I just wanted to say I love Sterling a lot. Hoping for more contents of him but taking care of yourself is more important. Please take good care of yourself<33!
i will make more content of my brat son soon enough.... for now though, here's a lil thing. sterling's current voice claim for the voice claim video i plan on making
i think that over time the songs that sterling makes for his school projects would become more and more based around how he feels ab his darling, and it'd probably net him even better grades in return because his music has an extra layer of emotion that it was lacking before. so he starts to associate reward with his obsession with darling,, it puts many confusing emotions in his head
I just wanted to say I love Sterling a lot. Hoping for more contents of him but taking care of yourself is more important. Please take good care of yourself<33!
i will make more content of my brat son soon enough.... for now though, here's a lil thing. sterling's current voice claim for the voice claim video i plan on making
Omg why are Rhodes and Foxglove covered in so many scars? :((((
[cw — child abuse and self harm mentions under cut]
they grew up in a cult-like setting and their caretakers would cut them for "spiritual" purposes... rhodes would usually take the worst of it to spare foxglove since she's always been more frail/weak than them, so thats why they have way more. most of foxglove's are self-inflicted but they wear a bag over their head to hide a big one that was also from their caretakers
UGH i fucking miss you please take care and be kind to urself
genie u sweetheart im sorry i never answered this sooner,, i miss u too..... i cannot promise activity but i can at least say im still alive and still wanna be here
im going to try and keep this short 🫶 ik i havent been active in ages so it likely comes as no surprise but just to make it official, ive decided to go on indefinite hiatus. i have a lot going on in my life, im not confident in my ability to write anymore and i never keep the promises i make or have anything to post. i love being here but im not doing what i wanted to and im not giving yall what most of you follow me for
this isn't a permanent goodbye, im not giving up on this account completely! i still love my and my friends' ocs dearly and will always want to make stuff for them, but i need to get back to a point where i can enjoy the stuff i make enough to feel good posting again. idk what getting there means or looks like right now and probably wont for a while so im gonna put things on the back burner till then
for now though this is where im at. :,))) im not rly active on public socials but ill link my accounts anyway if yall wanna keep up w the few things i do post. if any of my mutuals want my discord just msg me for it (or if yall want me to make that moots/writers only server i wanted to do a while back since im rly bad at keeping up w dms lawl)
sooner or later ill come back stronger and less self doubt-y so just bear with me till then 🫶 ty to everyone whos been sticking around
authors note: he truly is unhinged, lmao. also the tiktok comments about him are so unhinged too so it truly balances out. Also!!! I'll be posting the smut continution of this fic (period sex, t4t, frotting, overstim) as a Patreon exclusive later this month~! ;3
Listening to ▸ kelam malam by The Spouse ft Aimee Saras / After Midnight by Yuna
Patreon | Discord
It comes to you like whispers carried by the wind. Flowing past you quickly, leaving nothing more than a sweet brush against your cheek — these fleeting memories of a life you had lived. The humidity in the air makes dew drops collect onto the broad fan leaves of the forests. The vine-choked trees, with life teeming from the cracks of their barks, and further down — way down— underneath the dead leaves that would soon turn into food for the trees they came from hid more creatures. Some with more legs than you could count and some with poison teeth and flickering tongues.
Your heart does not feel fear. These creatures were your neighbours, the forest was your playground; you respected it, but you did not fear it.
But then, a laugh.
It shrieks, the pitch unnaturally high as it bounces around you. The forest all at once plunges into darkness — you reach forward, hoping to cling to a tree to put your back to it, but you hear the hiss of a snake, the crawling of a thousand legs on dried leaves — the pointed end piercing through like a sharpened blade — and freeze.
It laughs again. It sounds farther away this time, but you don’t dare to move. It was a trick, something so laughably simple yet cruel. Using someone’s hope and fear against them.
The further away it sounds, the closer it is.
You stifle your noises, focusing hard on the pounding of drums in your ears as you attempt to navigate the darkness. This forest was teeming with life and death, creatures that were made by god, and men roamed through here. Have you forgotten that?
Have you forgotten this?
The night you first met your devoted one, in your first life and theirs. Star-crossed lovers, bounded by fate.
You feel its cold hand settle on the back of your neck. Each joint cracks with every movement as its strength brandishes itself. You gasp and reach to pry it off, but it simply laughs, the noise echoing along as though it was mocking you.
With one hand, it lifts you off your feet, bringing you into its cold embrace as he presses his cheek to your neck. He sings to you as he carries you. Securing one arm around your waist, bringing you to the gnarly branches of the mighty tree; it towers over everything else in the forest, harbouring life between its elephant-sized roots protruding from the dirt and the spindly branches.
He sings and sings. Crooning sweet names into your ears no matter how much you struggle and scream. He keeps you here, with him, on top of a tree where no one will find you.
“Adinda,” He whispers. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears spilling from your darkened lashes, trailing down the curve of your cheeks. It shushes you, as though soothing a babe in its arms, pressing its lips to your tears. He savours the taste of it — you hear his sigh of diminutive pleasure — then crawls up to the corner of your eyes, your temple, the top of your head.
He says it again. Practically sing the word ‘adinda’ into your ear, his bloodshot eyes being the only thing you can see whenever you look to your left. Blood had stained the gelatinous whites, making his already hazel eyes brighter than usual — he looked like an animal, the red-rimmed eyes framed by his long, downward lashes. The fats underneath his eyes were squished by his rising cheeks, the sharpened ends of his teeth making you whimper.
He mouths your name, murmuring it in adoration as his terrifying face draws closer, and closer, and closer.
“Adinda.”
You wake up with a start, clutching at your chest as you scramble to sit up straight. You can barely catch your breath, still hearing your heart pounding as sweat slips down the nape of your neck. It sends shivers down your spine, so you hurriedly wipe at it, trying to forget the feeling of those spindly fingers and those cold lips away from your body.
The dark sky rumbles, rain now pattering against your windows, and you slip your eyes closed to gather your sanity again. You place your elbows on your knees, covering your eyes with the heel of your palm and sinking into the muffled noises of the rain now coming down on your city.
It’s the same dream. The beginnings are never the same, sometimes mundane or happy, but then you hear a whisper of your name. Voices layered on the other, luring you to the entrance of a forest that stretched on forever. It compelled you into its embrace, startling you each time, although you already knew the outcomes.
You drag your hand down your face, trying your best to let your senses come back to you. The noises the raging storm makes at least provide something to focus on other than the sheen of sweat left all over you — making your clothes cling onto you like a second skin and travelling its way to nooks and crevices you’d rather stay dry. It overwhelms you enough to make you rip the blankets away, your feet finding solid ground and your body moving automatically towards your kitchen instead.
Your phone’s lock screen tells you it’s far too late to be awake but far too early to be attempting to snuggle back under the sheets. Your day was going to begin far earlier than you’d like — you try to uplift your mood by thinking about those juicy little worms the early birds get, but it doesn’t do much to lighten your frown.
“You’ve looked better,” Will chirps out the second he lands his eyes on you. His words and his tone never quite matched, but you’ve grown used to it. He uncrosses his legs, settling an arm around the back of your seat as you slide out on your desk. The auditorium was cold, even with your thick hoodie doing its best to keep you warm. Will’s enthusiasm at least distracts you, so you sigh and reply.
“I had the worst sleep last night, woke up all sticky.” His brows jump to his hairline and you roll your eyes, gently nudging him away as you mutter for him not to be gross. “Sticky because you were with someone else or?” Will bounces his expressive brows, trying to get into your line of sight as you pull out your laptop.
“Yeah, you didn’t notice that your mom wasn’t home last night?” You retort bluntly, chuckling at his gasp.
“Rude. But no, seriously, was it the nightmares again?” You purse your lips, rubbing at the back of your neck as you reluctantly nod your head.
“You should get that checked out.”
”My nightmares? Sure, I’ll go to the dream specialist doctor the next time I get it,” you sink into your seat, applying more pressure to your nape to shoo away the phantom sensations. The more you talked about it, the stronger it got and the A/C was not lightening it up. You shiver involuntarily, shaking your hands side-to-side to make the numbness dissipate.
Will frowned at it all, placing his elbow on the desk and cushioning his cheek in his palm while he tapped his pen on the desk.
“I’m being serious, dude!” Will leans in again — ducking in and ducking away reminds you of a goose's long neck — with that devilish smirk. “You should go to those witch doctors.”
Instantly, your face falls into a deadpan with your nose curling up. That was a ridiculous notion — those were just hoaxes, people falling into placebo effects while they wasted money on nothing more than mixed herbs and spices sealed in a bottle with wax. You focus on setting up your laptop, shaking your head while Will tries his best to convince you.
”C’mon,” He nearly whines.
“I can spend my money on better things, Will. Also, do you actually believe in those things?”
“You don’t?”
More people begin to flood into class, their sleepy murmurs and mumbles creating a comfortable white noise all around you. It makes you feel less antsy the more people gather.
“I don’t,” you mutter. “Did I give the impression that I did?”
”That’s not the point, I’m just saying, if melatonin gummies aren’t working and weed isn’t working —“ You narrow your eyes at him as another student slips behind both of you, greeting her friends and seemingly deaf to Will’s voice — or maybe she simply didn’t care enough — so he hushes his voice down again.
“You tried all the before-bed routines and rituals. Why not? I know a gal,” You scoff. “You know a gal?”
”Yeah, she’s my gal. My bestie even. Remember when I was struggling a lot with my creepy ex-girlfriend and haunted apartment? She helped me out, bro! Listen,” he places his palm across the screen of your laptop, drawing an annoyed sigh from you. He shrugs, turning the laptop away as his knees brush against your thighs.
“I can pay for the sesh, we can go together. She can check out what’s wrong with you in here,” he gently taps his temple. “Or if you’ve got some creepy ass ghost attached to you.”
There was no point in denying Will — he was annoyingly persistent. If you didn’t agree with him now, he’d simply but pressing and poking until you finally cave and the last thing you needed on top of university assignments, and weird nightmares, was to have Will constantly whining for you to heed his whacky advice.
So you hang your head, sighing as you reluctantly tell him you’ll indulge in his ideas.
What could hurt?
”You better be paying, bro.” You reach for your laptop and swipe away some barely there fingerprints from your screen.
You were sure Will was lost. There was no doubt about it in your mind. When you imagined a witch doctor, you didn’t exactly think of the suburbs of some cul-de-sac. Especially not a house at the end, tucked neatly in the centre of a horse-shaped road surrounded by family vans and leftover toys in their yards.
You frown, leaning forward in the passenger seat as you take in the two-storey house. There were little gnome lawn ornaments littered across the steps leading up to this house’s porch, densely packed near one corner of the porch. Their beady little eyes peek at you from the wooden slats of the railing. You lean backwards, then give Will a hesitant look.
“This is where your gal lives? Did you find her on Etsy or something?” Will rolls his eyes, unbuckling his seatbelt as he unlocks the doors. “It’s an at-home business, okay. C’mon, you’re just being critical.”
He doesn’t climb the steps, instead, he guides you to the side of the house, and you glance at the gnomes for a final glance and pause when you notice the messily painted blues, browns, and greens now positioned to the corner of their eyes. You blinked, furrowing your brows as you squinted at them, but Will waves you over, whispering your name, which distracts you for a second.
When you glanced back at them, their eyes were blankly staring ahead. You feel a slight shudder down your spine, inhaling sharply as you catch up to Will’s side. It’s dark, you think to yourself whilst rubbing your arms to get rid of the random chills. There were mostly just porch lights; shadows could play tricks on you, and so could your brain. Besides, gnome ornaments couldn’t be considered anywhere close to scary or witch-doctor-y.
Will opened the wooden gates to reveal a flourishing garden that you were sure would be beautiful in the daylight, but seeing the dense flowers and greenery made your stomach twist uneasily. There was the sound of flowing water somewhere, and as Will confidently marched to the basement door, you peer deeper past the flower-choked iron arch and see a dark stone fountain, the little cherub sprouting out water from his horn while balancing on one leg. There are stone benches facing the fountain, and you tilt your head as you spot a furry critter curled up on one of them.
The cat lifts its head up, its yellow eyes glowing like an orb as its multicoloured coat gleams underneath the moonlight just like its collar.
“Dude, c’mon.” Will opens the red door, motioning for you to follow with his head. The cat crosses its paws delicately, laying its head on them as it continues to watch you.
The inside of the basement didn’t feel too serial killer-y. Despite how dimly lit it was, you didn’t smell anything rusty, and there weren't any tools hanging from the walls with shovels leaning in one corner. There was a thick incense scent in the air, something that managed to wring a cough from you, and you held onto Will’s jacket so you didn’t lose sight of him. There was a wooden platform in the centre of the basement, with a low, dark wood stained table stacked above it — its surface littered with silver plates and an assortment of coconut husk bowls. You glanced at the candles in some of them, furrowing your brows at their dark colour and instantly tightening your hold on Will.
The silver plates had some patterns engraved into them, the handles intricate and lovingly polished. An assortment of herbs wrapped in twine were soaked in the other bowls, the surface rippling despite no movement. Okay, this is feeling more witch doctor-y. Will tries to climb onto the wooden platform, and you tug him until he almost topples over onto you.
”Where did you say you found her again?” Your question causes him to roll his eyes. “Does it matter?”
”Will, there you are!”
A woman emerges from the shadows, and the sight of her has your insides shuddering. Her smile stretched across her face, displaying her perfect white teeth and lifting her already high cheekbones further up; there was a sheen to her dark, neatly tied up hair that complimented her tanned skin and coffee brown eyes.
She dressed in a button-up blouse and a pair of white pants, and she looked so out of place in this environment that you subconsciously take a few steps back. It felt like she was just trying to blend in, willing her stripes to change to trick those around her. Will notices this and slings an arm across your shoulders, pinning you to his side.
”Hey, Rose! Brought you my friend I told you about?” the idea that he talked about you to her made you frown. “The one who is having trouble sleeping, yes?” she nods as Will nods and you shake your head side-to-side.
There was an accent you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it sounded so hauntingly familiar. The lilts in her words, you’ve heard it before.
”Well, come on. Let’s try to find the source of your unrest. Shoes off, please.”
Rose climbs onto the platform, folding her legs gracefully and gesturing for both of you to sit across from her.
“When did this all begin?”
A fly is buzzing in your room. Its fat body lands on your arm, the iridescent wings fluttering to a stop while it rests on your skin. Those big red eyes look aimlessly around, the grubby little legs sweeping over its head as it crawls tentatively across your wrist and into your palm.
You wonder what you look like to this fly. If it felt the coldness seeping from your skin and if it could smell the oiliness that clings to you. When you part your lips, you feel the crackling of dried spit, and if you were able to feel shame, you were sure you’d feel it completely consume you. But in its absence was simply apathy and numbness. That and this ache in your stomach, stabbing dully at you and pooling discomfort lower, and lower, and lower.
The fly inches closer to the centre of your palm, and when your finger twitches, its wings buzz in alarm. The shadows of your fingers overtake it, and now you feel it flying in a flurry — those fragile wings beating against you.
Nothing registered in you except for the dirty beast in your hands. It was as frightening as it was freeing. To be devoid of anything while you held onto a life that you could so easily destroy. Your lashes tremble just as your knuckles turn white; you wet your bottom lip and feel it.
You feel its body crush into nothing, its microscopic organs and bulging eyes turning into nothing but disgusting liquid smearing itself onto your skin. Within you, there’s this urge that overtakes everything else. You sit up, your joints jolting from the days of inactivity, and bring your palm to your lips to lick at the fly’s remains.
The taste makes your eyes water, and you stumble around wildly, falling off your bed and knocking your knees onto the floor with a violent thud. Your nails rake across the floor as you rush to get onto your feet. The bathroom door practically bursts open as you dry heave into your sink.
The cold water brings your senses back to you, crashing onto you so wildly it’s as though a rogue wave had slammed down and brought you to the depths. You clutch at your stomach, groaning as you brace your forehead on the rim of the porcelain sink. Pain shoots down your spine, rendering your legs useless as you desperately try to keep yourself upright. You feel it run down your leg, that warm crimson that you despise.
You bring yourself to the shower, smacking your palm against the frosted sliding doors and twisting the handle of the shower. Ice cold water sprayed against you, and you’re reminded of that night with Will.
That basement, bathed in the dim lights of dancing flames. Rose above you, smiling knowingly as she brought the ladle of water above your head. It was cold water, the pot dark and endless, with only flower petals floating within it, but even that did little to lighten your anxieties.
She had told you that these nightmares could be a spirit trying to contact you, something you struggled not to scoff at. When Will asked what was there to do, Rose simply suggested that you communicate back — which made you scoff in her face.
You shudder, hissing through your teeth as you try to stand and fix the temperature. Desperately trying to fix this bleak situation.
How many days has it been since that night? You scramble your brain to find the answer, but your memory is fuzzy. The water warms and you reach to peel away your shirt, furrowing your brows when you take notice of the design at the front. It was the shirt you’d worn that same night. Stained and yellowing, and as you squint in the darkness you notice an odd maroon gathered near the ends. You bring it up closer, using the lights from the door to somehow bring more clarity to your vision.
It was dried blood. The warm water wasn’t helping much in washing it out but all you could stand to do was just stare at it in utter confusion. That night, that distorted night. You glance at your legs, noticing the scrapes on your knees and dirt between your toes and more glaringly was the lack of pants.
You try to gather as much intel as you can after your shower and thorough teeth brushing. You walk to your living room and the smell of the rotting food hits you in an instant. That would explain the fly that had found itself in your bedroom, you thought bitterly to yourself. You grimace at the sight of your trash can but don't dare get close to it, not without opening a few windows first.
There was someone on your couch. It makes you freeze in place, breath catching in your throat as you see it. It was a constantly moving shape; those fluttering wings and millions of bulging red eyes swarmed together in the shape of something humanoid. It was sitting on your couch, hunched over as it took bites off food from polyester packaging.
You feel the hairs on the back of your neck straightening up. The noises it made as it gorged itself on the moldy leftovers made you cover your mouth. It stops eating, but the sounds don’t stop. It turns its neck in your direction, and you see it perk up.
“You.”
Something about its voice was wrong. It was human but too strange, too warbled, too odd. But you can sense the excitement in it; the genuine glee.
“You can see us.”
It stands. Or floats. But it’s taller than you expect it to be. That dark body, a constant hive of movement, a flurry of noise and more eyes than you could count — it walks towards you. Blocking what little light was trying to peek through the curtains of your living room.
“You can see us!” it says again, and you swear you see it smile. Tight, rotting, flesh revealing itself through the mob of bugs. Rotten teeth, blackened and chipped with mouldy strips of too-wet meat and fungus-riddled noodles between it greet you with delight. The stench makes you lightheaded, and your entire body screams at you to run but your body is frozen.
“It’s been so long since one of you can see.” It reaches out to touch you.
The buzzing is growing louder, deafening you as it eclipses your sight with nothing but itself. The corpse the flies are holding up, that they’re feeding on, is emaciated but unnaturally stretched out. Its jaw unhinges, and you find yourself pressed back against your fridge.
“You smell so good,” it groans. A few of its bugs spray and land on you, and you whimper, trying hard to breathe, but the scent of decay is too heavy. The rotting food, the underlying sweetness of decaying human flesh.
“You smell so sweet.”
A bony hand lands beside your head. The exposed muscle and flesh reveal maggots nesting within its bones. You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel it breathing on your neck, its viscous saliva dripping onto your neck as it huffs and puffs.
“So, so, sweet.”
You feel the brush of jagged teeth, and just as fast as it was there, it was gone.
The oppressiveness and heaviness that cornered you lifted, as if it was never there in the first place and with nothing else pinning you to the fridge, you slid down, and your legs sprawled out onto the floor. You’re going insane, of this you’re convinced. Seeing these things, every detail so vivid, the scent of it was still stuck onto you like a film of second skin. You whimper, digging the heels of your hands to your eyes as you try your best to breathe. Tears manage to roll down your warm face as you drag your legs up to curl over in on yourself. The hairs on your arms are still stiff- your body slowly heating up as you feel a pulsing pounding furiously in the back of your mind.
“I’m okay,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m okay, I’m okay. E - everything is fine, I just need…I just…”
You take a deep breath, lifting your head as you try to look around the room through the slits of your fingers. Nothing was lingering. No black mass, no rotting teeth, no maggots crawling through open infected wounds — just a messy, dim apartment.
You sob, shakily grabbing onto the counter and standing up as you look around the apartment again.
“Shit, I’m losing it.”
You wait for your legs to find the strength before your journey to the windows. Frigid air slaps you in your face, but you welcome it. Even when the tears begin to sting from the cold, you simply slide the window open further. The smell needed to go away as fast as you could make it. The sourness and rot that was beginning to stick onto your furniture. You clench your fists, then grab the garbage bag, shoving every little piece of food into it. The fridge rocks in its spot when you rip the door open, frantic in your search for any trace of rot.
It needed to all be gone. You needed things to be clean and bright again. These gaps in your memory seemed abnormal but in the grand scheme of things — what the fuck was that thing? —you found it hard to focus on.
There are noises outside, signs of life in the form of footsteps and chatter, which comforts you; knowing you weren’t truly alone made your shoulders draw downwards. Your apartment began to get colder with the windows thrown wide open, but at least the smell is gone.
You carefully slip yourself out your front door, shifting yourr eyes from side to side ass you make your way to the trash chute. After this, you’d need to clean your fridge and possibly burn down that couch and make it look like an accident. Then you can call Will.
Will.
You pat the sides of your sweatpants, clicking your tongue when there is nothing but lint sticking to your palms. You were going to hunt him down and hound him with questions. With how high-strung you were, there was an itch to tiptoe the lines of what one would consider torture to get all the answers you needed. A low ache pulsed in your middle, and you braced yourself at the entryway of your apartment, groaning lowly.
You manage to get back to your bedroom. Flinging your stained sheets away, pillows and whatever else tumbling onto the floors until you find your phone just on the verge of dying. Your screen lights up once you’ve plugged it in and the notifications flood in faster than you can keep up. Missed calls, messages, and emails — from friends, your landlord, and teachers alike. You piece together that you’d been MIA for close to two weeks but nothing more than that.
Until you spot Will’s name in your messages.
[ WILL: Dude, what did I tell youuuuu ]
[ WILL: She’s great, right? I told you there was some freaky shit making you have those nightmares ]
[ WILL: Text me when you wake up, yeah? You were practically falling over trying to get to your apartment, bro. Gonna be waiting for my thank you tomorrowwwww ]
The next messages were him asking where you were and if you were purposefully missing classes. A few gifs of an annoyed cat thumping its tail, him spamming you and telling you he covered for you until his tone shifted.
[ WILL: Are you alive??? ]
[ WILL: Dude, I’ve been having the weirdest dreams. Can we talk??? I asked your neighbours, and they said they haven’t seen you, but they saw someone take your takeout ]
[ WILL: Dude. I’m serious. We NEED to meet. I think something is happening. I haven’t been able to sleep; I keep waking up and ]
He sends you a series of photos of the window in his room. It was so dark, you could barely make out where his furniture was but he keeps sending them, again and again. Each photo, new and each text accompanying it asks you a simple question.
[ WILL: Do you see it? ]
You don’t have a clue what he’s talking about, but the longer you stare and search for it in these night photos your stomach twists. Some of them are of his windows, some are his door, some his closet and some, horrifyingly enough just the ceiling above his bed.
There was nothing there. Despite his insistence.
[ WILL: I just keep it in my dreams in my room ]
[ WILL: Rose won’t answer my calls or texts i think something happened to her ]
[ WILL: DUDE WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU ]
Your thumb hovers over the call button near Will’s name and takes a breath before pressing it. The monotonous rings seemed to echo through your silent house as you sat on your bare mattress, the wind whistling eerily into your ear, and the longer this goes on, the more your hopes wane. But then, someone picks up.
”Will?” You strain your ears to hear a breath, a sigh — hell, you’d even settle for an atrocious burp melting your ears- but there is nothing but static silence.
“Quit fucking around, Will. You’ve been spamming my phone, and now you won’t talk to me?”
You purse your lips together, rubbing your elbows as you glance out the windows. The sky was beginning to darken and you made haste in shutting the windows and drawing the curtains shut, balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder.
“Will! Are you fucking with me? I —- I don’t know what I’ve been doing these past few days. I saw this thing in my living room and — what - what do you mean my neighbours saw someone taking my takeout?”
You’re rambling now, turning on the big lights in your home as you and the sun compete on who’d be quicker; would you be able to keep the darkness out, or would it still somehow slip inside?
“Will, fucking answer me!” You shouldn’t shout — according to your landlord, your neighbours were already pretty annoyed with the putrid smell emitting from your apartment as is. But how could you be expected to stay calm or quiet in this situation? You were still glancing over your shoulders, every little movement from the corner of your eyes or the aftertaste of an awful scent you can’t put your finger on keeps fuccking with you more and more.
And now the only person who could answer your questions was keeping quiet on the other line. He was known to joke around, but this was not the time. You pinch the bridge of your nose, irritation causing your hands to begin to tremble — that and the lack of food you’ve had all day.
The phone call ends with a click and you rear back to stare at your screen in disbelief. He’d hung up on you. The motherfucker hung up on you. You’ve half a mind to yell into the empty apartment until he sends you a text.
[ WILL sent you his location ]
It’s better than nothing. Maybe he was in trouble, too? Disoriented from his bout of extremely vivid hallucinations- what other choice did you have?
If you wanted answers, Will was the only person who could provide them. You glanced at the time, shuddering for some reason as you’re reminded of just how dark the night could be. It never frightened you before, but Will’s frantic messages and photos coupled with everything else —-
You shook your head resolutely. No. You can’t let yourself be scared, it was probably just something that lady put in her candle wax that made the both of you high. Will didn’t knock out because he grew immune to it — yeah, that made much more sense than acknowledging the existence of ghosts and ghouls.
So you swallow down these childish fears and dress into something warm before setting off. You don’t bump into a lot of people, which was the good thing about nighttime time you suppose, but it’s eerie seeing the long empty hallways and sidewalks. You tell yourself the shapes out of the corner of your eyes are just an empty plastic bag tumbling through or shadows warbling from the flickering street lights- anything but whatever you think you’re seeing. You keep your gaze focused on Will’s pinned location.
When you hear a gaggle of students approach, you pull your hood further up, not wanting them to see your pale lips or the bags under your eyes. Their perfumes made you glance over your shoulder, nose twitching as the scent of jasmine flooded your senses. But you quickly focus on your mission.
The further you went, the more you realised where you were heading, and you froze on the sidewalk as you stared up at the fraternity house. Further back, in their backyard of sorts, were the woods where a happy scattered group of people were practically skipping into. You could hear the sounds of a party, nothing too major but loud enough to have your headache return at the thought of it. A bonfire party — of all places to ‘talk about it’ he wanted it to be among drunk jocks where the smell of beer, piss, damp earth and dead leaves, and smoke would cling to your clothes.
“You’re so dead, Will.” You said through gritted teeth.
Oddly enough, the anger numbs out everything, but the fear of embarrassing yourself completely shuts down the fear that’s been breathing down your neck. You follow the sound of laughter and the scent of beer and perfume when a hand taps on your shoulder. You spin around in alarm, nearly toppling over a tree root and falling backwards until he grabs at your elbow and coat.
You gasp, head tossed backwards and reeling at the upside-down view of the forest until he slowly rights you onto your feet.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His voice was soft, just like his eyes were. He smiles at you, pulling his hands away and politely folding it behind himself as he inclines his head at you — bowing his head in a greeting. You blink, taking in his appearance as you try to gather your thoughts.
He wore a high-collar shirt, though the collar was unlike the common button-up shirts you’ve seen before. It looked stiff and proper, and there were a few buttons that stopped just in the middle of his chest. His hair was long, very long. It swayed behind him as he tilted his head at you, the little half-up ponytail he had moving along with the motion as well.
“Uh, yeah, it’s fine.” You shift under his gaze. He had the darkest shade of brown you’d ever seen — nearly pitch black as he refused to tear them away from you. “Are you looking for someone?” He asks you, taking one step closer.
“No,” you bring your hands to yourself, hugging your elbows as the party behind you roars in excitement. “I’m here for the party,” you lie, and you’re not entirely sure why, but something about the way he’s tilting his head makes your insides squirm. You move your hand lower, brows twinging in pain as your stomach cramps once again.
“You’re hurt?” he takes another step, and you take another back. It was like an odd dance, and you see a gleam in his eyes. “Are you going to the party too?” You turn away from him, walking towards the glow of the bonfire, and he quietly follows behind you.
“You know someone from here?”
“Mm, no.”
”Were you invited?”
”No. I was taking a walk to clear my head, it was nice. The world is so quiet and serene. It’s romantic.”
You give him a half-grin, focusing back on your phone. Now that you were close enough, it was entirely up to you to find him. The hubbub steadily grows, and both of you find yourselves peeking into the party from the perimeters, still hidden by the trees while you watch the crowd dance and drink. You scan through the bodies, squinting through the flashing fairy lights and the constantly shifting flames of the bonfire.
“Do you know someone from here?” His soft voice inquires, nearly singing into your ear as he gets close enough to look down at your phone. You turn it to your chest, furrowing your brows as you hiss at him, “Dude, who the hell are you?”
He frowns, blinking rapidly as his brows slope into a pathetic expression.
“You don’t - you don’t remember me?”
”Remember you? I don’t even know you!” You scowl at him, pulling away harshly as you stomp into the crowd.
“You called me.” his voice is still lingering so close. It’s as if he was just hovering close to you, so you send a glare to him, but you don’t see him. He’s still watching you from the tree line, that frown so evident on his face as he watches you. His arms now resting onto the bark, nails digging into the tree, and for a moment, you swear you see his eyes widening further and further — the whites of it making his skin turn paler as he slinks behind the tree, his hair turning ink black.
You can’t take your eyes off of him out of fear that he’d move if you did.
”You called me. You can’t run away from me. How is that fair?”
You flinch, reaching up to cover your ears. He wasn’t yelling at you; his mouth was barely moving, but his voice was all around you. He’s growing taller, his nails now fully digging into the tree as the bags under his eyes get darker. It was strange watching someone go from human to something else entirely; his skin stretched and stretched as he began to tower over everyone else.
But no one else seemed to see him. They’re looking at you, concern painted across their faces as they try to approach you, acting like you’re some strange wounded animal when there was something right there.
“You called for me.”
”Are you okay?”
You flinch away from someone’s touch, eyes wild as you take in the crowd. Why were they looking at you like you were crazy?
“Whoah, chill!”
”Do you not see him?” You point towards him, but to your horror, he is no longer there. You stutter, the air around you getting thin. The girl purses her lips, elbowing her boyfriend as he makes a crude comment about you smoking something and calmly trying to get you to pay attention to her.
”Hey, you’re in my class with Mr Pimento, right? Uh, you’re friends with Will, yeah?”
You nod shakily, breathing through your nose as your hands start shaking.
”Why are you talking to her so nicely?” he hisses into your ear. You turn around, swatting near your ears as you whisper if she could hear him, but she simply raises her hand and gives you a series of condescending ‘hey, it's okay’s’
She places a hand on your arm, and you hear him laugh; you can hear the smile on his face from the way his voice lifts.
“You don’t flinch away from her touch, adinda? Do I need to make her disappear, too?”
”I think we should call someone,” she murmured to her boyfriend. “No way, babe. He’s just having a bad trip. Listen, buddy,” he slings his arm around you and the next laugh that comes raises in pitch. You try to squirm away, but he simply holds you closer.
“Jeff,” his girlfriend warns. “He’s having a hard time breathing. let him go.”
”No, babe, listen. This guy just needs to chug!”
That was the last thing you needed. You can’t find the words, still struggling to breathe as you press your hands to his side and try to rip away as that laughter continues to echo in your skull. He lugs you towards his friends, the cooler box of beer splashing against your feet, making flashes of memory run through you.
That dark basement again with Rose over you, ladling the water over your head as she chanted. Will was waiting behind her, watching you with his phone in his lap, poised in a way that meant he was recording. Flower petals ran down your body, the cold water smelling like jasmine and screwpine, a hint of staleness coating your lips despite the fragrance.
You whimper, now digging your heels into the dirt.
“Jeff! I’m serious!”
”Do you want me to kill them?”
”Relax! He’s fine! He just needs something to help him tide over that high. What did you take, buddy, huh? It’s got you really fucked up, huh?”
“I can do it. For you. I’d do anything for you.”
”Babe, he can barely breathe!”
”Relax!”
”Adinda.”
You wheeze weakly, raising your head to look up at the tree tops, where you spot him. Dressed in white while his hair framed his face, those soft eyes peering down at you so sweetly as he poised himself into a crouch. He was waiting for you to say it — say that you needed him.
How cruel. He could see how panicked you were, how you were squirming in Jeff’s hold as he took the chance to clutch at your chin and keep your head tossed back. One of his buddies pops open a beer can and you kick your feet out weakly, still trying your best to breathe. Suddenly, his laughter was being missed compared to theirs. Jeff’s girlfriend shoves him, trying to tug you away, but she’s outnumbered.
The beer splashes onto your face and your lips; you gag as it splatters towards your nose, but they’re relentless. They chant, Jeff bouncing you in his hold as they pour beer down your throat. Another person tilts their phone your way, laughing as they records you.
”Let’s go! Chug! Chug! Chug!”
“Adinda.”
He needs you to need him. Isn’t that clear for you?
So say it.
Say you need him.
Call out for him.
“Please,” you choke out, desperately trying not to throw up as you’re lifted again. Everyone’s touching you, tugging and lifting and forcing your jaw open as cheap beer is forced down your throat, splattering onto your face and making your eyes water.
“Please.”
He grins down at you, now fully crouched as he falls forward. It’s oddly relieving to hear everyone scream when he lands onto Jeff’s girlfriend, the bonfire shuddering as a chill went through the clearing. He had her hands on her throat, his claws digging into her flesh as he pinned her down.
“Betina tak guna,” he snarls. Jeff releases you, sending you crashing onto your hands and knees. He yells, rushing towards him, but a sickening snap resounds through the crowd. She wheezes, her breath rattling as it escapes her broken and bruised throat. His dark eyes show through the curtains of hair; he slowly stands up from her body and moves his leg forward in a graceful arc ahead of him, the dirt crunching underneath him as he moves around Jeff. Letting him see the state of her as he almost dances around him.
“Holy shit.”
“Is Alex…?”
“No way, she’s, she’s not - “
You cough, wiping away the beer and spit from your mouth as you gather your senses. When you lift your head, you see Alex’s head cradled in her boyfriend’s lap; as he shakes her body, her head moves unnaturally — no longer tethered to her spine as she stares directly at you, eyes wide in shock as tears travel down her forehead.
His hair shields you from the sight as he crouches in front of you, smiling so widely you can see the insides of his cheeks, every molar and fang being revealed to you while he takes in the details of your face.
“Adinda.”
Your pupils jitter, he simply leans in further and further in until his forehead is against yours. He breathes you in, his eyes unblinking as he cradles your cheek in his palm and brushes his teeth against your lips.
“See how much I can do for you if you simply ask? I’ve been waiting for you for so long, sayangku.”
Jeff yells behind him, still trying to somehow revive Alex by shaking her around.
“You called for me that night. You woke me up from my sleep. Did you feel me calling for you, too?”
He’s torn away from you, Jeff rearing his fist back to punch him in the face so he simply open his mouth and Jeff realizes too late that he’s made an awful mistake by the time his jaw unhinges. It stretches so much the bonfire’s light brightens up his cheeks, making it glow so warmly despite his paleness. When his jaw snaps, it takes off Jeff’s hand by his wrist; the tearing of flesh and crunch of joints and bones shredding through the screams of terror. Blood paint across the earth and tree ,and you’re frozen in place just watching him.
Watching as he dances through the crowd of terrified people. Tearing them apart with his strength, ripping their throats off as he shrieks in laughter. Swallowing their blood as he paints his white outfit in red, he leaps into the air to pin them down — crushing their ribcages on impact and squealing as they choke on their blood.
It’s a massacre under the moonlight. Blood sizzling when it lands on the burning wood and your head pulses as another memory rips through you. You can’t piece it together, only getting glimpses of pattern lace and a name.
Putra.
His name. His painted lips and decorated ears, how sweet his eyes were back then when he’d comb through your hair.
“Adinda,” he’d call you. Nuzzling into your neck in the darkness of the woods, even though the both of you shouldn’t be doing this – shouldn’t be feeling this for one another when your husbands waited for you back home. Times were different then, but you still felt the same. Being born as a woman, despite being a man in every other way. He was the same.
You gave him that name.
It’s quiet when he’s done. The only noise being the crackling fire.
Putra sings as he makes his way towards you, gently gathering you in his bloody arms.
“Let’s go home, adinda. All this blood, it’ll attract others. Yours especially,” he noses the top of your head and presses a kiss there.
i would love to join but im so shy ;-; actually talking to people who write or folks i look up to in writing? omg just thinking about it is making me nervous LMAO i am interested though!! only if you're okay with it ofc!!
thats my problem bc like i love all my moots and want to talk ab their ocs with them but i was simply not socialized properly as a child and engaging with anyone outside of my beta reader/mazzy/doe enflicts the same level of stage fright that one would get while trying to perform in front of a live studio audience. if i make a sever i'll still get the same feeling but we can all at least have stage fright together
Did we ever get Vega's full name? From the tag it looks like it starts with an L (or is that an I?)
his last name is leers (lowercase L)! it's on my mess of a masterlist but i think i forgot to actually post it 😭 you can find the full name of all of my ocs on it
sfw, mdni, beta read by @fluffula | tags ;; masc yandere x gn reader — stalking (duh), themes of self deprecation/lack of self worth, erotomania
hii im back from my unannounced hiatus bc i have more time on my hands :] ik vega didnt win the poll but fsr theyre the only one i could get myself to write sooo 🫶 i know im super rusty since I haven't written in ages so sorry if this is a lackluster return fic. it just be like that
vega just wasn’t the type of person that people liked. it was a fact, and he was well aware of it.
they were lanky and awkward, unkempt, and often didn’t know what to say or do in any given social situation. no one went out of their way to interact with them and vice versa. the few times he ended up around others anyway, he always found himself sidelined by the few people he could refer to as friends — they’d never be the focus, if they weren’t forgotten about entirely.
they weren’t anyone’s first choice. hell, they weren’t a second or third choice, either. it was a sad existence that he had accepted long ago — why bother trying to fit in if he wasn’t wanted? he was so boring, he wouldn’t wanna hang out with himself either, anyway. so every day and every night, they were alone.
then, he met you.
it started so simply. you started working at the same office as them, and they knew off the bat that it was your first time in a place like this. they expected nothing of you — maybe a lukewarm greeting as you passed each other during the workday, but not much more than that. so it surprised them when after your introduction, you rounded their desk and gently asked if they could show you around. maybe it was something about your tone, maybe it was that friendly look in your eye, maybe it was just you as a whole. but something about you just got them. they were out of their chair before they realized it.
they weren't the talkative type, but it didn't matter — you kept asking questions during the entire tour. what was that room for? how long had they been working there? did they like working there? you wanted their attention and they for the life of them couldn’t get why. even less so, they didn’t understand why they were so ready to give it to you. they couldn't help the way they stuttered out their answers to your questions, nor the way their face flushed after you laughed at the way they responded. but you did have to work, so you withdrew from them eventually to do just that.
well after you departed to your cubicle, you remained on their mind. your voice, the way you laughed, how you looked, it all swirled around in their mind as they sat in their desk. it remained that way the entire day, the following night, and the day after — they couldn't get you off their mind!
you chose him. you chose him, out of everyone else in the office. you were the only person that did that, and it made them feel so seen. so real, so… loved? was this what love was? the pounding in their chest and their flushed face would make him believe so. they couldn’t wait to see you again. just the thought of you returning the next day and every day after that bloomed butterflies in their tummy.
vega’s longing for you only grew more and more intense after every passing day. every day you came to work, they’d be the first to greet you and the last to bid you goodbye. they even changed their days off to match yours — going to work hardly seemed worth it if you weren’t there to make the day more bearable. every day they sat at their desk, daydreaming about spending time with you, going home with you, doing all the things they never imagined that they’d ever do before. and even though they were too awkward to seek you out during the work day, it didn’t stop them from staring at you every chance they got.
but after that first day, you paid less and less attention to them. you had work to do, after all, and no matter how hard they yearned for you, it grew harder to get you to notice them and harder for them to watch you. it was excruciating. for the first time in his life, vega wanted to be wanted — by you, specifically. he wanted your attention, your voice, your eyes on them again. but if they couldn’t have that, they needed to see you more to make up for it.
the stalking started small at first. occasionally following you when you got up from your desk to give a file to your supervisor or use the restroom, pretending to be distracted should you ever notice them (which you hardly did — they didn’t know if that bothered them or not). sometimes he ended his day at the same time yours ended so he could walk out with you, watching you leave from their car before they left themself. and eventually they started to follow you home directly. it was always from a distance. they wouldn’t want to frighten you, after all! it was okay as long as you weren’t bothered by it, he told himself.
he memorized your routine so he could base his own around it. you went to the store? he was going too. spending the day at the library? he was stalking after you from a different aisle. sometimes they’d leave little gifts on your doorstep just to see your bewildered reaction. watching you became his favorite pastime — they almost liked it more than talking to you directly. you somehow never noticed them lurking, staring at you from some shady hiding spot, panting and trembling just from the sheer excitement that your existence caused them. were you aware of just how cute you were when you thought no one was watching you? knowing all your bad habits, your mannerisms and all the things you did in private was exhilarating. it was like a secret for just the two of you. and whenever you came into work and talked to him like you usually did, it made him so fucking excited. did you know? maybe you did and you were fine with it. that had to be why you were so nice to them. they loved the idea of you liking their bad behavior.
vega had no plans of confessing to you anytime soon. he had so much fun stalking you, he saw no need to ruin it with his feelings. besides, you liked them back anyway — you had to have, why else would you let him get away with it for so long? he knew you wanted him, and he wanted you in return. all he had to do was wait for you.
I feel like the only way to get Sterling to really show up and show out romantically is if someone else is pursuing you. Like, getting him to show affection is like pulling teeth normally but let someone else flirt with you or have a crush on you or in any way seem like a threat to your relationship and now it's a big bouquet of roses delivered to you in class and similar big gestures for everyone to see. Sterling does not understand romance but he does understand competition!
so i read this and at first thought "most people fear sterling too much to pursue his darling" but when i wondered how itd be if someone DIDN'T care ab sterling's bs and pursued his darling anyway. imagine sterling having another rival but theyre a love rival instead of an academic one. he'll get so fucking angry when he sees someone beneath him able to court you so easily while he struggles just trying to hold your hand.
so he absolutely would be more affectionate purely for the competition. they gave you a rose? sterling's shoving a whole bouquet in your face the next day (and he totally did NOT spend hours studying flower language so he could carefully pick which ones made up the bouquet based on their meanings). you got asked out on a dinner date? now you're getting dragged to the most upscale restaurant in the city, the entire venue so it's just you and sterling. he's going to make you wear his jackets/hoodies when you go outside, walk with you everywhere with his hand down your back pocket and make a show out of how you're with him, not some nobody that was stupid enough to think they were worth anything to what's his. he'll turn into a better boyfriend out of pure spite and he'll make sure to remind you of how grateful you should be for it. don't tease him about it though bc he will stop out of spite too LOL
redraw of that one drawing of sub puppyboy ollie i made ages ago (i cant find the og post but the original drawing is fugly so im not sharing it anyway). if i can figure out how to post the uncensored version without getting gutted by tumblr i will let yall know 🫶 please send bday wishes to my daughter who is older than me
