Peter Solarz
No title available
Claire Keane
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Sade Olutola
trying on a metaphor
occasionally subtle
Janaina Medeiros
if i look back, i am lost
shark vs the universe
taylor price
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast
Sweet Seals For You, Always
JBB: An Artblog!
noise dept.
NASA
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
ojovivo
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Indonesia
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seen from Germany
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@matcrmortis
† ╼ be silent in that solitude , which is not loneliness— for then the spirits of the dead who stood in life before thee are again in death around thee . and their will shall overshadow thee : be still .
pandora santos ( medium, pawnshop co-owner, granda's girlie, 25 )
bio + wcs + pinterest + playlist
angelus ( vampire, local menace, age unknown, looks like a brat )
bio + wcs + pinterest + playlist
all jasper wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry, to hide away from the reality of waking up with whiskers, or a hairy back, or paws for feet, but they weren't one to ignore somebody in need. they had been that person all their life — a runt, a scared little thing — but they quickly understood that the vampire wasn't the same way. “no — i — ” they stammered and made a noise like a strangled cat, groaning and lowering their head into their hands before righting themself and trying again. “i’m not trying to mean. i’m never mean. i try so hard not to hurt anyone’s feelings … i didn’t mean to … ” his eyes widened, two huge dark saucers that stared at the stranger as though he was trying to shoot laser beams out of them, “a per— ? oh, no … no. i think you have me all wrong. gosh. i’m sorry. i just wanted to make sure you were okay. i shouldn’t have said anything.” over their time, jasper had only met a handful of vampires. his boyfriend, liam’s fiancé … he thought for a moment, before hesitating and vigorously shaking his head. “no. no. you wouldn’t want to do that,” both hands raised, palms - up, and they stepped away from the other to put distance between them. “i’m a w … wo … i’m … my blood isn’t good for people like you. i promise.”
✝ ——— So cute. It takes a massive amount of self-control not to sandwich their face between his palms—the urge to squish the little pup's cheeks like play-dough and ruffle their hair was overwhelming. It must be all fuzzy, just like a puppy's. The girls never let him play with the new litters at the clinic... His maker didn't either. Something, something about his volatile demeanor. The facade of stoicism cracks at the edges, a wide, cheshire smile flashing his pearly canines shamelessly as syrupy laughter lodges in his throat. "Heh... you're way too cute..." the vampire muses idly, watching them stammer and stumble through words, leaning an elbow against his knee to prop himself up—closer, as they pull away. "Don't be so shy, puppy... I won't bite, yeah? I was just playing with you... Well," mostly. "You do have a bit of a praise kink, don't you? ...I can tell. You look like the type," he chuckles sheepishly, not dwelling on that for long before pushing on to the next thing:
"Let's be friends," he makes it sound like more of a statement than an offer; a childishness about the way he perks up, lively and excited, his unwavering blue eyes fixated on the little wolf like a new, shiny toy they can't get enough of. "I won't tell anyone about your kink—cross my heart!" It doesn't beat anyway, so he might as well. "What do you drink, mmm? Milkshakes? Hot cocoa? You pick... I'll pay."
( ↻ ) “ y’know , that sounds more like someone wanted to be annoying over actually stealing , ” hayden has to try to hold back a laugh . it’s only partially successful as her lips only curl up into an amused grin . “ but listen ! you know how young some of these ghosts can be . scratching at your door or pulling the covers off you in the middle of the night is some OLD SCHOOL stuff right there . maybe they wanted to make a statement . this ghost , demon –– whatever , is giving minor inconvenience . ” the gorgon moves to raise her takeout cup of coffee to her lips , gaze shifting towards the view at the park . her attention lands back on pandora , lips twisting up in thought . “ well it hasn’t been proven yet . but who knows ? anything’s possible ! ” just look at the town they’re in ! it’s a supernatural hotspot .
𖹭 ——— "Like... a prank?" It hadn't occurred to her that someone might have done it as a joke, let alone the idea of it being mean-spirited. She looks down at her stockings-clad feet, letting herself relax—the tension of her muscles draining to make room for an easier demeanor as a smile threatens to form. "Oh... that is kind of funny, I guess." She really shouldn't encourage this kind of behavior, but she's really never been any good at drawing lines in the sand, anyways. She'd rather be like the ocean instead, and just flow. "Huh... I guess you're right. Really—I should probably just ignore it, and they'll go away. Maybe... keep an extra pair of shoes with me next time," she scratches the back of her head, stifling a laugh that wants to bubble up her throat. "Well, actually... besides these last few weeks, the town's been—really lovely. No angry ghosts or Bigfoot or anything... I wish I knew why everything's been so... out of whack suddenly." she pauses, her large, fawn eyes flickering to the gorgon with a glint of worry swirling in their brown depths. "...How have you been with all of this? Any... strangeness?" More than usual, anyway.
" what? " she repeats foolishly, and then catches herself, cheeks heating. " i mean, no, i -- i haven't seen a ghost. " she would rather that she had; she had seen spirits before, before portum, and they had always frightened her less than her unpredictable foresight. most of them don't want to hurt the living; her visions, though they don't always come true, are so often filled with hurt. " not this time, at least. "
𖹭 ——— "Oh... that's good," she stammers, just about the same time as her thoughts begin to overlap. "I mean—not that ghosts are bad, it's just—you know, you looked... spooked... and spooky ghosts are... bad." Very articulate Pandora, she mentally chastises herself, fidgeting with her thumbs as she presses her hands against her stomach, a shadow of worry veiled behind her doe eyes. "...do you wanna, maybe, um... sit down for a minute? My grandmother says chamomile tea is good for the nerves or—something like that." she pauses. "I think we might need a lot of chamomile right now."
closed for @matcrmortis
pandora x roxanne
"i have too much stuff for someone that rarely walks the earth." roxanne says with a box of belongings in her arms which contained of rare entities from the bottom of the ocean. "how much do you think these trinkets would sell? i apparently have a hoarding problem with these types of items."
𖹭 ——— "Oooh, pretty..." her eyes glittered like dark jewels, staring into the box of colorful objects; she loved her job, especially during days like this—just hovering her gloved fingers next to the box, she could sense the conflicting energies pulsating like fragmented memories made tangible. "Did you collect all of these yourself? That must've been fun..." She couldn't even swim—but she likes to think if she could breathe underwater like Roxanne, that's what she'd like to spend most of her days doing. She quickly makes space in the counter for the box, "Here," she encourages, not wishing for the girls arms to strain. "—Do you mind if I look?"
"oh come on, angelus, this is just a practice game, we learn along the way, remember?" it had been a slow day, way slower than usual compared to whenever paisley is working. she had been bored out of her mind that she found an old board game at second chances hours earlier, then tries to convince angelus into playing it with her. she wanted somebody to learn with, as it was a game she hasn't encountered before, game of the generals, a war game back in the 70s, as its old box has said. it seemed fun, a brain exercise, and it seemed easy to learn.
"it's kind of like...chess, but it isn't..." she bites her lip deep in thought of a second, it was something new for her to learn. "plus, it isn't over yet, i'm still far from eliminating your flag, you just gotta protect it..."
✝ ——— He doesn't have the guts to tell her how long it took his maker to teach him how to play chess while he sat there and kicked the table, sulking openly like a child scolded every time he needed correction. His tongue pokes against the soft insides of his cheek instead, choosing to stay silent and keep his pride unscathed.
"I have my clothes on and I'm losing... even living through the 70's wasn't as painful as this," his lips pucker, flaunting a performative pout, the picture of boyish petulance as he leans into his wrist, leaning into her personal space—a sharp talon hovering over her flag. "Can't I just take it?"
ellie had the closing shift that night at hallowed grounds. she was the last one out with only the howling wind for company as she'd swept the floors and flipped chairs. she had slipped her coat on and was locking the front door when she heard the voice behind her. she startled visibly, if only for a second. she whirled around, her back pressing into the door as she stared up at the stranger. her muscles were pulled taut like a violin string. she didn't flinch when he loomed over her, and in fact, straightened her spine. her hand was caught in his grip and she tensed. the wolf wasn't a fighter -- not really. she could defend herself, but she wasn't a skilled combatant by any means. no, her skillset had always lied more with persuasion and negotiation. she liftened her chin at him, gaze sharp and defiant despite the uncertainty that shone in her eyes. whoever he was, he moved like he expected people to make room for him. that alone made her want to hold her ground. "i'm not really in the habit of walking home with strangers," she added, pointedly. "or ones who grab my hand like they own it." ellie's gaze landed on her trapped hand. she didn't pull away just yet, but instead flexed her fingers slightly. testing to see if he would let go or not. "who are you?"
✝ ——— A dulcet hum stretches on his tongue, deceptively innocent in the way it pops; unalarming, delicate. "Huh?" his pale lashes bat down at her, as if unwitting, his head tilting to and fro. "That so? Ah... Well, call me Angelus if it matters, then." He introduces himself nonchalantly, as though that alone ought to quench her appetite for answers. Fooldhardy one. It amuses him—that unyielding stare. Is she challenging him? "Borrowed," he clarifies to her like he's talking to a child, waiting a beat before delving into the explanation. "Your hand... It's borrowed. Not owned... If I owned it, I would not need to return it. I will give it back..." Eventually, although he doesn't specify when or, well... in what conditions. His canines flash briefly. "Unless you don't want me to?" A small giggle catches on his tongue; he's toying with her.
For now, he was just enjoying the simple feeling of holding something warm trapped between his fingers. It's like a glove, only... fleshier, smoother, and far more appetizing. Fabrics do nothing for him anymore—that innocent feeling of shivering under the snow has long since crumbled to ash along with its memory. Her hand is solid, however, tangible—he can feel the warmth there, alive, pumping through her veins at an unalarming rhythm.
"You work here," he points out, icy gaze only briefly flickering towards the establishment before it settles back on her—undisclosed thoughts flashing behind pensive eyes, burdened with a thousand years behind its boyish glimmer, the contradiction of him warring ceaselessly within. "Walk me home then. Since I know you... you should walk me home."
for: dumps this here ( @dienoctes , @daluy0ng )
✝ ——— If he thinks any harder, he's afraid a wrinkle will defy the rules of time and mortality and pop right at the center of his forehead if he keeps this up. Generally, he's good at masking his emotions under the guise of playfulness or stoicism, but Angelus has always been a sore loser. Which is why he seldom competes with anyone who can beat him. Losing isn't fun. Why should he put himself through that?
There's practically a growl scratching the back of his throat like an engine as he ponders, dissatisfied with every outcome that comes to mind. He leans forward, fingers curling into a fist as he brings his hand to rest under the jut of his chin, perpetually frustrated. "...This is a stupid, useless game anyway." It wasn't a stupid, useless game minutes ago, when he was winning—but it is now.
jasper stared blankly at the other. they cocked their head to the side, wondering whether the vampire was just teasing them or whether they were taking advantage — the wolf stood and waited for the punchline, wincing at the shrieks and wails. “it’s a tiny bead of blood,” he mouthed, almost to taste the words before speaking them out loud, “does it … does it really hurt ? what … what happened ? ” he turned around, checking his surroundings for anyone watching, or recording like it was a hidden camera show. “do you need me to do anything ? ”
✝ ——— Angelus's glacial stare flickers the little wolf's way like a honed icicle, momentarily distracted from his own theatrics—and they were---theatrics, because the amount of blood he'd lost during his little scuffle was hardly of much significance. "Of course it hurts..." he whines softly, sounding wounded while clutching his ivory-draped chest, as though the boy had been particularly insensitive. "Do you get off on being mean to people who are in pain or something? Tsk..." his tongue scrapes against the roof of his mouth roughly. "You didn't look like that kind of pervert from a distance..." Now, he's well aware the little wolf is the furthest thing from, but toying with him is so fun. "Vampires aren't supposed to lose any blood, you know? The pain is like... excruciating." That's half-true; he'd endured far worse in this lifetime without shedding a tear, and anyways... on the right hands, pain didn't always have to be unpleasant.
"Mmm..." he feigns pondering on the offer, while a spark of mischievous excitement lights up in his eyes at the thought of spinning this to his favor. "Maybe... do you think I could have a few drops from you?" his gaze softens under the white veil of his lashes, shrinking into a shell of practiced innocence. "Just a couple... to seal the wound."
REGINA IS WELL AWARE that there are individuals in this world who posess little control over their limbs -- as obnoxious as they were. however, people are responsible for their own actions. angelus is one of the few people in this town who just seems to get her madness, thus, it's not a suprise when they're attached at the hip for another night at envy. once again, packed. this time however -- it wasn't regina's problem, considering she wasn't on the schedule. the vampire can see the collision before it even happens. red wine and a beautiful blouse. while they are certainly familiar with the color -- the stain is nearly impossible to ignore. " oh my darling -- " she coos, examining the damage. an arm wraps around theirs to lift him to his feet. " for the love of god -- get off the floor. we may clean it, but you don't know where these people have been. " once they're guided to a seat, her gaze is able to fixate on the stain. " this is prada angelus -- what a tragedy. " a loss to the fashion community.
✝ ——— Unyieldingly, he not only resists but fights against her attempt to offer merciful aid to her fallen comrade, lost to the clumsiness of others with senses not nearly as sharp. Tugging on the hand that tries to lift him like a nagging toddler in a way that nearly threatens to bring her down with him, a harmless, playful display, even as his mood remains so visibly sullen, dissatisfaction etched into every delicate corner.
He crawls closer instead, pressing the flat of his forehead against her leg—a shallow attempt to self-soothe, gnawing on whatever thin thread of self-restraint remained from his mortality with his teeth to hold himself back from ripping the stranger's arm and feeding it back to them in pieces. "Mph." He huffs begrudgingly, eyes transfixed upon the dim ceiling above, letting the flashing lights seep into his bright irises, filling them with reflective, unearthly colors as he gazes up at her through the soft veil of his lashes. "Uh... I've probably been in worse..." The thought drifts, mumbled and unfiltered, breaking the vacuous silence with little sensitivity. "Forget it, it's ruined—" Angelus rips the shirt off him like a band-aid, a sharp exhale flaring his nostrils as he climbs up her leg, using her body as a pillar to get back to his feet. "This has been the worst week... do something nice for me."
‘ ✽ andromeda observes the spectacle in front of her, the absolute ridiculousness of it, and snorts, rolling her eyes. she crosses her arms, still standing, and looks down on angelus kneeling on the floor. " honestly ? " she echoes, wetting her lips slowly, mischief coloring the sparkle in her eyes. " it looks like shit, i think it is absolutely ruined, irreparable. " it’s mocking, the way she speaks, the way she utters the word with a mix of disdain and delight, because she feels delighted at angelus’ despair, at the loss he’s suffering, even though it annoys andromeda that is something so superficial, so selfish.
✝ ——— 'Tell me the truth', he'll demand with a mouthful of authority, only to respond with an infectious, begrudging whine; "Aaahh..." the vowel stretches thin like sugary bubblegum on his pink tongue, filled with indignation. "Why can't people just die prettily and without making a mess..." he mumbles grouchily, absolving himself of any blame, a childish pout wanting to take shape in his ruddy lips. He strokes the red stain with the jagged tips of his talons as if stroking a dead animal against the cold confines of his chest, visibly and shamelessly sulking as his wet blue eyes sharpen like daggers aimed her way. "I know you're just trying to hurt me." To make his displeasure known, Angelus makes a point to sigh loudly; pert nose hanging in the air with an air of superiority about him, his tongue undoubtedly aching to spit poison her way. "You're a mean little kitty cat," a sharp exhale flares his nostrils, a tuft of sylph-blonde hair tossed carelessly over his shoulder as his mouth purses disapprovingly. "Someone would do well to euthanize you."
Felix ❄️🤍 SKZ-TALKER] Ep.62
Oftentimes, Zhang Heng could still remember some things about their human life. Like occurrences, passages, rituals… but the name that Angelus had used to introduce himself, had not been one of them. They could, however, remember how glad they felt for Angelus freely-handed attention back then. One that did not come with unwarranted offenses or accusations of being a cursed child.
“Cute is not exactly a word I would use to describe myself, Angelus.” Especially when they were feeling the complete opposite of that. Their skin still tingled, as if the vampire had left their weight imprinted on their back, from where the vampire had leaned into. “You do look very handsome. But then again, you always have. I am fairly certain you did not need me to tell you that as you have been using your beauty to lure your prey in.” Not that it bothered Heng. Every creature had it in their nature what they needed to do in order to survive. For Angelus, it was blood.
Little prince.
The title, still used by both Angelus and Hanael to refer to Heng had stopped feeling true ever since they’d taken up the role of being a reaper, however, Zhang Heng had also never bothered to correct them. They had been a prince once. They had almost deserved the throne.
Heng brushed some invisible dust off of their black Tang suit jacket. If they had any blood to spare, they would certainly offer to a friend in need, but, without a beating heart to match, they doubted their blood would be of any help. “Have you tried the hospital? I know it is not your usual style, but desperate times do call for desperate measures, Angelus.” Perhaps the hospital would have some blood bags to spare. Or, if the vampire was really looking for some fun, he could step out of town, although, Zhang Heng wouldn’t suggest it out loud, fearing an impending massacre if Angelus was left outside Portum without supervision. “Me? I–think I have been suffering the least compared to others I have spoken to.” They were hurting for their child and for Hanael, but also, Rashmi. “Mostly dreamwalking–which I hate, and my chronokinesis has also been tempered.” But nothing life-threatening. Or… eternity threatening.
The reaper let out a soft huff when they heard that slight tone of worry in their friend’s voice. “I do not believe I can die twice, my dear blood-sucking companion. You do not need to worry about me. However, it is greatly appreciated. I did not know you had missed me that much.” After all, they had been just the frail prince Angelus had done the kindness of spending their time with. A weakling and sickly prince, devoided of love within the palace walls.
✝ ——— "Why not?" Angelus always sounds like a spoiled child when corrected—asking questions with that indignant, acute note to the back of his otherwise velvety drawl, demanding explanations and answers he knows he's prone not to listen to anyway, even when offered. "Anyways... I never liked the words you used to describe yourself with," he flicks invisible dirt from under his nails with that superior look about his face, pert little nose perched in the air as he leans in, those cold eyes adopting a playful note as that small nose scrunches and he pinches the air close to the bridge of the other's nose---with just only enough respect for bounderies or at least sense of self-preservation not to actually graze the reaper's skin with his thumb and forefinger as he does. "You've always been cute to me, little prince." There it is again—the nickname his tongue won't relinquish, and it's unlikely to still a thousand years from now, when their paths cross again over bloody battlefields or massacred villages.
He smiles, not cold and detached as he often does, but something a touch warmer as he preens, a dulcet sigh stretching thin on his self-indulgent tongue. "Of course I do... Who cares what they think? They're food... I need to hear it from you," his ruddy lips unfurl into a guilt-tripping pout as he leans in, sounding wounded. "If you don't tell me I'm pretty every century or so I'm gonna wither away and die... friends don't kill friends, you know?" his smile softens a little, wanting to dissolve into something playful.
Truthfully, sometimes he misses the little prince as he was; young and naive, such a delicate flower blooming amidst the harsh concrete of his surroundings. He couldn't bring himself to be cruel enough to pluck him then—perhaps he should have. Angelus has turned one—one person, his entire lifetime as an immortal, and the thought of turning another makes his stomach churn. It nauseates him. Yet... If he'd known where those vermin would dispatch him to after his departure, perhaps he could've willed himself to make an exception, then.
"There's sick people in there... is this a ploy for you to nurse me back to health or something?" Vampires hardly get sick, at least in the conventional way people mean it—it doesn't stop him from bitching and moaning though, as if Heng Zheng had just tried to shove broccoli down his throat. Besides, he'd gorged himself on plenty of victims, most willing. He preferred the chase, but desperate times and all. Still, it wasn't quite enough. At this rate, he doubted the whole town would quench his appetite. He promised himself to lie low for a while, but he was growing restless.
"Mm." The young boy huffs, seemingly annoyed by the implication, although he doesn't bother denying it. It's clear that physical contact comes easy to Angelus—he'll throw himself over Heng at the slightest hint he can, yet—the implication he cared and continues to care always seems to make his nose twitch and his lips pucker. If life still had its hold on him, he's certain his cheeks would be red with embarrassment. "You died without permission. Who said you could die, anyway?" he retorts in the same brattish tone from earlier, hiding his vulnerability there. "You better be right. I won't tolerate that kind of rude behavior again. This dreamwalking thing... You can't get lost, yes?"
do they crave touch or fear it ?
Craves touch, fears intimacy. But to him, touch has always been his thing- he has the control and leverage because it's his game. If someone doesn't touch him in twenty-four hours, he might as well be dead. It doesn't necessarily have to be sexual, but he'll try his hardest to spin it that way. He'll take head scratches and resting on your lap, though. Yes, you can call him a good boy. No, he's absolutely not, in fact, a good boy.
the phoenix does not pale at the sight of black holes or tears in the galaxies , but the utter strife caused by bloodshed is another matter entirely . their hands dart to their cheeks in shock , analysing the clutch and the falling to his knees . she hasn't prayed in a hot minute , but she prays now , quickly and under her breath . frozen to the spot , uncertain whether to help or shout for it . “ did somebody try to pull you open by the collar ? ” comes the blunt , but genuinely concerned , question . what if whomever was behind cosima attempted to do this to him ? “ that's enough . don't - don't move . surely i have something in my bag that can work . ” rashmi does not notice that it's mostly the shirt damaged ; she sinks down on the corner of the bench and begins to rummage through . “ needle , thread — i can do amateur stitches . very amateur . ” but weren't vampires supposed to have accelerated healing ? she brandishes the thread spool , meant for clothes , but not yet intending to use it as such . her pulse goes a million miles per hour because of the upset .
✝ ——— There is a swift shift in his demeanor as the waft of easy prey tickles his nostrils; something soft and tender to chew on, something delectable to hold between his teeth. It's been a rough day, he thinks. Doesn't he deserve a treat? That despairing mood slowly smooths itself out by a treacherous calm, sensing the tremulous heartbeats in her chest, the palpable unease thickening the air. The flicker of a smile threatens, but his mouth quickly smothers that spark of sadistic glee, blinking up at the phoenix through the hazy veil of his ivory lashes instead. "Yes..." it singsongs like a canary perched by her windowsill, canines flashing in a shallow attempt to lull her closer, lids dropping low over the cold blue of his eyes. "Something like that..." The words seem to flow effortlessly from his tongue, light and airy, lyrical in the way they invite attention to be drawn.
For a moment, those predatory eyes simply watch, a dulcet hum on his tongue, thinking. Thinking. What is he to do with such a sweet thing? Good Samaritans are so rare nowadays. He shouldn't kill them quickly. In a quick, sweeping motion, Angelus has his talons wrapped around their wrist, holding tight---demanding attention. "Don't you hate when people just have to make a bloody mess before dying? So inconsiderate..." A heavy sigh expands in his lungs, as though he'd been largely inconvenienced by the unfortunate circumstances that left his shirt bloodied. "You wouldn't do that, would you?" he nips at the sensitive skin of her wrist- but doesn't break skin, looking like a particularly mischievous kitten with a mouse between his teeth. "You'll take good care of me, won't you?" Those snowy lashes flicker up at them like a moth's wing, his breath cold against her skin. "If you take good care of me, I won't bite... promise."
[ 🧨 ] for angelus !
[ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ?
Acting indifferent to his antics lol You can spit on the ground he walks on, or sing him praises, it doesn't matter to him so long as you're being attention, Angelus is shamelessly needy. Starving him of attention will set him off like a grenade. So long as he's getting a reaction, he'll be satisfied. He can't stand the idea of being ignored, though. His ego is way too fragile for that. That's the only thing that really makes him lose his temper in a way that shows.
There are other sensitive points, though, of course. Prying into his past or asking too many questions. Saying you love him. Calling him certain nicknames. Authority figures are giving him orders. Except all this won't get him to show any emotion when it happens, but rather return the cruelty tenfold. He's a 'don't get mad, get even' kind of guy. He'll smile and look like he's enjoying it. His sadistic side probably is. That doesn't mean later he won't do something horrendous like slaughter your whole family, though.
[ 💭 ] + angelus
[ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ?
Angelus has a complicated relationship with "love" as people define it, but to summarize—no, he does not. His narcissism is very much a mask to cover his insecurities, which are plenty. Why would anyone love him? He thinks he's pretty, fun, and enjoyable, but there is no value to him other than that. He'll use the word love frequently to convey his feelings, but really can't differentiate between love, infatuation, and affection. He has been manipulating people for his own benefit for so long, he doesn't remember his human feelings on love anymore. He doesn't remember loving anything, or being loved, other than by his own maker, and that turned out... not so great, so nowadays he sticks to toying with people's emotions instead, hurting them for sport.
To him, sex and physical attraction have been the closest thing he's had to love, so that's what he chases. If not that, then he'll take hatred, he'll take anything from the people he's interested in but indifference. Indifference is the only thing that truly wounds him. As far as his own affections, he has as much love for the people he claims to love as a dog does for its new chew toy. He'll play with you until he's satisfied, and then the "love" will wear off. The king of love bombing. The thought of a selfless love is a very alien idea to him. Why would anyone love without wanting something back?
