it's about time.

[yoloed]

Otherwordly Meme

Sometimes all you need is a word to spark off an idea.

1. Post a comment with your character's name, canon, and any preferences you may have (no shipping, no smut, etc.)

2. Leave the comment blank or post a word or two in the body.

It may also help if you list scenarios you would like to play.

3. Reply to other people, either with words you picked out, or words they posted as prompts for a thread.

( A cleanup of the previous Otherwordly Meme. )

Comments

[cryptophasia]

[ It's not totally a surprise, since Petre has given no signs of being anywhere near as ravenous as he was before, but the kiss is ... an unnerving note, one that he might have found unpleasant if not for what follows.

Maybe the fact no one else enjoys Santiago's blood this way influences his reaction. Maybe it's the semblance of devotion, even though he's sure Petre's devotion lies in vastly different directions. Like the appreciation is what makes this closer to sacrament than his blood's proper use, which is for healing people and growing things. Santiago's eyes shut in spite of himself. He should watch, he should be mindful of how much Petre drinks, but instead he breathes shallow and slow, relaxed. ]

[broil]

[It's because he knows what's coming that he takes it slowly this time. He knows what will happen if he does lose control and drain this man again; not just his death, but Petre will be right under his influence the whole way. That might not appeal to Satan any more than it does to him, and who knows what kind of stupid things a human (?) will get a demon to do when he's in control. They are not to be trusted any more than he is with his own powers.

Finally, Petre comes up with his mouth parted, teeth and lips red, breathing like he just surfaced from the bottom of the sea. There's clear ecstasy in his features, a little more subdued than it had been before, appreciating what he has so far rather than thirsting for more.

It's just like feeding on a corpse, though, and when he does, other sensations surface. Adrenaline, overconfidence, and a rush of - arousal. Not that he's hard, but he could come very close to that if there was any other kind of stimulation to boot.]

Fuck...

[cryptophasia]

[ It's not so different for Santiago; perhaps not unlike the reason St. Teresa always looks like she's having one hell of a time, other than Renaissance artists' limited outlet for salacious statuary. He's not given to indulging himself, however, and to do that with Petre would be even more unthinkable.

Still. It's nice, when he opens his eyes, to see that look on Petre's face. Santiago doesn't take his arm away yet. Resting out here has replenished him and he can afford to be generous for a little longer, especially if he goes right back to sleep after Petre is done. ]

What a nightmare you are.

[ He makes it sound like a fond compliment, in a voice hazy with pleasure. It occurs to him they're stuck in a sort of feedback loop: Petre drinks his blood and becomes like a drunkard, Santiago reinforces it with the bolstered influence of his power, and using his power to elicit that reaction also feels good to him ... it's an amusing mess. ]

[broil]

[He's been called much worse things, also under the guise of affection. When Petre smiles it's not because he's satisfied or flattered, rather because he's amused, and in the contentedness of his inebriation his limbs become mellow and he shifts to lie down on his back. He did complain about the moss before, but like any other drunkard, he doesn't care about lying down on a dirty surface. Santiago is welcome to join him if he really does want to go back to sleep.

If he doesn't, Petre is still reaching out to grip at the fabric of his shirt.]

You ain't seen nothing yet.

[cryptophasia]

[ There's some resistance to the grip on his shirt because he didn't dig this hiding space very wide. Petre's offhanded intrusions into his personal spaces, however, is something he'll probably have to make allowances for. It's more important to prevent the dog from tearing out the neighbor's throats than it is for the dog to stay off the couch.

He lies down beside Petre, languidly pressing the gash on his arm shut with his fingers. Not too much gone, Santiago notes. A demon capable of some self-restraint, which is funny in the same way his comment and Petre's are: not at all, if either of them were normal. ]

Don't feel obligated to impress me. Please.

[broil]

[He laughs, low and at ease.]

You haven't earned the right to be impressed.

[But one day, who knows.]

[cryptophasia]

That doesn't make any sense.

[ Go home you're drunk etc. ]

How long did you stay this way, last time?

[ Did anybody get to see him, was it like a texts from last night for real. ]

[broil]

Yes it does. Shut up.

[He means one day he'll be obsessed with you enough to do all kinds of crazy shit to keep you around. So uh. Don't earn the right to be impressed just don't.]

I dunno. Didn't count the hours. Hours? Yeah. Kept some bottles. Fucked a lot of people. It was great.

[cryptophasia]

[ The finer meanings of this sentiment escape him for the time being. He doesn't get the degree to which things could get bad, only that they can. He has a lot of faith, perhaps too much, in his experience with controlled descent.

Santiago laughs, even though he shouldn't. It's just funny to him that one of the effects of his blood is to encourage - not cause, he gets the impression Petre is strongly inclined toward it on his own - people to have sex. But why not? Pretty big part of life, which is what the blood's all about. ]

Shouldn't you get started looking for someone, then?

[ Always trying to kick Petre out, gosh. ]

[broil]

Well. You're right here.

[definitely inclined toward it on his own. Lust and all. Typical demon shit.]

[cryptophasia]

[ Santiago laughs again, no derision or nervousness in it. Affectionately amused by Petre, like that's all he'll ever be. ]

You should definitely get going. Unless you're fucking people who like you blood-covered.

[broil]

Is that your kink? I've had a lot worse. That's nothing.

[Don't ask him about it.]

[cryptophasia]

No. [ Another exhale, somewhere between sigh and laugh. ] That's me telling you to wash all my blood off your face.

You don't even like my moss.

[ Not asking, and also endless reminders to Petre that he's rude. ]

[broil]

No.

[can't tell me what to do. Except he can. But.]

I don't like anything about you. You're still ugly.

[cryptophasia]

You like all of me. [ This airy assertion is made in complete confidence. The distorted mirror image of Petre's confidence, or vice versa. ] You'd never leave me alone if it turned out my jizz was anything like my blood.

[ And now Santiago is really laughing, hard enough that it's mostly silent. Well. He is still lightheaded. ]

[broil]

[Meanwhile, Petre's eyes open and he looks straight up at the sky.]

Is it?

[Santiago what have you done.]

[cryptophasia]

[ Oh god. Petre no. Santiago finds it difficult to answer, though, because the fact he really asked is killing him, and he's going to start crying of laughter pretty soon. ]

No, god, what do you - do you know - how hard it is to convince people to let me bleed on them -

[ Never mind letting him come on them. Yeah, with his healing dick. Jesus christ.

To be fair, he's never tried, because really. ]

[broil]

[and the writers of Supernatural rejoiced because their dream of a healing dick came true in Santiago.]

Don't say that word.

[God. It's gross. He smacks Santiago's shoulder.]

Have you actually tried?

[cryptophasia]

[ scream retcons everything

He's too busy wiping his eyes and trying to breathe normally to take much notice of Petre's annoyance with religious words. ]

Seriously? [ Santiago manages to calm down, pleasantly exhausted by his fit of laughter. ] Look, I'm pretty sure it's all in my blood and everything blood flows through. So not anything else. Otherwise I'd be healing people every time I got a haircut.

[ ... maybe he does, though. It's not like he checks. ]

[broil]

[Say what he might, now it's in Petre's head. Raping the guy with his mouth won't win him any points, though, and he's not done with his blood.]

That'd be hilarious. [and then he narrows his eyes.]

What's with the plants.

[cryptophasia]

[ Santiago is sure Petre would be disappointed. If it does have any effect, it's likely to be more dilute than his blood and flesh. Then again, letting Petre blow him would be infinitely preferable to being cannibalized, so maybe he should hold out hope. ]

I don't know, they like me too. Plants, animals, people, demons.

[ All his answers about his powers never reference La Signora, and this one, as carelessly given as the others, draws no conclusions about fertility or nature or healing. Very common providences for many gods. Santiago figures Petre knows his enemies, and he doesn't need any more information or ammunition about this one. ]

Even if I'm ugly.

[broil]

I already told you I don't like you.

[b-baka.]

There's always a way to kill something. I'll kill you when I get bored.

[like Santiago's own affectionate threats, except Petre sounds more like a child with a magnifying glass telling an ant how their friendship will end.]

You're a Disney princess.

[cryptophasia]

[ Santiago stretches, quite purposefully crowding Petre in the small area available to them, and smiles to himself. ]

See? So what motivation do I have to let you do experiments with my bodily fluids? When you're so terribly rude to me. I haven't even sung at you.

[ Key Disney princess component right there. ]

[broil]

Please don't sing at me.

[He's not worried, though he pushes right back.]

I said I'll kill you when I get bored. So: you don't want me to get bored. Therefore give me everything I want.

[cryptophasia]

[ First you insult his nap grave and now you won't get out of it. Santiago shakes his head at Petre's logic, indifferent to the fact he's getting moss in his hair. ]

Poor hungry demon. I'll think about it.

[ An unenthusiastic promise at best. Giving Petre everything he wants sounds like a speedy route to inevitable boredom, or unworkable escalation. ]