Wicked Roommates (MxM/MxF) TEMP HIATUS

1. Beast

Olympic Peninsula, GMU: HOKO

Bradley

The fire crackles and pops, warmth refreshing to my perpetually cold body. Perhaps I should make marshmallows, I wonder. Exhaling and watching the fire burn, I consider my options. They're delicious, and admittedly I've got quite the sweet tooth, but I only ever vomit up any food I consume, and I just don't feel like throwing up tonight—it's the literal worst. Fortunately I can consume alcohol without much issue, but it doesn't have the same intoxicating effect on me as it does humans.

I suppose I drink it anyway though because of the placebo effect.

What I want most is some fresh human blood, but I've already eaten too much this month. I devoured what was left of my stash absentmindedly while binging Battlestar Galactica last weekend, and that leaves me fucked until Steve makes a drop from the blood bank. I blame Katie Sakkoff for being hot.

Anyway, the deer will have to do if I can find any. This season has been light for some reason, and call me old fashioned, but I enjoy hunting like a human. There's a certain challenge to taking down an animal with a rifle, although I possess otherwise unnatural advantages. I don't need a scope, and to be honest I rarely use one. Unless I'm around other humans, that is. If my patience gets the best of me I'll "cheat" and use my fangs. Till then, it's just me and the wild of the Olympic Peninsula, and it's everything I've craved. Come Tuesday, I'll be as refreshed as a dead guy can get. After six-hundred years I think I might've finally dialed down the key to preserving my mental health, outside of the high of gorging myself on blood, that is.

Over my long life I've learned mental health is important for all creatures. I watched a vamp lose it about a hundred years back or so, and it changed my outlook on immortality; it isn't worth a thing if you don't look after your mind. His name was Andre, and he threw himself outside into the sun, burning to a crisp. He didn't possess the magic I have, as I can walk in the day. I do get migraines, and you'll never catch me without my sunglasses on a sunny day, but I sure as shit won't burn. I'm just damned to walk this earth until it's ending, I suppose.
I may be immortal, but I can still get depressed, so I go on mental holidays like this whenever I can. The human world is draining, inflation is at an all-time high, and they're jacking up the price of my streaming services, plus adding commercials to Prime. It's good I don't need food, because food is insanely expensive these days.

I sigh, breathing in the cold air, unsure of what to do with myself at this point. It's late, and I don't feel like hunting right now, so I guess I'll just watch the fire till it dies and head to bed.

You sleep, one may ask? Sure do.

I love to sleep. Feels fucking fantastic and it's an excellent way to pass time. I don't need to sleep, but I sure love to indulge in it, and my sleeping bag is calling. Yeah, it's all unnecessary, but I enjoy it and sleeping has become one of my favorite pastimes. Obviously I don't get cold, but sleeping bags feel nice, and I love a nice memory foam mattress. Why can't I enjoy nice things, like catching some Z's in comfort? More than anything, sleeping is a great way to curb the hunger pains. When I sleep, I sleep like the dead, pun intended, and it's the best way for me to starve without binging on the locals.

The air is fresh, bitterly cold, and all of the forest is teaming with life, moon high, a silvery glow peeking through the thick branches here and there. I can see a squirrel nest in the firs above me, and also saw a rabbit dart by about a half an hour ago. Time passes lazily by with the breeze, and I watch as the fire soon turns to nothing but glowing embers. I stamp it out, retrieve my rifle, and make my way over to the tent.