scmberly​.

- the  shade  of  the  fine  fruit  betwixt  nimble  fingers  become  a  distant  topic  of  conversation.  warm  appraising  gaze  ,  beams  velvety  aqua  sizing  up  boyish  features  &  a  small  pang  emits  from  within  her  chest.  how  sinful  to  be  as  pretty  as  he.    “  oh  .”    an  eruption  of  butterflies  flutter  her  flustered  stomach  ,  turning  back  on  her  heel  towards  the  table  to  hide  the  crimson  that  now  glistens  over  the  apples  of  pudgy  cheeks.  “  sweet  is  good  alone  ,  sour  is  best  for  pie.  ”  the  words  flow  out  in  shallow  breath  ,  digging  through  the  the  cart  until  finally  finding  her  three  perfectly  sized  apples.  sweet  blues  swept  off  to  the  side  ,  peaking  through  feathery  lashes  ,  just  to  see  if  he  was  still  there.  he  was.  “  do  you  like  pie?    i  love  pie  ,  and  i  make  it  real  good  too.  ”

-

a youthful ,    mischievous thing reels his mouth into a simper   —–  small at first  ,    and less humble as it widens .   what he is today can’t remember the warmth of sunlight pouring down from the clouds onto rosy cheek ,     but he imagines it lurks somewhere beneath that paper-skin of hers .   a meek chortle tumbles down rosy lips ,    amused  .      ❛    hm .    that so?  ❜     head lolling to the side as to fully absorb the mirage of this ghost ,   back from the grave to haunt him ,    made flesh and bone ,     with a restless bird that rattles ceaselessly in its bony cage  ,   begging to be set free .   she doesn’t know it  ,    couldn’t ,    shouldn’t ,     but her very existence is an act of repudiation from the universe ,    an endless taunt to this decaying heart of his .     violence dwells in the unspoken  ;    all things he will not say ,      in invasive thoughts that rummage through his tortured mind .       how lovely she is  .     hatred :  he can almost taste it ,      red ,    hot ,     marinated in anguish  .     ❛     i don’t know ...     i’ve never had any .   ❜    admissions smooth down his tongue ,    and on whim ,   the pale sheet of his skeletal hand drapes over her own ,    gradually melting into the heat seeping from her pores .     how tender  ,    and utterly breakable she feels  .    ❛     can i try it?   ❜

scmberly​.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫: @dlscordia​​ ​ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞:  mystic falls farmers market

radiant  pulse  quickens  ,  drumming  fierce  in  the  wake  of  her  ears  resonation   as  excitement  blooms  from  the  confines  of  flowered  insides  ,   today  is  a  beautiful  day.  helios  granted  saturated  rays  of  illuminescent  golds  &  yellows    that  filled  the  wondrous  blue  skies    ——    the  heat  draped  around  her  ,  encompassed  her.  warmth  engulfed  her  &  forged  effervescence  in  her  brain.  mary  janes  thump  against  concrete  as  eager  little  steps  split  straight  towards  the  mystic  falls  farmers  market.  oh  ,  the  arrays  of  color  her  eyes  vastly  consumes.  a  wheeze  slips  ,  lashes  flutter  in  a  small  succession  as  she  handles  two  apples  within  the  palms  of  her  hands  ,  cryptid  as  she  stares  before  edges  of  petal  lips  turn  ,  beady  eyes  soft  &  yearning.  “  hmm  -  green  or  red  ?  ”

-

that duplicitous thing in his chest    quivers with anticipation   before ever catching a glimpse of   her ;   urges to be steadied  ,     placated  ,    soothed by the hands of time that’ve carelessly guided those wandering feet back into this same old crossroads  .    how easy would it be to sink those talons into the tender skin of her neck .   each step is mirrored ,     a dance in the dark ,   latched onto her overcast shadow like a parasite ,    hovering  ,   following  ,     watching  .      just watching ,    trying to be sated by the mere thought of her  ,    trying to be content to observing from afar .    but when was that ever enough?     she’s the first to violate this silent agreement ,   prompting an answer .   michael scrunitizes from his peripheal ,      taking a minute to ponde ,;    is it wrath or desire the monster which welcomes her home ,     back into the carvenous den of his heart ?      ❛   hmm .    that depends ...    which one do you like best  ,     sweet or sour ?    ❜

bloodembers​.

                   autumn  sat  a  table  at  the  mystic  grill,  plate  of  fries  and  ketchup  in  front  of  her.  she  haphazardly  dipped  her  fries  in  the  ketchup  before  eating  them,  her  brows furrowed  as  in  thought.    “ i’m  new  to  mystic  falls  so  i  have  to  ask,  is  murder  common  around  here ?    four  deaths  in  one  night,  that’s  a  pattern,  not  a  coincidence.  ”    she  looks  up  at  the  other  person  she  sensed  and  half - smiles.    “ you  don’t  think  there’s  a  serial  killer…right ? ” 

apathy bleeds into     shades of blue .     this steely coldness that enshrouds him   leaves no room for warmth to seep in ;     it is hollow  ,       leeching  ,      a mimicry of humanity .   it chews  &   swallows   &   spits out  these frivolous acts of boyhood  :    gloved hand tucked under its arms ,     aimless gaze perusing about under sluggish lids ,   searching for something to pick apart ,    the overcast shadow is that of a skilled imitator  towers above her small frame .     ❛     — hmm?   oh ...   and wouldn’t you arriving just as the murders start also be seen as a very strange coincidence ?      maybe you’re a serial killer .    ❜     it muses ,  sheepishly .  when you’re this old ,  life is full of irony .    he’s chosen to embrace it .      all jokes aside ,    there’s definetly something strange about this one .      michael presses his flank to the wall next to her ,      ever so slightly bending his cheek into his ebony - clothed shoulder to inspect further .     ❛    i’ll walk you home later ,     if you want  ------ but only if you promise not to murder me ,    hm?    ❜

〖 CHACE CRAWFORD. CIS MAN. HE/HIM. ┇ that's MICHAEL, a ORIGINAL VAMPIRE that just blew out TWENTY-FOUR (  1000+ ) candles on their last birthday cake. i heard them listening to VAMPIRE SMILE BY KYLA LA GRANGE the other day.  rumor on the street is that HE sides with the VOLTURI in this time of war. fortunately they will be able to defend themselves with sound absorption .they remind me of WILTING RED ROSES ENGULFED BY FLAMES, THE SOUND OF THE WIND WHISTLING OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW AT NIGHT, CROOKED TALONS REACHING FROM THE BOTTOM OF A WELL, DROPS OF FRESH BLOOD ON PALE SNOW, THE COLD KISS OF A SCORNED LOVER.

tw: salty man is salty, blood, death, drowning, murder

Was turned way too long ago to keep track, his last human memory (although he’ll avidly deny it) is sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and slowly feeling his limbs going numb. Needless to say he’s been avoiding large bodies of water since, although he does know how to swim, he’d rather avoid those painful memories

Can’t cope very well with human emotions, but beneath his nonchalant exterior, he does feel things intensely. Michael doesn’t think emotions are weakness like a lot of his kin, but rather that’s what makes humans so intriguing. He’s very curious and although he’s long detached himself from humanity, he always finds himself gravitating towards it

Born to a wealthy family, Michael wasn’t always a monster --- he still remembers his days in the sun, laying down amidst the flowers with wild, guilless eyes aimed up at the heavens. If he were being honest, there are still days when he misses these days

Not a lot is known about him, it seems as though history has long forgotten the Androshchuk name and left him alone with the burden of carrying it---or Michael went through a lot of effort to bury it so deep nobody could ever find a shred of evidence he was, in fact, merely mortal one day too.

Was deeply in love with a witch over millennia ago, she was his first (and only) love till this day, or so he claims, until he found out she supposedly using him to achieve her own goals and (literally) got stabbed in the back and thrown overboard. He died in more ways than one that day, and vowed to get revenge on all her bloodline since he was revived

He did just that --- spent the next centuries hunting down and wiping off her surname from history, although he could never get his hands on her, he made sure all her descendants went through hell like he did that night

Has a very warped view of love since, and for a long time refused to ever trust anyone again. Then he found the Volturi which--- to his surprise, feel strangely familiar. It has never been about power to Michael, he’s always seen them as a strange kind of found family, and although his loyalties remain with himself, he’s found life is lonely when you walk its path alone, and he’d rather have them by his side

Mischievous and borderline cruel at times, Michael is volatile at best, and sadistic at worst. Easily persuaded and distractible, his attention-span is extremely fickle, think golfish. He’s interested in something one minute, and the next it’s been completely erased from his mind. He will grow bored easily if things take a predictable turn. 

Extremly selfish and narrow-minded, he cares more about himself than he ever will anybody else. Ever since he was betrayed he refuses to emotionally open up to people and decided to become a pile of salt instead

Genuinely thinks he’s just that great tm ,   which doesn’t stop him from being an insecure mess when he catches feelings.

Absolutely refuses to be a useful member of the Volturi unless absolutely necessary. He’ll only waste his time if he thinks what is happening is genuinely serious and not another ego dispute.

Craves to be constantly surprised, regardless of how positively or negatively he is affected by it,  of course, this sets unrealistic expectation, and causes him to constantly leave everything behind once he’s gotten close enough to figure out how that specific thing works and what makes it tick. 

Accustomed to use his charm instead of brute force to get what he wants, Michael is known to have a high level of influence in others, not just humans but supernatural, and to be very charismatic, and partly due to his own personal belief that people will do much more out of love than fear and his chameleon like ability to project what people want to see.

On that note, as patient and calm as he appears, Michael is far from... as gentle as he portrays himself to be. If you’re looking for someone lenient to plead your case, things will most likely go south. Treacherous by nature, his cruelty doesn’t often manifest through loud shouting or unfiltered rage, but rather a more subtle, silent approach. Not unlike that of a cat that chases and tosses its wounded prey around without mercy for pure entertainment.