty calm and emotions are subdued, can’t feel much when you’ve lived a life like mine. But, finally at that moment, I felt a truly unimaginable thrill waft through my whole being. But, I had no time to reminisce about my new self-discoveries, and so I took some zip ties, rope for good measure, a blindfold, a chair, some tape, and got to work.

After 12 minutes and 32 seconds Kevin woke up.

He struggled against the steel chair, his tied-up arms writhing, and fists clinched. Unable to break free his feet then tried their hardest to push against the hemp, ultimately though he was only able to bounce the chair around a few inches. Back and forth he went, etching skid marks on the concrete floor below. With his mouth taped shut I was still able to hear his cries for help, but eventually after a few more minutes of this pointless exertion, he and all 250 plus pounds of blubber tired themselves out. Then there was silence.

I approached and placed my hand on the duct tape.

A quick tear, and then a violent scream followed.

“AAAH” He screeched.

Then the sound of his paradoxical breath filled the garage.

“Who are you? what do you want?” He shouted.

I remained silent. Though within me was an orchestra of exhilaration, it took all that I had at the time to hold myself to no words.

“Please, I’m sorry for being a creep, was she your daughter?”

His voice sounded like a grinder sawing through metal, its twang invoked within me terribly violent urges that ruined the elation I was previously feeling.

“I swear man, I wasn’t thinking straight, Alice invited me here, I wasn’t thinking of doing any weird shit I sw-”

“Shut the fuck up”, I interjected.

He froze with a slight yelp.

“Your voice is so fucking annoying that it’s ruined everything” I said with a low voice.

“What do you mean…Ruined?”

I circled behind him with my revolver in my hand. Much like mothers’ it was small, with an oak wood grip and a bright silver barrel. I placed it behind the wound made by my crowbar just a half hour ago and I cocked the hammer.

Click

Upon hearing this Kevin immediately squealed and began pleading.

“No, Please No”

“You gotta understand I’m not right in the head”

“I’m sick, I need to be locked up, in an insane asylum, in a ward”

I rested the muzzle to the back of his head.

“No no no no no, please”

“Just report me to the police please, there’s no need to do this”

“I don’t know why you’re doing all of this but I’m sorry man, I should have known better I-.”

Again I chimed in, unable to contain my irritation.

“Your voice is annoying, shut the fuck up”

He went mute immediately, before whispering to himself.

Seeing this, I decided enough was enough. My momentary joy had just been ruined by this idiotic pedophiles’ rambling, and I could not take it any longer. I shoved the gun into the cut, causing him to wince in pain.

I waited for a moment, after which he began sobbing. Tears flowed down his face, I could hear him choking down phlegm and snot. Within me a strange combination of satisfaction and extreme annoyance welled. I laid my finger on the trigger, while his face was covered in his own snot and tears, his feet and arms trembling, and his teeth and fists clenched, causing crimson to pour from his gums and palms. I put my earplugs in, before finally.

BANG

To which his body went limp, and all was quiet.

[kairoot]

TEETH ⌇ SJY

SINK MY TEETH IN YA— jake has been hiding a huge secret from you—he’s a vampire. after going six months without feeding, his control is slipping, especially when he's around you, sensing your blood. when you notice his strange behavior and confront him, he brushes it off. but soon, he can’t hide it anymore and reveals the truth, expecting you to be scared. instead, he’s shocked when you offer to let him feed from you.

𝓅𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 vamp!jake x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 esatablished relationship , thriller (?) , suggestive 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 biting.. (jake is a vamp hello…), kissing, physical touch, etc. — ℳ𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴：layout insp by sav bb 🤍. please reblog and/or leave feedback. it is greatly appreciated !— 𝐌𝐒𝐅.

“you ready, babe?” jake asked, walking in the bedroom while still running a comb through his gelled hair.

you adjusted the necklace in the mirror, moving it around to your liking.

“almost.”

jake chuckled to himself, knowing it always took you a while to get yourself dolled up and you’d stand in the mirror until you actually liked what you were wearing.

“you look fine, baby.” he appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

you sighed, not believing him but prepared to leave anyway. you both decided to attend the town’s halloween party tonight (you begged jake to go), seeing as you don’t really go out as much as you used to. when you and jake started dating, you both attended nearly every gathering there was. but jake had suddenly become uninterested in going out.

you wondered why, seeing as he always seemed like a people person to you but after some thought, you figured he just wanted to stay in and enjoy each other in private. you didn’t mind it, but a part of you missed the lively atmosphere.

jake still clung to you, placing his face in the crook of your neck.

“what perfume are you wearing tonight? smells so good..” he mumbled, almost slurring, taking in whatever scent it was. the smell was so intoxicating, he almost felt faint.

“i didn’t put any on yet,” you giggled, not noticing his grip on you tighten and the slight tension in his body.

now jake was confused. if you didn’t have any perfume on, why was your scent so strong? it seemed irresistible.

but once he thought about it, the answer popped in his head. before he could pull away, a searing pain shot through the front of his mouth, causing his hand to fly up to hold it.

you turned around when you heard him let out a painful groan, placing a hand on his jaw, giving him a concerned look.

“is everything okay?” you questioned, waiting for him to answer as his face contorted in discomfort.

jake had realized that it’s been nearly 6 months since he had a taste of the red liquid that kept him alive. he had been feasting as if he were human and could live off of normal meals. but he should have known that wasn’t the case. he thought he could handle it— pretend to be human. but now his control was slipping.

jake swallowed hard, stepping back from your touch. “i’m fine.” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. he took another step back from you, sitting on the edge of your bed.

you could sense that something was wrong, a strange tension in the air. “jake.. what’s going on?”

he exhaled shakily, his facade crumbling. he didn’t want to tell you, but he knew he couldn’t keep this hidden much longer. not with the way your scent was overwhelming him, making his throat burn with need.

his hands rested beside him as he gripped the bedding, trying to calm himself down. he avoided any eye contact with you, scared that he’d immediately lose all self-control.

“baby, we don’t have go this party if you’re not feeling well—“

jake shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t really reach his eyes, “no, i’m fine. i promised you we’d go.”

you hesitated, not at all convinced by his words. his body had relaxed a bit more but you could tell he was holding back on something, “are you sure, jake?”

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i’ll be okay, babe, honestly. i just need a distraction.” he finally looked at you, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “you’ve been looking forward to this. don’t let me ruin it for you.”

you smiled softly, walking toward him to hold brush your hand against his cheek. “alright.. but i’m driving,” you said, grabbing the car keys from the dresser. “i’m not letting you behind the wheel when you look like you’re about to faint.”

jake chuckled slightly, but there was no argument. he followed you out of the bedroom, the tension between you both still lingering. you hoped the party would actually distract him, seeing as you had a feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling you.

as you made your way to the car, you glanced at him, seeing the way his jaw clenched. he seemed so distant and you couldn’t help but worry about what the night would bring.

you both arrived at the party’s venue— a large but old mansion decked out with eerie decorations. pumpkins were scattered across the yard while cobwebs covered the corners of the porch. the sound of laughter and music was heard from the open doors of the house.

you turned the car off, sitting there for a moment before getting out. you wanted to ask jake what was really on his mind or what was bothering him.

“baby,” you called for him but no answer. he was distracted and looking at whatever was going on outside the passenger window.

“jaeyun.” your hand touched his arm this time, catching his attention. he hummed in response, turning his head to face forward now.

you shuffled closer to him, your chest pressed against the side of him.

“you know you can talk to me right?”

instead of answering, he sighed, lowering his head. if you kept asking about what was bothering him, he’d have no choice but to tell you. he hated keeping things from you especially because he knew you only wanted him to feel better and you wanted the best for him.

you leaned in to press soft kisses along his jaw, making him exhale softly. your hand made its way to his chin, turning his head so he was facing you.

you pecked his lips a couple of times before pulling away slightly to look him the eyes. they seemed darker tonight, the usual spark in them looked like it had disappeared.

"jaeyun, i mean it," you whispered against his skin. "if you're not feeling up to this, we don't have to go in. we can just head home, or even sit here for a while. i just want you to be okay."

jake closed his eyes briefly, his hand slipping down to rest on your thigh. his grip was firmer than usual, as if grounding himself with your touch. he wanted to tell you, wanted to explain the storm that was building inside him-but the words wouldn't come. not yet.

"i'm fine, really," he finally said, though even you could hear the strain in his voice.

"alright," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

"but if at any point you're feeling worse, we'll leave, okay?"

jake nodded, though you noticed the way his fingers twitched against your leg.

with that, you both stepped out of the car. the cool night air hit you immediately, the atmosphere of the party drawing you in as you made your way toward the mansion. you could hear the music more clearly now, and the sounds of people laughing and talking grew louder with every step. the porch creaked slightly underfoot as you climbed the stairs, and the glow of jack-o'-lanterns flickered in the dim light, casting long shadows across the yard.

jake walked beside you, quieter than usual. you glanced at him, still feeling that nagging worry tugging at your chest, but you didn't press him any further. not yet.

“hey, you made it!” one of your friends called out from the entrance, waving excitedly as you and jake made your way inside. you returned the wave, feeling a little lighter now that you were here.

the inside of the mansion was just as lively. the grand ballroom was filled with people dancing, their costumes a blur of color under the dim, spooky lighting. fake bats and skeletons hung from the chandeliers, and fog machines pumped mist across the floor, creating an eerie, dreamlike atmosphere.

you turned to jake, who was scanning the room, his eyes darting from person to person. you noticed the way his jaw clenched again, the same tension from earlier creeping back into his posture.

“you okay?” you asked, touching his arm.

“yeah, just… a lot of people,” he muttered, his voice tight.

you frowned, your concern growing. he usually loved being around crowds, but tonight, he seemed different—on edge.

“why don’t we grab a drink?” you suggested, hoping to distract him. “maybe that’ll help.”

jake hesitated, his eyes still fixed on the crowd, but eventually nodded. “yeah. sure.”

you led the way to the drink table, but as you walked through the sea of partygoers, you noticed the way he kept glancing around, making you think he was looking for something—or someone.

you both made your way through the crowd after getting drinks, but something about jake’s energy felt off. he was quieter than usual, not fully engaging with anyone who greeted him, his hand gripping yours just a little too tightly. every so often, you caught him looking around, almost like he was on edge, but when you asked him if everything was okay, he brushed it off with a forced smile.

“i’m fine, i’m okay” he would say, but you weren’t convinced.

the party went on for a while, but jake grew more distant with every passing minute. eventually, you both decided to leave early, the fun of the night overshadowed by jake’s strange behavior. he seemed relieved as you left the venue, though the tension between you still lingered.

when you arrived home, the atmosphere had shifted again. jake seemed distracted, his body tense as if he was trying to hold something back. you went into the kitchen to grab a snack, thinking over the night’s events.

as you were cutting up your fruit for a late snack, a sharp pain ran across your finger as you sliced it while using the kitchen knife. you hissed, dropping the knife as you instinctively pressed your other hand to the cut.

“damnit,” you muttered, holding your hand under the sink to clean it. as you did, you noticed jake’s sudden stillness. he hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway, his eyes locked on your hand.

his gaze was fixated on the small trail of blood now dripping from your hand, his breathing heavier than before.

“it’s just a cut,” you said softly, noticing the strange look in his eyes. but as you stepped toward him, his expression darkened, a hunger creeping into his features that made your heart skip a beat.

“you should… get that cleaned up,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “i’ll get the bandages.” he said, but his eyes never left your finger.

but before you could move, jake was suddenly closer to you, his body tense and his breathing ragged as if he was fighting against something. you could feel the heat of his presence, the way his eyes darkened as he watched the blood still pooling at your fingertip.

“jake, what’s really going on?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. “you’ve been acting strange all night..”

he hesitated, his jaw clenched, but you could see the struggle in his eyes.

he wanted to pull away, but he leaned in instead, his nose brushing against your skin as he inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut. “your blood.. the smell is driving me insane.”

your breath caught in your throat. “..what does that mean?”

he swallowed hard, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger you’d never seen before. “i haven’t fed in months, y/n,” he confessed, his voice raw. “i tried to stay away from it, i swear.“

you stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a heavy fog. “you… you’re a—?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, but jake’s pained expression told you everything you needed to know.

he nodded slowly, stepping back as if ashamed. “i didn’t want you to find out like this. i’m so sorry.”

you were quiet for a moment, processing everything. then, despite the fear and the shock coursing through you, you made a decision. “then take it.”

jake’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “w-what?”

“my blood,” you said, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “if you need it, then take it. i trust you.”

jake shook his head. “baby, you know i can’t do that. i don’t wanna hurt you..”

“you won’t,” you whispered, moving back until you were pressed against the door, his body hovering over yours. “i know you won’t. i trust you, jake.”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and conflicted, but the hunger was too strong to resist. with a shuddering breath, he leaned in, his hands holding the sides of your neck as his lips brushed against the skin.. “tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

you shook your head, breath shuttering as you tilted your head back. his arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer.

“bite me,” you whispered once more, your hands gripping his shoulders as you waited to feel that small pinch.

jake’s fangs elongated as he wasted no time sinking his teeth in you. you gasped softly, the feeling being a mix a pain and ecstasy.

a deep groan of relief escapes his lips, the satisfaction of finally feeding without blood overwhelming him. his grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, nearly losing control (again).

jake pulled away before he could drink any more, his lips tinted red before his tongue darted out to clean it up. he pecked the bite mark, hoping it would soon feel better.

you clung to him, almost hypnotized by the feeling of his teeth against your skin. he looked in your eyes, chuckling at the dazed look you gave him.

“you okay, princess?” he asks as his hand brushed away the strands of your hair.

you nodded, way too distracted to even give him a verbal response.

“c-can you do that again?”

🖇️. @wonsdoll @mimismenu @yourssincerely-mimi @riribelle @nerdimoo @sngleehee @elysianiki — only accepting 40 people.

🝮. @k-films

[enhaunts]

i'll add to this as i think of things

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Watch out, don't look. She's your nightmare of a dream. Go home, run fast… Blood's her favorite shade of red. Say your prayers and go to bed.

warnings; no use of y/n, fem!reader, reader referred to as a girl twice i think?, blood, blood is a big plot point here, reader isn't exactly human, a little vampiric?, eddie & dustin kind of come to the rescue, steve centric though, oral sex, penetrative sex, just to be clear reader doesn't hurt steve or make him bleed, she just craves blood, don't let the insp. fool you this is actually very soft

(loosely inspired by jennifer's body)

word count; ~10k

a/n; i had a couple of drinks and watched jennifer's body and suddenly i couldn't think about anything but this. did this turn out a lot longer and little softer than i initially intended?? yes! yes it did. idk what to tell you.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! x

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

Everything's a bit foggy when you first wake.

Your memories, or lack thereof, refuse to come when you dig through the recesses of your mind, no clues or wisps of recollection trickling in no matter how strongly you will them to come. An ache forms in your temples as you attempt to recall where you are, where you've been, how you got here.

Where even was here?

A gust of wind rushes over your bare skin and prompts the distantly familiar rustle of leaves and branches that always accompanies a breeze in the woods. Every inch of your exposed flesh pebbles up uncomfortably from the cold, hairs on your arm standing on end, nipples tightening into hard peaks, stomach tensing as you fight off a full-body shiver.

Then comes the slow twitch of your fingers. The ability to move your extremities slowly creeps back in, allowing your hand to curl loosely around the cool earth underneath you, dirt and rocks and long-dead leaves wedging themselves beneath your fingernails.

Gravel and twigs crunch beneath your head when you roll it ever so slightly to the side and crack your eyes open. Through cloudy vision, you fight to focus on the spring-blooming trees above. It's overly difficult, that simple task of keeping your eyes open through the slow fluttering blinks, your eyelids heavy and leaden as you struggle to adjust to the dark twilight around you.

A groan rumbles up your throat when you drag yourself up, legs shaking, ankles weak, vision wavering. Bleary eyes take in the way that the trees seem to sway around you, take in the sun just cresting the horizon, and finally, when you stumble and your gaze drops, they take in the blood covering your naked body. Streaks of it down your chest so thick that the color of your nipples underneath is indistinguishable from your bare skin. It covers your stomach with a shade of red so dark it nearly looks black in the dim light of early morning, dripping down your pelvis and smearing wetly into the crease of your thighs. The warmth of it has already begun to dwindle and cool against your skin from the chill of the air and your palm meets the blood-soaked skin of your lower belly on instinct, hazy vision zeroing in on the way the color looks against your fingertips as thick droplets fall from your hand to the earth below.

Someone else's blood? Or your own?

The lack of recollection has fear slithering its way up the length of your spine and you do shiver this time. Cold and lost, you're overwhelmed with a niggling feeling of hunger swirling in your gut, the strength of it unlike anything you've ever felt before. A cold pit of hollow emptiness paired cruelly with a stabbing pain in your abdomen. The ache only seems to amplify the dryness in your throat, the tremble in your dirt and blood-crusted fingers.

Everything feels heavier than it should — Clumsier. One of your hands shoots out when you stumble over your own feet. You brace yourself against a tree as you try to refamiliarize yourself with the way that each your muscles and limbs work, every movement requiring too much effort. Each small step in your body feeling alien and forced, unnervingly foreign.

It's while your head continues to throb painfully against your skull that your fingertips find a smooth patch of wood. You rub at that place where the bark has been deliberately stripped away from the tree's trunk, the surface providing a blank canvas for the initials that have been clumsily etched into the living wood. While you dig your fingernail into the curve of that first letter, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

As your lungs fill, a dark fog further clouds your already muddled brain. It's no longer the smell of the earth and the trees of the forest around you that rush to your senses. Instead, your nose is suddenly filled with the scent of teakwood, nicotine, and spice — mingling sweetly with something warm that you can't quite place, but makes your belly flip with interest all the same.

Mind clouded and knees shaky, you push away from the tree, some vague sense of rightness pulling you a step to the right, and then another, until you're wandering slowly to the edge of the forest and toward the road that lays just beyond the treeline.

Your throat itches painfully as you recall the scent that lingered behind and clung to that carving in the tree trunk. It burns in your throat. It pushes your feet to move faster. The smell as well as the shape of the letters that are now etched behind your eyelids.

S. H.

Wind of his own creation whips against Steve's face as he pushes through the exhaustion and wills his body to keep going. Sweat trickles down from his hairline, cresting his brow bone and streaking a path over his temple before the tickle of it forces Steve to hook his fingers into the damp fabric of his shirt, his shoulder lifting to wipe the droplet away.

His heavy breaths cloud in barely visible puffs of foggy condensation in the cool morning air, the heat building beneath his skin from exertion causing a pink flush to creep up the tanned skin of his neck and face.

The deserted street holds only the soft sound of his tattered running shoes slapping against the pavement with each stride, the sharp huffs of air that push through his nose with every breath in and out, the muffled beat of the music that trickles out from the foam pads he has hooked over his ears, a wire winding down to the walkman clipped at the waistband of his shorts.

The sun creeps up higher with each minute that passes, each mile toward downtown and then each mile back toward his tiny two bedroom fixer-upper on the outskirts of Hawkins. The dark blue of the morning sky is giving way to a lighter shade tinged with orange, the trees that hug the pavement blocking out most of the morning light that begins to creep back into the world.

Dim streaks of gold filter through the dusty window panes in his kitchen when he finally makes it home. Headphones still slotted over his ears, the music streaming through them blocks out the sound of his own labored breathing as he fills a glass of water from the sink.

The pipes groan with the effort and the front door creaks ominously on its hinges as it swings open again just outside the kitchen. Meanwhile, Steve gulps down the cool water, grateful for the way it soothes the dryness in his raw throat. The slow drag of bare feet across the battered floorboards go unheard as Steve quickly finishes his glass and fills it once more, sipping more slowly the second time around.

As you shuffle farther into the house, the first thing that you notice is how potent his scent is in the space. Every inch of the small house seems to be soaked in it; the heap of fabric hanging from the coat rack against the wall, the cushions on the battered sofa in the living room and the fleece blanket folded over the back, even the porous wood of the table and chairs is absolutely drenched in the smell of him.

The strength of it is overwhelming and it only proves to hypnotize you further as you step into the room behind him. The boy's overheated skin is giving off a delicious mix of sweetness with just a tinge of the sour stench of his sweat. You can practically feel the warmth of his blood and flesh on your tongue and it makes your mouth water, makes your chest tight with anticipation and excitement that you don't quite understand.

You can focus on little else, barely able to register the haphazardly cut off sleeves of the stranger's tshirt or the way that those gaping holes exposes the sides of his pecs and the hair beneath his arms. You hardly notice the way that his tiny cotton shorts hug his muscular thighs so wonderfully, nor the way that long hazelnut locks curls wetly around the sweatband that holds the hair back from his face.

The scent of him so close is intoxicating, the hunger in your gut too all-encompassing to truly relish in the way his shoulders strain beneath sweat-soaked cotton when he lifts a cup of water to his mouth.

Your feet carry you forward with a primal sort of instinct, until you're mere inches from the man's unsuspecting back, until you can see the drop of sweat that weaves out from beneath his hair and drips beneath the collar of his shirt.

Something prickles at the back of Steve's neck then, as you crowd closer, tiny hairs at the top of his spine standing on end while discomfort scrapes at the corner of his brain. It prompts him to turn, and the glass in his hand slips from his grasp and cracks loudly against the floor when he flinches in surprise. His headphones fall from his ears and settle to hang around his neck just in time for him to hear the sound of glass and water shattering against the kitchen tile.

Steve clutches at his own chest, “Jesus fucking-”

Though you're not sure why, you don't immediately attack. Something has you holding back, the ache in your throat burning like fire when you breathe him in again. His scent clings to the oxygen in a way that has your breath catching in your chest.

Steve's heart is pounding in his ears over the distant sound of the music that continues to blare through the headphones around his neck, but when he finally focusses on the sight of you in front of him, any fear for his own well-being is gone, flipping entirely until the sole focus of his worry is on you.

The stranger standing in his kitchen is looking at him with the hollow gaze of someone haunted, someone with demons. You look like you've been through hell, or perhaps like you've just stepped off the set of a slasher movie. Your hair is a tangled mess of twigs and leaves. The warm orange light filtering in through the windows displays curves of your naked body, blood covering the vastness of your exposed skin. He can't immediately make out an injury beneath all of the red, but it doesn't stop him from ripping his walkman from his body and tossing it in the counter behind him to finally silence the music and give you his full attention.

“Holy shit, what-”

You find the rasp of his voice delicious. Your head tips just slightly to one side as you finally allow yourself to take him in. He's beautiful, this scrumptious smelling stranger. You find yourself wanting to sink your teeth into the curve of his shoulder to hear the cry that would rip from his throat in response, want to feel his blood — warm and heavy and thick on your tongue.

“Are you okay? Fucking- Fuck, of course you're not okay,” He stammers in a panic, struggling with the effort of keeping his gaze from trailing over your exposed body. His hands twitch like he wants to reach out for you but is unsure how you might react to his touch — the thought forces the corner of your lip to tick up in a nearly imperceptible hint of a grin as he continues, “Shit, who- Who hurt you?” His eyes go soft, big and brown, wide and worried for your well-being, “Can you tell me what happened t'you, honey? C’you tell me who did this?”

The term of endearment that slips into his words has your stomach fluttering despite the bone-deep ache of hunger eating away at you. You give a small, wordless shake of your head, lips parting to take in another breath. As the air rushes in through your mouth, you find that you can taste him on your tongue, and the sweetness makes saliva pool behind your teeth to the point that you're forced to swallow it down.

“No? You don't know or.. Or you don't remember?” He questions carefully, his gaze trailing over a streak of blood at your hairline, “Did you hit your head?”

Another breath in through your mouth has your eyes fluttering, your exhale a trembling sounding thing as it pushes back out of your chest.

He seems to take your tremor as a sign of trauma-induced fear rather than what it truly is, and he stumbles a small step back, his attention moving to the basket of unfolded laundry sitting atop the washing machine at the other side of the room.

“Shit, lemme, uh, I'll just grab you a shirt or something and we can call-”

He's taking another step away as he speaks and- No, you think. That won't do.

Steve's rambling cuts off when he's shoved bodily into the wall. The clock hanging a few feet away rattles and his back aches with the impact of his spine against the drywall. He huffs out a sharp breath of surprise from your startling display of strength. You've got one hand against the steadily cooling dampness of his sweat-soaked chest, your other locked around both of his wrists, holding them securely against the seam of his own thighs.

“I, uh-” Steve stammers before swallowing with an audible gulp. He struggles against your grip and is stunned to find that he can't break free, his muscles straining with the effort despite the fact that your hands aren't large enough to even encircle entire circumference of his wrists.

You're leaning in then, your nose pushing into the curve of his throat to take in another deep breath. He can feel it when your mouth drops open as you pull in his scent, feels the way your parted lips drag against his sweaty skin. He fights back a shiver at the sensation, fights to remain still when you press yourself against him, blood from your chest soaking into his shirt, his trapped hands coming into contact with the warmth of the blood-soaked smattering of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“What, uh.. What's happening right now?” Steve questions, his voice pitched high with confusion and anxiety.

“I'm hungry,” Your voice comes finally, the sound of it wrecked and beautiful as it meets Steve's ears. Your teeth scrape the vein pulsing violently beneath his skin of his throat as your burrow deeper into him, your tongue coming out for just a quick taste of the salt and fear on his skin. “I'm so hungry.” You murmur against him, words muffled.

“Okay,” Steve squeaks, pulling against your grip on his wrists again but freezing when the meat of his palm brushes the bloody patch of hair over your mound. His knees feel weak, his fingers are trembling, breaths coming quick and sharp. He's never feared for his life quite so strongly while simultaneously feeling so aroused. It's all very confusing. “Okay, yeah. I, uh- I can- I can make some breakfast if- Ho-Shit. I.. If you're hungry-”

A low growl rumbles up your throat the mention of your hunger and you savor once again in the thought of how sweet his blood will taste on your tongue. He's very handsome — he seems sweet, kind. You don't want to kill him, but then again..

Your head swims dizzily.

“What's your name?” You ask in a low whisper that pushes your warm breath out against his skin and has his cock twitching traitorously in his pants.

“Steve-” He says in rush, “My name's Steve! And I- I can help you! Me and my friends have seen some crazy shit, I- I swear we can-”

You're taking in one last breath with your mouth against that pulsing vein where his scent is the strongest, pulling it in slow and deep and relishing in the way that the burn makes your throat ache, makes your stomach twist. But then you're leaning back to get a good look at his face. His pointed nose brushes the tip of your own as he tells you his name, his pleas thereafter falling breathlessly against your own lips in such close proximity.

“Are you scared, Steve?” You interrupt his rambling to ask sweetly, the hand on his shoulder coming up until you can swipe a bead of sweat away from his temple with the pad of your thumb. Your touch leaves a streak of red shining starkly against his tanned skin.

The boy, Steve, nods slowly.

“I know,” You whisper, your eyes studying the way the golden sunlight catches the hues of brown swirling in his irises, “Do you know how I know that, Steve?”

“Uh..” He swallows audibly again, fidgeting on his feet as much as he can in his current position between you and the wall behind him, “'s'it because.. 'Cause my hands are shaking?”

You move your head slowly side-to-side and the movement has your noses brushing again. Steve watches as the empty darkness in your eyes wavers with something that looks almost like it might be excitement.

“I can smell it,” You murmur, your mouth so, so close to his, “I can taste it on my tongue.”

“That's pretty cool,” Steve manages, “That, like, a superpower of yours? I, uh, I bet that comes in handy-”

“I don't know what's happening,” You interrupt his silly ramblings to admit quietly, your gaze holding his as you struggle to swallow down the instinct to sink your teeth into the muscled flesh where his shoulder meets his neck, “This feeling.. This hunger. Want your blood on my tongue. I.. I want to kill you, Steve.” You finish in a whisper, pupils blown wide.

“I- Please don't. Don't kill me.” He begs, feeling truly pathetic as he does so but also feeling far too frightened not to at least try.

The pretty swirls of brown and gold in his eyes shine with fear, and the sight has something sour twisting in your chest beneath your ribs. It has your grip on his wrists tightening for a second before you're releasing them entirely. A deep exhale pushes all of the air from your lungs and you hold it as long as you can, eyes pinching shut as you try to rein in the primal urge to maim, kill, and feed.

The absence of his wrists in your grip has the tremble in your own hands starting up again as they travel up the length of his torso, blood smearing against the beauty marks on his cheeks when you take his warm face in your hands.

“I don't want to want to kill you.” You tell him in a weak rasp.

Steve lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, hesitating for only a moment before he's wrapping his larger hands around the backs of your own.

“Okay.. Okay, that's good,” He nods wildly in relief, though his heart continues to beat irregularly with unsettled nerves, “That's a good start, huh? Let's run with it-”

His cheeks and his palms are so warm in comparison to your own skin. You push your dirty fingers against his cheeks until they almost squish under the pressure, his lips forced to purse cutely while you relish in the heat that seeps into your hands.

“I'm not used to it,” You tell him quietly, “The way it.. It hurts. It burns.”

When Steve hooks his thumbs beneath your palms to ease your hands away from his face, he's surprised to find that you don't put up a fight, merely allowing him to lower your arms to your sides and hold them there.

“Are you.. So you're.. a newly turned vampire or something?” He questions slowly.

A quick snort of laughter escapes you in your surprise and the sound combined with the sight of your lips tugging up at the corners into an amused smile has Steve smiling as well, albeit in confusion.

“What?” You're giggling around the word and Steve thinks that his heart might skip a beat at the sound. What was wrong with him?

“..What?” Steve repeats.

“I'm not.. I'm not a vampire.” You laugh softly again.

“You're not?” He questions slowly, brows drawing together when you shake your head at him, “Then.. What are you?”

The question stumps you. The ache in your temples makes itself known again when you push against that impenetrable wall of emptiness in your mind in search of something.

Steve watches your brows furrow in concentration, watches the way your nose scrunches up cutely. You're beautiful and terrifying and his heart has felt on the verge of possibly beating out of his chest since the first second that he laid eyes on you — ethereal and stunning like some sort of nightmare swathed daydream.

All at once, he remembers your current state of undress, the soft squish of your breasts against his chest over the blood and sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt is suddenly impossible to ignore. He feels a rush of heat flush the skin under his collar all the way up to his ears and- Dear God, he needs to get a hold of himself.

“I don't..” A disgruntled sigh blows past your lips, unaware of Steve's mental unraveling, “I don't know. I can't remember.. anything.”

Steve only nods, shouldering past you slowly and moving toward the aged refrigerator on the other side of the room to peer inside.

“So you don't know for sure that you're not a vampire,” Steve teeters his head side to side as he takes in the stark emptiness within the fridge, his neglect to do any form of grocery shopping in the last week suddenly feeling like a grave error, “There's gotta be a few other possibilities, for sure, but uh-” He swings the refrigerator door closed with a sigh, “My friend Dustin will probably know more. The kid's, like, super smart. It's borderline annoying. Just- Why don't you get rinsed off or whatever and I'll give him a call for reinforcements.”

You frown as you peer down at yourself as if only just now remembering the state of yourself, one arm comes up to cover your breasts while the other does its best to hide what's between your legs. A trickle of nerves creeps up your spine that had been nonexistent before, the initial fog that accompanied your hunger and that first whiff of Steve's scent having overpowered everything else.

You had almost grown accustomed to the wetness of the blood beneath your arms, but now it irked you, uncomfortable with the fact that you still couldn't recall where it had come from, whose blood it was. The wondering has you feeling a bit nauseous suddenly.

“Rinse off,” You repeat slowly, avoiding locking eyes with the pretty brown gazing at your from across the room, “Yes. I should rinse.. this.”

He leads you to the bathroom with a wide palm warm against your spine that has your stomach flipping with entirely too eager butterflies.

It felt a bit dangerous, how much you crave to please this beautiful man already, how much you wish to bury yourself inside of his skin and never, ever leave.

Hair and skin scrubbed clean, donning borrowed socks, a pair of cotton gym shorts that were achingly similar to the tiny pair Steve had been wearing earlier that morning, and a soft crewneck with sleeves that hung past your fingertips, you eventually wandered into the open space between the entryway and living room.

Steve's head snaps up at the soft shuffle of your socked feet against the floorboards that signals your arrival. In your absence he's changed his own clothes, a clean tshirt and light wash denim replacing his sweaty and now blood-stained clothes from before. The puffy sweatband that had held his hair back had been removed as well, his mousy-brown hair hanging a bit limply as it dried around his face.

He makes his way toward you in a rush, stopping just a few inches short of actually making physical contact. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly now that you're no longer indecently exposed, memorizing the lines of your face and the softness of your damp hair and the smooth plushness of your bare thighs beneath his shorts.

“How're you.. You feeling okay?” Steve asks cautiously after an embarrassingly long moment of ogling. He prays that you haven't noticed his wandering gaze while your own has been preoccupied with taking in the furniture, the framed photographs, and the mess of magazines and comic books strewn throughout the living room.

Your eyes find his as you push a wet lock of hair behind your ear, closing your eyes in concentration as you take in your first breath since entering the room, letting the oxygen flood in through your mouth and focussing on the ache that his scent prompts in the base of your throat. It hurts, it does, but it's not nearly as overwhelming as it had felt upon that first whiff of it in the woods, nor is it as painful as when you'd breathed it straight from his skin in the kitchen.

“It's.. Bearable,” You promise slowly, “For now.”

“Good, good. That's good.” Steve lets a relived grin wash over his face.

“Your friend.. Daniel? When is-”

“Dustin,” Steve corrects immediately, “His name's Dustin.”

“Right.. Dustin,” You acknowledge, shaky fingers toying idly with the hem of your borrowed shorts, “When should we expect-”

It seems that your question is destined to remain unfinished, as the rumbling of a battered car engine grows louder in its approach, the rattling accompanied by the heavy thump of music blasting through a stereo. The familiar sounds have Steve letting loose a groan in discontent as he moves to pull open the front door, and as you peer around his shoulder, you spot a rusted van pulling into the driveway. The brakes creak, the deafening music cutting off as the doors on either side fly open and two young men tumble from the vehicle.

“Dusty buns, grab the goods from the back, would you?” The driver orders the boy currently climbing out of the passenger side of the van.

“What?” The boy scoffs in disbelief, adjusting the cap that squishes the tight ringlets of curls around his face and neck, “Gross. Why do I have to carry it?”

“Why do you have to carry it? Hm.. Why do you have to carry it..? Uh, let’s see..” The driver's face scrunches up in thought, a wild mane of dark curls and waves hanging past his shoulders as he leans his weight against the frame of the door, allowing it to remain open as he drapes an elbow over the metal. He drums his fingers against his lips in a slow rhythm as he pretends to ponder the question, dark nail polish harsh against his pale skin, “Because you woke me up at seven in the morning on my day off to run a weird errand for Harrington.. Because I snuck in to the butcher to get it.. And, ah shit.. What was the last reason..? Oh! Because I said so.” He finishes loudly, finally moving to slam the car door shut.

The next few seconds pass in a bit of a blur — everything happens so quickly. Steve watches the door collide with the longer-haired boy's face with a painful sounding thud. The resulting blood that begins to pour from his nose comes all too quickly, and Steve only processes what's happened enough to offer a wince in sympathy. It takes longer than it should for him to realize that he should perhaps be concerned about you.

With a slight delay, Steve turns to face you with wide eyes and finds your pretty lips are parted in desperation, an unfocused glassy look in your eyes as your own gaze flickers between Steve and the scene in the driveway behind him.

“Eddie, shit. You okay?” The boy at the other side of the vehicle is saying as Steve begins to usher you back into the house with his hands at your biceps, “Wha- Steve where the hell're you going!”

The boy's call remains unanswered as Steve instead leads you backwards down the hallway and into a room past the kitchen.

“Steve.” You whisper hoarsely, throat burning so severely it feels like it's been set aflame.

“I know, honey. Shit. I know, I know.”

The front door slams shut in the distance, disgruntled murmuring voices edging into the house and making Steve curse under his breath. He brings a wide palm up to cover the expanse of your mouth and nose, his other hand still dragging soft along your upper arm.

“Not a vampire, huh?” Steve jokes weakly, “Y'sure about that?”

Your brows pinch as you narrow your eyes at him and frown beneath his hand.

“Steve, c'mon man where do you keep the tissues!” A voice calls in annoyance.

“Hold the fuck on, Henderson!” Steve yells back over his shoulder, before refocussing on you, “You're okay, it's gonna be okay. Just stay here and I'll get them to leave and it'll all be fine. Deep breaths- No, shit, fuck, no deep breaths. Forget I said that. Just..”

You make a small sound against his palm and he gives you a weak, apologetic wince of a smile.

“Don't kill my friends, alright? Please. Just stay here, okay? I'll be back.”

He's gone in a flash, battered wooden door latching shut behind him and leaving you holding your breath to keep the foggy haze of your hunger at bay. Your stomach twists sharply as the voices on the other side of the door pick up and you reach up to cover your mouth and nose with your own smaller hands as you fight the urge to breathe in the sweet coppery scent of fresh blood that you know must be wafting through the house already.

You manage to resist for perhaps twenty-five agonizing seconds before your shaking hands slacken a bit over your face and a deep breath fills your lungs. The potency of the blood in your chest wracks your body, a hazy darkness creeping into the edges of your vision as your hand blindly reaches for the doorknob. You move down the hallway unthinkingly and friendly, bickering conversation comes to an abrupt stop as three sets of eyes focus on you.

The lingering glances to your borrowed clothes are anything but subtle. One of the boys, Eddie, raises his eyebrows in approval even as he keeps a hand cupped over his nose in a weak attempt to staunch the flow of blood. The other boy, shorter and softer at the edges, gapes incredulously as he drops a thick tupperware bowl onto the coffee table, his narrowed gaze drifting to where Steve was looking at you in wide-eyed panic.

“You have a girl over?” The shortest of the boys asks in disbelief, “Are you shitting me? Dude, come on. You're not seriously trying to rush us out after making a delivery like this, no questions asked, so you can get laid for what evidently wouldn't even be the first time-”

Steve ignores him as you move toward Eddie with single-minded determination and that worryingly glassy look in your eyes. Steve's hand just misses your shoulder as you pass, catching only air while your own hand grasps Eddie's wrist to ogle at the blood staining his palm.

“Honey, honey, maybe-”

“Aw, you jealous Stevie boy?” Eddie laughs, his voice congested around the blood clogging up his nasal passages, “That's cute. Maybe if you're real nice, I'll punch you before me and Dustin leave and then you two crazy kids can play doctor- oof-”

The teasing cuts off when you give him an unnaturally strong shove toward the couch. Eddie flails a bit as he falls onto the lumpy cushions, and you're perching yourself atop of him in the blink of an eye, your thighs pinning his arms against his own lap beneath you. He stares a up at you in stunned confusion, the black of your pupils blown wide and a sort of terrifying beauty in your features that seems to render him paralyzed both mentally and physically for a moment.

Your mind swims with how nice the blood smells from this close, how warm it feels in the air against your skin, prickling and sparking along your spine and prompting goosebumps of elation to creep up the back of your neck.

“Harrington,” Eddie acknowledges with a hint of amusement as his regains a bit of composure, he nods his head vaguely to the person who has sequestered his lap and trapped his hands in the process, “Is, uh.. This your girl?”

Steve ignores him in favor of placing a slow, gentle hand on your shoulder from behind. He watches you run your thumb over the small scrape across Eddie's chin, watches your eyes flutter closed as you lean closer and swipe a finger through the fresh blood that's dripping from his nose down to his upper lip.

“Hey, honey..” Steve begins cautiously, swallowing past a nervous lump in his throat when you shake off his hand on your shoulder and bring your bloodstained fingers up toward your mouth, “Remember what we talked about.. Maybe we should-”

“Oh, she's fuckin' weird, man,” Eddie is chuckling in confusion all the while, though his smile never fades, “I think I like her-”

Dustin watches on in disgust as you slip those bloody fingers past your own lips and suck, and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you, awaiting your reaction with varying emotions — confusion, disgust, horror.

Your brows furrow as you take in the taste of it, the immediate warmth and sweetness on your tongue is quickly overpowered by something sour, a sharp tang that makes you gag. You push Eddie back against the couch as you scramble from his lap, tripping in your haste and falling into Steve's waiting arms.

“Dude,” Eddie is saying, “She's actually a freak, and I mean that in the best way-”

“What the hell?” Dustin cries as he swallows down a gag of his own.

The sour stench of Eddie's blood lingers at the back of your throat and you retch again, gazing up at Steve with an expression he's yet to see on your face. Your eyes are wide and pleading, lips parted as you try to breathe in his scent to counteract the blood coating the back of your tongue.

Steve rubs at your upper arms in a soothing motion, relieved that for whatever reason, you didn't kill his friend.

“Steve,” You whisper hoarsely, “He tastes terrible.”

You sound horrified by the fact and Steve tuts softly, though the quiet noise is drowned out by Eddie's scoff of disbelief.

“Oh, well excuse me.” The sarcasm that drips from his voice doesn't go unnoticed as he tugs at the collar of his shirt to wipe the rest of the blood from under his nose.

“Steve.” You plead again as you tug on his shirtsleeve, you're not sure what you want him to do about the horrible taste in your mouth, but you find that you're willing to beg if he can make it go away.

“What the hell is going on? Steve?” Dustin demands sharply, “Are you planning on explaining any time soon?”

Eddie raises two fingers in the air, dark nail polish contrasting against his pale skin, “I'd like to know that too.”

Steve's eyes meet yours for a brief moment before you're tucking back into his neck and he's heaving a sigh.

“Right.. So, uh-”

Steve explains the events of your morning together and his theories, urging you to speak up every now and then to give your own take on things. Eddie and Dustin's arguments grow increasingly eager throughout the whole thing as they debate whether you might be a vampire or a demon, whether you hailed from the underworld and were cast out or simply had memory loss, what foods you might be able to sustain yourself on that wouldn't involve human flesh-

Some of their ponderings eventually fill your head with brief flashes, memories dragged to the surface that you attempt to explain despite what little you know. You tell them about the hazy recollections of a boy stripping you down until you were bare before him, how he'd ignored your slurred pleas for him to stop. The fuzzy image of him standing above you. His demands for the devil to bestow upon him each of his painfully shallow desires; popularity, sex, money. He'd demanded those things in exchange for the life of a virgin, your life, and you'd been given no opportunity to dispel his assumptions before he'd plunged the knife into your stomach, your ribs, your chest.

Perhaps you died, perhaps your didn't, but you remember the earth-shattering roar that had filled the forest just before a power unlike anything you'd ever felt began to thrum in your veins. You fondly recall the euphoria of that cruel, selfish boy's flesh beneath your teeth and the warmth of his blood trickling down your throat.

Rage burns in Steve's chest as you recount what you can remember of what happened to you. His hands ball into fists, knuckles aching with the fury he feels at the thought of you naked and vulnerable and begging for your life.

At some point in the chaos, around the time that the ache in your head begins to pulse, Steve ushers everyone into the kitchen and the unsuspecting tupperware that the two boys had delivered is pried open.

You stare down at the dark liquid inside with a slight crinkle in your nose, leaning a bit closer to try to get a read on the dull scent coming from the cold contents.

“Sweetheart you tackled me onto the sofa to get some of my blood only to announce that it tasted like shit ten seconds later,” Eddie chuckles with incredulity at your skepticism, “Now you got a whole bowl of blood in front of you and.. What? Nothing..?”

Your gaze goes to Steve rather than the boy who had spoken to you, your own eyes meeting golden brown. His warm palm rests over your hand where it's splayed on the countertop in front of the plastic bowl, his fingers giving a reassuring squeeze to pair with the quick upward tick at the corners of his lips.

“It just.. It doesn't really smell like much of anything,” You offer up hesitantly with a shake of your head, “No. No, it- That's not true. I mean, it smells like blood, it just.. The nuances aren't there?”

“What sort of nuances?” Dustin urges curiously, Eddie nodding wildly as they both eagerly await your elaboration.

“I-I don't..” You're drawn to Steve once again, like a magnet is pulling you in and guiding your gaze toward him at every turn.

“Take a second to think about it,” Steve urges softly.

You do with your brows drawn together and your head tipping to the side as you try to piece together the words to explain, “Well, Eddie's blood, for instance- It.. It smelled.. Warm. I could feel it on my tongue before I even tasted it. Just smelling it gave me.. chills — the good kind. Like, shiver down your spine-”

“Orgasmic,” Eddie pipes in with an amused little grin that prickles at Steve's nerves, “I believe the word you're looking for to describe how I smell is ‘orgasmic’, if those shivers I sent down your spine are to be taken into accou- Ow!”

Steve reaches over to smack Eddie into silence, the blow delivered to the other boy's shoulder with a bit more strength behind it than perhaps he intended.

“Stop talkin' shit,” Steve reprimands before grumbling under his breath, “Not givin' her fuckin' orgasms, fuckin' asshole.”

“How about both of you idiots fucking focus,” Dustin scolds in annoyance. His eyes roll hard beneath the shadow of the brim of his cap and then he's focussing back on you, “So Eddie's blood smelled good but tasted bad. This smells bad so.. maybe that means it'll taste good!”

“It didn't taste bad initially,” You shrug, still eyeing the undisclosed animal blood warily, “It was more the aftertaste.. It was, I don't know, sour or, like-”

“The pothead tasted bad, imagine that..” Steve mutters to himself.

“Holy shit. Steve you might actually be right about something!” Dustin exclaims with a wide grin.

“I might?” Steve repeats in confusion, eyebrows pinching together before he shakes himself off with a crooked grin that doesn't come off nearly as nonchalant as he is aiming for, “I mean, yeah, sure, totally. But, uh, what exactly am I right about?”

“Weed!” Dustin says like it should be obvious, turning toward the longer haired boy, “Eddie, when was the last time you smoked?”

Eddie looks between the three of you with wide eyes shining with innocence, “I, uh… Before bed. So, I guess, like, three-ish?”

“So.. The aftertaste was.. marijuana?” Steve says in slow disbelief.

“Smoking a bowl before bed seriously saved my life?” Eddie whispers suddenly.

“How does this information help.. This,” You poke at the plastic container with your index finger, the dark liquid sloshing slowly with movement, “Whatever this is- Taste better? It smells like a cup of water filled with pennies.”

“We could warm it up.” Dustin shrugs.

The four of you exchange shrugs of indifference as if to say, ‘why not?’ and then Steve has the contents of the container in a pot on the stove. He stirs it slowly as it warms and you hover at his back, chin hooked over his shoulder as the smell coming off of the dark liquid slowly grows more and more appealing.

Your fingers dig a little harshly into the softness at his hips when the burn in your throat grows too painful and he acknowledges your warning with a soft bump of his temple against your own as he flicks off the burner. A small bit of space is driven between you but Steve is turning and pushing a warm mug into your hands before you can make more than a small noise of protest.

The ceramic is warm against your palms, the heat coming off of the animal blood meeting your face when you bring the lip of the mug up to your mouth. You take a cautious sip, wary beneath the heavy weight of the gazes focussed so intently on your reaction.

Your eyes slip shut unconsciously, a low moan sounding in your throat at that first taste. The warmth of the blood dances along your tastebuds pleasantly, sweet and thick and delicious as it soothes the ache in your throat nearly instantly. Your gut twists in euphoric delight as you tip the mug further, swallowing down it's contents in desperate gulps.

Steve takes the mug from your hands and refills it without prompt once you reach the bottom, placing it back in your hands gently. His eyes follow your movements, watching intently as you hurriedly bring the cup back to your lips, sipping the dark liquid a bit slower, savoring it this time around.

“How is it?” Steve asks gently.

“She's drinking the stuff like her life depends on it, Steve, what the hell d’you think?” Dustin scoffs.

“Vampire girl likes cow's blood,” Eddie pumps one fist in the air in triumph, draping an arm heavily over Dustin's shoulders and ruffling the hat atop the boys head of curls, “I think we did good, Henderson.”

Steve ignores his friends in favor of placing a large hand against the steadily warming skin of your cheek, “Honey?” He urges.

“‘S good,” You promise with red-stained lips, shuffling forward into Steve's chest and nuzzling your head beneath his jaw for a moment to take in his already familiar scent. It's still mildly uncomfortable, the way it fights to itch at your throat despite the way the blood has soothed the burn, but there's also something comforting about his scent as it settles in your chest now.

Conversation picks up again between the two boys behind you. Steve's arm curls tight around your back, his weight resting against the countertop as he allows you to lean into his chest. Your body grows warmer with each sip of blood that passes your lips, a slow-growing, white flame building in your gut as the hunger ebbs and the soothing scent of Steve fills your lungs.

When you finish off your second helping, you set the mug down with a quiet clink, your eyes drawn to where Steve had set the pot of warmed blood aside on the counter. Steve's thick fingers are drumming idly against the surface, and the sight has you feeling a little overwhelmed. The hunger swirling in your gut now is vastly different from what had been fueling your actions earlier, a desperate tug of arousal making your stomach flip.

Dustin and Eddie no longer exist in your mind. You're far too busy grabbing a hold of Steve's hand, your smaller fist wrapping around his own and manipulating his movements until you can dip his index and ring fingers into the pot that's been slowly cooling against the countertop. Thick drops of deep crimson drip down the side of his wrist as it re-emerges. A zig-zagging line curves around the small bump of bone connecting to his forearm and your eyes can focus on nothing else. The world around you fades nothing more than a dull echo as you automatically crowd closer to Steve to collect the dripping blood with your lips and tongue.

All three boys watch the turn of events with bated breath. When your eyes flick up to meet Steve's again, a distant fog seems to have glazed over your eyes again.

“Gross..” Dustin assesses quietly.

“Hot.” Eddie disagrees immediately and vehemently.

Steve doesn't manage more than a weak croak at the back of his throat while he watches the your tongue poke out in an attempt to clean some of the dark liquid from your own lips.

“Steve.” You say softly, parted lips glistening and red.

“Yeah?” He asks in a high rasp.

You mean to respond, you do, but you're distracted by another drop of blood falling down the side of his hand and your words never come, silenced by the way you dart forward to capture it before it can reach his wrist.

“What, uh. What'd'you need, honey?” He asks as steadily as he can. His cock is already beginning to press against the zip on the inside of his jeans and he desperately wills himself to calm down.

“Need you.” You murmur with your lips against the blood-soaked tips of his fingers. You guide his hand until you can take the digits into your mouth.

Steve nearly chokes as his fingers are engulfed in the heat of your mouth, a choked sound crackling up his throat when the soft pad of your tongue flicks against them as you suck them clean. 

“Leave.” Steve commands his friends without ever looking away from your mouth.

“Dude, are you serious?” Dustin exclaims, smacking Eddie's shoulder in disbelief, “He can't be serious!”

Your tongue pushes between his fingers, the warmth of the muscle nearly causing Steve's knees to buckle. His own tongue feels suddenly dry as it lays heavy in his mouth, his cock achingly thick and hard in his pants already.

“You boys should leave,” You say softly, tongue poking out to lick away the blood at the edges of your lips while your fingers remain wrapped tight around Steve's wrist, “Unless, of course, you'd like to watch?” You tease with a frightening grin.

Eddie meets your gaze with a wide-eyed look, “Well, sweetheart, as a matter of fact-”

“Nope, we're leaving!” Dustin interrupts, already dragging Eddie from the kitchen by the collar of his shirt, “Steve, be smart, alright? Don't make me regret this. Please don't die-”

Eddie shouts something vulgar that you don't quite catch over his shoulder just as the front door slams shut. The resulting silence is thick with sexual tension, Steve's pretty, doe-eyed gaze glued to where your lips are still pressed softly against the pads of his fingers.

When you collide it's in a frantic rush, wandering hands slipping beneath clothes and backsides slamming against walls. Distracted steps lead the both of you down the hallway, Steve's shirt discarded carelessly along the way the moment that the opportunity to do so is presented to you.

Your fingertips scrape through the soft brown curls littering his chest while Steve's mouth finds your jaw and neck, a tiny trail of damp kisses left in his wake. A light suck at your pulse point has a moan slipping past your lips, your feet tripping over the tops of his own as you corral him back into the bedroom where he'd hidden you away earlier.

The backs of Steve's knees meet the mattress and it only takes a weak shove from your unnaturally strong hands to have him toppling back onto the bed. Breath wooshes from his lungs and he watches intently while you crawl on top of him, your hands tracing the lines of his chest in a slow, deliberate touch before finding the sharp line of his jaw.

When Steve's gaze finally meets the intensity of your own he finds your pupils blown unnaturally wide, the color of your irises nothing but a thin sliver at the very edges of a sea of endless black.

His tongue meets the roof of his mouth as he makes to say something, anything, but the words are lost when your lips smash into his with an impatient tinge of hunger. A surprised moan gets caught in his throat for a moment before your hand falls to the bulging zip in his jeans, delicate fingers palming at his cock. He does moan then, embarrassingly loud and needy, though the sound is swallowed up by your own mouth as you use his parted lips as an opportunity lick inside of his mouth.

Your tongue is warm and wet — still dripping with the thick, coppery tang of blood mixed with something sickly sweet that he thinks might just be the intoxicating taste of your own spit.

It should be disgusting. The taste of the blood on your tongue should have his stomach twisting and his gag reflex triggering, but it does neither of those things. There's no real way to be sure whether it's some sort of otherworldly allure that you're emitting, or if he's simply so attracted to you that it's turned him into a fucking freak, but his cock is growing painfully hard beneath his jeans faster than it ever has in his goddamn life and the taste as your tongue strokes his own only seems to speed things along further.

Steve has one hand braced behind him to keep his chest pressed solidly against yours as you writhe and roll your hips down against the back of the hand you have teasing at the front of his jeans. The noises you're letting out have him a little dizzy, his blood rushing south in response to each pretty sound that you let fall into his pliant mouth.

Your hands scramble to undo the button and work tight denim down Steve's thighs, but you're eventually forced to extricate yourself from his lap to fully remove them, a tangled heap of denim and the cotton of his boxer briefs thrown to the other side of the room in another brief display of your slightly unnatural strength.

“Fuck.” Steve breathes when instead of climbing back into his lap after hastily removing your own clothes, you crawl toward him and settle between his knees. You blink up at him with dark eyes, crimson now smeared messily over your perfect lips, and Steve's cock all but jumps when his muscles tighten at the sight.

“I'm gonna suck your cock-” You tell him as the backs of your fingers just graze the length of his aching erection. Your gaze is locked on the thickness of him, hungrily eyeing the pulsing vein on the underside, the weeping slit where a string of precome is already shining over the head from just the light brush of your hand and the look in your eyes. “Because I need to taste you. But then I'm going to need you to fuck me.”

Your eyes finally flick up to meet his, and Steve is nodding wildly, “Yes, yeah! Okay, that's.. That sounds g-holyfuckingshit!” He groans through a gasp.

You don't savor in a tentative lick, don't even suck lightly at the tip like he's had girls do in the past to ease into it. You wrap your lips around his cock and immediately move to swallow down several inches of him, your throat tightening around the sensitive head as you gag yourself on his thick length.

You can smell the arousal seeping from each and every pore on his body, growing stronger and more intoxicating with every bob of your head and flick of your tongue. You hadn't thought it was possible, but it's a thousand times more delicious than his fear had been. It burns along your senses and prickles down the length of your spine until your head is a strange mix of hyper-focussed yet fuzzy at the edges.

Steve has to fight to keep his eyes from pinching shut in pleasure, to keep his head from falling back to bring his gaze to the ceiling. Missing even a single second of the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock feels like a crime of biblical proportions, so instead he brings shaking hands to your hollowed cheeks, collecting your hair until he can fist it in one hand. He whines pitifully at the unobstructed view of the drool and blood that your efforts have pooling at the base of his cock.

“Oh, holy shit,” Steve groans, his thumb stroking lightly over the edges of your lips as you pull off.

The second your mouth is occupied with only sucking at the tip, his thumb is pushing through the mess of blood and spit to hook past your lips alongside his cock. You don't stop working your mouth at the intrusion, rather, you expand your efforts to include the finger now rubbing at the inside of your cheek. Your tongue slides over the tip of his thumb before swirling around his leaking head, your jaw open as wide as it can go while you suck at every part of him that's stretching your mouth.

“Ah, fuck, you gotta-” Steve is whining, and he'd be embarrassed about it if he had the brain capacity to do anything aside from trying desperately not to come. His balls are drawn so tight, his cock is throbbing in the heat of your mouth with the need for release, "Honey, honey, I need you to stop or I'm gonna come in that pretty mouth and that-" He heaves a great sigh of pained relief when you pull off with a wet pop, "That would be a fucking travesty, because I really really wanna be inside you.”

You're wiping your mouth and chin off on the back of your hand, the lust-hazy weight of his gaze sparking a glimmer in your own.

“What are you waiting for then?” A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth even as your teeth dig sharply into your lower lip.

You're dragged up onto his lap in a rush, flipped onto your back until he's hovering over your naked body, his warm hands smoothing over every bit of your skin that he can. His eyes are clouded with arousal as wide palms trace the curve of your waist, the softness of your belly, the plush of your breasts.

Your legs part on instinct and his eyes drop at the movement, lips parting with his slack jaw as the wet seam of your cunt is exposed to him.

“Oh, fuck, honey,” Steve manages in a breathless murmur, “Jesus, look at you. Oh, holy shit, you're so wet.”

Thick fingers come within an inch of dragging through your folds before you're snatching his wrist with a firm grip and tugging him forward. He lands atop of you with a huff, one arm forced to brace behind your head and the other falling to rest on the side of your waist. You're settling him with a scathing look and he chokes on a shaky breath that fans out over your face.

His cock is hot and heavy against your lower belly, thick and long and curving up toward your navel. It still shines lightly with spit and blood and precome and your mouth nearly waters at the sight, your cunt clenching around nothing at just the thought of finally getting it inside of you.

“What?” He asks in confusion, “Was just gonna get you ready with my fingers. Should do that first, right? We don't want you hurting-”

“Now,” You demand, voice coming out leagues weaker and more desperate than intended, “I want you now. Need you. Now.”

“Fuck, I- Shit, okay, okay.” Steve gives in with wide eyes.

When he reaches down to line himself up with your sopping entrance, his hand is shaking so hard that he has half a mind to be embarrassed. But then his gaze flicks up to meet your own just as he begins to push his hips forward, and the flutter of your lashes in response to the stretch of his cock makes it a little hard for him to focus on anything other than how he might be able to make your eyes roll back again, or what euphoric expressions he's yet to see take over your beautiful face.

Once he's fully sheathed, he draws back and drives back in sharply, watching in awe as your jaw falls slack and you cry out.

“Just like that,” You gasp in approval, spine arching as you try to better the angle his hard thrusts to hit at just the right spot, “Shit, yes. Steve, fuck!”

The room is filled with the slick sounds of his cock as it works in and out of your cunt, the dull slap of his hips and hairy thighs meeting the insides of you own, the protesting creak of his bed frame as its joints struggle beneath all of the movement. Steve's breathing picks up just a little more with each thrust, a gasp turned groan working its way up his throat when you tangle a hand in the hairs that curl at the nape of his neck to drag him down for a kiss that's more tongue and teeth than anything else.

The barely there remnants of blood in your mouth meets Steve's tastebuds once again when he freely licks inside to capture the soft sounds falling from your lips and his cock twitches within your walls, brain spinning with just how perfect you feel and taste and sound.

“Fuck,” He pants into your waiting mouth, “You feel so fucking good, honey. S-Squeezing me so tight. Feels so fuckin' good, better'n anything I've ever felt.”

Each word of praise is dripping with his arousal when it meets the inside of your mouth, thick and delicious and a sort of cloying sweetness that reminds you of honey as it coats the back of your throat like a salve. The sounds falling from his mouth in combination with the sharp tang of his arousal that clings to the air with every breath you take — it has your head spinning. The low rasp of his moans sparks pleasure along your spine while the wet drag of his cock ignites the white-burning flame in the pit of your gut.

Despite his hooded eyelids, you can see how his own pupils have blown wide, those pretty pools of swirling brown overtaken with a darkness that leaves them looking so similar to your own.

“You're perfect,” Steve groans against your tongue, “So, so pretty right now, baby. Look so goddamn pretty taking my cock.”

His voice is ragged, desperate as his arms slip beneath your spine to press as close as he can. You're craving his touch just as much though, and it has you rolling your hips desperately to meet his. Your lips come together again in a frenzied collision, heightened arousal only causing that simmering need that pushes you cling to one another to boil over. Chest to chest, tongue on tongue, skin on skin.

The coarse hairs on his chest catch against your peaked nipples with every sharp jerk of his hips, his belly dragging against your own as your eyes roll back on a particularly well-angled thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan against his lips, fingers carding through the unreasonably soft strands of his hair.

Every inch where you're connected feels alight with flames. It feels as if nothing exists beyond this. Your mind is nothing more than a steady repetition of Steve, Steve, Steve — and you don't think that it's merely the sex. You think this might simply be the way that things will be from now on. Just you and Steve. His touch and taste and his fucking smell create a truly intoxicating combination, you want him like this always. Cheeks and neck pink and flushed with blood, glistening with sweat, panting and grunting and whining in response to your body.

Your orgasm is so, so close. You're already bearing down on him, muscles taught and brain a little fuzzy. The fingers in his hair tighten, the nails of your free hand scraping down his spine and leaving behind a trail of red streaks along the freckled expanse of his back. The sting drags another guttural moan from Steve's lips and your cunt flutters around him when your belly flips in response.

“God, honey,” Steve whispers in nearly a plea, hips jerking as he tries to keep a good rhythm going for you, “You close? ‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can- Fuck.”

His scent at this very moment is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's heady and a little overwhelming, but so fucking delicious — if you could, you'd bottle it up just so that you could get a quick whiff of it whenever you wanted. The syrupy sweet arousal in the air only continues to thicken, filling up the air with each shaky thrust of his hips.

“God. Fill me up, Steve. Please?” You murmur with a groan as he punches deep into that spot that has your toes curling, your cunt sending a rush of slick arousal down the length of his cock and balls. “Want you to come, sweet boy. Need it. ‘n I need you to give it to me.”

“Fucking, s-shit-” Steve moans in response, hips stuttering and warmth filling you from the inside out as his cock jerks and he loses control, “Gonna.. Fucking..” A beautifully wrecked sounding moan interrupts him, “Gonna f-fuck my come so, so deep, honey.”

His slurred words have you keening, the thatch of pubic hair at the base of his cock rubbing in a rough drag against the swollen bud of your clit when his thrusts melt into nothing more than deep grinds of his cock against your fluttering walls. The tight coil in your gut twists and stretches and then snaps suddenly, the tight vice that accompanies your own orgasm milking him for every drop he has to give.

He collapses against you once you've both drawn out your climaxes for as long as you possibly can, his temple pressed to your cheek. Your combined labored breathing fills the silence.

The warmth of Steve's sweaty skin is heaven, his weight pressing you into the mattress feeling so comforting and right that it leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed. His scent settles into something a little less obtrusive as he comes down, something that rushes into your lungs and curls sweetly in your chest.

Your hand cards soft through the damp locks of his hair, your lips finding his dewy skin to press a soft kiss to that space on his temple where you can feel his pulse throbbing softly with each beat of his heart. When Steve presses a gentle kiss to the edge of your jaw in response to your own, you can't help the swarm of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

This sweet, handsome, recklessly kind young man that you're lucky enough to have in your arms.. You reckon that you might have to stick close to him — you think, perhaps a bit foolishly and entirely too hopefully, that you'd quite like to keep him.

[astrum99]

Surprisingly, human beings are the only creatures that looked into themselves. Movement of a blade sharpened to max, lightning fast, no hesitation. Peeling back skin and draining sinus. Bodies (alive, young), huddled around bodies (dead, damaged), to examine and poke and tear and say “I see, that one is the Inferior Vena Cava”. These abominable actions saves lives. Curiosity and morbidity guided a way of survival, of rescue. Later, the same sentiments, mixed with desperation, guided a way to destruction.

Bearing the remnants of humans, their organs pulsating in its body. A machine. A child of man.

Angels, on the other hand, are made perfect. Healthy body, strong will, and filled with holy light right off the bat. Vicious in battles. No need for learning, little need for healing. The smoothness and perfection of their skin akin to marble and sea glass. All creations pale in their presence. Nothing beats perfection. Certainly not creatures of cold unfeeling metal. Lightless, soulless, running on a fixed program of 0’s and 1’s set by the expired words of self-destroying, world-destroying, rotten images of God. Heretic. Even in their perishment, they set to ruin. Systems that they themselves can no longer escape from. Samsara of endless pain and death.

It is a wonder then, that when the machine finally tear through Gabriel’s helm, he become faintly aware of the things hidden deep inside. The ugly, raw things inside. The things he must have known but were never brave enough to face: the same pulsing gore that pushes through the gaps of his skin is the same as the one in the mankind’s bodies; the wires that prods through the throbbing organs is the same as that runs through the chassis of the machine. His body echos the lesser beings. For a second, he could not distinguish himself from man nor machine. How ridiculous, he thought, it thought. To be of this state. To see his/its image in his/its body. To have his/its strings/wires cut so late. The taste of spectacular freedom at the last millisecond of his/its life.

As the last drop of holy light seeps through his helm to stain the machine’s optics, he recognizes himself as heaven’s machine, and the machine as mankind’s angel. And now they are the same.

---

Insp is this post by @sinew-lattice!

thank u for infesting me w brain worms i enjoyed hosting the wiggly thing very much (also pls let me know if u don't like ppl writing/tagging i can always take stuff down:] )

[murfeelee]

IWTV INSP - MerMay Pt20: The Pearls

There was a small chest on the table.... “Lestat, what’s this?” Louis asked as he stared at a mess of shimmering pearls and crystal within.... It was jewellery, but longer, long strands of small beautiful pearls and little pieces of crystal that looked designed to drape across a torso.... “It is customary for a siren to gift their intended an engagement gift,” Lestat said, “I had this made for you....” Tears pricked at the corners of Louis’s eyes. Lestat had been getting this made for Louis, so sure of him? Of them?..... “Would you wear it for me?” Lestat asked. Louis nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Lestat carefully draped it over his torso.... It was perfect. Louis turned around, letting Lestat see him, and Lestat looked like he had been struck by lightning. “Beautiful, my prince,” Lestat said softly. Lestat cupped his face, reverently, staring into Louis’s eyes. “So beautiful,” Lestat whispered. “Louis, will you marry me?” Lestat asked, smiling up at him.... “Yes,” Louis said, his heart seizing in his chest. “Then run,” Lestat said, a wicked light in his eye. So Louis ran.

-- Excerpt from Part of Your World and The Wedding Hunt, by @weather-mood

A [FREE SPACE] entry for @vamptember's MerMay VC event!

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

I love fics with Mating Runs, especially when the characters aren't human. It just seems more animalistic and closer to nature that way.

I have zero stamina when running; I'd be out of breath after only a few paces and get caught immediately. A Mating Power Walk though? I'd be single forever. XD

CC CREDITS

- Pearls pattern & ACC in beta gamma by me

- Lou's shorts at the Store

[erisicy]

Phantom Blood Musical: Dio Becomes a Vampire Rough Translation

[Police Officer]

Inspector! There's trouble!

[Insp. Archer]

What happened?

[Police Officer]

The corpse—!

Dio's corpse is gone!

[Insp. Archer]

What?!

[Speedwagon]

Hey, cop! Get away from the window!

[All]

Inspector!!!

[Speedwagon]

Just what is this guy—?! He's come back to life!

[Police Officer]

But we shot him so many times—!

[Police Officer]

Be careful! He must have some sort of weapon!

[Dio]

Wryyy…

[Jonathan]

Dio!

Stop right there!

[Speedwagon]

Shoot him!

I'll help you—hurry!

[Dio]

Wryyy…

[Speedwagon]

I don't understand!

I have no idea what's going on!

[Police Officer]

Damn it all!

[Dio]

JoJo!

Can you hear my voice?!

[Police Officer]

A-After him!

[Dio]

Wryyy!

[Jonathan]

You—

[Dio]

JoJo~

I've… obtained such magnificent powers~

From the Stone Mask—

—Using your father's blood!

[Jonathan]

Dio—!

[Speedwagon]

The monster has created more monsters!

Run away, Mr. Joestar!

They're just going to get you! There's nothing we can do about that monster!

[Jonathan]

The brain!

[Speedwagon]

Huh—?

[Jonathan]

The mask must have brought out the hidden potential in his brain

In that case—

I need to destroy his head completely!

[Speedwagon]

Get off me! Stop it! (?)

[Jonathan]

Speedwagon!

Stronger...

Stronger...

I need stronger will!

[Dio & (Speedwagon)]

JoJo! (Watch out!)

Weakling! Weakling!

[Speedwagon]

Mr. Joestar!

[Dio]

A little longer… a little longer~

I want to enjoy this wonderful power more~

I don't know how far I can take it yet~!

JoJo~

You should stop this pointless struggle~!

Didn't I tell you?

The more plans you make, the more the limits of being human catch up to you~!

Don't hide behind the shadow of the curtain, come on out~

You two shall also—

—Become my life's sustenance!

[Jonathan]

Dio!

We're not stopping you with a plan!

It's with courage!

This fire won't be enough to defeat him

Speedwagon, get away from the mansion

[Speedwagon]

Huh?!

Mr. Joestar!

Don't run upstairs!

[chaotic-rxses-zee-01]

Growing up with the wolves - Stray Kids Werewolf!AU 🐺

Note; this it NOT an Omegaverse AU, I dont write anything s3xual related to Kpop so if you want those go to another blog. Thanks! Now enjoy this new AU I’ll start posting!!

Warning : mentions of blood, hunting, guts of animals, and fighting (this warning will be at the beginning of each chapter as-well!)

{ BANG CHAN }

Oldest in the pack, maybe a little overprotective of the younger ones (Maknae line + Reader), hunts for most of the pack (Changbin hunts more though, and reader goes with him.)

WOLF FORM : a black wolf with light red eyes, a scar above his left shoulder from a fight with a bear (also travels to his human form)

Human Age : 26

Werewolf age : 19

{ FELIX }

The shyest out of them, kind, sweet, and hates the sight of blood. Is smaller than most of his siblings, being the sickest one in their litter of five (Reader, Han, Seungmin, Himself and Jeongin.) He loves walking in the forest and has a big fear of humans, especially when the doctors come to visit.

WOLF FORM : White wolf with bright blue eyes, still very small unlike Bangchan, who’s wolf form is the size of a Dire Wolf (insp: Game of Thrones haha)

Human age: 22

Wolf age: 11

{ HYUNJIN }

The kindest wolf the reader will every meet. He’s the gentlest when they play-fight which means no scratches to explain to Bangchan. But he can be SUPER annoying! He keeps his claws longer and sharper than most wolves do, so hunting without his teeth can be easily done. He sometimes scratches himself though. When the doctors from the City visit them, Bangchan has to hold him down so he can stay still for vaccinations.

WOLF FORM : A dusty brown wolf with white patches along his hind legs and front paws. His fur coat gets really long during the winter so the kids tease him, calling him “Lions Mane Hwang Hyunjin.” (He hates that nickname.)

Human age : 23-24??

Human age : 17

{ MINHO }

He’s like that annoying sibling that you love but also kinda hate. He loves Reader but they sometimes get on his nerves a bit. Pulling his tail, biting him, stealing his piece of the kill after hunting, and the list goes on. But Minho would still do anything for that kid.

WOLF FORM : A grey wolf, downward facing ears that have a hint of white in them. His tongue is always sticking out even when he isn’t panting or out of breath. Very playful, and loves to gently bite (he calls them “Love bites.”)

Werewolf age : 25

Human age : 18

{ CHANGBIN }

Yes, he’s very strong but does that mean he’s scary? Absolutely not, this wolf is so soft hearted, kill a fly and he’d mourn it. Even with having his childhood nickname be “Soft Coat Wolf Seo Changbin”, he still isn’t afraid to get his claws stained with blood. Hyunjin once asked him what his favorite sent is and he simply said “The fear of my prey right before the kill. The smell of organs seeping from a gash is exhilarating.” He has a very pessimistic way of viewing the human world and never goes with them to the doctor.

WOLF FORM : His wolf form can also get confused with a Lynx, but he is in-fact a wolf. I promise. His wolf is huge, but not as big as Bangchan’s though.

Human age : Prefers not to say

Werewolf Age : 18

{ HAN }

The funniest wolf Reader has EVER met. When they’re sad, they go to Han to cheer themselves up. It’s just routine at this point. He loves fruit more than meat and does his own hunting in the forest for his favorites like apples and peaches. But he does have to suffice with a hog or a rabbit every once in a blue moon. He always sleeps in his wolf form with his tail above his eyes, and loves to make dirt piles with the dust that collects in his corner of the den. His nickname is “Fearful Fire Wolf Han Jisung” Because of his fear of fire when he was small.

WOLF FORM : A dark grey wolf with two black fur patches on his eyes. A small tail that has small black spots amongst the grey.

Human Age : Unknown (??)

Werewolf Age : 17

{ SEUNGMIN }

The quietest wolf Reader has ever met (out of their family of course.) He likes to sit in the corner with a blanket at either sleep it read, he doesn’t really like confrontation or play fighting. He never hunts and us usually the last to get part of the kill. He usually goes with Han to get fruit but he really isn’t that picky on what he eats. He has a stuffed rabbit names Fluff that is beat up and tattered but he still sleeps with it. His nickname is “Soft Hearted Kim Seungmin.”

Werewolf Age : 13

Human Age : Doesn’t even know it himself

{ JEONGIN }

The youngest wolf out of nine. He was born without claws even though he loves to hunt with Changbin (he hates the amount of blood he leaves though.) He mainly uses his teeth to hunt. He is also shy but loves to talk to humans whenever they want den tours.

Werewolf Age : 10

Hunan Age : 16

Chapter 1 will be out on Saturday 🐺🖤

[emmacreatures]

STARED AT.

Omg its been a minute but hello! Starting off with some updated Ka'am x Quaritch and lyle and the recoms! Sorry for my dissapearance, I've been busy with work, finally got a hang of it and will be continuing to be busy, but!!! finally got some time to write. thanks to the fantastic Niku, they found this perfect soundtrack where they described this.. Almost horror like look that Ka'am would give and it made me see this like scene which I had to write down! I actually have the continue part of this in the making, but it isnt done yet. Apologies if i'm rather rusty too and make some mistakes aaa, hope you guys enjoy nonetheless

This was the song that Niku shared which gave us both incredible insp: https://youtu.be/p1-DbSpdZ3M (especially from 1.10 and up. the drums and just hejdbd)

As ka'am and his own clan were driven more far away from the omatikayan.. Ter'ran at times did pretend he was still part of them, so he could listen around, to tell Ka'am what was happening in the clan and any kind of information. Ka'am had grown older.. Darker, but incredibly trained that quite a few had noticed, and therefore joined him along the way. Feeling like his ways would be some that could be more impactful than a whole life back at the normal clan. Ter'ran was one of the first to join, and while he may be a close friend, he had to behave good enough not to be seen through by ka'am. He didnt know how the man had evolved his own instincts and tricks.. But man, even at times he was terrified on how well Ka'am could read people. Just by a sigh or change in stance. The clan especially joined him when they dared to look at him. His eyes had darkened, which was.. a so called fact to no longer be loyal to eywa. The eyes are a door to the soul, and usually when eyes were darkened it showed they get their energy somewhere else, other than the great mother, and make their own path in life. Some expected it to be a myth, but as the clan from Ka'am noticed his growth, they too wanted to follow that path. Ter'ran had gently made his way over to the omatikayan, seeing that, while Neytiri and Ka'am couldnt get along too well, she still hoped he'd come back. Ka'am was strict on rules. He knew what was mandatory. but despite she knew that he and jake couldnt get along, she at times still yearned for her brother to come back, yet not having a clue where he was.. or what he had become overtime. Being a true shadow in the dark. Ter'ran himself was surprised, but more importantly, he heard the humans were expanding their area again, called bridgehead.. And fast, making most of the clan at the omatikaya rather distance themself. Having heard all this information, he knew it was time to head back. The group and himself had found a place nearby the old shack to form their own home. They knew no one was allowed, as it was a perfect place for rebels to form a place they'd call their safe ground.

Ter'ran got back in one piece, also having seen bits of bridgehead before heading to Ka'am.. Who sat in a chair, being silent, smoking some sort of special mix they made themselves that was rather powerful stuff. Breathing it out as he stretched his neck, he heard someone come closer, giving a hand signal to make them step inside.. "I've returned.. And I have news" Ter'ran said, still not knowing how to call Ka'am. Does he say olo'eyktan, master.. Despite he was loyal, he knew he had to be careful with his approach. Ka'am without a doubt would correct him no matter their friendship that always had been there. ""did they care" Ka'am only said, breathing out once before putting the mix to the side.. Letting it go out of his noseholes. "Your family.. Or well sister, they still search for you it seems.. they still wish you'd be around. They have no clue you're here" Ter'ran said as he didnt look at Ka'am, knowing well it was the best way to respect. "They could've.. If they respected me. Anything else" Ka'am said as he turned to Ter'ran as he sat with his back to him. Slowly having stood up to sit down in his direction. "thats indeed not all.. there are new.. aliens.. on ground. They have weapons. Have human clothing. They seem trained well" Ter'ran said as he had heard and saw them.. Making Ka'am stand up as his ears twitched. A silence hit, before he'd make Ter'ran look at him. Even ter'ran at times got a chill down his spine thanks to ka'am. "call everyone together. we'll go hunting sooner" He said, his voice low and threatening, for Ter'ran nodded quickly before almost running out of the place they were at, making a specific noise like a bird or animal to call everyone together..

Meanwhile, over at the recoms~

Quaritch, Lyle, mansk, the whole group, had been dropped off by admiral orders to test if their hypothesis was right on being unnoticable with the recom bodies.. And low and behold, it was. As they scavenged the area, not knowing some had noticed them, they went on, being cautious of everything that passed them.. "Follow me" Quaritch said with his hands as the crew walked behind him, in the deep jungle of pandora. Lyle was close behind on him. "Stop.." Quaritch then said outloud, sensing something was watching them. "What is it colonel.." Lyle said with a frown, as every recom started to look around them.. "Lyle, with me. All else, stay here" Quaritch gestured with his hands, making them nod as they stood watch, while Lyle with his sniper silently followed Quaritch who seemed very weary of his surroundings. "Colonel? Status, what are you seeing" "Thats the thing Lyle.. I feel like something is watching us, but where." He said dominantly, looking around as it had become dark already.. Their skin shining while it definitely was more difficult to watch through pandora.

'go there, I'll go here' Quaritch gestured again with his hands, seeing Lyle took a comfortable spot to rest his sniper, whereas Quaritch held his weapon while moving, trying to pay the best of attention to whatever could be around.. Ka'am and his clan saw all of them in perfect sight. Ka'am told half of the group to focus on the ones that were told to stay at a specific spot.. For Ter'ran and him divided to watch the other two that seemed to be the most leading types.. Ka'am, with his dark paint on his body and around his face, was almost completely invisible, especially in the dark and due his abilities.. But as he noticed the man with his gun in his hand, sense he was watched, he took that as a challenge for the first time in a while.. considering he usually stayed away from everyone, like a deadly shadow. Ka'am raised his head as he watched him without moving himself anymore.. only his tail was the thing that gave any sign of being alive. Quaritch narrowed his eyes as he could sense it more.. Looking into any direction.. Until he eventually got a chill down his spine, noticing two yellow eyes looking directly at him. Never in his life had he met anything like this. Not moving an inch the second the contact was made, he felt his own heartbeat raise for some seconds.. he met eyes that almost felt like the devil. a part of hell might would describe. He couldnt even express or explain what he felt, but he could sense this was a dangerous approach.. Even though the man had 50 years of experience in a younger body. The entire energy made him nope out.. Yet intrigue to the max. The eyes he saw didnt even twitch.. It was a glance so sharp it would cut wounds. Quaritch was not the type of man to be impressed nor scared easily at all, but this was so out of the ordinairy to experience.. He knew, from his gut he had to be careful, or it would all be over soon. It would be the first time Quaritch was this careful.. Possibly making others suddenly doubt his approach.

Lyle noticed the man look at something in the shadows, deep jungle of pandora.. Eventually noticing what seemed like a shape.. Pointing at it. Quaritch knew he was looking at a killer. Never in his life had he ever experienced something like this. Considering pandora was a new world, and seeing it through new eyes, he questioned himself, yet as well could tell from his senses that he was right of what he was thinking. "Colonel" Lyle called, for the sudden words he never expected, were heard. "step back." Quaritch said, as Lyle didnt realize.. The way he pointed at ka'am, made 5 other members point at Lyle.. Making them stuck in a life and death situation. "step back? I have him right under my view" "I said step back." Quaritch said almost angry, slowly stepping backwards himself as the eyecontact he had was still ongoing. He felt the eyes stare at him.. Sensing the greatest danger he might've ever felt..

Ka'am from afar could sense the man saw what he was capable off.. and for the first time, got respected in a way he didnt expect from a man like their kind. He could tell he was feared in a twisted, almost admirable way, but quaritch had his own view on things.. letting Ka'am do a thing for the first time, to make an exception out of him.. out of killing him in sight like he would've, along with the ones he was with. He heard the sudden english to make them step back, seeing it as a sense of respect, as he could tell, the man telling them to do so, wasnt the usual type to behave on such terms. And by that.. Ka'am made a specific hand movement to make everyone stand still, and not make a killing.

"What was that all about, are you nuts. There are clearly people out there trying to KILL us" Lyle said for Quaritch tightened his neck. "do not talk to me like that Wainfleet" he said as he walked away, having broken the eye contact that seemed to have dissapeared into the shadows. "we would not have won." Quaritch said as he walked to the recoms, making Lyle stop him. "WHAT?! we were with 7".

"And if you paid well attention, they had surrounded us, 5 of which were aimed at you because you pointed at him. Be thankful their leader didnt point at us yet" he said dangerous, threatening to lyle. "excuse me?-" "You heard me. he was looking right at me." Quaritch said as Lyle rolled his eyes "Yeah I saw THAT. Thats why I had him in my sight-" "Shut up for a second. He looked at me, Like a prey, full in their element. If we would've attacked we all would've been dead by now" Quaritch said, being so sure of his words that he himself couldnt even explain. But his gut said so. As the silence was around, and rain started to fall, keeping a glare on lyle who seemed.. surprised. "since when does a group.. or one individual stop us.. or you" he said daring, noticing Quaritch being displeased with Lyle's approach. "not once have i been wrong have i. The only reason we're alive, is because we didnt do anything. He spared us" "And why would he.. Huh? They're blue monkeys, did you forget we dispice their species Colonel?." lyle said blatantly for Quaritch glared at him again, meaner this time. "he was or is, the exact example on why we humans didnt survive here on this world. remember the horrendous danger on this planet. Think again wainfleet. Your cockyness almost got us killed if it wasnt for me." Quaritch warned lyle to slow down his argument, making the cocky man still continue. "well the so called danger only seemed to look at you" he said for Quaritch was done. "Feeling confident are we? We may now be like our enemies, but that doesnt mean we're up on their systems yet. They're ahead of us." he said as all the other recoms were silent, listening. For Lyle folded his ears. "this is his territory lyle.. he knows every inch around this area unlike us. We'd be dead if we'd ignore his warning". "Warning, who spoke of a warning. He just looked at you".

"you want to get us all killed, be my guest" Quaritch said as he pushed the man to the side, planning to leave this area for now as most others did follow.. But Lyle wasnt done fucking around just yet.. "Screw this. I dont have time for being careful." Lyle glared as he looked back at the jungle, coming up with a bad excuse so that he could go in there on his own.. totally asking for trouble.

Meanwhile, Ter'ran had approached Ka'am, who was silent, having watched them all. "What the hell was that about.. We could've easily gotten rid of them." Ter'ran asked as he swallowed to receive a rather unfortunate glare from Ka'am. "Do not make me be unkind to you Ter'ran, you know better" Ka'am said as he suddenly heard some twigs break.. Breathing out to sense one had returned on his own.. But it wasnt the man he met eyes with.. "Seriously. since when is quaritch such a pussy by being looked at by those blue monkeys, I'll show them." Lyle said as he held his sniper up.. Looking around as he felt like he was the smartest man around. Ka'am could sense the man's disrespect, getting angry.. "he has no respect. Get him." Ka'am said low, for the whole clan started to point at the man.. As he himself dissapeared back to his own area.. The clan started to get lyle.. who really thought he was the toughest around. "Fucking get some colonel.. I can easily survive out here just you wait." Lyle said before he was surrounded by at least 5 navi.. But one of them got him with their own made tranquilizer.. Getting him knocked out after a few minutes "Fucking bitches- Y'all are damn sore losers." He said while trying to fight which he actually managed just fine, until the chemicals started to hit.. Getting him to their hidden area.. Tight up.. And stuck.

TO BE CONTINUED👁👄👁

[silkjade]

I'm glad you liked the brainrot. I honestly was not sure when I was typing it, if the direction made sense, but the more I typed, the more down the rabbit hole I fell. I wish I had this sort of focus when I have to do other stuff. It's a shame that writing a full fledged series is something that's always eluded me. I can do scenes-ish, but anything longer has always stymied me. I know you've talked about the mermaid lore in Teyvat and stuff like that in that ask and you mermaid reader! X Alhaitham fic, but I'm also curious if there's stuff about mermaids in Teyvat that you haven't touched on yet, but would like to. I'm not well versed in mermaid lore and have pretty much been using your ideas as a baseline. Stuff like, how have the mermaids been keeping themselves secret for so long? Or like, what happens to someone enraptured by their song (apart from the fact that they die)? You've sorta touched on mermaids being creatures who haven't been seen in years, so besides killing people who see them, can they end up giving people amnesia or something too? Or like, what is the extent that a mermaid's song can force a human to do something? Since it seems like some humans can sorta figure out when things aren't right and can snap out of it. Etc.

I'm just really curious since I'm playing around in your mermaid AU, and don't know the specifics. Lol

ahh this took a while to get back to, since I had to think about some stuff loool tbh my insp for the mermaid au came from all over the place, like i've just taken different ideas I like from different forms of media i.e. mythologies, folklore, the orig. hca fairytale, etc ! (also I hope you don't feel like you have to stay within the boundaries of my au, and that you're free to make up whatever you want LOL)

so I'm just basing on the most common/popular mythologies but mermaids lure you in with their song, and it's not that you just drop dead, or fall in the water, but it's about the temptation. Tempted by such lovely voices and faces that you'd sail into rocks, or fall in the water where you get dragged down, etc. So technically if one has enough willpower, they could resist and I imagine if you're already aware of mermaids and the dangers they impose, then one would be more likely to resist as well. I DID actually play with the idea of like "forcing humans to do smthg" kind of like charmspeak in the percy jackson universe if you're familiar? But idk i'm not sure yet lol And then I actually just hc them to generally stay deep underwater and don't really venture up to the surface much. If they do, it's generally not close to shore, so it'd be way further out at sea. They'd be just sort of legends as well I guess, where they probably existed a long time ago, but no one is really sure now, but there's still little folktales or whatever people tell

[infintasmal]

Kochō Shinobu / Demon verse

A verse in which Shinobu becomes a demon rather than a slayer.

History. WIP Shinobu has posed a unique threat to the demon's cause. While she's unable to decapitate a demon, she has developed a way to kill them regardless of her physical strength. The poisons she has created and the research she has done had given her a unique insight into the few weaknesses all demons possess. And if she were to streamline these toxins, there's a chance of more slayers being created without needing to be able to decapitate a demon. But this threat could potentially become a boon to the demon's cause. If she were to become a demon, perhaps she would able to find a way around their weakness, both to wisteria and to the sun itself.

And so she was turned. And while all memories of her human life, and thus the breadth of her research have been lost, she's able to recover her medical knowledge with time.

Current. Shinobu, now reborn as Maika is a moth demon. She occupies a small building deep in the forest that she had taken over. She spends much of her time studying and conducting research on humans and demons alike. All of her equipment was stolen from the human scientists she has killed. The building itself was once dedicated to farming silkworms. The area surrounding the farm is now overgrown with poisonous vegetation and flowers that only bloom at night. Among the flora lives a myriad of demonically enhanced insects. At first glance, it's a beautiful scene. However there's a sinister aura and none who enter return alive.

Name. The name given to the newly reborn demon is Maika ( katakana - マイカ. kanji - 舞翔 meaning 'to dance' & 'to fly' ) Insp from her breathing style 'dance of the [insect]' )

Appearance. Maika's appearance is based on a japanese silk moth. Her skin is pale with a gradient coloring extending down her extremities to a deep violet coloring on her hands and feet. Her feet are taloned and she's able to easily perch on branches. Her fingernails come to sharp points. Her hair maintains it's black to purple gradient coloring however it's much fuller and a bit longer. Her eyes are bright violet with no visible pupils and a black sclera. Her teeth have enlarged, fanged canines. She has a pair of fluffy antenna on her upper brow. Around her collar is a fluffy tuft (similar to previous reference) On her face, she has a pair of moth wings framing the outer edges (ref one, ref two). She also has a pair of wings on her back, shaped like the silk moth. These wings have a black base with violet and lavender accenting. Along the wings are bold eyespots, while in rest these eyespots appear as they would on a normal moth, however she is able to 'open' them, revealing actual eyes matching her own. With these eye spots, she is able to maintain a wider range of vision, the various eyes are also able to see in other light spectrums. She normal folds her wings down against her back, draped like a cape, when not in use. The wings on her face can sometimes indicate her mood, perking up when she's interested or drooping when she's upset. Her height and general physique remain unchanged with an emphasis on lower body strength.

Abilities. Maika has the standard repertoire of enhanced senses and physical prowess. Her skill emphasis is in her speed and agility. Whether she is flying or running, she's incredibly fast and fluid in her movements. The patterning on her wings can cause a dazed, hypnotic effect on anyone watching in the same respect that a moth uses it's patterning to help evade predators. Her movements and fighting style resembles her breathing style.

Blood Demon Art: Poison Physiology

Maika's body natural excretes a variety of toxins depending on her intention. She is able to pool her venom into her nails and teeth as well as drain it through her palms for external use. The effect of the venom ranges from paralysis, pain infliction, and eventually death depending on the intended use. The venom types she can summon are based on a variety of both poisonous and venomous insects. Her blood contains a paralytic agent that causes intensifying numbness on contact with human skin.

She is equipped with a katana fashioned in the same stinger shape and uses it to stab her victims and inject the venom directly.

Another usage of her venom grants her control over insects. Dousing the insect in her blood causes them to mutate. Affected creatures become increasingly more aggressive and adapt a more carnivorous diet. They also enter a collective hivemind with Maika as their queen. She is able to receive information from her colony and uses them for surveillance. This ability only works on insects and she is unable to control arthropods such as spiders.

Alternatives.

Possible alternate verses in which she was turned at the time of her parents death or at the time of her sister's death.

[doomsdaydicecascader]

🌻

the coldness that haunts game development, that emptiness that seems to absorb human energy without giving anything in return, shifts from the perpetual bane of computer games to their secret motor: no longer something to be pushed away through increasingly elaborate forms of player feedback it becomes the medium through which the imagination functions. the critique of such games as hamstrung by their own formal clumsiness into wasting their own potential - what beautiful paintings these could be if only they hadn’t been fed into a platform game - now becomes instead an analysis of the way that this very wasted potential, this absence of warmth and this leeching of aura, becomes a condition of the new ways in which they’re to be read. - content world, myfriendpokey

send me a 🌻 and ill post something from my insp folders

[badasshybridqueen]

Wanted Plots

plots definitely stolen from great fanfics/books that i would love plots based off !

#1 - Season 3 AU where before he goes off to reap Marcel’s justice, Klaus admits to feelings he hadn’t quite processed for Hayley. insp here

#2 - post-series au/or what if everyone came back to life as humans. insp here

#3 - the aftermath of giving Hope to Rebekah & the subsequent 3 months that follows the premier of season 2.[ The compound grows all the emptier in the weeks before the next full moon. The longer they’re away from Hope, the less Klaus and Hayley can stomach to see each other. The more Elijah pushes the two of them together, the more they pull apart, the more Hayley separates from the family. ] insp here

#4 - Hayley being the Mikaelson welcoming party to the other side. insp here

#5 - Jealousy in the most strange of places [ he blames Rebekah for pushing them together when Hope’s around. He blames Kol, for teasing them endlessly every time they’re anywhere near him. But mostly, he blames himself, for being unable to tame his anger. ] insp here

#6 - Gilmore Girls AU - Hayley is a single mom in New Orleans after the family has to separate going their separate ways [ either because of the Hollow or if it’s a human AU they can be sent to witness protection or something ] insp here

#7 - A hitman is hired to stalk and kill a woman without explanation. He embeds himself into her life waiting for the call knowing eventually it will come and his job will be done. But before the call can come the hitman winds up falling in love with her.

#8 - 17-year-old Hope travels back in time to Season 1 of The Originals in an attempt to change her fate and rewrite history. Determined not to lose either of her parents she surprises them and as she gets to know her parents she secretly works to change the future. [ loosely Based on the S5 plot of The Flash where Nora comes to the present to prevent her fathers death ]  

[ntls-24722]

I'm gonna be honest yall today I was Lacking in MM content 😭 there's my sona??? if you want to count that as a DJMM/MM? Which, I mean.

it is just djmm with gains and long lucious hair but. idk if that's enough to count them as their own djmm post??

Also, yeah, they have these invisible wings - he may be JACKED but he isn't flying with the sheer power of flapping his arms so hard he elevates, he does have actual phantom wings, though he's still swole from doing so. The other 2 arms aren't involved in the flying process though

There is also a former DJMM - a DJMM that with the power of divergent evolution and blue floral mugs, I no longer consider him a DJMM and he became a completely seperate character?

He was originally, specifically a version of a humanized Comet, his design being insp from this pic, which i think is very apparent, because he literally just got twists and gray hair ↓

And through much yearning, a weird transitional hippie stage, and disconnection from SOS, a Comet became Cameron, an old man who clipped into the backrooms and fell in love with it, and his universe has its own rules and background now?

Like for example, it doesn't follow traditional Backrooms rules as the backrooms (named "Miguel" by Cameron) doesn't have entities, as the plane of existence itself is the entity, there are specific points in places where you can clip into Miguel, and most interestingly, Miguel does not go on forever - whenever one clips into Miguel, there is a single level that one goes to, with a hidden exit, with the level changing each time someone clips through.

I made a new character for the universe named "Woolfe" who's kind of a tinfoil hat type who has gotten a very stark difference in his backrooms experience from Cameron. The levels one goes to are randomized, except for Cameron - since Cameron has come to know (and marry, via placing a ring on the floor and cheering) Miguel, Miguel has taken to placing Cameron in more whimsical and less unsettling places, though Cameron seems either unaware or oblivious to the ominousness whenever he does end up in a very Spooky place.

Woolfe is less oblivious to that, and his backrooms (he personally has named it "The Subterranean Maze Matrix") experience has been harrowing, partially because the SMM is not as fond of Woolfe as it is of Cameron and doesn't try communicating with nor feeding him, but also because Woolfe is also dense, and will take significantly longer to figure out where the exit is.

He met Cameron, and originally thought he was some insane old man in denial and rambling about some dead wife, but was immediately floored when he asked his "wife" for something for this starving guest to eat, and his wish was granted.

Since then, Woolfe has taken to studying Cameron and the Subterranean Maze Matrix, finding each encounter with him both fascinating and confusing him even further with his vague statements.

[crimsonfacets]

which  flower  are  you ?

Rose

You are a hopeless romantic, driven by your heart in everything you do. You likely love classic movies or music, and find inspiration in poetry and lyrics. You dream of living within a story, day dreaming of soulmates and fate. The mom friend, you are a Type A planner who probably has a bit of anxiety. A bit of a night owl, you have always been fascinated with exploring old European cities and imagining the stories that have lived within their streets. You prefer the city over the country, and try to see the best in people. But you have built up your walls high, you do not trust easily. Don't forget to step down from your day dreams and let people prove you wrong my love, it's okay to shed your thorns and let others enjoy your scent

Tulip

You are bright and colorful, with a chaotic and unpredictable streak. While you love simplicity, you are not by any means simple. You have a beauty that radiates and are likely the most charismatic of your friends. You have never been too interested in romantic love, instead finding love within your friends, family, and most importantly yourself. You've always dreamt of making an impact, being remembered and adored. You fear that those you love, could never love you the same. But stop and look around love, you have the aura to command attention, and entire countries declare you theirs. You are already, inherently important and cherished.

Forget-Me-Not

Nostalgic and introverted, you overthink previous moments in time and sometimes may appear to be a bit in your own world. You are beautifully soft and quiet, speaking freely only around those who you feel most comfortable with. Because of this quiet nature, you are terrified of being left behind, forgotten by those you encounter. A bit melancholic by nature, you tend to forget your beauty, looking up to all of the sunflowers, roses, and cherry blossoms of the world. But my darling, you are what draws the eye down to the pavement and the first to be picked by those seeking comfort. Perk up and appreciate your worth my love

tagged by stolen from: @demonsired​! tagging: snatch and run yall

[ventilaccion]

If I were another I'd run up to them and force myself in between, restrengthen my image as one amongst them - as I'd seen others do on many occations. Yet I could not, for I am not human. My immediate respons is to draw away and leave this group which does not miss my presence.