Gtober Day 26: Phoebe And Her Girlfriend Violet Carving Pumpkins Together! Im Not Sure I Love Violets

Gtober day 26: Phoebe and her girlfriend Violet carving pumpkins together! I’m not sure I love Violets character design so expect her to change lol

The Shadow We Cast - 3

The boys are back with two more Prompts down! Delight and Linger ! I love writing these boys so much- just the goofiest vibes.

How long before I make it angsty?

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Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word count: 2332

CW: Adult language, substances (beer/drinking)

Man, the food was great. Never in my life had I tasted anything like the weird paste Mark had made- and to put it on meat?? Some crazy part of my was compelled to howl with joy. While the glass bucket Mark had given me to use as a cup proved progressively harder to grip with more and more of the sauce covering my hands, I was plenty fine with the extra effort just for another sip of the cool golden drink- Beer went incredible with hawk wings. 

Leaning back, I groaned as I stretched out, stomach aching.

I’d more than eaten my fill, but it's not like it was everyday that I had such a mouthwatering feast to myself. My eyes flickered to Mark. Both in my own eager hunger and out of a slight unease, I’d been avoiding watching him eat. There was something both ridiculously impressive and deeply unsettling about watching another being consume many times more than my weight in food. Inarguably cool- but the spectacle left me feeling… less. 

My eyes met his own. Though, as soon as my gaze met his, he looked away- quickly focusing on taking another drink. I felt a grin tug at the corners of my mouth. Looks like I caught him staring. I wait until he puts the can to his lips before I speak, 

“See something you like, big man?” 

Mark chokes on his drink- a strangled sound escaping him as his hand shoots up to cover his mouth as he sputters. I can’t help but laugh at the sight of him desperately trying to hold in his drink - his sputtering turning to coughing. The mix of the panicked look on his face and the pitiful sounds are just too much, and I find myself wincing at a sharp pain biting at my sides from the laughter. 

Catching his breath, Mark chuckles. He waves a dismissive hand,

“Man, I’m just shocked at how much you ate.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Dude, you’re what? Ten times my size?” I gesture to the pile of bones on his plate, “How do you think I feel?”

Mark rolls his eyes, 

“Relatively.” He points to the section of meat I’d claimed for myself, “Like, holy shit dude. It looks like you ate one of your legs worth of meat.” 

I shrug. 

“You could have eaten more if you hadn’t filled up by drinking so much.”

He chuckles- but his laugh is cut short as he jerks. The flinch is all the warning I get before a massive hand is sent rocketing toward his opposite arm. A thunderous clap breaks through the evening air. I feel the blood drain from my face, and I can’t tell if it's the sound echoing in my ears or if it's my heart thrumming in my chest. I hadn’t even flinched- a thought that I wanted to be able to revel in- to tell myself it was because I wasn’t so easily cowed… but there was no lying to myself. 

I didn’t even have time to flinch. 

The thought sent a chill through me. 

Mark, unaware of my racing heart, sighed.

“Ugh, the mosquitoes are coming out.” He shot me a nervous smile, “You, uh, wanna head inside and have a few more drinks?” Pausing, he adds “And maybe put a shirt on?”

I chuckle, though it feels more forced than moments ago,

“And why would I do that?” As I say the words, sing songy and teasing, I feel the tension inside me ease. I stand, my body feeling sluggish- heavy with the weight of a good meal. Stretching, I meander over to his waiting hand, making sure he knows I’m turning down the suggestion to get dressed rather than the invitation for more beers. 

Mark rolls his eyes, 

“I mean, you’re wearing enough of the sauce that it might as well count as a shirt.”

I narrow my eyes at him for a moment before looking down. 

Eesh. He… Well, he wasn’t wrong. 

Stomach to chest, I was covered in splatterings and smears of the dark red sauce. My pants were decorated with various stains, some smaller, like where I’d wiped off my hands, and one particularly large spot of sauce where I’d rested the massive hunk of meat against my legs. 

Using my forearm, I haphazardly wiped across my chest, clearing off a decent volume of sauce. 

“DUDE!” I jump at his exclamation, frozen in place with my tongue still dragging along the sauce smeared skin of my arm. I furrow my brow. What was his problem now? 

“Wash off properly before you get in my hand” He scolds. I mimic his exasperated expression and roll my eyes. He tears off another piece of napkin and hands it to me in response. Taking it, I double back towards my drink-bucket. 

“What are you- SAL!” I tip the bucket over my head and feel a wash of cool liquid pour over me- a momentary respite from the overbearing heat of the day. The chill combined with the strange bubbles in the drink are a bit jarring, but in a way that’s invigorating- refreshing even. 

Above me, I can hear Mark sputtering- a mix of “Dudes” and “whys” and other half finished questions. I throw up my hands, confused and frustrated. This guy’s impossible! I cleaned off?? What did he want from me?? 

“Dude! Come on…” The exclamation is chastising in its tone. “Why would you-” Before he can continue I interject, 

“But you said-” An exasperated sigh interrupts my very valid point. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he speaks.

“You know what? It's fine.” His tone suggests it's anything but, yet the smile he gives me feels genuine- as if he’s the one being patient and I’m the one being unreasonable. In a slow and careful movement, Mark once again offers me his hand. 

There's a slight, but not unnoticed, chill that grips me- a little shot of adrenaline at the sight of his incoming hand. A faint tremor in my legs, and a pounding in my heart accompanying a stray thought at the back of my mind that wants me to hesitate- to back out. The thought reminds me almost of getting into cold water; that anticipation of shock making you move slower, as if your brain is trying to persuade you away from that unwanted discomfort.

I set my jaw.

Well, fuck that. 

If I didn’t feel comfortable, I would make myself comfortable. My thoughts are mine to control- not there to control me. 

As if his hand were a body of water, I dove in. His hands were soft as I landed, much more so than my own. It wasn’t the first time it had crossed my mind how comfortable it felt- how warm. 

I flopped to my back and patted the meat of his thumb, coaxing him to move. I don’t miss the way his fingers curl in, or how his other hand comes up to support the first. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Those subtle gestures leave me a bit conflicted- stuck in a middle ground between finding it endearing and finding it patronising. The care to use a delicate hand with me was… nice, yet the thought that I needed to be handled with a delicate hand was bordering on insulting. 

The warmth of his hand and the rhythmic rise and fall with his steps seemed to lull me away from my irritation. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax to the steady sway of his steps. I liked Mark. He was nice. He had good food. He was fun to rile up. I felt my cheeks burning from a goofy smile that wouldn’t seem to falter. This was real. After all these years, I had someone to talk to! Someone to spend time with! There was a giddiness in my chest that just seemed to build- a dizzying surge of wild energy that felt like the room was spinning-

Wait. Was the room spinning??

I felt my stomach lurch, a weird feeling of vertigo prompting me to open my eyes trying to ground myself. The spinning sensation eased to a stop as I sat up. Seemingly right on cue, Mark lowered his hand to the table. 

As soon as I dismount from his hand, Mark’s massive frame turns away from me, rushing toward the sink. I frown as he washes his hands. I’d washed off for him, and yet he was acting as if he’d just handled something foul. As he returns to the table he seems to catch my glare. 

He raises his hands as if surrendering, 

“Dude, you’re sticky.” 

I snort.

“I am not.” 

I patted my skin. Sure, it was a little tacky to the touch, but that was hardly anything to wash up over. I’d just doused myself off in front of him- what more did he want?

While I had no clue what he wanted from me, I knew what I wanted- and that was another drink. 

Eyeing my glass bucket, I meandered over to wear he’d set his drink down. Each step was off- just a little, almost as if it was… Delayed? I took a long blink, trying to orient myself. Was I swaying?

I stumbled, catching myself on Mark’s arm. He flinched under my touch and my scowl returned. 

“Ew, dude, don’t touch me. You’re all sticky.” 

With a glare, I let my body collapse against his arm limply laying over it. He stiffens under my touch, and I feel the strangest sensation of goosebumps forming on his skin beneath me. I keep my head buried against his arm as my scowl is pulled up into a grin. This guy was really something else. Spiders, first aid, and slightly tacky skin?? I bet his own shadow could get a rise out of him. 

I chuckled at my own thought, laughing into his arm as he squirmed beneath me. Mark titled his arm in an attempt to push me back onto my feet, but rather than let him guide me back into a stand, I pulled myself up - stradling the width of his forearm. 

“Oh- Dude, come on. Get off.” He whines, twisting his arm, carefully trying to force me to dismount. His kindness is his own downfall, as the slow and gentle movements are easy to correct against- leaning my weight this way and that to compensate. Above me, he groans. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as his free hand reaches up, prompting me to spring up into a stand- feeling oddly dizzy at the sudden movement. 

He hesitates- hand hovering at my side - either waiting to catch me or unwilling to touch me. Before he can reconsider I spring into action. In one bound I’m at the crook of his elbow. Without pausing I leap, clearing the small gap between his arm and torso as I throw myself at the fabric of his shirt. 

Mark does nothing more than flinch- making a strangled noise as he jerks bolt upright in his seat, hands stiffly to each side of me yet making no move to touch me. I can’t stop laughing, My cheeks burn, my sides ache, yet my arms feel light as I pull myself up the length of his shirt. Mark leans back, craning his neck and tilting his chin away in the most futile attempt to distance himself from me. Stitches form in my sides as I nearly wheeze at the sight. 

Gripping the collar of his shirt I heave myself onto his shoulder, letting out a sigh as I try to quell my laughter. 

“Is something wrong, Big Guy?”  I tease,stifling a giggle while leaning my apparently sticky self onto his neck. The sensation of his warm skin shuddering under my touch is bizarre, “Afraid I’ll-” I pause. His skin is more than just warm, it's hot. I crane my neck, awkwardly trying to look at his face from the odd vantage point. 

His face is red- his mouth a thin line and his eyes are anywhere but on me. 

Oh.

This was too much, wasn’t it? 

I was too much.

I clear my throat, wracking my brain for anything to fill the now very noticeably awkward silence.

“You, um, mind refilling my drink?” 

A little puff of air escapes him, and I watch as a smile pulls at the edge of his lips. Slowly, he turns his head towards me, and all at once I’m reminded of just how massive he is. On his shoulder I’m eye level with him- Mark meeting my gaze out of the corner of his eye… and eye roughly the size of my head. I stagger back a half step, careful to mind my footing. Something about seeing an eye so closely was off-putting, the depth of the brown looking too deep- like something I could fall into; the colour like good healthy dirt.  

He raises an eyebrow.

“Mind getting off?” 

With an exaggerated hop, I let myself drop down the steep slope of his arm, half sliding half falling to his forearm. Mark lets out a yelp at the motion- as if a fall from that height was anything to worry about. 

I step down from his arm, my gait still feeling not quite right- each step somewhat unsteady, as if the table swayed beneath my feet. It wasn’t only my gait- my skin felt strange. Almost numb but not really? It was… buzzing?  Yet despite all the strangeness, there was a warmth in my chest that seemed to spread over into my mind. A light fuzziness that softens the edge of my thoughts. There was an ease- a comfort- that seemed to coat my mind, like a paradoxically warm blanket of snow. 

Maybe a little too warm? 

I knit my brow. 

I could fix that. 

I looked up, craning my neck to meet Marks gaze, 

“So, how about another drink?”

3 - Candle 😨🕯️

I clung to the light, as if I had hope.

The claws of this monster were slowly approaching and I could only think about everything bad that would happen to me. She had no mercy... "why had he returned to her?", "where was Sammy?", "would he survive this?"...

All these thoughts overwhelmed me.

She was going to kill me.

-I'm sorry Sammy...

Hey can I bother you with the request of drawing out the scenario of a human child who is too fearless for their own good and one day Ulthane just has enough of it and puts them in his satchel or something similar?

It is literally never a bother to ask me to draw Ulthane being a dad.

Sooooo how did Charlie and Collin fall for each other 🥺

it wasnt in a single moment, more built up until it all came together, but they both have their reasons

meanwhile charlie's just

Bite Me - Chapter 9

Aedes deals with his 5 senses while June cleans her room.

Some last minute changes made this update brutal- but we made it.

I also incorporated a promptober prompt!! Sunrise

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

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Previous Chapter: Chapter 8

Next Chapter: Chapter 10

Word count: 1816

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, depiction of sensory overload/Panic

June Murphy blinks- the act in and of itself far more effort than it should be. Her eyes dry and sore from crying- eyelids heavier than should be physically possible, as if some invisible weight hung off them. Face raw from a tear stricken night, she stares at her wall, watching as the first light of day creeps into her room. Even her thoughts feel heavy as she stares blankly ahead. 

Had she slept? She wasn’t really sure. It certainly didn’t feel like she had- though… it certainly didn’t feel like she’d been awake either. 

Her joints groan in protest as she stands, neck stiff from the awkward position she’d held while slumped beside her bed. June tries in vain to rub the tiredness from her eyes, but all she manages to do is to further irritate the rawness of her tear stained face. 

June chews her lip- Memories of the night still fresh in her mind. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel him in her palm- the way he twitched and squirmed under her touch. The thoughts felt dirty now with the context of hindsight. He’d been terrified, and she… she had liked it. Her hands claw through her tangled mess of hair. What the fuck was wrong with her? Who likes that? Why would she ever like that? He was so small, and had been so terrified, how could she- 

June pauses. 

She had been sure it was real, but now as daylight crept around her room so did doubt creep into her mind. It was all so absurd. A tiny vampire sneaking into her house? It had to have been a dream right? She just had the strangest nightmare imaginable. That was it. Maybe it had been a bit more lucid than her typical dreams. That wasn’t that weird right? It was just abnormally lucid and..  and she just thought she’d been awake.

June swallows the dryness in her mouth- not keen on thinking about what the contents of such a bizarre and emotionally charged dream must say about her psyche. 

Her movement is stiff and tired as she drags herself to the washroom, desperately washing her face with cool water, as if temperature could somehow shock her back to fully believing in some version of reality. June winces. The sight of herself in the mirror should have come with a warning. She looked rough. Painfully red eyes stare back at her behind swollen lids- Her skin sallow and dull - looking  just as exhausted as she felt. 

As her eyes scam her reflection, her breath catches. 

Two impossibly small punctures on her neck - nearly imperceptible, if not for the slight redness and bruised halo around them. 

She watches her reflection as her lips draw into a tight line. 

It… it had happened. It had all really happened. 

The reality of the situation felt heavy- oddly enough, it was not the absurdity of the situation, but the implication that the emotions had all been real. The realization that she had gotten off on some twisted sort of psychological torment on a man she had known for what? All of twenty minutes??

June chews her lip, thoughts of his wide eyed expression filling her mind- those hushed pleas uttered between sobs. Her throat tightens. 

You’re fucking vile

The echo of his words in her mind seem to tie her stomach in knots. She was, wasn’t she? She was fucking sick to have wanted … that.

God, what was she thinking? She didn’t even know him? Hell, he wasn’t even human. His existence didn’t even seem real- yet the desire that he incited was all too real- and all too potent.  

A quiet part of her resents him. The way he’d played along- how he seemed to untangle some deeply knotted part of her- how he let her loose only to choke her with the slack. How could he make her feel that way, only to rip it away from beneath her. 

June frowned at the way her logic twisted in her mind. 

He’d been splayed out in her palm- restrained by her hand… so why did she feel like she’d been struck at her most vulnerable?

June groans. Her mind far too exhausted to try and decipher the reasons behind weird hypocritical thoughts. There was a heavy weight that seemed to reside in her chest, an impending sense of dread that loomed within her. Aedes was gone. 

Aedes was gone because of her.

Because she was sick. 

There was nothing left- no way to apologize, no way to make it right... Nothing to do except sit here and fester in her shame. She hated that it wasn’t just guilt gnawing at the edges of her mind. She was still so curious- and she resented it. 

The same curiosity that cornered him- that had led to all of this. 

And yet… she couldn’t rid herself of her nature. 

Her mind begged for answers- Why was he so small? How could vampires exist? Who else knew? Could he turn into a bat? Did they congregate in … flocks? Colonies? 

June flops to her bed- desperately wishing for the sleep that evaded her, but the soft morning light and whirring thoughts in her head make dozing off an impossible feat. 

There was nothing she could do. 

The finality of it was sickening. No apology, no reconciliation, no answers. All she was left with were questions and shame. 

June sits up. If there was nothing she could do, she might as well make herself busy. Busy hands make for a quiet mind, or something like that. 

----

Aedes leg shakes - irritation plain on his face. 

She hadn’t slept. 

She hadn’t slept one fucking minute. 

An uneasiness crept over him as the room slowly became lit with the light of day. The dark of the night offered discretion- plentiful security within its shadows. The day however, was a different beast entirely. 

The woman idles around her room, picking up various discarded items off the floor. He grimaced as she removed more and more of the potential cover leading toward the window. There was no way he’d be able to sneak off unnoticed in broad daylight. 

Aedes felt the all too familiar ache of bloodlust rising in his chest. He hadn’t drank nearly enough. With nothing to occupy his hunger other than his thoughts, a familiar clarity rolled over him as his senses sharpened, instinct trying to direct him to the meal he was all too aware of. 

Aedes swallows- mouth wet. 

The beat of her heart pounds on steadily. 

Thud after thud.

Continuous. 

Just for one second he needed silence. A moment to think- to gather his thoughts. He bounced his leg, a steady tension mounting within him. Fuck. Each beat seemed to stop his thoughts in their track- drawing his focus away from any meaningful planning and back to her. The steady thrum of her heart a sirens song, begging him to forgo hiding. Beckoning him to dive into her. To drown in her. No. The last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near her again. He’d been hungry before- he could go hungry again.

Aedes grit his teeth. 

Thump.

He would wait this out. 

Thump.

Come nightfall he would leave. 

Thump.

He would absolutely leave- 

Thump.

He just needed to- 

Thump.

To figure a way out- 

Thump.

To get to the window- 

Thump.

To feed- 

His claws dug into his scalp- his hands desperate to hold himself together as her pulse throbbed in his ears. Loud. Everything was too loud. The steady rumble of her feet on the floor grates at his nerves. She meandered around the room, never staying still for more than a moment or two before moving on to another spot. Every thundering step sends a jolt through him- The world buzzing around him. 

Why couldn’t she just fucking stand still?

He took a breath, his inhale shaky, and unfortunately deep. He caught her scent hanging thick in the air, her very essence an overwhelming caress. Like velvet, her scent thick and warm, teasing his desire- whispering promises of indulgence. She smells of sweet cream and soft spice- her skin of milk and honey. Of cardamom and comfort, of passionate glances and carnal desires. 

Carnivorous desires. 

He remembers how she tasted on his tongue, the allure of her scent paling in comparison to her taste. She was ambrosia on his lips and transcendent on his tongue. She tasted of life-  of potential and passion- she tasted of more. 

God he wanted more. 

Needed more. 

Aedes gnashed his teeth. He felt the world around him consuming him. Picking him apart- biting into him. His breaths came quickly- air feeling numb on his lips. Never enough. Never enough air. Never enough of her. The sound around him was chaos. Her blood seemed to roar in his ears. Her heels thundering on wood. Wood that trembled beneath him. It shook- he shook. 

He shouldn’t be here. 

Every breath was sugared with her. Drowning in her. His stomach twists- hunger gnawing away at his rationality. At his resolve. Her overwhelming presence devouring him from the inside. Mouth open he gasps- though not for air- for her. His mouth drips with desperation. Longing. Need. Aedes bites into the flesh of his hand- his teeth breaking the skin as easily as wading through water. The tang of his blood foul in his mouth. Wrong. Grotesque. An insult to the memory of her on his tongue. His jaw clenches- twitching against his will. 

He bit harder. His face slick with blood and drool. 

He needed to stop this. 

To think- 

To breathe. 

He needed blood. 

Her heart beat in tandem with his own. Calling him- begging him. Each pulse was a promise- of air. Of quiet. Of life. 

A siren's song. A sweet harmony crying out between each and every pulse.

He froze.

A voice- both stunning and haunting cut through his senses. All else seems to fade- the rush of her blood, the beating of her heart, even his own desperate thoughts became white noise in the presence of her voice. Silken and opalescent- it carried air to his lungs on its warbling melody.

It beckoned him, yet nothing like the beating of her heart. This compulsion was all his own, not some ancient instinct clawing its way through his consciousness. 

Head ducked, Aedes half crawled half walked to the edge of his cover under the dresser. 

She sang of crumbling, of breaking down- stolen kisses and stolen glances.

I fall to pieces

Each time I see you again

His breath caught in his throat.

She was …. Beautiful.

Incredible in her immensity-  Her entirety more akin to a landscape than a body- her beauty that of a sunset. 

Warm. 

Vast. 

Untouchable. 

He stood in the light of her song, feeling as though he was blinded by a second sun.