#no job. no money. no goals. just get rich commit petty theft and go on shopping spree | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugarcookiesandsins · 5 years ago

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Charmed [Episode 1]

➰ ot7 x reader, poly!bts x reader, mafia!bts ➰ they wouldn't notice her until she was standing above them, a smoking gun in her hand a bullet in their heart 🌡 M 🛑 heavy violence 🕛 6.1k+

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Tags: Since this is a revamping of the series, I am using a new tag list. If you were on it before, please message me so I can add you back. To those on the list, thank you for taking the time to read this.

@omgsuperstarg @missseoulite

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Reflected in your eyes were the lights of the boat as you stood next to the railing, air fogging as you breathed out courtesy of the temperature difference between you and your surroundings. The ripples had long disappeared beneath you as the body sank farther into the depths of international waters. Twenty miles or so from the nearest land, surrounded by the inky depths of the sea, you felt oddly at peace with yourself than most would be. Before you, the sea extended with multitudes of opportunities, yet you held on to the metal pole, refusing to let go and fling yourself into its cold embrace. Overhead, past the tips of the sails with their heavy canvas, the sky extended in the same way; punctuated with lighthouses that never ceased to guide traveler to the shore.

This far out, much like the senses, even the jurisdiction became convoluted. It was the age-old argument of territory and even the final frontier, be it space that extend pat your reach or the depths that you could feel splashing against with every wave that the barge broke, could be subject to a baseless human need that no one seemed to be able to justify past material greed.

The body would not pop back out of the water for a at least 2 weeks and add on the time lags that always happen when multiple governments tried to make an important decision, you had more than enough time to hole up somewhere else on the planet as the buzz died down.

Without tearing your eyes away from the blurred horizon, your silently raised a hand towards the bow. The muffled yelling and the vibrations of the engine under your feet gave you the only answer you needed as the barge turned, headed in the direction of the nearest port. And yet you faced forward, watching the waters as they tried to fight against the metallic interruption only to succumb to the power of modern technology. Your figure remained still, clothed in black like a specter charged with guarding the ship. The waters closer to the coast were calmer, only breaking on the wooden stakes of the ports as they teased onlookers with millions of secrets buried under the cloak of time.

Your face remained impassive, even if no one could see it. The crew members had simply been instructed to ferry you out and ferry you back, a clean operation that would get them access to a very lucrative fishing spot. Environmental concerns had forced the government into restricting the fishing, but as a major export, it could not stop it all together with the amount of people employed in the business. So, they started dealing permits for who can fish where and for how much; it’s amazing to think that the government had indirectly created a new black-market sector when they were supposed to be the paragons of peace and leadership.

Your face was a mystery to these workers, and not one person there would be able to swear that they weren’t curious as to who you were. They had simply been told by their boss that they were scheduled for a late-night trip out into the ocean. There would be only one person boarding and only one person leaving. They were not to disturb their guest for any reason, nor were they supposed to inquire about the guest and his actions.

You trusted them to not risk their job for mere curiosity, but what you didn’t trust were the people with enough money to make their curiosity worth the risk. People are fickle like that and everyone can be influenced, if promised the right thing.

The mistake that most amateurs make is that they believe that if money is not strong enough to break a man, then their moral fortress is impregnable. Only the select few, which included you, realize that there is more to offer in life than just financial backing. To some, success is only thing worth anything in life, and that may be something not controlled by the number in your checkbook. It’s surprising how much support you receive when a political candidate finds themselves short one particularly threatening opponent.

Letting out a wry smile, you think about the past that brought you here to this moment. Not the millions of coincidental events of the universe - though that certainly plays a part in it all. It was a single night that became the catalyst for everything you are today. It was the night that BigHit targeted your family, all because of some idiot who didn’t have the balls to face the consequences of his mistake. Surprising how a member of the biggest sect of organized crime in all of South Korea still is chicken enough to pin the blame on someone who was considerably lower on the food chain than they were.

BigHit had been in part of your life since the start, having always employed your father as the legal head for the group. The front was a real estate firm, but it was one of those elephant-in-the-room types of situations; common knowledge, but ignored to maintain some semblance of normality. Heck, you were sure the entire city knew the truth that hid behind the white, blocky letters, but it was an unspoken rule that no one said anything. BigHit was untouchable, until 7 years ago and the paranoia that spread through the company cost your family greatly.

It had all started when some lower-level lackey noticed an inconsistency in the finances. There were conflicting spending reports between company-sponsored business trips and the withdrawal amounts. On multiple instances, one exceeded the other and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. This was coincidence number one. The man wasn’t even supposed to be checking the finances, he was just filing something away for his boss when he knocked over the files. It was impossible to stop his roaming eyes as they scanned the information while cleaning it all up.

Immediately he made a beeline for the higher ups, who, after looking over it to make sure the worker’s suspicions were correct, passed it along the chain of command. Then the investigation began. Almost immediately, your father’s team came under suspicion. They had been involved in a financial report for a case, which had required multiple trips to the prosecutor’s office - an overseas prosecutor accusing BigHit of international grand theft. The case was more trouble than it was worth; everyone knew that BigHit wasn’t the type to commit petty theft. They had too much leverage to work as snakes under the cloak of darkness.

A full search tore the building off its foundation, until the money was found in your father’s private office. They didn’t bother to look for evidence any longer.

1. The doorknob was scratched.

2. There was dust on the surface.

3. There was coffee on the table.

4. The money was in plain sight.

5. They came in the night.

6. There was a girl in the closet.

7. She survived.

8. They didn’t.

Ticking off each point after the next, you calmed your racing heart. It was the same feeling that accompanied the flashbacks of blood. From within the closet, you watched from under the door, mouth clenched around the soft baby fat of your arm, the only thing that kept you from screaming into the open air. Using your calloused palm, you rubbed at the scars, now slightly faded with treatment from time.

You would pay them back for every injustice. You felt closer than ever to feeling their blood running down your blade, swimming in the dents of your skin, and molding with it as you showed them the same mercy they showed your parents. You could still hear their voices, sloppy words mixed with tears as they begged for mercy. Still they tried, with their last breath they still held onto the belief that the guns would be put away.

The last thing you heard before the gun shots were two words. They were filled with such malice, as you had never heard in a voice before.

You knew who said them too. After all, it was hard not to recognize BTS; BigHit’s personal dirty-work squad.

And with that, their fate was sealed. You were closer than ever to feeling their blood running down the blade of your dagger, swimming in the dents of your bones, and molding with your skin as you showed them the same mercy that they showed your parents.

Waiting until the boat was tied to the docks, and all crew members had left - another insurance policy for your identity - you alighted from the boat. Running the pad of your finger along your right wrist you stopped, feeling a gap in the silver chain that enclosed the joint. The last gap of the last bracelet - on it would go a small replica of the flag of Burma. With it, all the spaces were filled.

As it reflected the yellow light of the streetlamp, each charm shimmered with beauty. Looking at each on in turn you remembered. You saw the tears in the eyes of the woman as she choked on the same poison she had used on her sister. You heard the screams of the rich man who had abused his family as karma came back for him tenfold. You smelled the pungent stench of sex as the rapist lived through the pain he had given little girls. You tasted the salt in the air as an avid sailor met his end at the hands of sharks, forever a corrupt official. Under the lamplight, you reminisced. With the completion of another set came the inevitable question.

What now?

If it was in your hands, you would be headed to Seoul on the next flight out, far too ready to leave this life behind, but unwilling to do so until your goal was fulfilled. Sadly, it wasn’t up to you.

It was in the hands of your boss, your self-appointed instructor and ringleader. It was he who had found you in the park living off of stolen pastries and money. It was he who had developed your natural affinity for crime and theft and who controlled who you would find at the end of your gun on any given day.

A cool breeze blew in from over the ocean, sending chills down your spine like someone was playing a sonata on your nerve strings. Far too ready to leave the country, you move out from under the lamplight, letting the black of your jacket hide you from the ignorant world around you.

Within the surrounding houses there were people, innocent people, unaware of what goes on beyond their sphere of influence, unaware that you had them all in yours. It was a macabre thing to be thinking about, but even the most painful truths cannot be denied. There was nothing stopping you from scaling into their bedroom like a phantom, a conjuring of their worst dreams. Just as there was nothing stopping you from following the body into the ocean’s cold embrace. With nothing holding you back, you wondered why you never took the plunge before.

Walking for the better part of the hour brought you to the last place any respectable wanted to be seen. Having long since been abandoned by the previous owners, the building seemed ready to collapse at any moment. Deep cracks in the cement foundation would scare even the most confident from stepping inside.

Still, you ignored all that and strolled in, much more concerned with getting into the comfort of your bed. Crawling through the small window - the door had been blocked by a pile of rubble -, the sight of your things brought some relief to you. Nothing had been disturbed; everything you were was still a secret to the rest of the world.

Up the steps, ignoring the soft dust that flowed up around your boots, you made a beeline for your bed. Barely, just barely, noticing the dark-haired man who was making himself quite at home on the tattered grey couch.

Sending a small nod his way, you took off the face mask and prosthetics that helped protect your identity. It was an extra lesson that you had taught yourself and perfected with time. Within 15 minutes, it was possible for you to look like a completely different person with a fabricated personality

The greatest of your tricks were the ones when you introduced targets to your masks independently of each other and played them for the better part of the month. They would treat each differently, a good tell as to a target’s preferences. Then the prank would collapse because as much as you loved the amusement, there was the proverbial counting down until it came time for you to finish the job.

After cleaning your face of the prosthetic glue, you walked towards your teacher, delicately wiping down you face and neck of any stray water droplets. He remained impassive throughout the entire process, having grown used to your one-sided mindset. Letting your legs collapse, you maneuvered your body into a half-sitting and half-lounging position on the couch. Grunting, you told him to speak, feeling you brain already beginning to shut down from exhaustion. The work and the walk home had tired you out, especially considering it was in the early hours of the morning.

“Done?” It was a simple question, but it carried heavy weight behind it. ‘Done’ was not just the referring to the firing gun, it included everything from prep to disposal and aftercare for your supplies, all of which you had painstakingly accomplished before you set out to the docks with the black garbage bag, weighed down with both a human body and stones.

“What does it look like?” Your temper was running short at 2 in the morning and there was no force strong enough that could make you behave when you were this sleep deprived.

“Hmm.” See, the thing about your boss was that holding a conversation with him was mostly about reading between the lines. He was never blunt with his words, instead foregoing lengthy exposition for psychic communication - messages delivered between tone and tongue.

Unclasping the hook, you tossed the silver bracelet towards him as proof. “How many more do I have to do before I’m ready?” He had said nearly 6 month ago when you got this chain that this would be the last one, but there was no knowing if he was telling the truth. After all, you were close to beheading him if he had told you something you didn’t want to hear.

Your master may have once been young and able, but time had taken its payment from his life as it would do to many others; he was now well into the older years and lacked his former ability. There was no doubting that fact that if the both of you went head to head, that you would win, yet you never did try to challenge him. Mostly out of respect, but also out of the knowledge that losing him would be like losing your parents again.

“If I said you’re not ready, what would you do?”

You glared at him. You were tired of hearing those words. It seemed that throughout your life you were never ready. You weren't ready when those men came and took away your family. You weren’t ready when you found yourself in the cold, only getting by with scraps and pity for random passersby. You were never ready it would seem.

But at this point you were too tired to argue, and much too accepting of the supernatural ability your teacher had for telling the future; if he said you weren’t ready then you weren’t. Even then, there was something about the question that seemed more examinatory than before. Perhaps it was the level-headed stare he pinned you with, eyebrow bent with curiosity at your answer that clued you in to his intentions.

“I would accept the next assignment.”

“Hmm.” You swore you saw through his eyes and witnessed the cogs turning in his brain. “And if I said that you were ready?”

“I would start preparing. There is a lot to be trained for and many details to sift through.”

“Hmm.” That ‘hmm’ was the most infuriating thing of all.

“Well,” I asked.

“You’re ready.”

The following morning went by in a blur of motion. You were still tired from the lack of sleep you had suffered, but you didn’t need to really pay attention to this part anymore. The packing sequence so deeply engraved in your nerves that you never paused to doubt yourself when you stepped out the door 2 hours later.

In way, it was a morbid testament to how much this life has become part of who you are. It was difficult to imagine what your life would have been like had BigHit not betrayed your father’s trust that night. If they had just stopped being impulsive and took the time to think; say what you want about organized crime, it was built on the laws of the jungle and a seed of doubt grows and festers. Your father never stood a chance; he was dead the moment the man from his team decided to earn a little extra on the side.

You know this now. You know a lot of things now that you didn’t before.

And what you did know came from the one man who rarely spoke. After your master had approved the target at BigHit, he disappeared with the morning fog; never really knowing where he had been or where he went to with the sun peeking over the horizon. Still, you deduced that he must still be nearby, having discovered the manila packet filled with your travel details. First and foremost, was the passport declaring you to be of Korean nationality. It was easy enough to play off if you claimed you were born in said country. It also had inside the telltale colors of a Burmese visa. Running a finger over the perforated stamp, you wondered at the craftsmanship.

Forgery was a skill that you defined in very broad terms. It was an art form at its core; the most perverse kind, but still qualified enough to fit under the same category as the greats. The ability to mimic someone else, especially with the professed claim of the uniqueness of each person is a great feat; even if that ability was used for less than ideal means.

Your cover was simple enough. According to the information, you were a freelance photographer returning from an assignment in Burma. There were some pages depicting your ‘travel itinerary’, conveniently including the same port that last night’s ship had departed from. It also included some printed photographs of historic sites and monuments that you had supposedly visited and photographed.

After the passports and identification details, he had clipped together your golden key; plane tickets. They were for a flight at noon out of the nearest airport and one-way to Seoul. Averting your eyes from the rest of the content, you noted the time on the wall. Thankfully he had allowed you a little grace period before you had to leave for the airport.

Then finally at the end, were the documents that you were most interested in. Printed on crisp white paper were the profiles of the top team in BigHit. BTS was a paradox in many ways. Many people knew them, yet at the same time they were clueless. They seemed to be a small group but did the work of dozens. They were young but played games with the mind of a seasoned professional. They were like you.

The profiles were limited in how much they could provide in terms of personal biographies and most of what was contained in the test was collected from local sources and eyewitnesses that saw the youth before they were dragged behind closed doors to be trained by their fathers. The strength of this group lay in hereditary lineage. For multiple generations, the task had passed from father to son. This ensured that secrets of the trade remained just that - secrets.

You were sorely tempted to forget the flight and experimentally began thumbing the files, relishing the feeling of the way your revenge seemed closer than ever. But you needed to get to the airport and make your way through security. Thankfully most of your stuff would be checked in, and your backpack only contained the few necessities you carried from mission to mission. Steeling yourself for the weeks to come, you let out a silent wish to the heavens. You would see this through to the end; whether it ended with your corpse or theirs.

Casting a last glance around the room, you closed the door on the remaining supplies in the room. There was nothing much left, mostly wrappings from packagings but the biggest blow to your heart was the makeup you had to leave on the counters. The master always had professionals come and clean after you left. They were in charge of removing all your DNA from the place, this also included the makeup that you used for that mission.

Thankfully, he always arranged for new materials to be on site in the next place that you lived, but it pained you to have to recreate you three most iconic personalities from scratch each time.

Since dabbling in FX makeup for missions, you had probably portrayed no less than 50 personas, but there were a select three that you found yourself coming back to. The beauty was that they were so different, yet so generic that they became obsolete after a while in the memories of anyone who had come into contact with them.

The first, and your personal favorite, was Eli. He was a roughed up street rat with a penchant for making trouble and the aptitude to flirt with anyone he met, be it a man or a woman. He always got along well with the older women with his youthful, boyish charm. There was an art to his Casanova speech and his laid-back demeanor that seemed to draw eyes away from wallets and purses.

The second was an older woman of around the age of 28. Levi was a successful business woman with the kind of gait that made it seem as it she was on a mission. With her tight mini-skirts and heal the length of a dagger, everyone noticed when she walked in and when she walked out. Never a hair out of place, she was the weapon against older men or young aspiring businessmen attracted to a powerful woman. It also helped that she walked in and when she walked out. It also helped that she knew exactly how to move to gain an advantage.

The last, and simplest of them all, was a timid kitten. Adding a little fat to all areas of your body, you transformed into a girl who jumped at the sound of a book hitting the floor. Never looking men in the eye, Eve shuffled forward with the kind of steps that made you think she was 5 seconds from bolting in the other direction. She was the easiest to play - after all, she rarely spoke and was mostly there as the kind of character that would pass by unnoticed in a crowd.

With these three personas, as well as your own, you were set to take on whatever, or whoever came in your way. The decision of who to use at BigHit first was still up in the air, but you were pretty sure the decision would end up being Eli. Levi would get you too much unwanted attention and Eva just didn't match the image that BigHit wanted. Further still, Eli would be able to run through the underground circles with relative ease considering his aesthetic. Even without the arguments, you would still have chosen Eli. He was the favorite after all.

Continuing to make your way towards your gate, you only paused for a moment to buy a simple meal to tide you over until you landed in Korea. It was already too late in the day for breakfast, so you settled on some noodles at a corner shop in the airport. The stall was small and well hidden from prying eyes in the far corner of the terminal. Casting a small glance around, it also seemed to be in the blind spot of the small cameras dotting the ceiling of the building. Still, you had learned to never risk anything.

Thus you sat for the next half hour, slowly making your way through a bowl of noodle soup, payed for in cash, with your hood pulled as low as it could go. All in all, it wasn’t the best you’d ever had – Levi had been treated to many expensive restaurants – but it was enough for what was required of it. Resting your body at the table, your eyes couldn’t keep themselves from wandering to the other people in the airport. Each with the different façade. There were serious businessmen on phones, arguing about something or another as they raced towards sole destination – as there were in any airport. Yet, conversely there were also families on vacations, children leashed in one hand and bags held in the other, getting side-traced by the smallest trinket in the shops lining the walkways.

From between the murmurs around you, you could almost see a little girl running through legs towards the candy store. The naivety in her eyes shining bright as she continued on ceaselessly chattering about something in the way that only other children were able to understand. It was hurried and pitched, the prospect of a sweet more exciting than grammar. Following behind her came a man and woman, the women had your face while the man shared your eye and hair color. Hand linked, they laughed together at the little girl in the cotton dress, and you know that they would give into their daughter like they always did.

Yet before you could continue to watch them, they disappeared behind another stranger. Pushing the empty plate away, you held your head in your hands. The cool metal of the bracelet let refreshing wherever it contacted your warm skin. The need to catch up on sleep was real – the 5 hours you got after your master left not really working to fill the deficit your mission had caused – it was moment like this when you hated him for drilling a 7 am wake-up call into your circadian rhythm.

With a sharp ding, the screen announced that your flight had started boarding. Deciding that there was no putting it off, you made your way towards the glowing sign of your gate and followed the crowd of people until you made it to your seat. As always, it was an economy, nothing surprising about that.

Since entering the vicinity, you had mostly kept to yourself, which people tended to notice. You cut an imposing figure among the rest of the people scaring away those that might have initiated a conversation with you. Some took small glances at your figure, but non screamed that they were coming for your life, so you tended towards ignoring them. Even your row mates decided to keep to themselves, immediately losing themselves in the inflight entertainment that the airline provided. The only downside to your seat was that it would be even more difficult to read the files that your master had presented you with. Wandering eyes were common enough on airplanes and you were always in fear that it would be the wrong person catching a word or two of what you were reading.

Sinking back into the cushioned seats, you debated whether taking a short nap would prove beneficial in comparison to reading the profiles. In the end, your training kicked in and procrastination became a foreign word. Submitting to your conscience, you ordered a cup of black coffee and pulled out the files.

There really wasn’t anything new that you hadn’t already discovered in your independent investigation of the bangtan members. Since the moment that you could, you had been keeping tabs on the boys. After all, killing them would be the only way to take revenge. The BTS lineage would end with them, just as yours would end with you. The only thing of interest to you were their positions and newfound specialties. Eli was a very moldable character. There of course was a base aloofness that manages to charm even the most hardheaded folk, but specifics were the variables that you played with. In order to take down Bangtan, you would have to create the perfect character.

Mostly, he would remain the same as always, pickpocketing anything worth filching and maintaining that cherubic smile that one couldn’t tell if he really was absent-minded or he truly was too adept at acting. Skimming the profiles of the younger members, you noticed that one of them had a similar talent. Kim Taehyung, you had heard of him. He was one of the more public members and from what you had heard of him, he was very good with his hands. That’s not a problem. Eli would just have to be better than he was. It would be worth it to test Eli out on the streets for a couple days before starting the mission. The other holes would be carved out after an initial interaction; there should always be some room left for mistakes.

Last known sightings included a mall. That seemed odd, but then again, you supposed that even mafia needed new wardrobes occasionally. You wondered if your luck would be good enough to collide with them at the mall, but that would be secondary. First, you had to establish Eli in the underground society.

There were two way to go about it. The first option was just to commit one big heist and make a scene. Or you could just rise slowly, committing small pickpocketing jobs and become famous from the sheer number that you were able to accomplish.

Details would be hashed out later, but you were only two hours into the flight and the caffeine was wearing off. Deciding that your mental health mattered more now, you packed up the files and locked your backpack. Pulling out the provided blankets, you curled up to get some well-deserved shut eye.

Your dreams were mostly empty promises. Nothing but the vast darkness stretching before you, once filled with fantastical ideas but now painted in muted colors like even you subconscious was restricting you from true happiness. You knew what that happiness was; the end of the Bangtan lineage. Yet, it still sat poorly in your stomach. With soft mumbles, you fell deeper into the void, unable to fully comprehend exactly where you were going.

A couple hours of blissful sleep passed before the flight attendant with her manicured nails gently woke you up in order to inform you of your arrival in Seoul. In accordance with their regulation, you put away the provided sleeping materials and put your seat back into that position that was somehow perfect yet irritating for your spine.

Popping the piece of gum in your mouth, you closed your eyes in an attempt to withstand the pressure change as the airplane landed. You may be a trained operative, but your body never really cooperated with planes. Personally, you preferred the steady oscillation of a train or car, both of which were equally dangerous considering your tendency to fall asleep in them. Still, personal partially aside, planes were faster so the only thing you could do was grit your teeth and live through it. You chanted your mantra in your head, it was a constant reaffirmation of your goal and served to calm down with the familiar weight of the words in your mind.

1. The doorknob was scratched.

2. There was dust on the surface.

3. There was coffee on the table.

4. The money was in plain sight.

5. They came in the night.

6. There was a girl in the closet.

7. She survived.

8. They didn’t.

By the time you finished, the plane had touched down as was slowly making its way to a gate and you were a step closer to your final goal.

The feeling of being in Seoul was electric. The very air seemed to caress your hair, teasing and taunting you to speed up the timeline of your plan. It was a sore temptation to just throw your carefully constructed plan to the wind and waltz through the front door with machine guns and just extinguish the magazines, but that would be letting them off too easy. They deserved nothing less than the ultimate suffering, watching on as you pulled apart BigHit from under them, bit by bit, limb from limb.

Waving over a taxi, you climbed into the back and rattled off the address of the apartment that your master had bought for you. It was nothing crazy expensive, simplistic enough for a person receiving the pay that a college student would have. Small and compact with a single bedroom sectioned off from the main space, it rent was pretty low and it suited your need. Basic furnishings were missing, but that was expected for a person who had just moved into the area.

Deciding that it would be smarter to explore the area, you threw on more casual clothes after washing the stink of the airport off your body. Making your way into the sunlight you took a moment to absorb the feel of warmth the sun on your skin. This was your favorite moment - the post-mission bliss where the stress of the past was only a distant memory, at least for a while. Shoving your hands into your pockets you randomly choose a direction and began walking. Neither path seemed to hold anything special, so it really didn’t matter.

Your stroll was relaxing to say the least, the only tangent being when you stopped in a cafe to grab a snack and a cooling drink. Juice in hand, you continued to walk. The sky was just starting to show hints of the approaching night when you found yourself staring at the catalyst of your mission, Coex Mall. The building itself far surpassed any malls you had visited before and it seemed as if nothing was lacking as you entered and walk past clothing and cigarette stores.

As you walked, you wondered what BTS would come here for. They were known for being a secretive group so why they ever would step in such a crowded place in the middle of broad daylight was a mystery to all. They were a dangerous group, so it could not have been anything good, yet that still didn’t seem to stop stories circulating among women about their so-called ‘talents’.

Well, your feet had brought you here, so might as well get a headstart on making a mental layout of the mall. Sure, online maps worked to a degree, but there was no better cartographer than the one who walked every inch of the territory. Besides, it would also give you a chance to look at furniture shops. Your apartment was barren of even a mattress.

Stopping every so often, you finally made you way to the area of the store reserved for those lucky bastards who had more money than they knew what to do with. Many name brands showcased their wares proudly in diamond-proofed glass cases and behind burly security guards who glared openly at shoppers who looked as if they belonged anywhere but here.

You were one of the unfortunate victims with worn blue jeans and a comfortable sweater. Nothing about you screamed rich, but that didn’t matter to you. You knew what your bank account held, stocked with payments from jobs taken over the span of 4 years. Passing the first couple was easy, but the more guards that watched you with wary eyes, to more annoyed you became, but those thoughts all disappeared when you heard the whispers. They were hushed at first, singular words slipping past lips to make their way into your ears.

They were here.

No wait, not all of them. Only two.

But that was enough for you. Yes, you had previously discarded the thought of speeding up your plans, but since you were already scoping out the mall, why not scope out the targets while you were at it. Besides, you were never going to meet them with this face after today. The only person they would see would be the devilish smile of Eli, corners turned upwards with the knowledge that he knew more than anyone else in that room.

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shsl-seinen · 7 years ago

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45 questions...now that endgame has commenced

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

Nope! She has no siblings and her mother’s gone up and left when she was young, so the closest she’s with is her father, whom of which she regrets not cherishing him enough before getting trapped in VR hell, so whoops! Sucks for you, Ai! (EDIT: I MISREAD THIS SLIGHTLY SO YOU GET EXTRA INFO ON AI’S THOUGHTS ABT HER DAD LOL) Speaking of mom…

What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

Uhh not too well NOWADAYS, considering she left when Ai was young, but they spent time together watching TVs dramas and comedies and playing with Ai’s toys together and such, as Naoko (her mum’s name) was a stay-at-home mom. Nowadays Ai wonders how she is (in a bit of a more spiteful sense but…maybe it’s in a different sense now.) since she KNOWS her dad’s pretty lonely and a bit distraught for being left with her daughter (that resembles her a little too well, down to appearance, acrid tongue and drama love). …perhaps she’s forgotten about Ai and Yosuke by now. Speaking of THAAAT…

What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

Well, pretty distant and a bit one-sided, unfortunately. They were like any other cute father-daughter pair up until Naoko left, then Yosuke (dad’s name) became a bit distraught with being left a single dad. (He works as a nurse at a hospital!) Still, he took care of her nonetheless–then Ai started to become distant by middle school. Her working on her drawings and getting bullied and developing a bit of a sleazy, drama-loving personality and all–it REALLY started to hit by high school. Even if Ai was raking in cash with her manga and giving a portion of it to dad to help financially, she basically kept cooped up in her room and their interactions were mere greetings. Heck, she mostly ate meals in her room! A shame, really.

Edit: Regret. She…she feels regret.

Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

THIS was a toughie. Perhaps one major thing was seeing Shoko Yazawa, the girl she indirectly gossiped about being a compensated dater, commit social suicide and basically disappear from Kameoka. She just…doesn’t feel comfy thinking about how she might actually be dead and how something that might have not even been true at ALL possibly cost her her social life. She may like drama, but she feels lies makes it…complicated? I can’t find the right word. Everything’s more authentic when it’s true and real, Ai feels.

EDIT: Cody’s deletion. It gave her the feeling that they very well may just be erased off the face of the Earth without feeling anything, in the blink of an eye. Mostly because, spoiler spoiler, Ai glitched out in the hospital space just like Cody but got spawned in a different area rather than deleted. So. Yeah. Scary.

EDIT 2: I GUESS DYING AND WHAT FOLLOWED AFTERWARD WAS AN EYE OPENER

On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Out of game: strawberry gum/various candies, her phone, a spare pen/pencil or two just in case~! Not like she’d need to carry stuff in her pockets–she’s mostly a shut-in anyway!

In Telos Hell: Her ID, and…er, that’d…probably be it. I didn’t think this very through. In the case of what she often CARRIES (like, in her hands) it’d be snacks like pudding or candy and her sketchbook, I suppose.

Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

Erm…this took a while to answer since I never thought that Ai would have dreams–I lowkey imagined her to be one of those dreamless sleepers. Y’know, granted she doesn’t get much shut-eye in the first place? But I suppose her dreams often involve her being a shadow or a ghost of some sorts in a bit of a beat-up town, just watching the town go on (robberies, theft, murder, or just…regular things like a couple arguing or girls gossiping) as no one notices her.

Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

This goes just as above, but I’ll list it out anyway: I feel something along the lines of all eyes and blinding lights always being on her wherever she tries to run, and all mouths (her classmates, her fans, her patrons her dad, her mom, Shoko) always speaking of her, revealing her gross nature in contrast to the mysterious but ladylike (??? I guess?) mangaka alias she pretends to be online. Maybe hands would be holding her down so she can’t run and has to face all the lights and all the people.

I figure she doesn’t have nightmares often, since, again, she doesn’t get much shuteye, but…ha

EDIT: Glitchy erasure has probably haunted her a few times nowadays.

Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

Nope.

Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

Pretty much! She didn’t grow up POOR but things were probably pretty tight at one point in her life, considering Yosuke soon became a single working dad in the middle of Ai’s childhood. As soon as she started raking in that Sweet Sweet Manga Cash, however, she was happy to set out a portion of her money for her dad, so they ended up okay and a little well off! (Not rich but u get what i mean, hopefully)

Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

More clothing–she just feels better that way.

In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

Hoo-wee. It’s…a liiittle hard to say.

Tora chapter 2 was a doozy, but she wasn’t as scared then as she was, say...witnessing Cody getting erased, or glitching out HERSELF way back in ch7 when she was in the hospital space. She just felt...terrified, feeling like she’d suddenly disappear without another word, AND without feeling anything.

In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

Whenever she’s in her room, not disturbed by anyone, just browsing through social media idly with snacks on standby. Or asleep, considering … help this girl

Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

She really isn’t…at least, she thought she wasn’t. She’s gotten pretty used to the sight of blood as a kid, when she’d gotten the occasional bloody nose from bullying back in her school days, and ofc with her job revolving around illustrating violence and sometimes GORE, you get immune to it!

At least, you think you do. As quoted from what I put on that FE AU spreadsheet a longass while ago “Gore looks much…mushier than on paper.”

Ryouji’s dead corpse was a nice ‘ol REVELATION for Ai. Since the closest thing to shit like that was descriptions of shit from the hospital (thanks nurse dad) and anatomy charts and guro art she’s browsed, seeing a REAL corpse in such a situation was…a game changer.

At this point, Ai’s a bit immune to it lol. So many bodies, yanno? She’s now…scarily used to it. Of course, the nature and customization of the executions are…unnerving to her, sometimes. I’m talking to you, Ryouji, lmao (She’ll probably still be pretty unnerved if she…ever…wants to go back to drawing manga tho…I don’t think she will. She’ll take a longass break.)

Does your character remember names or faces easier?

Depends, I would think. Ingame: faces, but out of game, since she doesn’t really care for her classmates and real people and shit, she remembers names more. The internet is a far more vast place, after all.

Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

This is hard because I don’t think about this often myself

I guess she IS? She enjoys having things like snacks and desserts and tech around her, but she’s mostly just preoccupied with drama, relationships, fights and…people, I guess. I don’t have a good answer for this.

Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

I was about to say neither and point at “enjoyment”, but I guess…that could…sort of align with happiness? You can’t be a mangaka forever, and WHAT ELSE is she good for? Ha. She’d rather sit back and simply be able to enjoy a show rather than idealize shit like that. Life’s a show you can’t waste a minute to wake in!

…mm.

What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

Dolls, probably. Y’know, er…the equivalent of Barbie dolls, I guess? I can’t go too into depth since I haven’t fleshed out her childhood all too much, but…dolls seem accurate for her. She’d like dressing them up, decorating the houses (if that was a thing…?) and sometimes even playing pretend with them, I’d imagine–and Naoko would honestly play along with her, I’d think!

Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

She admires the pettiness ambition of people around her, really. Just…seeing the lengths people would go for their goals, good or bad.

What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Like I said, she was literally alienated at the concept of people caring about her and her wellbeing.

Said alienation, initial refusal to accept praise of her, AND general nasty/careless/joking attitude, as well as her constant self-deprecation is a pretty fuckin’ big downer in relationships. Hell, part of her attitude already drives people away, she knows–might as well show she’s self-aware of it right?

…it’s definitely cost her potential friendships. Lots of ‘em.

In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

Depends. …mostly the latter though. She knows she’s a piece of shit but occasionally she sees some people and goes “ok at least I’m not them tho lol”. Sorry Senji, Ryouji, some others I probably forgot to mention here. I still love you.

If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

Oh hell yeah she thinks she deserves it. Karma, baby! Gotta love it.

What does your character like in other people?

Pettiness, wittiness, cunning, the ability to take a joke and make a joke–people who are laidback and careless enough to not be easily brought down. ok look masashi “hee-haw” oichi is a special case here, she thinks hee-haw is annoying but ill be damned if she doesnt eventually get used to it and admires masashi’s directness

What does your character dislike in other people?

Pettiness done WRONG to look like absolute immaturity…and on that note, people acting like loud immature brats in general, people who hold huge grudges over small and/or past events, haughtiness, tryhards (ok yes she can be a tad hypocritical but she’ll swear there’s a difference), people who (in her words, probs) have “sticks up their asses”…you surely get the gist.

How quick is your character to trust someone else?

LMAO NOT QUICK @ ALL (especially in a game like this) she can drop trust pretty quickly tho ;0

…once you do end up gaining her trust, though, it’s strong with just a liiitle bit of doubt. As soon as you break it tho, her trust in you AND others plummet down the fucking toilet so lol

EDIT: ok so i’ll be honest now that it’s endgame, the reason she seems more willing to believe lies in others than she probs should is that she believes in predictability and also me myself, the mun, am Fucking Dumbass and fall for the lies myself, so if i can’t see past them even if Ai in-characterly Can, then im sorry my dudes im Fucking Dumb :’O

How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

Pretty quick, but she won’t necessarily voice it until she has a good opportunity. If they’re close to her, and she trusts them, she won’t suspect them unless shit seriously starts pointing to them, then it starts getting 👀👀👀

How does your character behave around children?

[ai voice] i think the fuck not, goodbye

She doesn’t…handle children well.

How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

haha……………..she doesn’t (usually)

She literally watches drama from afar, you think she wanna get involved in shit?

…when she does deal with it, she replies as bluntly and honestly as possible so she can get it over with. confrontation? no thanks lol

…maybe she’ll add some sass when she finds a good opportunity if she wants to make the confronter feel like a dumbass or smth, or if it starts to piss her off.

How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

Ai…knows that violence in a losing battle for her. She’s weak. (….listen ryouji was already down in that one trial, ok) If a punch is thrown, she’ll either dodge and run, or take it and scuttle, tbh.

What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

She didn’t really have those types of dreams as a kid, really?? But maybe her drawings as she grew up started to make her think of being an artist. And…well, it DID come true, right? …with, y’know, the cost of tons of potential friendships. And other shit. ha

What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Well, ONE thing is wasted opportunity, which is why, as you saw, Ai was PISSED at Ryouji when he was the chapter 6 culprit.

…okay, that’s very exaggerated for being listed and something “repulsive” to her, but…disgusting? ye.

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

Same spiel as the calm one, if you scroll up: in her room back at Kameoka, no one bothering her, the sound of rain and muffled thunder rumbles outside as she scrolls through the internet, snacks at her side while feeling cozy af in warm clothing/probably a blanket over her.

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

I can list a few, actually! A certain text conversation between Andrew and Ai during Chapter 6, CHPT4 MONOTHEATER IN TORA AND CHPT5 MONOTHEATER? IN TELOS I BELIEVE? Because there was a very down, depressed vibe goin’ on–mostly the reaction of the deaths and all that, and the feeling that…everyone’s in despair. And tense. It’s infectious, unfortunately.

…and also, er, tora chpt2 trial. You Know,

EDIT: Cody’s erasure lol

In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

SELF-DEPRECATION, BABY ;0

Nowadays, thanks to the magic of Character Development, she’s starting to see that she can improve. So she does the third one more, now.

Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

She’s definitely the type to keep trying a certain method a few times before moving on in frustration.

How does your character behave around people they like?

Laidback, and more open, with banter all around! If you’re someone she likes who has…made an impact on her (like Holly acting like a big sis for her, thanks holly ily) then she’ll still make jokes but not be as biting! She’ll try to be more lightheartedly jokey rather than have each joke be a diss.

How does your character behave around people they dislike?

Prepare for disses, eye rolls and snappy attitudes…or, er, just straight up disrespect and igonring.

Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Protecting their status, most likely. She…has no honor, really.

Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

*ahem*

abscond

Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?

Nope! Never been bitten, and she certainly doesn’t plan to!

How does your character treat people in service jobs?

General respect and decency whenever she DOES go out for, say, groceries at 7/11 or something. She’d generally like to leave asap when she goes out though, so she does sometimes ask to, like, quicken the pace. What did the service job people ever do to her, anyhow, besides like, possibly make her wait? No disses here, thank god

Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

Ai feels she doesn’t…deserve a lot of things she has, and definitely thinks that a lot of kids in Telos don’t deserve the shit they get thrown at them either (but, yes, there are some who she thinks do get what’s coming for them, but not many), so it’d be the latter, I suppose.

Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

Nope. Easy answer.

Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

…not dependent, but…there’s one person who does a pretty good job trying to be one for her. (Spoiler alert it’s Holly, god bless this water polo player I love her so much get better soon athena ur great ily)

How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

Pretty goddamn difficult. She thinks of it as a bit of a hard thing to say herself, but agrees it’s something thrown around way too much nowadays–which is, in part, why it’s hard for her to say. (Also she’s never really gotten it from anyone except her parents ha) Ai doesn’t and wouldn’t say it in general (unless it’s joking with friends but even THEN its rare bc Got Damn can’t have too much hypocricy) since it’s a bit overused in society and seems like a throwaway term w/o meaning. When she DOES wanna say it MEANINGFULLY, she’d really want to MEAN it, which is hard with…the kind of mindset she has on the word.

What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

She doesn’t know!

Which is exactly what scares her.

Not like she thinks about it often, though! (er…well…maybe she does now.)

Nor does she want to. :)

EDIT: this still goes unchanged but it goes to show, uh...what she might’ve thought when she was “dying” at the time.

#[👁about👁]#[🖥ooc🖥]#as of 6/17/17 i have drafted this and ill post it endgame :3c

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mbtizone · 8 years ago

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Ryan Atwood (The O.C.): ISTP

Dominant Introverted Thinking [Ti]: Ryan has his own internal way of thinking and he doesn’t typically share his logical conclusions with others. He is good at analyzing situations and coming up with solutions. Ryan is highly intelligent and his test scores are very high. Though he has a lot of potential, Ryan doesn’t really apply himself. He even took his SATs as a sophomore and scored in the 98th percentile. Ryan is good at noticing logical inconsistencies. A lot of the time, this can be shown with a mere facial expression, but sometimes, such as when Seth is venting to him about his personal problems, Ryan is quick to point out how Seth can fix his problems. When Ryan happens to walk in while Sandy and Kirsten are meeting with a contractor, Ryan is able to quickly determine that there are discrepancies between the floor plan and the finished product. Ryan is good with technical drawings and sketching, which eventually leads him down his architectural path.

Auxiliary Extroverted Sensing [Se]: One of Ryan’s dominant personality traits is his tendency to make impulsive choices, such as starting fights or aiding his brother in grand theft auto (which he was reluctant to go along with, but ultimately did). His short-sighted choices usually land him in hot water. Ryan tends to live in the present. He’s aware that his actions have consequences, but usually, he makes the choice that will get him into trouble anyway. Ryan is street smart and has a good sense of his environment. He’s very physical and can become violent quickly. Ryan is tough with a short temper, but as he adapts to Orange County and the Cohens, learns to try to resolve disputes in other ways before resorting to fighting. Ryan is athletic, and played both soccer and football prior to moving to Orange County.

Tertiary Introverted Intuition [Ni]: Sometimes, Ryan has really good intuition and he follows his hunches. He knows something is off about Oliver, and so, he trusts his instincts and is eventually proven correct. Ryan’s goals aren’t really long-term. He knows that he wants to have a better life than he did at home with his mom, and doesn’t want to mess that up by ruining things with Sandy and Kirsten, though he sometimes falters in the heat of the moment. With some nudging from a counselor, Ryan eventually decides that he’d like to be an architect, and goes to school to make that dream a reality. While Ryan’s instincts are usually good, they can sometimes lead him to incorrect assumptions. While he’s in Florida, he can tell that something happened between Marissa and Trey, but believes that she cheated on him with his brother, and doesn’t guess that Trey assaulted her. Because she doesn’t tell him what actually happened, Ryan confronts Trey, who says that Marissa was the one who made a move. Though Ryan isn’t sure what to believe at first, it’s Theresa who convinces him that Marissa is worthy of his trust, not Trey.

Inferior Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Ryan doesn’t like to talk about his feelings. He usually keeps things bottled up, but will open up on rare occasions. Ryan cares a lot about the people in his life and is extremely protective of them. Even though he barely knows Kirsten and she is judgmental of him, he defends her honor when an inmate is inappropriate with her in juvie. He protects Seth when the water polo players harass him. He saves Marissa on multiple occasions and helps Theresa when she’s in need. Ryan has a bit of a savior complex, and always seems to be rescuing someone (particularly his love interests), which he usually does at his own personal expense. Because he grew up in an unhealthy, abusive environment, Ryan has trouble trusting people and letting them get close to him. However, Ryan is extremely loyal to his loved ones, and will sacrifice a lot for them. Even though Ryan doesn’t know for certain if Theresa’s baby is his, he returns to Chino, leaving behind his life in Newport, in order to help her raise the child. When Kirsten is struggling with alcoholism, he is able to vocalize his feelings about not wanting to see someone else he loves go down the same path as his mother.

Quotes:

Marissa: So, what are you doing here, seriously? Ryan: Seriously? I stole a car. Crashed it. Actually, my brother did. Since he had a gun and drugs on him, he’s in jail. I got out, and my mom threw me out. She was pissed off and drunk. So, Mr. Cohen took me in.

Sandy: Your test scores? 98th percentile on your SAT1’s. Ryan, 98th percentile, you start going to class. Are you thinking about college? [Ryan scoffs] Sandy: Have you given any thought to your future? Dude, I’m on your side. Come on, help me out here… Ryan: -Modern medicine is advancing to the point where the average human life span will be 100. But I read this article which said Social Security is supposed to run out by the year 2025, which means people are going to have to stay at their jobs until they’re 80. So I don’t want to commit to anything too soon. [Sandy chuckles] Sandy: Look, I can plead this down to a misdemeanor. Petty fine, probation. But know this, “stealing a car cause you’re big brother told you to,” it’s stupid and it’s weak and those are two things you can’t afford to be anymore. Ryan: Two more things. Sandy: You wanna change that? Then, you’re gonna have to get over the fact that life dealt you a bad hand. I get it, we’re cut from the same deck, Ryan. I grew up, no money, bad part of the Bronx, my father was gone, my mother worked all the time… I was pissed off, I was stupid. Ryan: Look at you now. Sandy: Smart kid like you. You gotta have a plan. Some kind of dream. Ryan: Yeah… right. Let me tell you something, okay? Where I’m from, having a dream doesn’t make you smart. Knowing it won’t come true? That does.

Ryan: [laughs insincerely] You know what I like about rich kids? [punches Luke] Ryan: Nothing! Seth: That was awesome!

Ryan: I’m not too popular around here, and your boyfriend – a little bit angry. Marissa: You’re telling me you didn’t try to hit him back? Ryan: Actually, I hit him first. Marissa: Well, hard to believe you’re not more popular.

Seth: Are you just not going to go ’cause you’re afraid of Luke? Ryan: That’s not what I’m afraid of. Look, your parents taking me in, that’s, like, the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not going to lose it just to kick some guy’s ass. Seth: But you could totally kick his ass, right? Ryan: Oh, yeah.

Ryan: I used to want to be an architect. Kirsten: And what do you want to be now? Ryan: Seventeen. Kirsten: Me too.

Kirsten:: I couldn’t help notice that you wanted to talk to Seth. Ryan: Oh, did I? Kirsten:: Well, since he’s out of town and he’s going to be moving out next semester, you’re going to need a new Seth. Don’t tell Sandy, but I thought I would audition for the job. Ryan: Oh, yeah, that’s very thoughtful. Kirsten:: So, how does it work? Do I ask you what’s on your mind? Ryan: Eh, usually you talk about yourself, and I solve my problems on my own.

Sandy: You’re not having breakfast with us? Ryan: I’m not hungry. What do you want? Sandy: Dr. Kim just called to let us know that you’ve been suspended indefinitely pending a disciplinary action if the school board will vote to expel you. Ryan: I know you want me to apologize, but I’m not. Oliver told me right to my face that he wanted me gone so he could get to have Marissa all to himself. Sandy: Then why would he drop the assault charges against you? Ryan: He did that? Sandy: Yeah, he did. It seems to me that if he had it out for you, he would have had you gone and you’d be back in juvi hall by now. You know that. Come on, help me out. Tell me what’s going on with you. Ryan: Oliver is dangerous. He’s a sociopath who provoked me into attacking him so he could come off as the poor, innocent victim before Marissa and everyone else. He’s so charming and charismatic that no one can see the person for what he really is. Sandy: No, this is how I see it. YOU attacked HIM… unprovoked… in full view of witnesses at your school because you’re jealous about him being around Marissa. You’re on probation and you knew that the slightest infraction would land you back in juvenile hall and maybe lead to you being taken away from us, but you did it anyway. For the life of me, I can’t understand why you would do that. Talk to me. Tell me what’s really going on with you. Talk to me. Why did you really attack Oliver? Ryan: What’s the point? Oliver was right. You’re not gonna believe me anyway. You and everyone else believes him over me. Sandy: It’s not what I believe. I wish it was. It’s about what you did! The next time you think about raising your fists to someone you don’t like, you’d better instead open your mouth and talk! I’m here for that now. What is really going on with you? What am I gonna do with you? I can’t ground you or chain you to a wall. There’s the door. You want to go after that poor Oliver kid? Go ahead. But if you want to stay, if you want to be a part of this family, you are NOT going to go anywhere, you’re not gonna see anyone or talk to anyone unless Kristen and I say it’s okay. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.

Marissa: I love you. Ryan: Thank you. Marissa: You’re welcome?

Taylor: Why couldn’t you just have had faith in us? Ryan: I don’t know. I guess maybe I thought we were too different. Taylor: Maybe you were right. Ryan: No, no, I wasn’t. And I realize now that how we feel is much more important than what we have to talk about. Taylor: And how do you feel? Ryan: I… Taylor: That stuffed animal you bought me is much more expressive, Ryan. Henri-Michel is reading a poem that he wrote for me at the bookstore tonight. It’s a love poem, Ryan, and It’s long.

Kirsten: We’ve all talked about it. And we want to be your legal guardians. We want you to be part of the family. If you want to be. Ryan: What if it doesn’t work? Kirsten:Well how do you mean? Ryan: Well what if something happens and you guys change your mind? Sandy: Like what? You steal a car? You burn down a house? You beat up the captain of the water polo team? Those ships have sailed, my friend.

Kirsten:: Don’t you say a word, I let you into this house. Ryan: Yeah you did, because my own mom couldn’t take care of me. Because she wouldn’t get help even though I asked her to. I don’t want to see that happen again to someone I love.

Sandy: I’ve never heard you talk so much. Ryan: I like to save it for when it counts. Sandy: Good. So I heard about what happened with your test today. Or what didn’t happen. You’re suddenly not so talkative. Look I get it. Marissa needed help, you were worried about her. Believe me, I understand. I’m worried about you. Ryan: I know. I’m okay with going to public school. It’d be a hell of a lot better than where I went. Sandy: Go to Dr. Kim and explain yourself. Ryan: I don’t think she wants to hear from me. Ever again. Sandy: You’re afraid of her. You, who went toe-to-toe with Julie Cooper, the Dragon Lady. You can take Dr. Kim. Talk to her. If there’s a problem, you’ll have your attorney present. I got your back.

Ryan: Marissa, this event is important. And… on a yacht. And whenever I go to one of these things somebody gets into a fight.

Ryan Atwood (The O.C.): ISTP was originally published on MBTI Zone

#Ryan Atwood #The O.C.#ISTP #mbti #mbti types #mbti personality types #fictionalcharactermbti #fictionmbti #tv mbti

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