#GOES SICKO MODE OVER THIS

[arataki-neato]

Begging crying praying that the moral of the story is gonna turn out to be destiny isn't actually inevitable and Otto doesn't always have to be evil and Himeko doesn't always have to die

[rowavolo]

ayato the type of mf to say "nooo im not hungry" then steal your fries .

[hellogoodbyegirl]

I love how absolutely HAM Roger Hodgson goes on both his keyboard and guitar in the music for In Jeopardy.

[oikasugayama]

If your requests are still opennn—Perhaps an alignment chart or hcs of how easily jealous bsd men are. please if you want!

let's goooo! mildly NSFW, MDNI bc that's awkward for me as an adult

Mori is jealous and quiet. He'll be mostly tame, but if someone really upsets him and makes him jealous, he'll put a hit on them. He wont play around when he feels like someone is threatening his relationship.

Fyodor is very, very similar to Mori in this regard. He won't put up with someone threatening his relationship, but instead of putting a hit on them he'll slowly get more and more sadistic, mentioning personal details about this person and their loved ones and threatening them until they leave you alone and Fyodor is sure they'll never, ever come back into your life.

Akutagawa will seethe and will try to pull you away from whoever is making him jealous. He's so quiet and angry on a general basis that no one can tell he's jealous except for you. You know he is because he pulls you into a nearby lockable room and fucks you over the desk, muttering about how dare someone encroach on his property, and don't you dare ever leave him for some stupid idiot like that.

Chuuya will put up with someone making him jealous for a little while but if it goes on too long or if the person starts to act cocky, he gets pissed. He'll slowly start touching you more and trying to get you away from the person bugging him. Later that night he'll fuck you good and sweetly and reassure you how much he worships you and how no one will ever treat you as well as he does.

Dazai is expected to be loud and whiny and obvious when he's jealous, but he does that for show a lot. When he's really, truly, obviously jealous, he's silent. He's quiet and cold. He'll make snarky remarks and start belittling whoever is bothering him. He's cruel and vicious, like back in his Mafia days. To you he's smug and cool, using his low and level voice until you're squirming and afraid of what he's gonna do. (What he does is fuck you until you're dumb and drooling, too worn out to even speak)

Sigma, Junichiro, and Oda aren't jealous, and they're very chill. Sigma doesn't exactly know to be jealous--you're his and that's basically a contract between you, so he's not worried when someone else shows interest in you. You're lovely, why wouldn't someone else like you? Junichiro may get whiny if he thinks you're giving someone else too much attention, but he isn't jealous in the way that others are. He knows you're coming home to him. Oda thinks you're a free person and can do what you want. He's confident in your relationship. Not jealous.

Bram and Nikolai couldn't give any less of a shit about someone flirting with you. They'll both go sicko mode and kill a man in cold blood if he crosses a line, and they know that everyone knows they think that way, so they're not jealous at all because they're so damn vicious.

Fukuzawa isn't really jealous and he's very calm, but he does like to keep close to you if someone is getting too friendly.

Ranpo will straight up whine and tell someone to leave his partner alone and stop flirting with them. If they don't go away, he'll straight up tell you he's getting jealous and wants to leave.

Poe will write sad mopey poetry about being upset that someone wants you. He'll even get mopey and handsy right in front of them. He feels very insecure when someone flirts with you, so he absolutely is the jealous type and he makes it very obvious. You have to remind him a lot that you want him and no one else.

Ango and Kunikida are similar. No one expected them to be the jealous type, but they both waited for so long to be in a relationship. When they finally found the perfect person adn settled down, they vowed to protect you and that relationship. They get jealous when someone is overstepping, and they get cunty about it. Very passive aggressive, and not afraid to lie to make the person go away or to pull you away. I can see Kunikida early in the relationship being annoyed that you "let" someone make him jealous, but he'll cut that out when you tell him it isn't your damn fault.

Mushitaro is CUNTYYYYYY when he's jealous. He's like if Mori and Fyodor weren't passive aggressive. He'll straight up threaten to murder someone and remind them that his ability lets him commit the perfect crime. He'll insult people, belittle them, do anything to make them go away and then ignore you for a few hours becausea he's mad someone else wanted you.

Atsushi is like Poe in that he's insecure so he gets jealous sometimes in a sad way, but he also gets jealous in a possessive way when someone flirts with you. He's the type to give a devastating one liner ("wow it's so funny that you think you're handsome enough to flirt with my partner (: ") and then he'll take you home and fuck you whiny and needy.

Tachihara is similar to Mushitaro's snippy, rudeness, and he'll fuck the shit out of you in the bathroom so anyone who wanted to flirt with you hears it and knows to leave you alone.

[sailorrhansol]

One in the Grave | 01

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Vernon x Dhampir!Reader (f) 

❀ Summary: Immortal problems require immortal solutions, but you never expected the unlikely help from a vampire lord and the destruction that might come with it. 

❀ Series Word Count: 8,143

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Dystopian,

❀ Type: Unlikely allies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Chapter Warnings: My baby girl has PTSD!!! Very much forgetting where she is sometimes and thinking she’s back in The Bad Place, mentions of past torture and abuse (recalls someone breaking her bones over and over), mentions of mind control/compulsion, mentions of murder, gross ass vampires being killed grossly and sometimes the word choice is icky like did I need to use the word sinew? No but I did. A lot of references to Trauma and Being Traumatized, Jeonghan is funny but also diabolical about said Trauma, lots of blood because this is a vampire fic, fight scenes that idk if they make sense, mentions of disease, like hints of mentions of there being like DiRtY bLoOd classism what else… reader hates herself and it’s Saur Obvious. Reader sort of has an accidental terminator setting when she gets too into fighting and goes Sicko Mode and punches through a vampires chest to rip its heart out idk thats kind graphic

❀ A/N: This chapter took me forever to write because I re-wrote sections so many times, but I'm finally happy with where I ended up. I deviated from my outline almost immediately, but this beginning to this story feels more natural than the original! I am so excited to be writing this and to take you on a very dramatic journey through this vampiric, dystopian world.

A/N 2: Huge thank you to the best beta team a girlie can ask for in @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda because without them, so much of this would not make sense.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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I need not fear the dark. I need not fear the pain. In the dark, I was made. In pain, I become anew. I am the Grim. 

Darkness seeps from the damp walls next to you. The air is foul and wet, leaving a sour taste on your tongue, nearly cloying the back of your throat. There’s no part of the Undercity that isn’t dripping with rot. It clings to your boots as you slip through the tunnels, settling on your skin as you turn a corner.

Water drips in several of the tunnels. You can hear the soft splash as the drops hit the puddles, the only sound in the deep dark. You frown - you know you’re not alone. The underground paths leading to the heart of the Undercity might seem empty, but they are never what they appear to be.

On instinct, you take a left. Even in the dark, you can see the general lay of the land, a complex network of abandoned, vampire-made passageways under the city of Black Harbor. The tunnels go farther than the city walls, stretching beneath the human districts in the Tombstones and ending at random stop points in the Wilds. 

Another left and you’ll be heading east toward the coast. Even the old vampires would lose their way in the tunnels - everything looks and smells the same. You’re not one of them, though, and you’ve learned these tunnels by heart. Could navigate them even without your sharp vision. 

A wet step catches your attention. You stop and crouch low, looking ahead. Dark shapes blend together. Even with enhanced vision, you can only see so far in the Undercity, the general darkness blending together. 

But you can hear. 

Another wet step catches your ears. You close your eyes and focus on the sounds. The steady drip drip drip of the pipes brackets the sound of a soft hissing - not hissing. Sniffing. Scenting.

Without wind in the Undercity, you don’t have to worry about the breeze carrying your scent. Still, the things lurking in the dark, especially recently, are better at smelling the difference between what’s alive and what’s dead. You straddle the line between, but you’re alive enough. 

Slowly, your hand reaches up behind your back, grasping the leather handle of your blade. The scenting stops and you hear a soft grinding sound, like teeth gnashing, followed by slow steps. You pull your blade out the rest of the way, twisting it in your hand and taking a slow, deep breath. 

The steps stop for a moment - and then something is running, the wet slap deafening in the silence of the tunnels. You poise yourself, leaning a little forward, ready to throw your weight into your strike. You’ll need to be fast.

Out of the darkness, a loping humanoid shape appears. The Rabid looks more or less human from a distance, but as it gets closer, you see everything wrong with it: crimson eyes as a result of broken blood vessels, bulging veins as a result of swelling before the host died, rows of serrated teeth, and twitching, dislocated limbs.

Nothing about a Rabid is human. Nothing about a Rabid is really a vampire, either. Though they’re a vampire species, they lack the fundamental ability for cognitive function, and are thus only driven by the need to feed insatiably. 

Human-shaped but twisted by post-mortem metamorphosis, whatever person they used to be before Red Fever infected them and killed them is gone. In the place of what used to be a person is a genderless cryptid with muscular, half-rotted bodies and nails like talons. They’re more bedtime story monsters than they are anything else, and you’re running around their home in the dark. 

The feral hunger works in your favor. The Rabid misses on its first swing as you duck, throwing your weight into your thrust as you plunge the sword through the creature’s abdomen. It screams, striking at you again but you’re already moving, keeping your momentum going as you pull the weapon with you, the sucking sound of the blade pulling from its stomach sickening. 

It isn’t the worst sound you’ve heard, and you don’t let it stop you as you spin on your heel, slicing wickedly at the Rabid’s head. It ducks, though, sensing the attack as it scrambles away from you, curling inward as it bleeds from the middle. The wound won’t kill it, but making them bleed is key.

Blood is imperative to a Rabid’s strength. The more blood they’ve ingested recently, the stronger they are. Severing limbs and damaging the heart that pumps blood through the system - or removing it entirely - is important. 

The creature turns to face you again. You spin the blade, point it toward the Rabid and take a wide stance, one foot forward and one foot backward with your weight centered on the back foot. Any other foe with a thinking, calculating sense would try to assess. The Rabid does not, driving forward again with a snarl, jaw extending beyond a normal human’s with the intention to bite down wherever it can. 

Spinning to the side, your sword arm follows your momentum, coming down hard on the back of the Rabid’s neck. You hear the crack of bone as it cuts, your sword carving easily. The head separates from the rest of the body, thudding against the wet floor of the tunnel. 

There’s no time to worry about burning the body yet. More hisses slither up the tunnel and the wet slap of feet rushing toward you is warning enough that other Rabids have been alerted. 

That’s fine. You step away from the slain beast and face the source of the noise, taking your stance again, muscles coiled, heart pounding as your blood rushes. You feel the adrenaline mount, hitting your system like a high, pulse throbbing, focus narrowing.  

Kill. Kill. 

The impulse is fleeting, there and gone again. You grimace and swallow down the instinct to fall into a blind rage. Using bloodlust to fuel your fighting is a side effect of how you’ve been conditioned and taught - one you’re trying to get rid of. It might make you fight better, but it’s hard to escape the undercurrent of the frenzy once you let it pull you under. 

They charge, hissing and snarling as they go. There is nothing planned or in sync about their attack. Rabids may sometimes linger near one another or nest together, but there’s no pack mentality, no strategy to the way they move. It makes it easy to take them down, but easy to get overwhelmed if there are too many.

Three isn’t bad. You cut through them with concise, sharp movements. Fighting Rabids isn’t like fighting sentient creatures. It’s not a dance, but there is a chopping rhythm to it, a hack and step that feels like a pattern as you go. 

Step step slash. Step step stab. Step step duck. Step step slash. 

When it’s done, sweat beads at the back of your neck. Silence falls in the damp passageways of the Undercity. You stand, hardly winded with your sword dripping in ichor, looking down both of the hallways that bracket you on either side. 

Nothing else comes. 

You flick your sword hand, freeing it from some of the gore before digging into one of your pockets, fishing out a small bottle and cloth. Carefully you uncap the bottle and tilt your blade point down, pommel near your face. You squeeze liquid out over the metal, hearing the hiss as the antiseptic eats at the foul blood on the weapon before stoppering and putting it back in your pocket. 

With delicacy, you wipe the cloth on the flat of the blade, cleaning it. Sheathing the blade, you reach into another pocket, pulling out a small tablet of firestarter. You snap it in half and toss it onto the pile of bodies, flames catching immediately. 

The sudden light makes your vision flash white for just a moment before it adjusts. The darkness hovers at the edge of the light like a hungry, creeping thing. In the firelight, you see the dispatched bodies of the dead, once victims to the virus that killed them and turned them into the mindless, frenzied creatures that lurk in the Undercity tunnels and the Wilds. 

Not even the rats come down here. At least, the uninfected ones don’t. Even a rat makes a good meal for the feral creatures of the Undercity. 

There was a time when you would have fed on the rats in the Undercity. A time you were so hungry, you gave into your primal instincts. A time when you were so hungry for love and approval from your master that you would do - and did - anything for it. Giving into bloodlust when fighting and becoming a mindless tool was easy, back then. 

Fresh air greets you as you climb the rusty, iron ladder to the surface. It’s cold outside, autumn wind stinging the sweat on the back of your neck when you finally pull yourself out of the hole and flip the heavy, metal lid over one of many entrances to the Undercity. 

An empty quad of an abandoned school surrounds you, crumbling brick buildings empty save for rotted furniture and dust, walls blown in and cracked from some skirmish during The Fall. The schoolyard grass is overgrown, brushing against your hips as you begin your routine, movements down to a science. 

First, you pull the bottle of antiseptic out of your pocket and clean your hands before pulling out cleaning supplies from your pack. Then, you pull off all your clothes, cool air making the hair on your arms stand on end. The cold gets worse when you begin to wipe your skin with sticky antiseptic pads, tossing them into a pile on the ground as you go. 

The routine is robotic. Disinfect. Take off your clothes. Disinfect. Put on new clothes. Disinfect. Put old clothes in a bio-safe bag to clean them later and burn the wipes. 

Getting the virus isn’t likely for you, but you never take the chance, especially living in the human districts on the outskirts of the city. Red Fever hasn’t plagued the mortal population in a few years, but a single outbreak could make the community collapse.

And the vampires in the city wouldn’t help. They never do, even as those living under their jurisdiction get picked off by Rabids, vampires undermining the law, and other things lurking in the ruins just outside of Black Harbor. 

No blood tax, no protection.

The sentiment makes you grit your teeth as you watch the antiseptic wipes turn to flames, then to embers, then to ashes. You can smell the fumes fade with the wind, along with the sound of a soft footfall. 

You wheel around, unsheathing the weapon at your feet as you spin, pointing the tip of your blade at the figure behind you. Jeonghan seems unphased, looking down the sharp edge of the sword with a lopsided grin. 

“Sloppy, little sister.”

“Oh fuck you.” Your muscles unclench and you spin the weapon, sheathing it. Jeonghan’s hands are in his pockets, eyes twinkling as he watches you. “What do you want?” 

“I can’t check up on you?”

“Not usually, no.”

Jeonghan doesn’t check up on you. At least, not in the way you imagine normal siblings might. Jeonghan isn’t a normal sibling, though. He’s hardly a sibling at all - you share a bloodsire, not a biological parent. Blood kin would be a more apt term for the familial bond between you.

Still, when you think back on your life, Jeonghan has always been there. Fills the corners of your memories as a steady hand, a vicious thorn in your side, a confidant, an enemy, a rival.

“You like visiting the Undercity these days. Perhaps I, too, am nostalgic.” 

“I don’t visit for nostalgia,” you snap. You strap the sword belt across your chest, the weight against your back a great comfort. “Don’t goad me.” 

Jeonghan looks the same as he always has in the last hundred or some odd years. He’d stopped aging - as most dhampirs do - sometime in his thirties. His round, youthful face, and gentle eyes hide the demon within. Hundreds have fallen prey to Jeonghan’s saccharine smile and false, gentle disposition. 

Wolf in lamb’s clothing. 

“You’re no fun. Junhui is so much nicer to me when I visit.”

“Jun is nice to everyone.” 

“Maybe you should take notes. Your neighbors might like you more.” You pause, looking at him with narrowed eyes. His grin spreads. “You think I don’t know where you live?” 

“What do you want?” 

“I need your assistance.” 

“Doubt it.”

“Not everyone is a monster-slaying machine like you are. Some of us actually take the time to enjoy our freedom.”

Freedom. 

A word you don’t quite understand. You might have gotten rid of the master holding your leash, but her influence is still heavy enough to control everything you do, even now. Freedom doesn’t exist for someone like you. Not really. You’re shackled by your inability to make your own choices, and the only things you’re good at are the things Lilith made you learn. 

I need not fear the dark. I need not fear the pain. In the dark, I was made. In pain, I become anew. I am the Grim. 

Most of your life has been spent in the service of killing your blood mother’s enemies, helping her carve her empire out in the world left over from the destruction of humankind. You’d also helped defeat her, but the absolution of ridding the world of her is not nearly enough to wipe out the long list of foul deeds to your name.

“You don’t have to help me.” Jeonghan’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “However, I do not like the idea of going into a Rabid nest alone.”

“You want my help with a Rabid nest? Why?”

“There’s something inside of the building that a client needs. Some Rabids happen to have made it a home.”

You study him. He’s dressed in all-black dress pants and a black button-up, an equally black blazer thrown on over it. Jeonghan looks the part of casual elegance, a fine piece of art that is out of place in the middle of the abandoned bones of what was once a school, you think.

“Why me?”

“I need a weapon.” His mouth quirks. “Plus, I like you.”

“No, you don’t.” 

“I do! You’re my favorite sister.” 

“I’m the only sister you have that’s still alive.”

He holds up a finger to present his counterargument. “I killed our last sister but I haven’t killed you. If that’s not favoritism, what is?” 

You walk past him, heading toward Black Harbor. “I want half of whatever you’re being paid.”

“Thirty percent.” 

“Thirty-five.”

“Deal.”

Jeonghan catches up to you easily, hands still tucked into his pockets in that casual way of his. His hair is a little longer than you remember, tucked behind his ears as he smiles, happy to have you onboard for whatever it is he’s roped you into. 

It isn’t the first time he’s sought you out for assistance - especially for killing - and you know it won’t be the last. Of all your blood kin, Jeonghan is the one who keeps in contact with you the most. Junhui might be sweet and fond of you, as is his way, but you’re too volatile for him, made to be loved at a distance. 

None of your siblings love you, though. You don’t think any of the children of Lilith have the ability to love. It was bred out of you early and punished if it tried to crawl back in. Even loyalty to anyone but your master in the Undercity was punished. 

Neither of you asks how the other is. Jeonghan won’t answer you honestly and you suspect he knows exactly how you’ve been. The not-so-retired spymaster has a network of little spiders in his web, scrambling back and forth to feed him information on any number of people. 

You wonder if this is what freedom means to him. After living his entire life in the service of your shared sire, Jeonghan seems to have mastered his destiny, using the skills he was taught to climb the ranks among the vampires of Black Harbor and sit pretty. Still, in a way, he’s reverted to old habits just like you have, buying and selling secrets to keep himself safe like he did in the old days.

Maybe freedom is an illusion. 

The blasted landscape around you doesn’t change as you walk eastward. Nameless buildings and road structures spread out in either direction. Cracked, broken, and decayed is an apt description for most things outside of the city, especially the closer you get to the Wild. 

You turn northeast, heading toward the bridge that leads into Black Harbor. It’s roughly an hour's walk directly into the city from the abandoned schoolyard where you entered the Undercity. It isn’t the only entrance to the underground network, nor is it the closest, but it’s the most reliable and you don’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on you.

Unless they’re a former resident themself, which are in rare numbers. 

“Where is this Rabid nest?” you ask as the night deepens. The cool air kisses the back of your neck and lifts strands of Jeonghan’s inky hair. Above, the moon is swollen and momentarily hidden behind thick clouds. 

“The old museum right outside the West End.” 

You glance sideways at him. “That museum was an epicenter of outbreaks. No wonder there’s a nest.” 

“Good thing we’re immune then, hmm?”

“We’re not immune, Jeonghan. Resistant and immune aren’t the same thing.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I survived the disease for two hundred years in the Undercity. And you have your nice little disinfectant wipes, don’t you?” Jeonghan pauses and looks you up and down, pointing at the ashes of your burnt pile. “Why do you do that, by the way? To protect that fragile little human community you live in?”

Yes, you want to say. Instead, you say nothing at all. Jeonghan might be half-human like you, but he has little empathy for them in general, unlike you. He tends to align himself with whoever he benefits the most from, and the humans have certainly never been in a position to help him out. 

Not that they would. Most humans don’t assign a difference between vampires and dhampir. Your human neighbors might tolerate your presence, but it’s just that - tolerance. As soon as they feel threatened by you, they’ll hire someone to try and kill you, as is the way in the Tombstones.  

Jeonghan scoffs. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sentiment.”

“Rather auspicious for you, wouldn’t you say brother?” 

He grins but doesn’t respond, tilting his head up toward the sky. 

Gravel crunches beneath your feet. You keep a sweeping gaze on the quiet world around you. Crickets quiet as you pass, waiting until you’re out of range before taking up their song again. When the clouds move away from the moon, the world turns grey. 

Nothing disturbs the two of you on your walk. You spot a feral pack of cats with sharp eyes watching from the long grass. You can sense them assessing you, deciding if you’re prey or predator. They remain in their clutch of darkness. Predator, then. 

Jeonghan doesn’t strike up a conversation again as you walk. Instead of trying to get him to divulge details, you go through what you know about the old museum near the West End. It was a hot spot for breakouts early on during The Fall, and after Black Harbor became a city-state, it remained an issue under the jurisdiction of the Chwe family for years. 

A center of resources, it had been targeted early on as humans tried to build communities and safeholds in a rapidly apocalyptic world. The museum has the space to house the  resources, and protection that people brought to form a community, turning it into a quarantine zone at the very start of The Fall. Any building large enough to house a community center had people flocking to build safe zones, eager to recommission the square footage and walls into quarantined housing and living centers.

And they fell just as quickly. 

Disease has no consideration for isolation, though. Particularly one as contagious and debilitating as Red Fever. In most cases, people killed themselves once they realized they had the fever. Suffering through the hemorrhaging and the madness wasn’t worth the small chance of turning into a vampire post-death, and carriers were too dangerous to be kept alive anyway. Accusations of sickness were as deadly as catching the virus itself. 

The museum still remained a problem even after the collapse of its original community. Humans like to stick to what they know, rebuilding on old ground and trying to salvage what was left before them. Perhaps the human communities there could have flourished if the guard in the West End did anything to keep the Rabids and the rogue bands of vampires from decimating them, but anything outside of the official city limits of Black Harbor was only under the jurisdiction of the Chwe family, not the protection.

Those who wanted to be saved had to pay the blood tax, and most people weren’t even eligible for the blood tax, as picky as the vampires were with their qualifications and standards for clean, safe blood. 

Salt tinged the air as you approached the official demarcation line of the Tombstones. It wasn’t an official name, but there was no point in giving it a real name - it was expendable ground, as far as Lord Chwe and his family were concerned. 

Old, rusted piles of metal were pushed to the edges of the pavement to make way for the few operational vehicles that dared to travel outside of the city, creating the illusion that the road was lined by dead, decayed beetles. 

Sounds from the city drift over the water and toward you. Lights in the distance glitter over the wall, skyscrapers bright against the dark swath of sky. The dichotomy between visions of human destruction and vampiric ascension always strikes you, the discordant images the perfect depiction of your two worlds.

“Why don’t you visit Jun anymore?” Jeonghan’s question catches you off guard. You tear your eyes away from the shimmering city to look at the dhampir next to you. His hands are still tucked in his pocket, the picture of cool and casual. 

“I don’t think he wants me to.” 

Jeonghan frowns. “That seems unlikely.” 

“I assumed I reminded him too much of ho- of the Undercity.” 

“I still think of it as home too, sometimes.” You don’t answer for a moment, unsure where the conversation is leading. Jeonghan is a storm of unpredictability, his desires changing direction with the wind. “Is it because you feel guilty?” 

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who wants my help.”

“I’m in the business of asking questions, little sister. Consider it the desire to see my siblings happy. One seems dead set on never shedding the victimhood of her past and one is too afraid to tell his siblings he’s lonely out of fear of rejection.” 

You ignore the barb. “Good. Loneliness is temporary. He’s better off without me around.”

He makes a sound of disgust. “You were always such a self-righteous wretch. Spare me the I have done evil and should avoid the world speech.” 

“You asked me!” 

“I thought after fifty years you might be less insufferable!” He shoots back, taking his hands out of his pocket to throw them up. “I should have known better. Now come on, if you’re so hellbent on living your life in permanent apology, you can come kill these Rabids for me.”

“I’m insufferable?” 

Irritation shoots through you as Jeonghan speeds up, ignoring your question. The wind is stronger near the coast, ripping at the end of his blazer and lifting his hair. You scowl behind him, fists clenching and aching to punch him in the back of the head.

Jeonghan thinks everything is so easy. You’ve never known him to feel things as trivial as guilt or empathy, able to rationalize his way out of feeling a modicum of responsibility for anything he does. 

So why do you help him? You always find yourself asking the same question every time he appears with a task or to poke at you. The answer, you think, is simple enough: he’s a constant. He was there when you were born, he was there when you were molded, and he was there when you suffered. 

Suffered together. 

Despite the way Jeonghan trivializes your grief, there are few people left in the world who can relate to you. Junhui shares the same past, but you don’t know how to face him. Don’t know how to look the gentlest of your siblings in the eye without feeling like you’re reminding him of everything he’s suffered.

And Jeonghan’s presence is comforting, in a way. The familiarity makes you feel easy, though dealing with him is anything but. 

You don’t know whether he feels the same sense of attachment to you or not. You’re unsure most days whether he sticks his nose in your business for the brief familiarity of it or because he considers you an asset to his growing power. 

The latter is the most likely. 

Wind scatters leaves across the pavement. Ahead, the museum looms like a skeleton bathed grey in the night. Somewhere, metal groans and creaks as it moves in the breeze. It makes you think of a phantom moaning, a shiver sliding down your spine as Jeonghan walks straight for the doors of the building. 

The doors to the museum are shattered. Glass and gravel crack beneath Jeonghan’s feet as he climbs the steps and stops just beyond the entryway, his hands tucked into his pocket as he cranes his neck upward to assess the full scope of the building. 

You pause next to him. You inhale again. You don’t get much of a scent on anything but the ocean air, but it doesn’t mean there’s not something deep in the guts of the building. 

“Well?” you ask, looking at Jeonghan. “Do you know where in this building you need to look? It’s pretty large.” 

“Hall of Human Life.”

“That’s… ironic.”

His grin is beatific. “Shall we?” 

As someone who frequents a variety of abandoned buildings, you’ve always been of the opinion that all empty buildings have the same dead, empty feel to them. You’ve long thought that none was more or less creepy than the others, but now you know you were decidedly incorrect. 

There is something haunting about the museum. Evidence of human life is everywhere as you pass destroyed exhibits on life and science, but also sections you can tell were made for the communities that tried to set up here. 

Sections of the building had been remade to house living quarters and even what appears to be a botanical section. Untended, the plant life has consumed the west end of the building, mostly weeds and unuseful vines stretching their fingers across cracked tiled and concrete. 

Your swordhand flexes, ready to reach behind your back at a moment’s notice. You don’t hear or smell Rabids, but you come across the evidence of them soon enough - scattered bones and human carcasses, rotted blood stains on the floors and steps as you descend deeper into the darkness of the building. 

It’s hard to discern what any of the exhibits used to be. Time and civilization have erased all but the bones of each, leaving you to guess what they are as you pass. You’re about to ask Jeonghan if he has any idea where the Hall of Human Life is when you smell it.

“Blood,” you murmur, hand going to your blade and pulling it silent from the sheath. “East.” 

He glances at you and sniffs. “I don’t smell anything.” 

“You aren’t a trained bloodhound.” 

You’d trust Jeonghan if he were profiling someone and detailing every part of their life, psychology and desires. His skill has always been of a manipulation and information collecting sort, not the hunting and stick-a-knife-in-someone sort. 

He follows you silently, slipping a deadly throwing star from his sleeve. You raise a brow. “I’m surprised you're armed.”

“I’m always armed, little sister.”

The sound of something snapping catches your attention and you hold out your hand, stopping him. Even he knows to obey you here. You listen and hear the sounds of crunching. Something breaking. Chewing, you realize. It is the sound of bones being snapped and the grind of teeth. 

For a second, you’re not in the museum anymore. You’re in a dark room, the snap of bone sharp and loud against your ears. The sensation is worse than the sound, though. You feel the bolt of sharp, uncontrolled pain shoot through your leg from your thigh to your hip. It is agonizing, stopping you from thinking of anything else but the outrageous pulse of pain. 

Your hand shoots to your thigh, feeling the phantom pressure of the foot as it fractures your femur again, the sneered voice telling you to stop your screaming as it steps down again, broken bone stabbing-

Jeonghan’s voice startles you. “You’re not there.”

Glancing to the side, you see Jeonghan watching you. His expression is unreadable, dark eyes pinning you to the place you stand. You realize your hand is hovering over your leg and you swear you feel the ghost of pain from the break. From the sound of the snap. 

You don’t remember Jeonghan being there for that. Lilith had ordered Silas to break your bones over and over again. To make you used to the pain. To rebreak them when they healed. If you were ever captured and tortured, you needed to know pain. It needed to be an old friend, not something that could break you. 

Then again, you’re sure Jeonghan’s been broken too. All of your siblings have known the torture of Silas, the perfect tool of to train Lilith’s children to develop no fear against pain. 

There’s a flicker of kinship with Jeonghan until he mutters, “Experience trauma on your own time. I need you focused.”

Right. You’re here to help him do a job for money, not because you’re spending time together bonding as blood kin. When you really think about it, little adventures full of violence are the way you two often bond, even when you were under the thumb of Lilith. 

Instead of shooting an insult at him, you creep forward, knees slightly bent and ready to spring. He follows you, a lithe shadow as you slip into the darkness.

Blood permeates the air in the underground level of the museum. At the foot of an unlit staircase, you step into a lobby of sorts. There are multiple metal, double doors leading into a room beyond. Over the doorway is a broken sign with missing letters: all man Li. 

You snort and Jeonghan gives you a questioning look. You point toward the letters with your sword and whisper, “All man lie. All men lie.”

“Poetic. I suppose it was once Hall of Human Life.” You nod. “Rather inconvenient.” 

Here, the sounds of multiple mouths chewing on flesh is louder. Wetter. You grimace and hope that the victims were dead long before they were dragged back to be made a meal of. Most Rabids won’t bring food back to a nest, too hungry and eager to eat right when they kill.

Blood is heavy in the air. Jeonghan’s nose flares and you know he smells it too. The scent is sweet like mulled wine with a hint of underlying fruit. Human. They always smelled sweet to you, something about them fragrant. A flicker of hunger burns through you and then is snuffed out. You don’t need blood and you don’t want it, especially with no way of knowing where it’s been or who it's from. 

Getting infected doesn’t matter to Rabids. They’ve already suffered Red Fever and died, turning into  mindless, feral vampires. To you, making sure you don’t contaminate yourself will be important, no matter how high your tolerance to the disease is. 

Jeonghan taps his wrist as though he’s wearing a watch. You hold out a hand to tell him to be patient. You don’t know how many Rabids are on the other side of the doors, but from the grunting and amount of blood you can smell, you think it’s at least five. Maybe more. 

Freshly fed Rabids will be a bitch to fight. You’ve never been inside the Hall of Human Life, but you don’t like the idea of walking into the nest blind and trying to fight without knowing how much space you have to fight. You also don’t want to fight where they have access to blood when they need it. 

You settle on an idea, though you don’t like it much. 

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” He doesn’t answer, side eyeing you. “I just need to know how long you think it will take once you’re in the room.” 

“I know what I’m looking for.” 

“Great. Go hide in that far corner by the bathrooms.”

He frowns. “Why - what are you doing?” 

Without a second thought, you bring your free hand up to the sword and run your palm across it. You barely feel the sting of the cut, watching as the blood pools in your palm, welling up. 

Silence. 

Jeonghan realizes it too, bolting from the foot of the stairs to the dark corner of the lobby and into the bathrooms just as the sound of hissing rises up behind the doors. You take a step backward, foot on the bottom stair as you watch the door. You need the Rabids to frenzy and hunt you  - you should be able to make it to the main lobby or outside, giving you room to fight and -

They burst through the doors. You turn on your heel and jump, clearing the steps easily. They’re snarling behind you, tripping over themselves as they chase after the scent of live, fresh blood. 

You squeeze your fist as you go, making sure to keep them on your trail while you tear through the museum the way you came. It has the desired effect, working up the monsters into a violent mania as they close in on you. 

Looking over your shoulder to see how many of them isn’t an option. You just keep running, nearing the front of the museum as you take a corner, skidding as you go. The front doors are just ahead, the moonlit world just beyond. You pump your legs harder, tearing over the concrete floor.

Just as you vault over the threshold of the door, something hits you from the side. The force is jarring, your teeth snapping together in an explosion of pain as you hit the ground, sword slipping from your grasp. You barely manage to avoid cracking your head on concrete.

Instinct takes over. You thrust a hand forward, catching the Rabid by the throat as it gnashes its teeth at you. The others are at the door now, screaming and howling like a savage pack of wolves. Even dazed, you find the sense to throw your weight against the creature, rolling over and throwing it off of you.

Your attacker hits the steps but scrambles back toward you. It doesn’t matter. You only need a moment to roll and collect your discarded sword, swiveling on a knee as it lurches at you. Steel connects with flesh and severs the head easily. 

There’s no time to celebrate. You dive from the stairs, careful not to stab yourself in the stomach as another Rabid swings a clawed hand at you. Panting, you get to your feet, turning to face them as you skip backward toward the street. 

Ten Rabids fan out on the steps, but they pause their attack. You grip your sword, waiting for them to keep the feral pursuit. Instead, they seem to be waiting for something, swiveling their heads and looking around. 

You don’t like that. Rabids don’t hunt in packs, despite sometimes sharing a nest, and the image of them all hesitating together in sync is alarming. Worse, you realize they’re starting to make sounds, an intonation deep in their throat that almost reminds you of frogs in the rain during summer. Their heads pivot, looking at you and then looking at one another as they softly call to one another like they’re… talking. 

A chill runs through you. You’ve never seen them talk before, and certainly not before attacking. They should be in a blood frenzy, killing each other to get to you, even. 

One of them lets out the loudest shriek you’ve ever heard, your ears ringing. You nearly drop your sword in surprise. You take several steps back, suddenly unsure of your situation. 

The Rabids begin to slink down the steps. As they do, a figure appears on the roof, its shadow dark against the brightness of the moon. For a split second you think it might be Jeonghan, but then it leaps, flying over the heads of the skulking Rabids to land only a few feet away from you.

“What the fuck are you?” you mutter, pointing your sword at it. 

And it is an it. You have no idea what it is. The creature looks like a Rabid. It has blotchy skin where the fever bursted capillaries and blood red eyes, but it stands straighter than Rabids, eerily still, regarding you - and there’s a crude sword at its hip. 

You’ve never seen them carry weapons before - they shouldn’t know how to use them. They were named Rabids because they lack the function of their frontal and parietal lobes, making them lesser vampires that can only operate on base animal instinct, driven entirely by the vampiric nature to consume. 

Rabids communicating is alien enough, but carrying a sword? You have no idea if it knows how to use the weapon, but when it unsheathes the sword and takes a stance, you can’t help but feel a tiny pulse of doubt. It uses that moment to attack, striking forward stiffly as though to gut you. 

At the same time, the non-intelligent Rabids attack. Cursing, you dodge the stab and run, trying to put distance between you. The leader stalks after you, weapon in hand; its gait smoother than the broken movements typical of the species but not exactly fast. 

One of the non-intelligent ones gives chase to your flight, giving in to bloodlust. You face it and sidestep easily, bring your sword down on the back of its neck as you do. It cleaves cleanly, blood spraying upward. Two more of them lose their grip on logic and follow suit, only to join their slain nestmate on the ground.

The leader snarls angrily - not at you but at the other Rabids. They chatter and skitter back, letting the one with the sword take charge again, flanking it like they’ve been chastised. 

You keep your weapon pointed at the leader. They attack together again. This time, you’re ready for it, meeting your opponent’s blow. The ring of metal echoes and you feel the force of the hit vibrate down your arm. You don’t let it stop your momentum, leaning to plant a hard kick in one of the other’s chests.

A rib cage cracks. You don’t stop. You duck under a claw and parry another attack, always moving, always fluid. You dispose of another Rabid before blocking another sword swing.

With a growl, you push your weight into the block, surging against the lead Rabid. It’s not a good swordsman, and though its reflexes are better than its wild counterparts, you shove the lead Rabid several feet away from you, tripping it up and sending it careening. You can’t take the opportunity to finish it off as the non-intelligent Rabids press in. Thankfully one gets too close and you cut through its neck.

Something zings past your head, hitting one of the remaining creatures in the throat. It cuts through easily, the body and head falling in separate directions. You turn around to see Jeonghan on the stairs, silver shurikens flashing in his hands. 

“Your friend has a sword,” he calls, looking at the intelligent Rabid and pointing. “How did it get a sword?” 

“Let me ask,” you call back. Some of the Rabids slink toward your brother, splitting up to fight both threats. “Hey, where did you get the sword?”

The lead Rabid doesn’t answer. “He didn’t say!” you shout back to Jeonghan over your shoulder. “Should I ask in Lilin or-”

The lead Rabid cuts you off as it attacks, swinging blindingly fast, grunting as it does. It manages to strike your ribcage, sword too dull to pierce skin but you feel the rupture of blinding pain as it breaks your ribs. A wild shriek of rage escapes your throat as you stumble away from it, gasping. 

Breathing hurts, the stabbing ache stunning you for a second. The Rabid seems to be satisfied - if they can feel at all - and it enrages you. Better creatures and fighters have never landed a blow on you, and a thoughtless creature catching you off guard is…

Shameful. 

If this were another time, you’d have been beaten for this kind of embarrassment. Letting a less skilled opponent get the jump on you because you were joking is unacceptable. The shame quickly gives way to anger. Anger gives way to wrath. Your shaking hands still suddenly, and you feel your rage center your focus to a needle-thin point. 

You’re no longer in the middle of the street fighting a nest of Rabids. Now, you’re in the cold undertow of something you try to never let out, that you try to keep buried down deep within you. 

Kill kill kill.

Metal meets metal. You barely remember lifting your sword to attack, slamming your weapon down into the lead Rabid’s sword so hard that the beast makes a sound of surprise, dancing away from you a few feet. You stride toward it, undeterred, a vice grip on your weapon as you stalk forward. 

Kill kill kill.

Another blow sends your opponent's sword flying. You don’t follow through with your weapon. Instead, you punch forward with your free hand, barely feeling the crack of bone against bone. You break through muscle and sinew, feel the scrape of ribs as your fist bursts through the lead Rabid’s chest. 

Its heart only pulses for a moment in your hand, throbbing faster than your own heartbeat. The lead Rabid doesn’t move, body frozen as the source needed to pump its blood is suddenly gone. It dies on your arm, the deadweight pulling your limb down as you slide it off of you. 

Kill kill kill.

You turn and see Jeonghan fighting admirably despite being outnumbered. You prowl toward the Rabids, hissing and drawing the attention of the ones closest to you as you go. 

You hate them. You want to destroy them. You want to win and kill and-

One leaps at you and you cleave downward. It isn’t an elegant swing, but it’s efficient and strong. Blood wets your skin and you swing again, hearing metal meet flesh. A high-pitched whining rings in your ears. You taste ichor in your mouth but you don’t care, sliding to a knee as you cut through the leg of a Rabid. It goes down and you follow through with the neck. 

Kill kill kill. 

You hack through its neck again. And again and again and again.

Suddenly the Rabid isn’t a Rabid. It’s a cherub face with red painted lips and sleepy, green eyes. It’s apple cheekbones and pearly fangs. It’s silky auburn hair and the smell of sugar and vanilla. 

Lilith. 

You hack again and again and again. 

Kill kill kill. 

If you don’t kill her, she’ll own you forever. It has to be permanent, but making it permanent is so hard. Her command to spare her burns through you, liquid hell in your veins as she says your name, over and over and over, trying to grip your thoughts and -

Someone shouts your name. 

The memory fades. You aren’t killing Lilith and you aren’t in the palace of the Undercity. You’re not a scared little dhampir trying to claw her way free from mind control. But you are covered in blood and your thoughts are a little hazy as you look up, dazed. 

Jeonghan stands a few feet away from you. Right. Jeonghan. Jeonghan is here with you and you are helping him retrieve something from a Rabid nest. You’re not there, you are here. Above ground. And Lilith’s dead.

“Get up,” Jeonghan mutters through clenched teeth. For a second, you think he’s disgusted with you. That he’s realized how deep your inability to control your fear and memories goes. Then he flicks his eyes toward the city. “The West End guard is here.” 

When you turn toward the city, shocked, you realize Jeonghan is right. Members of the city guard loyal to the Chwe family step into the ring of carnage, all six of them quiet and poised. The one at the point is tall and broad, dark hair swept neatly out of his tan face, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. You’d think he was handsome if didn’t look like he was going to kill you. 

“Well,” the guard chuckles. “Looks like this Rabid frenzied and killed the rest of them before we got here. That makes this easy.”

It takes a moment for his words to register. To lock in what he means. Rabid. They think you’re a Rabid.

“I’m-” your voice is raw and broken. You heave in air and then gasp when it feels like a knife has slipped between your ribs, remembering they’re broken. You immediately fall into a triage routine, regulating your breathing to ensure none of your breaths are too deep or too often. “Not Rabid.”

The guard at the front unsheathes his sword. It’s beautifully made, and you see the Chwe family crest glint on the hilt. “I know a Rabid when I see one.” 

“Really, Mingyu?” a new voice asks, deep and soft. “Have you ever heard a Rabid speak? Then again, they’re apparently wielding swords.” 

A man steps around the guard - Mingyu - and looks you up and down. He’s made up of midnight - dark hair, darker eyes, dark presence, though his skin is smooth and pale as the moon. His mouth quirks to the side and he tilts his head, watching you with mild interest. A lock of dark hair falls into his eyes.

He’s beautiful. It’s your first thought and you immediately hate him for it. Vampires that look like him know what they look like, and they use it to their full advantage. The Undercity was swimming with ethereal faces and diabolical desires. 

“Dhampirs,” the pretty one muses. “Huh. How fascinating.” 

“A dhampir?” Mingyu asks again, face scrunched up and unsure.

“Use that big nose of yours,” one of the other guards taunts Mingyu. “You can smell the blood.”

“Shut up, Chan. I can’t smell anything but that fucking awful cologne you wear.” 

“My cologne is not awful!”

The pretty vampire glances at his bickering guards and then back to you. “You’ll have to excuse the manners.” His eyes dart to your chest and he looks puzzled. “Your heart is beating too fast for a dhampir. Perhaps you are infected.”  

“She’s broken a fair few of her ribs and her wrist.” You look up in surprise, almost having forgotten Jeognhan was there. He is stone still, face unreadable as his gaze darts back and forth between them all. “She also just killed about eight of those things - bit of an adrenaline junky, this one. I’d like to take her to a blood bank to assist with her healing process, if I may, My Lord.”

He would? How Not-Jeonghan of him. Your realization of him using my lord is delayed, the word choice hitting you as the pretty vampire waves his hand. “We’ve got blood; we can treat her. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask some questions about… well, this. The offer for treatment is contingent that neither of you are infected, of course.” 

Jeonghan’s expression is tight but he bows his head, posture stiff. “Your timing is auspicious and your kindness a welcome gift. You have our most eternal gratitude. We would be happy to answer questions, Lord Chwe.” 

“Vernon,” the vampire says, gaze flickering back to you and darkening a little. “You can call me Vernon.” 

TAG LIST:

@hipsdofangirl @jacixbliss @chronicfic @jespecially @asyre @todorokiskitten

[animesickos]

OUT NOW: Shevvy from the incredible comedy sensation Crawfish Comic goes guesto mode! We go nuts over how much we like Shevvy's work, and they explain the ethos and philosophy that leads to comics where a whale says "im a whale and even i think this is crasy." Culture today is a diseased mutant thing and Crawfish Comic is a beacon of purity and it kicks ass, this ep rules pictured: realistic scene of da recording process (microphones removed due to artistic license)

[crappymixtape]

crappymixtape recos

going to try and do this at least once a month – sharing fics that have just blown me away ❤ so many talented writers on here omg 🥺 show them some love and BE KIND, REBLOG! xoxo, 💿

♥️  holding hands with steve – @upsidedownwithsteve ( steve and unconciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping or not realizing they’re holding hands til someone points it out • steve harrington x reader, fluff, hurt / comfort )

♥️  driving mr. harrington – @upsidedownwithsteve ( blurb prompt → steve and driving lessons, and let me tell you, no one is surprised at how damn sweet this is • steve harrington x reader, ALL fluff )

♥️  i guess it's never really over series, 18+ only– @loveshotzz ( a summer back in hawkins with your best friend and the boy you’ve done nothing but try to forget • mechanic!steve harrington x reader, smut, angst/hurt comfort, no upside down )

♥️  watching steve shave – @plainemmanem ( waking up to find a shirtless steve standing in front of the mirror shaving, his back muscles going absolutely sicko mode with each movement, just standing there staring at him bc he's so sexy • steve harrington x reader, just a giant thirst trap with a sprinkle of fluff )

♥️  steve's too drunk pt. 1 • pt. 2 – @pearynice ( steve gets drunk at a high school party and gets stuck wallowing in his own self-pity, but there on the back porch he finds an unexpected friend • steve harrington x eddie munson, omg the cutest fucking steddie interaction of all time AND THERE’S A PART TWO )

♥️  he's a freak, he's the fastest kid alive – @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe ( thinking about eddie getting arrested one night by hopper and officer whats-his-face and when they turn their backs on him for a second he fucking bolts • steve harrington x eddie munson )

♥️  power's out neighbor – @lovebugism ( the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me with steve • steve harrington x reader, fluffy, SO funny and witty )

♥️  i'll be there for you series, 18+ only – @supernovafics ( in which you and steve end up at your childhood home after a shitty party at the house of one of your old high school friends. a frozen pizza and some spilled wine lead to another awkward moment between you two • steve harrington x reader, smut, fluff )

♥️  call me daddy, 18+ only – @stvharrngton ( gator’s got you bent over his bed and you accidentally discover a kink • gator tillman x reader, just straight up filthy smut )

♥️  spin doctor – @carolmunson ( eddie works at a record store, he’s a little snobby, sort of shy!reader if you squint and it’s the very late 90s • eddie munson x reader, witty banter and a teeny bit of fluff )

[quitealotofsodapop]

So one thing about Stone Monkeys, especially stone Monkey pairings. They're monogamous, meaning they mate for life and rarely take another mate or divorce. It's a major part of why Wukong and Macaque had never absolved their courtship because they were mates in the past, and something as small as death does not just remove that bond from them. When the act of bringing life into he world usually leaves the other a widow and single parent, you tend to cherish your mate more than anything. Which is why, when it comes to someone threatening a Stone Monkey's mate, especially a pregnant one, it's usually going to go one of two ways.

The first way, and most common way, is that the Monkey will immediately surrender. This is risky, however, since they usually only comply long enough to ensure their mate's survival and safety and will constantlh look for ways to escape/fight back. This is actually how the Jade Emperor had gotten Wukong to surrender, although he didn't know Macaque was his mate at the time and had been simply threatening the Brotherhood as a whole.

The second option, more common when the mate is pregnant, is that it will send the Monkey into an instinctual and protective rage where they rampage until their mate is safe. This is usually followed by insistently forcing their mate into the nest for their safety whilst checking over them every few minutes to ensure they aren't harmed and using their own body to hide their mate from view, guarding them and growling at everyone and everything that approaches whether they be Troop or not. It is not uncommon for unwanted visitors to be bitten or scratched during this time. This is how Macaque reacted when Wukong was freed from possession of their way back home after the defeat of LBD.

Those few days of travel with an overprotective Macaque were a very eye-opening experience for MK and the crew on the social norms and behaviors of stone monkeys, especially when it comes to their bonded mates They also had to stop and get everyone new blankets and bedding because Macaque stole all of theirs to make an impromptu nest. Oddly enough, the only one allowed to approach was MK, who nearly got dragged into the nest as well when he did. MK doesn't want to think about what that might mean if Macaque's instinct driven monkey brain was telling him to push him into the nest like an unruly cub even as Mei laughed and made jokes about MK collecting father figures like Pokémon cards.

+Bonus! Asks I finally answered on; Stone Monkey social structure + Wukong's instincts on sicko mode.

ohohoho, that feel when super instinctual monogamy leaves you vulnerable to your instincts >:3

Wukong defaults to the "Please dont hurt my family, take me instead." instinct, given that he's extremely self-sacrificing even in canon.

Jade Emperor: "I will literally try and find a way to kill you in spite of your immortalities." Wukong: "Whatever." Jade Emperor: "Or I could just kill your mate." Wukong: "ok you win." *lets Erlang catch him + gets tossed into the Furnace by the JE and Lao Tzu* The Brotherhood, unaware of why SWK surrendered: "Wow, what a traitor." Macaque: *has to be restrained from biting the JE's head off even though he's not sure why*

Macaque in contrast defaults to the "If I destroy the threat to my mate, then there will be no more threat left"-instinct. His brain was going haywire when he had to distract the LBD-Possessed!Wukong since he was mentally flipping between "Protect Mate" and "Destroy Threat [LBD]". The second LBD's spirit left Wukong (and got ate by the Egg), Macaque goes full-on protective mate-mode.

The shadow monkey quickly makes a temporary nest inside the TEA van and carries Wukong into it like he weighs nothing. And the Monkey King is too drained from his experience to protest. The gang just have to deal with the fact that they lost the couch area for the ride back. Only two (barely) pairs of eyes are whats visible from the shadowy fort of stolen blankets and pillows - they swear Macaque is using his shadow powers to hide them in extra darkness.

Sandy is the only one allowed to get close enough so that he can man the controls.

Macaque has gone full-feral and is communicating with Wukong solely in the monkey language of chirps, chittering, and yips. Both are curled into eachother like a pair of cats, rarely leaving the nest otherthan to eat food (Mac silently takes food from the others and brings it to the nest so he can feed Wukong himself) or to use the bathroom. If someone tries to reach inside or move Wukong, Mac immediately pops up infront of them, growling like a furious dog. Even Nezha has to back down.

And ofc the second MK yawns near the two parent monkeys, Macaque's instincts act up again. The shadow monkey chatters in an annoyed tone at MK and pulls/nudges him towards the blanket fort-like nest for sleep time. MK is mega confused and has to sleep there at night for the remainder of the trip, less both monkeys chirp disapprovingly at him. Sandy laughs under his breath of how it reminds him of a mother cat dragging a kitten back to bed by their scruff. The others laugh openly cus of course the two expectant parent monkeys see MK as a cub! He *is* the youngest in the "troop" after all! XD

And if Bai He is in the van? Oh you better *believe* thats a straying cub thats getting their dragged back to the nest and getting her hair groomed! Cub needs warmth!

And since the ending of S3 seems to take place closer to Megapolis, the gang has a long road trip ahead of them before the monkeys calm down and start acting human again. Lots of Stone Monkey observation is documented by a curious Tang (who Macaque barely tolerates within biting distance).

At least until Yuebei decides she wants to be born right there and now, sending the whole squad into a frenzy until Guanyin shows up.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if a magical bear came to Forks whose power is that he cannot be killed by a vampire?

He can be killed by any other means a normal bear can, is no more dangerous to humans or other animals than any other bear, but any time a vampire tries to kill it by any means (even if the vampire gives up on using its bare hands/teeth and tries to poison the bear, pick up a gun, try to trick the bear into confronting a hunter, etc.) the bear goes sicko mode and beats the vampire's ass Looney Toons style every time.

(I guess what I'm really asking is what if some Trickster God decided to really fuck with Emmett)

Trickster God picked the wrong Cullen.

Emmett is by far the most stable, easy going, and even keeled Cullen of the bunch. He has his weird vendetta against bears but that's kind of all he has in terms of weird shit Emmett does. Otherwise, he just tries to get along with his insane family, okay?

I think Emmett would get very into this.

He would train to defeat this bear. It's his destiny. I imagine many Rocky IV montages as Emmett works to fight this bear.

The other Cullens are disturbed by it and wondering if it's an active danger to the nearby town of Forks. An immortal super strong vampire bear can't be good, right? Except then the bear doesn't seem to be super strong when observed.

"He's being tricksy" - Emmett.

I imagine Emmett really looks forward to these battles and is very upset when Barry Bjornson dies due to natural/other causes. Now Emmett will never defeat this honorable warrior!

He gets over it, but every once in a while, he brings up how great Barry was.

They had some real good times, him and that warrior bear.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alenoaheather grabbed me by the throat and body slammed me through 15 consecutive buildings a week ago and it is entirely your fault/lh

But I was thinking about the incredible Fake Dating AU y’all were putting together and had a question, then realized I could just ask the question because it’s ✨Tumblr✨. But what do you think would’ve happened if Izzy wasn’t there when Noah passed out at the gym with Eva? Like, imagine Alejandro and Heather bust into the gym, but because of Eva’s awkward ass self(I love her sm) it genuinely just seems like she knocked out Noah. How would you expect the scenario to play out after that, because I do imagine that Aleheather wouldn’t be happy about seeing Noah laid out like a starfish-

My apologies 😔 (I'm not sorry 😈). /lh

The idea of Eva holding up a passed out Noah by the collar of his undershirt, all but looming over him in her desperation to get him to wake the fuck up, only to have both Heather and Alejandro burst into the room and misconstrue the situation entirely is so fucking funny to me. Thank you for the mental image, anon.

Because Eva has aggression practically woven into the threads of her character; she speaks aggressively, se thinks aggressively, and we all know she acts aggressively. Even when she's trying to be gentle she's always going to be rough around the edges, so it'd genuinely look like she's about to pummel an unconscious Noah into nerd-paste. Without Izzy there as a mitigating force, Eva wouldn't have the eloquence to properly explain the situation before AleHeather jump to conclusions and act accordingly.

Which would mostly be Heather trying to beat the shit out of Eva, physical discrepancies be damned, as Alejandro scoops up their partner bridal style and fusses over the 'damsel' in the situation.

Because, out of the two of them, Heather's always been the more physically aggressive one. She's not afraid to start throwing hands- of course, Heather's more likely to attack others with her words, but she's never shied away from a more hands-on approach to conflict. Whereas Alejandro, for all of his displays of physical prowess, doesn't ever really use his strength in a hostile way (his boxing math with José non-withstanding), and he's far too much of a gentleman to ever hit a woman.

So Eva would be staving off an irate Heather, who's trying to claw her eyes out or something, using her superior muscle mass to (as gently as she can) subdue Heather so she could explain herself. But 'fighting back' only makes Eva look worse to the pair, and any explanations she'd try to offer would be all but drowned out by Heather's enraged screaming, falling on deaf ears. Eva really doesn't want to hurt Heather, so she'd hold back the majority of her overwhelming strength, but Heather would interpret that as Eva looking down on her which would only serve to fuel her anger.

Meanwhile, Alejandro and his saviour complex would be trying to resuscitate Noah from his overexertion coma (previously established; Noah goes sicko mode on a punching bag and his noodly ferret body couldn't handle the strain of physical effort), though half of his attention would be diverted towards Heather going beast mode on Eva- either because he'd be genuinely concerned/alarmed by her ferocity, or because Alejandro seems like the type of guy who'd find Heather going feral kind of hot (whichever's funnier).

Eventually Heather would either tire herself out and Eva could attempt to blunder her way through an explanation- under the dual judgemental/seething glares of AleHeather- to mixed results, OR Noah would wake up, have a 'what the fuck is going on here' moment, and quickly clear up the confusion in his patented know-it-all way. That is to say, insulting everyone involved for their incompetency whilst ignoring his own pivotal role in the disagreement, and then explaining that he and Eva are cool now. (He'd probably be a dick about it to; "We're besties, me and Eva are having a sleepover tonight and we're going to talk about Boys and Shoes and Makeup and you're not invited." Noah can't stop being a sarcastic jester-coded prick for more than one scene or else he'll implode.)

-

Of course, this is all just speculation. I expect @perpetualexistence has plenty of their own thoughts to add to this hypothetical, as the adoptive 'co-parent' of this AU!

This is mostly just me pushing my "AleNoah ask for no pickles, Heather's the one who confronts the cashier when they get pickles" Alenoaheather dynamic. Heather the girlboss and her two cringefail, pathetic-pilled boyfriends. She's the only one of the three who can be direct with her misgivings (Noah is blunt, sure, but he skirts around confrontation- see his reaction to Alejandro's comment in "I See London..."). Also a not-so-subtle nod towards Alejandro always prioritising being the 'hero who rescues the damsel' over the 'hero who confronts the villain', which is literally just canon. The guy's not confrontational despite being manipulative- the puppet master works behind the curtains, after all. (The only time I can think of him ever directly confronting someone is, again, his comment to "Noah in I See London...", which is less of an accusation and more of a pointed comment.)

[wisasslocs]

Ok I love Lucifer's fight with Adam like KICK HIS ASS WHOOOO

But I was highkey looking forward to Charlie finally going sicko mode, I was HOPING they wouldn't do what they did, but it was exactly what I was expecting.

The fight scene was... ok. But it was so anime and so predictable that it was boring after a few minutes (to me). I hate that they couldn't leave a joke out for a couple of minutes. Like this was a final battle, the showdown to show that Hell wasn't going to take shit anymore from the angels. I wanted more class to it, more emotion, I wanted Charlie to finally show what she can do and at least get a couple of good hits in before Adam took the upper hand again. I wanted tension of who was going to die, I wanted the angels to eventually get the upperhand to create tension that this act against the angels probably wasn't going to work, Sir Pentious dies in a more dramatic way that feels more emotional than comical. Then Charlie goes sick mode, gets some good hits in, but Adam is the first man and has an angelic suit on or some shit eventually gets the upperhand again THAN Lucifer could've came in and saved the day.

The only hightlights to the fight for me is Alastor vs Adam and Vaggie vs Lute. I was not expecting Alastor to lose like he did, I was expecting him to win ngl but they did a fantastic job showing us that he isn't all that powerful like he likes to pretend which gave me SO MUCH EMOTION. It was so sick with the radio effect going away when his staff broke, like AHHHHH.

Vaggie's battle was cool too, wish it was longer and wish she got her wings again during it. There is a lot about Vaggie that should be better and the writers are screwing her over. She could be my fave character if they just took the time with her to give her a proper arc.

This was very ranty but I don't care.

One thing I will add to this is that Charlie may be a sheltered princess but she IS the princess of Hell. The Fucking Daughter of Lucifer and the FIRST woman. She is POWERFUL AS FUCK and the only thing she had to show for it is some parlor tricks and a trident??? We saw Lucifer's full demon mode but barely got to see Charlie's. It pisses me off so much that they did that to her. Sure you can say that it's because she barely has any fighting experience, is a passive person, never needed to fight because why the fuck would you fight Lucifer's daughter??? But still!!! If you wanted it to come off like "she may have barely any experience but she is trying" then show that throughout the show!!! Show that she really doesn't know how to fight but she is willing to try for her friends!! They better fucking show us her potential in the next season or I will lose it!

If this is suppose to be a show centered around the female characters then Vizie really fucked up with that final fight scene. It was disappointing to me how Charlie, Vaggie and even Lute and Carmilla are being treated throughout the show. Granted Charlie is getting some character development but why not show that during the final fight?! Show how this naive princess of hell who hates conflict is willing to put everything on the line for her family and her people, even her life!!

[rowavolo]

honestly i think diavolo would be delighted by little things like furbies and tamagotchis (and by extension pokewalkers), he thinks they're so cute and fun and before barbatos can even realise, let alone put a stop to it, dia and i are co-parenting like eight billion little artificial creatures who we love so so very much.

[moe-broey]

@hulloitsdani I HAD TO. ROTATE THIS. IN MY MIND. SO MUCH. CAUSE HERE'S THE THING I think on the surface it COULD make sense and has SO much potential writing-wise and I have hardly thought about that before -- but!!!!

While I have been goofing on Ratatoskr and how she's just a poor little thang, upon meeting she DID tell Alfonse this:

Which gives you SO much information actually. Like. She knows a lot more than she lets on -- not because she's lying outright or even putting up a front, but because she's just. So overwhelmed and emotional and sensitive (LOUDLY so) that may be the only thing you notice, maybe even underestimating her. But I feel Alfonse took this information and did the opposite -- it's an odd position to be in, to be known presumably very well by someone who's a stranger to you. But I think he takes this in, and takes his first impression of her and her personality, motives, the conflict within her, and decides to put his faith in her.

I think ALSO he could be viewing her as a valuable ally, acknowledging:

I think, he sees she has potential, if he can win her over and have her fight on his side. I THINK. Primarily his motivation is practical. Making a quick judgement of her, coming to the conclusion she could be a valuable asset and could help the Heroes even more (going back to, him saying "She can even tell them I asked her to get us more information on the assassination plot" and "If our enemy thinks like I do... they'll see a similar opportunity in front of them.")

AUGH INTERRUPTING THAT THOUGHT THOUGH!!!!!! I FEEL LIKE!!!!!! PART OF THE GAMBIT IS "She would be a valuable ally" AND on the flipside "She could pose a considerable threat if she changed her mind and strengthened her resolve in the opposite direction (to kill me)" so winning her over is part of defusing the threat. AND it's an extra win to have all that information if she does choose the Heroes. AND it's an extra LOSS if she does leave, since she takes all that information with her AND has the advantage while the Order is left scrambling in the dark. Plus also!!!!!! Her having that intimate knowledge of his routines!!!!!! If he loses Ratatoskr, he Knows he's gonna suffer severe consequences.

ALSO. ALSO!!!!!!!! I FEEL LIKE!!!!!!!!!! That is WHY him letting her go and EMPHASIZING she can do whatever she deems necessary, EVEN giving her sisters inside knowledge on the Heroes. I FEEL LIKE. THIS IS ACTUALLY. VERY MUCH (on a much smaller scale!!!!) another Letizia moment. HEAR ME OUT

Right before The Moment, he's judging Letizia's character, what he knows to be true about her, her PERSONALITY and the way she thinks. Which leads him to go sicko mode on her (because! That Was the course of action to take with her!!!!)

THIS TIME. He's met with a very emotional, very distressed and conflicted assassin who seems to have a moral compass and is conflicted about what she's been ordered to do. In one way, she's almost like a bomb that has to be defused -- she Does pose a threat, and the threat needs to be addressed before it goes off/is out of his hands. And in this case, appealing to her emotions IS the answer!

AND. I THINK. PART of that appeal WAS to place That Much trust in her. ESPECIALLY communicating to her, she's not Required to remain loyal to the Heroes. Giving her a choice, between them and her sisters. He's heavily relying on Ratatoskr's internal conflict and also (surely it hasn't been missed on him) her attachment to him, or at very least her respect for him as a person she's come to admire. It's an extreme chance to take, but I think he knows if Ratatoskr can 1) Feel like she made the choice herself, and 2) He can catch her on another emotionally driven motivation (When she requests a favor in return, which is for the Heroes to Save her Sisters) -- I think he's fully confident he can win her over without forcing her to do anything.

WHICH. ALSO. HELPS WIN HER OVER BC her MAIN conflict she's struggling with is Being Forced To Do Something She Doesn't Want To. By NOT being forceful with her, by EMPHASIZING she can take any action she deems fit, he's set up a situation WHERE the Order of Heroes is the preferable option. He leaves her with the impression that her feelings matter, that she has agency, and ultimately it's up to her.

I FEEL LIKE........ I am talking in circles LMFAOOO BUT. I think Another thing (before thought interruption) was Alfonse's lines saying, "It's a gamble on our part, but if our enemy thinks like I do... they will see a similar opportunity in front of them." ESPECIALLY into:

WHICH stood out to me SO much because I think it really captures how practically motivated he IS here. He is using her. He's acknowledging, that if their enemy is Like Him, they're using her, too. He's creating a situation with a desired outcome, making the Order of Heroes the more desirable option to align with, giving her the feeling that she Can choose -- and, this is true! He's entirely put the choice in her hands. But in DOING that, it strengthens the possibility of her seeing the Heroes AS the desirable option. Which is the goal. Which is what he wants. He Is prepared, most likely, for the event this backfires, but also he's fully confident Ratatoskr Will choose them. (Also, as I say he was "most likely prepared for backfire"..... honestly that may not even be the case. Alfonse bluffs and bullshits his way around and out of things so much it would make Phoenix Wright blush).

WHICH ALSO LIKE..... AAAUGHGHHHH rotating him in my mind forever. You can See his traits and tendencies, see how he uses them for the benefit of his allies and those he cares about, but also SO clearly you can see. How A Lot of That is deeply rooted in his own moral compass (which is good!) and his own perspective (which is limited and sometimes flawed) and you can see. EXACTLY how these things can twist and turn and get really ugly LMFAOO

And man I haven't even gotten to Alear yet but I have THOUGHTS about his interactions w her too I need to make a separate post about LMFAOO 😅 (hit image limit and also feels like another topic entirely 🫡)

[misteria247]

It's November 1st, Halloween's officially over and it's on the day after Halloween that the lair is suddenly terrorized by Christmas songs.

03 Mikey and 07 Mikey being the ringleaders behind this one. These little trouble makers dig through 03 Mikey's playlist, looking for one song in particular. Once it's found the duo set things up waiting for midnight exactly before they put it into action. Everyone's still up but are getting ready to call it a night when suddenly they hear it.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas, there's just one little thing I need-"

03 Leo, 03 Donnie, 03 Raph, 07 Leo, 07 Raph and 07 Donnie immediately know who's behind this because they all just stiffen up with the looks of Oh hell no. 12 Leo who's helping Rise Donnie with something just seems to pause before this dead inside look comes across his face and he goes:

"One day can't we just wait one day before we go into Christmas mode??? Halloween literally just ended for fuck sake-"

And Rise Donnie is literally fighting with himself on whether he should sing along or go find the two responsible for this because the Dolly Parton incident is still fresh in his mind and he'll never forget nor forgive. 12 Mikey and Rise Leo on the other hand look like they're gonna explode with stupid giddiness because yes it's that time of year again! Bayverse Mikey is snickering at all this while Bayverse Leo is rubbing his temples to ease his oncoming headache and Bayverse Raph and Bayverse Donnie are instantly having their hackles raised literally shouting out:

"IT'S NOVEMBER 1ST YOU SICKOS-"

12 Donnie grits his teeth because he's just gotten over the Dolly Parton thing but God's seriously testing him right now, while 12 Raph and Rise Raph are just going into this with a dead like acceptance because 12 Mikey and Rise Leo and Rise Mikey do this kind of thing every damn year and they've learned that fighting it is literally pointless. Rise Mikey's practically bouncing up and down in his place looking all the world like it's officially Christmas time and already planning his baking schedule for the next two months. Meanwhile 87 Leo, 87 Raph, 87 Donnie and 87 Mikey are listening intently because they've never heard this song before and it's pretty catchy and they wanna know who sings it.

The clan leaders on the other hand, 87 Splinter, 03 Splinter, 07 Splinter, Bayverse Splinter and Rise Splinter are just already exhausted because here we go again. That's when 03 Mikey and 07 Mikey come into the room beaming twin smiles on their faces and go:

"TIS THE SEASON NOW BABY LET'S GOOOOOO-!"

The 03 and 07 boys are quick to go at their little brothers because this is ridiculous. All the while Mariah Carey's song is going on at midnight in the sewers of NYC. The rest of November is literally spent like this with the lair slowly looking and sounding like Christmas just vomited all over everything. And whenever 87 April, 03 April, 07 April and Bayverse April finally see this they're just like:

"Aw damn that time of year again huh? Wild man."

12 April and Rise April meanwhile are torn between exasperation and fondness for their boys and their Christmas time insanity. 87 Casey, 03 Casey, 07 Casey and Bayverse Casey just start to reek havoc Christmas style along with the others because if you can't beat em join em. 12 Casey meanwhile is trying to get Rise Cassandra and Rise Casey Jr to relax because Christmastime is a time for celebration and no one's trying to attack us fam trust me and we'll go to beat people up later I promise. As December draws a bit closer they'll all get into the Christmas spirit but presently a lot of them lowkey wanna scream.

[qu0rky]

I like Dottozhu. I like Dottozhu very much.

Canonically they have never met, and probably never will meet. But i still like it.

The moral dilemma, Baizhu may be the only man Dottore is sweet to, because how could anyone hate Baizhu.

Baizhu is beautiful, i know it, you know it, Lee Knows it (get out of here, wrong fandom buddy), and Dottore should know it as well.

Two doctors who practice in VERY different ways, but two doctors nonetheless. They could bond over that.

Dottore finds out his pretty liyuan boyfriend has a child, Dottore does not mind. Qiqi gets another dad.

But let’s imagine they met when they were much younger.

I like to believe a certain someone attended the Akademiya as well.

So they meet as students, have a falling out after graduating, Dottore goes sicko mode, they meet again, the spark is still there. One could not deny. Dottore may be a piece of shit but he would not fumble this badly. So he takes his chance.

Don’t mind me, just planting this little seed in your head

[childotkw]

I can't stop thinking about Luke surviving the dance (with or without dragon tbh) and basically taking over Driftmark since Corlys has gotten too old to rule it. He isn't legally Lord of Driftmark but everyone respects him and calls him as such. I'd imagine him either being a hostage for the greens for a bit before escaping them or surving the fall and finding his way around Stormlands, maybe some family in a small village takes him in for a month so that he can regain his strength. But then he is absolutely fucking furious and goes all sicko mode. He claims a dragon (could be any of them or maybe Arrax is alive) but he never really forgets how much of a problem Velaryon fleets and ships could be to the greens, so he takes after Corlys and leads the Velaryon troops into war and they win pretty much everytime. He maybe even basically (spoilers for fire and blood if you haven't read it) saves Jace in the Battle of The Gullet with Velaryon ships and his dragon. After the war no one ever dares to call him a Strong again, he is both a Velaryon and a Targaryen and he is proven himself as such. You can sneak in Lucemond into this somehow haha i just conpletely forgot about Aemond here. Maybe when Arrax dies Aemond basically thinks the debt as payed (an eye for a dragon, a dragon for an eye) and when Luke goes and claims another dragon Aemond cannot blame him for it, bc then he'd be a hypocrite. I'd honestly love an AU where Luke is captured and it's a whole story about how he goes through some shitty stuff but those only make him stronger in the end. (ig theres many plotlines in GoT that contains hostage situations too haha it just has the best potentials)

I love this and I'm gonna do a twist on it, if that's okay?

Lucerys survived, and when he came back to Dragonstone he refused to claim another dragon. He lost Arrax and the pain of that severed bond was too raw, too fresh, for him to contemplate replacing his friend. In the future, maybe, but right now? No. No, he couldn't bring himself to do that.

So, he embraced his Velaryon heritage instead.

The sea almost took him once after all, but it gave him back, and that marked him in some way. Being at the mercy of the vast ocean and allowed to survive - it changed a person.

He was more a tempest than fire now, but he's just as sharp, just as dangerous as any dragon that soared through the sky.

And Lucerys had always wanted to protect his family. It was the one thing that never failed to rouse his temper, and to defend their cause from the sea while his mother, father and siblings defended it from the sky? It was - not perfect, but as close as he could get.

He became known as the 'Sea Dragon'. His weakness for sea travel fell away to a confidence unmatched by any other, and Corlys would burst with pride at how his grandson grew to take command of Driftmark and the Velaryon fleet.

Lucerys sailed, and he fought, and he won more often than not. For all that he was young and untested, he was reckless and bold, and his ingenuity was one of his biggest strengths.

And his men loved him for it.

By the end of the war, no one who worked under his command would dare claim him unworthy of the title Lord of the Tides. Bastard or not, he carried the Velaryon name and lived up to the legacy.

(And if it were a kinder world, one where Aegon eventually decided that enough was enough and he was sick of being a pawn in his mother's games and his grandsire's ambitions, and he bent the knee to his sister? Well, Lucerys and Aemond would eventually reunite, and though he had known his nephew had survived their ill-fated fight above Shipbreaker Bay, Aemond still found himself breathless when he saw Lucerys again for the first time.

His nephew had grown in the past year, the last of his boyishness peeling away to reveal a defined jawline and strong features with the beginnings of stubble on his cheeks. Muscular and tanned from his days on board his ship, Arrax, and eyes that roiled, he looked -

Handsome, Aemond realised with a jolt.

But the thing that bothered him the most was that, for all the pain and anger that lurked between them, Lucerys didn't look at Aemond. Not during the negotiations. Not during the tense feasts that followed. Not even at his mother's coronation when they stood right across from each other. It was as if he had ceased to exist in his nephew's eyes, and that burned.

For Lucerys, his indifference was the last armour he had, because if he acknowledged his uncle, if he dared look at the man that had carved half of his soul from his chest and now seemed to live under his skin, then he'd do something he'd regret. Like kill him.

Or kiss him.

He wasn't going to tempt fate and see which side the coin landed on.

Too bad for him, Aemond refused to be ignored.)