brighter days

[apricxty]

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ GUIDELINE ⟡ MUSE LIST ⟡ OPEN STARTERS ⟡

[apricxty]

REPEATING MISTAKES @shr1k3s

In the dream, he was walking alone in the dark. A kitten appeared before him, licking its paw under the moonlight, its tiny tail curled defensively around its body.

He thought he'd never seen anything quite this adorable!

Seyoon crouched down and called to it sweetly. The kitten's ears twitched toward his voice, but it remained where it was, watching him with a hint of wariness, but also a hint of curiosity. He didn't have anything on him, so he wagged his finger like a catnip wand once it finally came closer for a sniff, smiling as the kitten's enormous dark eyes followed his every movement.

"Do you want to come home with me?" He asked with a smile. "I promise I'll treat you well."

Not every stray cat longed for a home, but this one apparently did. The kitten crawled into Seyoon's lap and purred contentedly against his knee. Seyoon started cooing and complimenting, offering scritches and kisses, not realizing immediately that the kitten was growing at an alarming rate.

A minute later, it was no longer small enough to fit between his hands. He blinked again, and it was the size of a tiger, now nuzzling his face because it was tall enough to reach.

Seyoon only stared in confusion as the creature kept on growing, its purr becoming thunderous, its weight crushing him, and he was all but suffocating under silken, dark fur.

And then he woke up.

Was it a nightmare? Kinda, because technically he was getting smothered. But was the kitty cute? Absolutely.

So maybe it was worth it.

It was nighttime, and Seyoon was on his way home after a late class at uni. He had two typical routes that he followed from school to home, and whenever he chose this path, he'd always stop by the park. At this hour, all the children would be safely tucked in back home, which meant he didn't have to feel guilty for hopping on the swings or playing around on the monkey bars.

The park was quiet except for the occasional creak of an empty swing shifting in the breeze. The air smelled faintly of damp grass and the rubber playground surface cooling after a warm day. Seyoon tossed his backpack on the ground and slid his half-eaten orange popsicle between his teeth. This left both of his hands open for the monkey bars, and he swung himself up until he could hang upside down.

That was when he saw him.

Jaerim.

It had been a while since their last rather unpleasant encounter. To be fair, after his vacation, Seyoon had allowed most of the unfortunate details to blur together. The way Jaerim looked that night, however, with blood all over, stayed in his mind.

"Oh, hey babe." He stayed upside down, but took the popsicle out of his mouth so they could have this conversation. "Come closer." In fact. "Wanna join me?"

[blanksweats]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 , and zoisa can't help but to feel a subtle sense of relief that she wasn't the only one being kept out of the loop. what is it with leadership? if you can even call it that ... trusting the group is one thing , but following someone blindly without even a semblance of clear direction ... that is pretty stupid isn't it? not that dwelling on it is helping in the slightest , but it does make her temples throb on the daily.

"as long as it ends with more stakes and less disappearances i'm happy either way. it's just a shame its at the expense of my best supplies ... " she completes the final line and sits back on her stool , admiring seyoon's refreshed sigil with a content nod. "there. good as new -- well , better than old. you know the drill , keep it covered , warm water , only use soap i gave you. try not to need me for another month minimum , got it?"

she dusts her hands and saunters over to her usual spot , a bean bag chair tucked away in the corner of the shop under a standing lamp designed to look like street lantern. shadows dance in its glow as she approaches , almost as if to clear a path for each footstep. "oh , before i forget -- i'm going out of town for a while. going to see some family for a few days. if anyone asks i've ... got the flu. measles. i don't know , something contagious and gross."

zoisa can count on one hand the number of sick days she's taken since starting this gig , and each one resulted in someone lurking outside her window to confirm. she's planned for it now at least with a short-term sublet , which should be enough to keep the watchmen at bay before a summons is issued ( and she did not want another summons ).

"if you don't hear from me in a week i've been kidnapped by my cousin or bored to death by my uncle , please play deep house at my funeral."

[apricxty]

Family?

Seyoon didn't know Zoisa had family.

At once, he stopped his fake whining by the table and came around to her side. There was no second bean bag for him, but Seyoon had no problem just taking a seat on the floor.

"Come now, you gotta give me more than that!" Seyoon tucked his hands underneath his chin, eyes bright with interest. "Tea? Cool magical family drama? I heard you witchy people have the best parties, and you know, I am always available for a good time." It was a thing Seyoon heard in passing at an occult club he only went to twice for the free food, but it apparently involved blue lights and fortune-telling desserts. Mmm yes.

"I am so jealous you even get to see family," he said with a sigh. "It's been so long since I've seen my grandparents. They are gonna forget me, their favorite - and hopefully only - grandson at this point." He complained, but he knew it was for their safety. That was the only reason he'd managed to stay away, despite all the love that made his heart ache.

Yikes, he was getting sad again. Time to chase that away with some ridiculous thoughts.

"Is your cousin hot? If so, they can kidnap me instead. I'll be a super fun victim, I promise."

[drownedhymns]

"I think it looks a lot worse than it really is. I didn't lose that much blood." She offers this in her usual calm cadence, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She'd been in a lot more trouble tonight than she typically was, having run into a group of people who had some words they wanted to exchange with her. That's what she got for trying to break into mob controlled buildings for the fifth night in the last two weeks. She figured she'd eventually find some people but she didn't expect a group.

She'd booked it out of there the moment she turned the hall and had seen what was waiting for her. She was slight and a bit short but she'd gotten really good at running away and was able to get away from them. Not before cutting her palms and knees after throwing herself up and over a giant gate after one of the guys had gotten a slice in on her arm...that was still bleeding from between her fingers as she put pressure to it.

Oh well, at least she wasn't dead. Right? "Good news is I didn't get any on your carpet." It's almost like her consolation prize as she holds her arm over the edge of their bathtub, which she is currently sitting on the rim of. "The bad news is if you watch me give myself stitches, you might get sick. It's not a pretty sight."

starter for @apricxty for liking this starter call

[apricxty]

"Oh, good, because it looks terrible!" Mickey screeched. "Are you sure you just need stitches? Because it looks like you might need more than that. How did you get yourself into this situation? Did you- Actually, maybe it's best if I didn't know." He was stressed enough as it was.

This city was dangerous.

Mickey had always known that, somewhere in the back of his mind. Even the mansion his family gardened for, as an example, was involved in some businesses he didn't dare pay close enough attention to.

"Forget about my carpet, chula." He set down a basin of clean water, sterile gloves, gauze, and a bottle of antiseptic with a half-rubbed-off label. "Are you sure we shouldn't find you a doctor instead? I know one who doesn't ask a lot of questions. He lives downstairs, and I give him arroz con leche sometimes, so he likes me and wouldn't mind." Mickey began pacing about in concern. "Please. What if you do this poorly and the wound gets infected?"

[zachrp]

ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ SYMBOL HEADCANON QUESTIONS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.

EVERYDAY LIFE / DOMESTIC

📋 : how organized is your muse?

✅ : what do they pretend to have together that they don't?

🕰️ : what time do they naturally wake up when no one needs them?

☕ : what's their morning ritual, and what happens when it's disrupted?

🧺 : how often do they do laundry?

🪞 : do they look at themselves in mirrors, or avoid them? why?

🍽️ : do they eat to survive, for pleasure, or as comfort?

🏠 : what part of their living space reflects them the most?

🌱 : do they keep plants, and are those plants alive?

🧼 : what's something they're weirdly particular about being clean?

📺 : what do they put on when they don't want to think?

SOCIALIZATION / CONNECTION

🗣️ : are they better one-on-one, or in groups?

📱 : do they text back immediately, or let messages rot?

🫥 : how often do they pretend to be fine to keep the peace?

🎭 : how different are they with strangers versus people they trust?

🤝 : do they make friends easily, or accidentally?

🧠 : what do they assume people think about them?

🌘 : how hard is it to really know them?

🎉 : do they enjoy social events, or endure them?

🪑 : are they the type to leave early without saying goodbye?

INTROSPECT / INTERNAL LANDSCAPE

🕵️‍♀️ : how often does your muse think about death?

🧩 : what part of themselves do they not understand yet?

🫀 : what emotion scares them the most?

👣 : do they believe they deserve good things?

🧱 : what walls are they aware of building? which ones are they not aware of?

🕳️ : what do they spiral about at night?

📉 : what's their most common self-criticism?

💀 : do they trust their own memories?

🌊 : what emotion do they drown in when they're alone?

PERSONAL / DEEP / TRAUMA-ADJACENT

🩸 : what wound shaped them the most, even if they won't admit it?

🔥 : what moment do they replay when they're ashamed?

🧷 : who failed them first?

🕯️ : what do they grieve that no one else sees as a loss?

🪤 : what pattern do they keep falling back into?

🧨 : what pushes them past the point of restraint?

🧬 : what did they inherit emotionally from their caregivers?

🕶 : what lie do they tell themselves to survive?

🩹 : what actually helps them heal, even if it's unhealthy?

HABITS / VICES / COPING

🚬 : what vice do they justify the most?

🍺 : do they drink to socialize, numb, or celebrate?

💊 : what's their relationship with substances, past or present?

🏃 : do they move their body to feel alive or to punish it?

🛏️ : how do they sleep when things are bad?

🎧 : what kind of music gets them through the worst days?

🖊️ : do they write things down or let thoughts rot in their head?

☔️ : do they intellectualize pain instead of feeling it?

🕳️ : what habit would unravel them if taken away?

SEXUALITY / INTIMACY

🫠 : is it easy for them to get turned on, or do they need emotional safety first?

💞 : do they separate sex and feelings, or blur them dangerously?

🛑 : what's an immediate turn-off for them?

🔥 : do they crave intensity or stability?

🤲 : do they like being in control, or giving it up?

🪶 : are they gentle with people they desire?

🍒 : how do they feel about their own body during intimacy?

🎱 : what do they need to feel wanted?

🔒 : do they guard intimacy, or give it too freely?

💔 : have they ever used sex to avoid something?

MORALITY / CHOICES

⚖️ : what line will they never cross?

🩶 : what line have they already crossed and justified? or regret?

🧭 : do they believe they're a good person?

🔪 : what would they do if survival demanded cruelty?

🪙 : what do they value more, loyalty or truth?

🚪 : who would they abandon if forced to choose?

🕊️ : do they believe in forgiveness? for themselves? in others?

🧨 : what would make them snap permanently?

📜 : what promise do they regret making?

🪦 : what hill would they die on?

[feilien]

  There was no denying that Long Zhi had sacrificed almost his entire life in pursuit of whatever it was Xiao Dan wanted him to do and be. He'd never been given much of a choice, not really. And, for the most part, he'd been okay with that. It was, after all, not as though he knew life any other way.   But this? This was too much, even for this obedient little grandson. Sacrificing your life was one thing, but sacrificing your love life ( and someone else's, for that matter ) was one step too far.   Anger bubbled just below the surface when Yiming entered the room, though the only thing hinting at it was the relentless up and down and up and down of his leg as he sat there, arms crossed in front of his chest.   Long Zhi's gaze moved only briefly from the spot on the wall he'd so stubbornly been staring at to the cherries that had been set down on the table. Any other time, and he most likely would've been all over them. Right now, however? He didn't exactly feel like eating. Which was yet another indication of just how angry he was; he never passed up food.

  "I'm not doing it." He wasn't naive enough to believe it was a choice, but he wasn't about to just lay down and accept his fate. Not this time. "If he wants an alliance so bad, he can get fucking married himself."   He had a feeling that an alliance wasn't his grandfather's only goal. It was an added benefit, of course, but... Long Zhi knew it was most likely to squash some of the rumors flying around amongst the ranks, as well. Rumors that were his own damn fault. "He can't force me." A beat, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "...Right?"

[apricxty]

Something about the way Long Zhi replied reminded Yiming of when he was younger. The stubborn set of his lips, the look of determination in his eyes.

It was rather endearing.

"You already know the answer to the question, and it is not about alliances," he said, nudging the cherry bowl closer.

"If he cannot address the rumours the easy way, he will address them the hard way." As unfortunate as it would be to enter an arranged, loveless marriage, it would be the path involving the least amount of bloodshed. The boss never cared about dirtying his hands as long as he deemed it necessary and important, which protecting his legacy was.

At least, Yiming would get a heads-up.

He was still too valuable to the organization to be disposed of without warning. If the rumours persisted - and if the boss believed Yiming was indeed involved - he would likely be given a chance to bargain for his life. The same courtesy would not be extended to the others rumoured to have caught Long Zhi's attention.

"May I recommend performative compliance?" Yiming continued to flip through the folders. "If it seems like he may be getting what he wants, the boss won't take any immediate action."

But there was something else on his mind.

"Is there any truth to the rumours?" Yiming's gaze lifted from the folders and settled fully on Long Zhi. "Are you only interested in men?"

[apricxty]

" 多年以来，奴才叫自己雪岩：“雪”是雪泥鸿爪之雪，“岩”是悬岩之岩。但是因为皇后娘娘是奴才之恩人，那 … 奴才求告皇后给奴才一个新名字。皇后娘娘您 … 会不会乐意了呢 ？"

[ from xue yan, for yuanzhao ~ ! ]

A fleeting trace left behind by wild geese, the steep side of a cliff - it was a beautiful name, but also a haunting one.

"本宫唤你鸿栖可好?" The goose that had once only dared to leave a trace managed to find a safe place to perch and rest.

[shr1k3s]

               THE MALKAVIAN LANDS WITH A THUD. Jaerim is already standing five paces from the container when Seyoon lands the second shot. He observes the quivering body quietly, noting the careful placements of both bullet wounds as the Malk curls into a fetal position and clutches his chest with trembling hands. Jaerim can’t relax yet. Dark, viscous blood begins to trickle from his forehead, leaving thin and tendril-like trails down his temples and between his eyes. 

When he glances up, his gaze snaps to the barrel of the gun first. Though his face hardly shows any reaction, his bloody fingers twitch at his sides. Jaerim’s nerves are so taut they’re close to snapping. He goes eerily still, lifting his louring eyes to Seyoon’s face. 

The Malkavian’s weak and quiet sobs fill the space between them as several moments pass. The longer he stares unblinkingly, the more distorted his face becomes; it melds with the dark, like a black veil of shadows coming down to obscure him.

For a split second, it seems like he’s about to pounce on Seyoon. 

Then Jaerim rips his gaze away with clenched teeth. 

He grabs the Malkavian by his hair again before dragging him away towards the containers on the opposite end of the warehouse.

Leaving his back open to Seyoon feels like lying down before a pack of rabid dogs with the absurd hope they won’t tear him limb from limb, but it’s a recklessly deliberate choice. He wills each foot in front of the other while Elias’ voice rings in his ears. It’s almost tender, if Jaerim didn’t recognize the glint of a dagger hiding behind each wretched word. 

I’ll kill him if you don’t. 

He separates the rusting containers that got knocked into each other with a bleeding hand, then disappears between them with the Malkavian dragging behind him. Jaerim drops him halfway through, watching him impassively. The Malk continues to plead through quiet cries and tremors. He's weeping blood. Jaerim can’t tell who he’s begging to anymore. Him? Some god he still believes is out there, listening? 

“Shut up,” he spits venomously. “I’m not taking you alive.”

“PLEASE—!” 

Jaerim has the delicate features of a stunning young man frozen forever in time, but his eyes have witnessed too much cruelty since his embrace; they’re lightless and devoid of emotion in the wake of another death. That pitiful final wail only pulls his pretty lips into a sneer as he snaps the vampire’s neck, rendering him speechless and immobile. With vitae pooling in his palms, he rips the Malkavian’s head off his limp body. Jaerim sets it aside, then drinks from the exposed arteries until he’s no longer shaking. 

In his unlife, he’s learned not to display too much genuine emotion when the monster inside of him is silent. If he's not snarling, he’s always subdued, knowing that even a wayward glance could be taken the wrong way depending on which one of his foul moods his sire is in. Jaerim self-modulates before appearing in front of Seyoon after a handful of minutes, wiping cold vitae off his paper pale skin now that the slow flow of blood stopped. He schools his expression into the calm face the hunter is used to. 

Though he’s approaching with a head dangling from his hand, Jaerim looks gentle—as gentle as he can with blood staining every exposed part of his body like black liquor. 

“The body’s back there, if you want it.” His voice holds none of the enmity he spoke with earlier. It travels between them in his typical dulcet tone, as if the guttural groans came from someone else entirely. 

Jaerim leans down when he finds his hoodie discarded in a pile of fabric on the ground, using it to wrap around the head like he’d done back at the cemetery. He’s losing count of how many he’s lost to stray heads like this, but it gets the job done.

Finally satisfied, he peers up at Seyoon atop the container with a curious glint in his inky black eyes, almost hungry.

“Were you going to shoot me?”

[apricxty]

Jaerim's unblinking stare was unsettling, and the longer it held, the greater his discomfort grew. Seyoon's finger shifted onto the trigger, but still he waited.

Because he hoped.

Then finally, the vampire turned. As he hauled the twitching mess on the ground into the darkness, Seyoon allowed the tension in his shoulders to ease. He blinked, the first time after what felt like forever, bringing some relief to his eyes. They were dry enough to sting by this point, tight and red-rimmed, watering at the edges because, unfortunately, human eyeballs had limits.

Jaerim returned, the other monster's head in tow. Seyoon forced himself to have a look to confirm the target's death before shifting his slightly blurry gaze back to Jaerim's pale face.

He shook his head regarding the other vampire's body because to be honest, at this present moment, Seyoon would not want to move from his relatively speaking safer spot and go into that space between two metal containers where he could be easily trapped and made to join the carnage that was undoubtedly splattered all over the ground.

"Is that what you did with the hoodie I gave you too?" Seyoon asked, watching Jaerim wrap up his prize with expertise. He imagined his cute lil sunflower-yellow hoodie, swinging around bloody, and felt the urge to laugh hysterically again.

But he couldn't, could he? Couldn't just go nuts yet because the crisis wasn't quite over. Jaerim's expression was better, but he still didn't look human enough for Seyoon to pretend that all was well.

The vampire was trying, though. Still committing to his long con or whatever the fuck this was, and the only good play Seyoon saw was to go along with it.

He should get into character, which would be himself but back in funny mode. Relax a bit more. Put down the shotgun. Turn this crouching position into sitting because his muscles were aching anyway, and he needed to choose between that or eventually collapsing. He could crack a couple of jokes, pretend everything went exactly according to plan, and maybe throw a little dig that Jaerim should be thanking him for helping out.

Yeah.

Well, that didn't happen.

"I dunno, were you going to kill me?" Seyoon did sit down on his ass as planned, but the words that came out of his mouth were not the ones he came up with in his brain. He also did not let go of his shotgun. "Cuz for a second there, you looked feral, and it was fucking scary, but my finger still stayed off the trigger because I am clearly a dumbass. Are you gonna appreciate my amazing self-control for half a second or make me regret it?"

Why were we going down the honesty route? Hello? This wasn't the agreed-upon approach.

"This is, like, a nightmare scenario. You are bloody all over. Your buddy crawled around like a possessed demon spider. I wish I wasn't here right now, but instead on vacation in Hawaii with my hard-earned money. Piña colada in hand, under the hot sun, dancing in a grass skirt next to a guy twice as hot as you."

He sucked in a deep breath to recover at the end of that long sentence.

"You know what? This is too much. Can you just go?" Seyoon asked, voice strained. "Like, don't blink and zoom off with your vampiric superpower - just fucking walk off so I can see you leave and feel safer."

[apricxty]

if  you  repeat  this,  i'll  deny  everything.

[ for wu yuanzhou, from huá wúshuāng ~ ]

"Oh?"

"华才人到本宫这里告发贵妃私事，却不愿人前对峙." Yuanzhao sat up, and a palace maid knelt to offer her a folded cloth, soaked with rose water. "怎么，是想借本宫的手除掉贵妃?" A smile touched her lips, but did nothing to soften her expression. "可惜，本宫这把刀，不是谁都使得动的."

[shr1k3s]

                HIS BROWS KNIT TOGETHER WHEN SEYOON BITES DOWN. Jaerim meets his gaze with a sharp look, his eyelashes fanning up and down as he lowers his lids to the flash of teeth then lifts them to the mortal’s taunting stare. He becomes still with an inscrutable look; instead of being annoyed, he seems frozen in deep thought. The harder Seyoon bites down, the darker his gaze grows. 

The warm residue of saliva on his palm starts cooling immediately after he relents and frees Seyoon’s mouth. It leaves him closing and opening his hand away from view as the strangely obscene sensation becomes fainter and fainter. Somewhat lost in thought, Jaerim levels the mortal with a small frown that deepens the longer he listens to him speak. 

Ever since he died, his ego and pride have swelled to degrees he never felt as a mortal. Elias’ blood is like an ever-burning flame inside of him while his bones are made of flint. A small spark is enough to set him ablaze, and hearing Seyoon boss him around irks him more than getting bitten. 

Regardless of his feelings about his sire’s revolting philosophy and the trauma of his embrace, Jaerim still has his pride as a kindred. Seyoon’s words strike him wrong, casting him into irritated silence. 

He shouldn’t have let him open his mouth but now isn’t the time. He’ll get back at him for this later. 

With a final sullen glare, he turns his head toward the end of the containers. No sooner does a face peak through the darkness that Jaerim disappears from Seyoon’s side and reappears fifty feet away, violently throwing the Malkavian into an empty container with a deafening bang that sends clouds of dust airborne. 

The container is knocked against a row of others and bends inward to absorb the impact force as the kindred gets lodged into it. Another slam follows when Jaerim strikes with a closed fist. The Malk barely manages to dodge. He moves his head out of the way in the nick of time. Jaerim only grazes him, but it’s enough to tear his cheek open from the sheer blunt force of his attack. 

They come face to face. The Malk flashes his fangs. He uses the lapse to dominate Jaerim the second their eyes meet. 

“Stop,” the word is uttered viciously through bloody spittle. Jaerim’s will is sapped in an instant. He goes uncharacteristically still, doing nothing to defend himself when the other vampire leaps at him and sinks his fangs into his shoulder. 

What?

He could’ve done anything else. Ran, plunged his hand through his chest, went straight for his head. 

A bite?

Jaerim lets out a guttural groan as they tumble to the ground in a thrashing tangle of limbs, snapping out of the daze with a wild start. Like a frenzied animal, he rips the vampire off him with a buckle and a hand around his throat. He digs his nails in, tearing skin as the Malkavian chokes and gurgles on his blood. 

What the fuck is going on?

Jaerim grapples him onto his back. His torn shirt hangs down his arm as dark, molasses-like blood slowly drips from his shoulder. The Malkavian thrashes and struggles beneath him. Jaerim starts to panic as his eyes dart from the vampire’s bloody mouth to his hand dug firmly around his throat. His hunger beckons him like a siren’s alluring song ringing sweetly and cutting through all the chaos, telling him to drink. 

Not from the monster underneath him. No, from…

Jaerim grabs the Malk’s shoulders and tosses him violently against the container. Another loud crash fills the dark warehouse, followed by a series of cries and grunts and loud thunks as Jaerim angrily kicks the vampire’s head in against the rusting metal. Blood spews and squelches under his boot but no bones crack.

Growing frustrated as the Malkavian attempts to block and prevent his attacks, Jaerim grabs him by a fistful of hair and drags him out. 

“Please, don’t take me…” This silent plea echoes off the walls over and over. Jaerim’s blood runs hot in a sudden roiling wave. 

“Please, please, please don’t take me back,” the Malk begins to beg, shuddering violently as he’s dragged across the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind. “Tell—” 

Before he gets to finish, he lets out a fierce and pained cry when Jaerim suddenly slams his face into the concrete with a shaking hand. If he talks again, he’ll rip his fucking tongue out. 

As if hearing his thoughts, the Malk goes eerily still. A second later, a strange, shrill wail comes from the vampire’s hidden face. It goes on for seconds, followed by another, and another. The sound is mournful and ugly, ringing in his ears like worms trying to crawl in. Jaerim lifts the vampire’s head to bash his face in again, but the body below him suddenly leaps at him with another inarticulate yowl. 

Jaerim manages to kick him away before he gets the chance to dominate him again, belatedly clutching his side after sending him ten feet away. Blood covers his hands but Jaerim doesn't feel the pain of the sharp jab right above his waistline and below his right abdomen. His adrenaline is running too high. He knows better than to get distracted.

His inky black eyes stay locked on the Malkavian, initially avoiding his gaze. But as Jaerim watches him, a retched feeling blooms in his chest. The vampire moves disjointedly, frantically getting on all fours before he starts crawling away in between the containers like a skittering spider.

The unspoken threat of being taken to Elias alive has sent him into a terror frenzy. Moreover, he's moving towards Seyoon's hiding spot.

[apricxty]

Jaerim disappeared from his side, too fast, and too silent.

Seyoon whipped out a mirror from his pocket and pressed his back into the metal container closer to the commotion. He observed the battle with narrowed eyes, and each groan of steel and crack of concrete was a knock against his heart, trying to unlock the place that held all of his fears.

It was a chilly night, just like this. People flew in the darkness, and bodies hit the ground with grunts and haunting cries.

Seyoon put away the mirror and retrieved his backpack. A shotgun lay hidden beneath cheerful yellow canvas, and having it in his hands felt more grounding than the deep breaths he'd been taking. He had another look with the mirror before reloading the shells, having decided to change the order of his bullets.

Gloved hands reached for the corner of the shipping container, feeling about until they found the steel fittings. Seyoon placed one foot carefully, then another. In three controlled movements, he hauled himself onto the roof with grace and silence granted by years of practice.

There was no rush, because from this point on, he could not afford any wasted motion.

Seyoon settled into a crouch at the edge of the container, shotgun shouldered. Goosebumps pebbled his arms as he heard the vampire's pleas. Please, please, he said.

Which they also did. So many times.

Below, the vampire's eyes found him. When Seyoon met its gaze, he felt it was rather like staring into the abyss. Depth without end. Hunger without limit. The sight made his pulse spike and sent chills down his back. His brain whispered the oldest warning humanity has ever known for him to run, but something else had a stronger grip, and it screamed in rage and kept the steel in his eyes.

So he waited. Even as it crawled on all fours in his direction, he held his shot until he knew it was time to let the shell loose.

Buckshot ripped into the creature's shoulder. It tore flesh and spun the monster sideways.

Jaerim was fast, and that should have been enough of a distraction for him to make a move. But just in case, Seyoon gave him another bullet and loaded Dragon's Breath third in the tube. Earlier him remembered he had an ally, you see, and knew that fire would be the type of threat that would also affect friendly vampires.

But now, in this moment, Seyoon questioned his earlier call.

As he sent a second shot to the enemy vampire's chest, he briefly lifted his gaze to Jaerim.

He remembered their first meeting all of a sudden. And how, through alcohol-blurred vision, he saw Jaerim's face, softly basked in moonlight. Now that same creature stood, but bloody, wild-eyed, and animalistic. He resembled a hound from hell much more than Seyoon's beautiful angel from above.

Maybe a vampire cannot ever be considered friendly. A voice urged, and Seyoon shifted subtly so his shotgun pointed in the direction of both vampires.

But his finger stayed off the trigger.

[movielosophy]

The Eternal Fragrance | Demon lord?

[apricxty]

📖 for nikon & tawan; also long time no talk lol

send 📖 for a journal entry my muse wrote about yours

What am I gonna get for Nikon's birthday - Day three of planning

I still don't fucking know!

Hells, you'd think we've been dating long enough for this to be easy, but it's not my fault I'm terrible at getting people gifts. The universe had to be fair somehow, right? After all, it already gave me good looks and talent.

I thought about getting him a watch, but what's the point of watches now that we've got phones? Maybe clothes, but isn't that considered a red flag? I read that somewhere on the forums - if your man starts telling you how to dress, he's a control freak, and you've gotta leave him.

I don't want Nikon to leave me just because I bought him a shirt!

Jewelry? Necklaces are kinda intimate. Bracelets are boring. And rings-

Yeah, no rings.

So I stalked him the other day to the mall to see what he might be interested in. Unfortunately, he didn't walk into any stores. He just wandered around, bought an ice cream cone, and smiled at people and their dogs in the parking lot.

Does this mean he wants a dog?

Should I acquire a dog for him? But we already have so many cats. Would they consider this an act of betrayal?

Oh, forget it, it's almost midnight. We'll keep trying tomorrow.

[apricxty]

WINNING HAND @feilien

His mother was beautiful. Even now, at her age, her hair remained long and dark, spilling down her back in effortless waves. At his raised eyebrow, she pursed her lips, but when he extended his hand holding the ashtray, she surrendered her cigarette with theatrical reluctance.

She smacked him when he leaned down to press a kiss to her temple, cherry juice-stained fingertips leaving a track down his expensive suit. Yiming only offered apologies as she demanded why it had taken him so long to visit, and sat down when she insisted that he should play her lousy Mahjong hand for her.

"There is nothing wrong with these tiles, mother," he said with a smile. "Any hand can be a winning hand." They were proof enough of that, having begun where they did. His mother had turned beauty, wit, and other people's desires into a path out of the filth of the red-light district. "Though a little luck certainly helps." Yiming stared at the tile he had just drawn, a subtle smile at the corner of his lips.

When he laid down the pure straight, the table erupted. His mother stared at the tiles, then at him, while the aunties protested his immediate departure with considerably more outrage than dignity. Unfortunately, work called, and today's task was a bit of an unconventional one.

"You look well," he greeted upon entrance, now wearing a clean jacket and carrying a tray. "My winnings." Yiming set the cherries atop Matt's table.

He noticed a stack of folders next to where he'd placed the cherries.

"Old school, I see," Yiming commented. He picked up the top folder and had a quick read-over. Wealthy. Lovely. Soft personality and easy to control. It was indeed the type of granddaughter-in-law his boss would want.

"You should try to pick someone and arrange a date by the end of this week." Take any longer, and the privilege of choosing might be withdrawn. Yiming had spent too long at Matt's grandfather's side to mistake permission for freedom.

[apricxty]

✶  ︵  *  dash  game:  knowing  your  writing  partner  can  potentially  make  writing  together  a  lot  easier!

the basics

name: muffin

pronouns: she/her

three facts

I have the patience of a young god and genuinely do not care if you take days/months/years to get back to me re: plotting or replies. You can also drop old threads with or without informing me, and throw me starters when you feel like it. If I have muse and like the starter, I'll respond.

Fashion-wise, I've been liking the whimsical fairy style lately. On weekdays, I don't dress up, but when I go out, I've been going for flowy skirts, multicolored gemstone jewelry, light pastel cardigans, etc. I also like wearing hanfu jewelry with my modern outfit, such as a hairpin, a comb, or a jade bracelet.

I am so obsessed with cats. Like actually. I have a cat, and I feed all the cats in my neighborhood. They all have owners, btw. The six or seven of them patrol around and form their own lil groups. Even at work, on my cubicle wall, I have a huge cat poster that says 'not you again'

roleplay experience

how long: too long lmfao

platforms you've used: I think I mostly just used gaiaonline & tumblr. Really cannot do discord.

best experience: On gaia it was a good time. I used to run group rps and had some really amazing ones! Though I also had my worst rp experience there, I guess, because one individual stepped on my biggest pet peeve a lot, which is...Well, I don't like when rpers are deluded about their own characters. You must own your character's flaws. Don't be like yes, my character's actions led to a massive city massacre and the death of her entire family, but she was doing it for love. Oh, she's such a hopeless romantic, sweet little baby girl cinnamonroll. Like, it's okay if your character thinks that, but you can't think that and expect me to buy into your delusions.

muse preferences

female or male: I can do both, but these days I lean toward male characters.

fluff, angst, smut: Not a huge fan of fluff unless it's a dark world because then the fluff feels special. Angst is fantastic, but I don't like cheap shots LOL. Deaths and destruction don't hurt me at all unless we build up to it and everything makes sense. I am not great at writing smut unless it's in a very specific setting, but I like reading it, so you can write me some any day~

plots or memes: Both are fun, but plots tend to yield better threads.

long or short replies: I can do both, but do notice my posts tend to get longer and longer...Maybe I should do a few shorter threads for practice.

best time to write: During work. Omg, it is so bad, but I get a HUGE boost of muse during regular work days.

are you like your muse(s): All of my muses have a lil piece of me, but I don't have any characters that are a lot like me.

tagged by: @satureiia! tagging: anyone else who wants to do it!!

[apricxty]

📖 valtoris x virgil

send 📖 for a journal entry my muse wrote about yours

Seven days into Deep Winter.

Our northern neighbor had endured another failed harvest, and their rivers froze before the last of their barley could be collected. Father ordered me to visit with six wagons of grain, salted fish, dried herbs, and lamp oil.

Virgil has remained watchful since we crossed the border. Though we come bearing aid, there is no certainty that we shall be welcomed. After all, some men would sooner preserve their pride than admit their hunger, particularly before those whom they have distrusted for generations.

Still, this could be an opportunity. Perhaps kindness could mend the past, and our kingdoms need not remain strangers forever.

And if a storm should indeed come, at least Virgil is beside me.

[jebeplanet]

❃ ZEROBASEONE JAPAN 2ND EP 回帰LOVE ❃ SEOK MATTHEW ❃ CONCEPT PHOTO : PIECE ❃

[kikismemes]

𝓙𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓵 ー send 📖 for a journal entry my muse wrote about yours.